spn_springfling | The Ways In Which We Fall by jalu2 for <user site="livejournal.

Title: The Ways In Which We Fall
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Any warnings: Mention of past dub-con

They were never supposed to make it out alive. Chuck's final words in the gospel would have outlined such, etched into biblical memory as the direct descendants of Cain and Abel.

It was always supposed to happen.

Always.

But when Sam said “yes” strong and loud while Dean remained a tight-lipped hero who was breaking inside, the world - no, the [i]universe[/i] - had to halt.

It didn't start moving again for a long while. Maybe this is part of the same story. Or maybe this is the part that doesn't matter.

--

Sam has his soul back. This sometimes shocks Dean if he wakes in the middle of the night and Sam's sitting on the bed. Dean's expecting a monster to look back at him; to maybe snap when the time is right and remind Dean all over again of what he allowed his brother to do.

“You okay?” Sam asks in that sleep-grave voice he had to share with [i]that[/i] not so long ago.

“Yeah,” Dean says. He fakes nonchalance and rolls over to face the wall.

“We can talk about it, you know?” Sam’s words are filled with hesitation but Dean can't tell if it's because they are a should-be script or a result of nervous genuine concern.

“No chick flick moments,” Dean says, and that's definitely from a script. One that had been long forgotten, buried - back where Dean thought things were hard but never, ever imagined what they'd both soon actually go through.

“I think we're past that, Dean,” Sam says, soft.

A part of Dean wants to ask [i]when?[/] Was it selling his soul? Coming back from Hell? Was it Sam getting tossed into the cage?

[i]And Dean's still wondering if[/i] all [i]of Sam is back, just like Yellow Eyes said the first time around.[/i]

There's a dip in the bed and Sam's right there, warm and solid even when Dean won't turn back to face him. His hand settles on Dean's shoulder and Dean shrugs it away.

“Stop being a jerk,” Sam says. He's still too quiet.

“When you stop being a bitch,” Dean says. He makes sure [i]his[/i] voice takes on a razor-edge.

“Really?” A further shift of weight and Sam's lying down, his legs curling up behind Dean's and wandering low. “I thought that was your place.”

Dean kicks back and manages a collision with Sam's shin, getting himself up and off the bed. He doesn't look back over but also doesn't find himself retreating for the door.

“Is this your way of saying we're never going back to the way things were?”

Dean won't face him. Truth is they [i]had[/i] gone back there - once. With Dean finally trying to pretend his brother wasn't all strange and different. Just Dean going for the ride. It had been okay, mostly, until Sam-who-wasn't-Sam leant down and whispered, “Is it all the same?”

The meaning didn’t click until a few days ago.

“Dean.”

He’s there. Standing close enough that Dean can feel a ghost of breathe by the shell of his ear. If he leant back, he’s sure he would find the touch of his brother’s chest waiting for him. Failing that, his arms. Always ready to catch Dean when they need to.

When they can.

“Hey.”

Dean turns and finds Sam exactly where he expected. Watching, waiting, a placid smile on his face that tells Dean [i]brother[/i] more than anything else. He cups Sam’s cheek and brings their lips together. Soft and seeking rather than branding and brutal. Sam opens against him and Dean melts in.

Maybe [i]this[i/] is where they were always supposed to be.

Sam guides him back to the bed and pulls Dean down with him. Legs either side of Sam’s as Dean tries to draw more answers from Sam’s mouth. Not that he’s even sure of the questions he’s asking.

When Sam pulls back there’s just enough light from the street outside for Dean to see his brother’s face, to trace the lines and marks that tell stories nobody else will ever know or understand. They’re all they’ve got. No matter what happens. One in the same - them against the world.

“They haven’t been able to keep us down yet,” Sam says. Dean knows they’re both unaware of who [i]us[/i] is referring to, but Sam’s talking about Hell. That much is clear.

“I guess we’ll just have to show them other ways to fall,” Dean replies. He looks down at his brother but sees nothing more there. But there’s potential. There will [i]always[/i] be potential in those eyes. Dean manages to muster up a half smile and says, “Should be fun.”