So, by popular demand, I wrote an ending to this post: https://holdmesamthatwasbeautiful.tumblr.com/post/164438118391/holdmesamthatwasbeautiful-sam-is-a-little-bit
(the one with the pining!wincest, if you remember it)
I think you can read this one alone, but, yeah. Might make more sense if you’ve read the first parts.Xx-Ninni
They’re still in the car when it’s two am, and Dean’s given up on trying to find a motel for the night. He feels the fatigue in his bones, and as he pulls over, he speaks for the first time in hours.
“We gotta sleep in the car, I need some eyeshut.”
Sam clears his throat. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Yeah, me too.”
The silence that stretches between them again as Sam settles in the backseat, and Dean in the front, is much more profound without the engine running; without the soft roaring of the car speeding through the night.
Dean can hear Sam’s soft breathing in the backseat, steady and calm. He’s almost fallen asleep when Sam asks a question into the night that makes Dean’s entire insides freeze and his eyes screw shut tightly.
“Who is it?”
Dean is too tired, of everything, to pretend like he doesn’t know what Sam means. He just begs, quietly, “Sam, don’t.”
“Come on, who is it you’re still in love with?” Sam sounds annoyed, and it tears at something inside Dean; it tears at the carefully constructed barrier he’s had many years to build within himself to keep the truth from clawing its way out of his mouth and ruin everything.
“I said fucking don’t,” Dean snarls as he gets out from the impala, slamming the car door shut.
His heart pounds like he’s run for miles, and he feels everything spiral out of control when Sam follows him out of the car.
“What the hell is going on, Dean?” Sam half-shouts, his arms exasperated in the air. “Why can’t you just tell me?”
And just like that, in the middle of nowhere, Dean’s neat barrier crumbles.
He lounges himself at Sam and fists the collar of his jacket as he pushes them both up against the side of the car. “I can’t tell you because he wore a castoff Led Zep tee,” Dean growls slowly, “And he’d just wasted his first vamp, and he fucking glowed. Because I fell in love with him in the backseat of this damn car when I was eighteen years old, and ever since that day, I’ve hated myself.”
Something drops from Sam’s face; the annoyance fades from his moonlit face and is replaced with a look of something Dean is too terrified to define, and his chest aches.
Sam’s fingers dig into Dean’s upper arms, and for a moment, everything is perfectly still. The faint rustling of the wind through the forest surrounding the highway seems to falter, and even the soft breeze around them settles.
Dean can only assume it’s the calm before the storm, and he closes his eyes.
He waits for his world to end.
“Dean,” Sam whispers, “Look at me.”
Sam’s eyes are shiny, and his hand is very warm when he gently cups Dean’s face. “Dean,” he whispers again. “Dean, me too.”
“Don’t you do that,” Dean begs, his throat thick with distress. “Even if you hate me, please, don’t do that.”
Sam’s fingers gently curl behind his nape, and suddenly Dean can feel Sam’s breath against his mouth; damp and hot. “I was so jealous,” Sam breathes. “When you told me. That you were in love. I felt like I needed to kill them, Dean I swear, I was gonna do it. I love you, I’ve always loved you.”
Dean gasps softly, because a strong arm encircles his waist and he’s suddenly flush against Sam, who’s warm and lovely under Dean’s palms.
“Please,” Dean begs. He’s not even sure what he’s asking for; but when Sam kisses him, he knows.
He asked for this, for Sam’s hot lips against his; for their keening noises mingling together as they kiss up against the car, for Sam’s arms around him.
Dean feels Sam’s heart race beneath his fingertips, and he thinks, perhaps my world doesn’t end like this.
Perhaps, this is how it starts.