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A Thousand Touches

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"Sam..." Dean whispered softly into the kiss, falling back into the wall as Sam stepped flush against him. They had been cleaning the house, or at least straightening it up so in preparation for their dad's return, but really, it was almost impossible to keep their hands off each other at this point. Already Dean had come more in the last twenty four hours then he had in the past month. Sam was insatiable and Dean was right there along with him. A small gasp left his lips as Sam's mouth connected with his neck and Dean's head fell back against the wall. Then a rough clearing of a throat had his head shooting up, body sliding out from under Sam's at break neck speed as his eyes locked and fixed on their dad. "Uh... Dad. Hi," his face had to be bright red and Dean instinctively slid a little in front of Sam, even though it was impossible to fully hide his taller brother, at least he could work as a barrier if things got ugly. "What's up?" That sounded pretty lame even to him. There was definitely no way of denying what the man had just seen, he only hoped Sam and he would have a chance to get away before things could escalate to blows.

Sam's fingers slipped through Dean's belt loop and he leaned forward to peer over his brother's shoulder. "Hi, Dad."

John's face ran through the full gamut of emotions.  "Dean..."  He scrubbed his hand down his face and leaned to the side slightly to look at Sam.  "Your brother just spoke."  John stumbled back a few steps and sat down hard on the couch.

"Yeah, he's uh... been doing that," Dean smiled shakily; reaching behind him to curl a hand around Sam's hip and squeeze. "It's a recent thing," he added softly and wet his lips nervously.

"Boys," John leaned forward, resting his arms across his thighs, "you better come sit, we need to talk."  He looked up at Dean, his eyes almost impossible to read.

Sam stiffened behind his brother leaning closer.

"Okay..." Dean said softly and dragged Sam over to the two chairs across from the couch, dropping down and tugging the other closer to him before Sam sat. At this point there was no use hiding things so he snatched at Sam's hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing with a quick look of reassurance. "So. Is this where you tell us it's wrong? Because I don't think either Sam or I really want to hear that."

John let out a long sigh and sat back.  "Dean, you think maybe we could start off not fighting?  We might get further than way."  He scratched his head and his eyes moved down to his son's hands then back up to Sam's face.  "Sammy?  You okay with Dean being here?" 

Sam shifted, about to launch up from his chair when he noticed that his father's eyes were slightly wrinkled at the edges, like they used to do when he was amused by something they had done when they were kids.  "Yes."  Sam leaned forward a little, curious, fingers tightening on his brother's.

Dean settled back in his chair and considered his father. "We just had a... miscommunication. It's better. Obviously," he added and squeezed Sam's hand. His shoulders were tense and he wished his father would just get on with it because Dean didn't have a very good level of patience and he was fairly certain everyone in his family already knew that.

"Dean, you think I didn't know this might happen?  Do you think that I didn't watch you two grow up and know that - you were..." he huffed out a breath and shifted uncomfortably, "damnit, you were too close.  From the time Sam stopped talking - it was like there was this bond between you."

Wetting his lips, Dean glanced at Sam for a long moment before meeting his dad's eyes. His instinct was to snap back with something sarcastic but he could tell the man was trying and it didn't seem like he was about to kick them out or threaten to beat them so, that was something. "That's because I understood Sam. I... I don't know how you saw it then, I mean, we didn't even figure out... everything... until..." he broke off, thinking it might be best to not mention how long they'd been kissing and such. "Well, not that long ago. So... is that... is that why you wanted Sam to go away? Because you thought this might happen between us?" He could feel Sam tense beside him and he slid his other hand out to rest along his forearm, rubbing softly.

"I didn't know what I saw."  John's eyes were tired.  "What I knew was that the two of you were different, not like brothers, I'm not accusing you of doing anything when Sammy was young.  Dean, I know you hate me - but you're still my son.  I know you and I know you would never hurt Sam."  John's eyes moved back to Sam.  "Sam, I didn't know how to help you and I didn't want Dean to feel like he had to be the one who took care of you."

Sam nodded and looked at Dean, "was me." He nudged Dean wanting him to tell his father that it was Sam who started the more physical side of their relationship.

Dean rolled his eyes, a slight smile on his face as he shook his head. After a moment he glanced up at his dad and noticed a slightly confused look in his tired eyes and he couldn't help the faint blush. "He wants you to know he was the first too... you know... cross that line," Dean gestured vaguely and carried on before the room could get swallowed in uncomfortable silence. "Look Dad, I don't hate you. I... I was mad at you, still am in a lot of ways, because you were trying to take away the one good thing I had in my life. I don't think... you ever really understood." Dean turned his gaze back to Sam when he spoke, "Lookin' after Sam... it was never a chore. It was never something I had to do. It was always something I wanted too. Always. Even when we were kids. And now... well he's got my back just as much as I have his. You should see him, he's a great hunter. Nothin' compared to me but he's getting there," Dean smirked and dropped his gaze back to his dad's.

John shook his head, "don't you get it, Dean?  That's what I saw, that's why I tried to send Sam away.  I'm your father.  There's only so much a parent... I couldn't just..." John let his head fall forward into his hands. 

Sam shifted and reached into his pocket for a small notebook and pen.  When he'd finished writing he handed the book to Dean.  Dad was trying to protect you.  He looked across at Dean and reached up to smooth his brother's hair back from his forehead. 

Sighing softly, Dean leaned into the touch, eyes dropping to Sam's lap before he lifted his gaze to his father once more. "I'm never gonna see it through your eyes dad, but... I get it at least. I'm over holding that grudge anyway. I... my life is too good for grudges like that any more," Dean smiled over at Sam.

John looked up at his sons, "I didn't want to lose both of you.  Maybe I was trying too hard to keep both of you."  John cleared his throat and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.  "I... uh... I was never as important to anyone as you were to each other." 

Pressing his lips together, Sam glanced up at Dean.  Feeling tears prickling behind his eyes, Sam shifted and stood.  "Beer?"  He moved quietly out of the living room into the kitchen.

Watching Sam go, Dean stood and walked slowly to the couch, dropping down beside his dad with a feet or so between them. He could handle comforting Sam, that he was familiar with, this? Completely foreign territory. "You were. To mom," Dean said quietly and reached out to pat his father's arm. "It's just been awhile. You've forgotten. But... you're important to us. Sam and I." For the first time since everything happened, Dean felt guilty for the way he'd left with Sam. He wouldn't stay if he had a second go around, but maybe he'd work harder to mend things. "You know, we were thinking we'd hang around a few days. You could show us where you work. Invite over any uh... friends you might have," Dean arched his eyebrows slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Sam strode back into the room with three bottles and put them on the coffee table in front of the two older men.  He hesitated, a bit unsure of how to act.  His heart was tugging at him to go and sit by Dean's feet but he didn't want to make his father uncomfortable.  Threading his fingers through his hair Sam turned and grabbed his notebook and wrote furiously.  Dad - need to know if it's okay to be ourselves in front of you - can't stay otherwise. He held out the notebook to his father.

John grabbed the notebook from Sam and a beer with his other hand.  He passed the notebook to Dean and looked up at his youngest son.  "Within reason Sam," he cleared his throat and shifted then pulled his shirt away from his throat.  "I'm still your father."

Blushing slightly, Sam nodded and flashed a quick smile at Dean then moved around the table to sit down on the floor by Dean's feet.  Grabbing his beer Sam flung an arm over Dean's legs.  When he raised the beer bottle to his lips his hand was shaking a little.

Dean dropped his hand to Sam's hair, reaching out for his own beer and stroking his fingers through silky hair. After twisting off the top he took a long drink before shifting his eyes to their dad. "Thanks," he said softly, a slight smile on his face.

Looking down at the beer bottle in his hand for a few moments John spoke softly. "I'm glad you boys are happy.  When I phoned.  When I wanted you to come and meet me - I guess I wanted to know if you were happy.  Wanted to know that I hadn't screwed things up a lot more by... pushing you away."  He looked across at Sam where he sat and glanced at Dean's fingers moving through his brother's hair.  "The way you were with each other, the way you seemed to know what each other were thinking - checked with each other.  It was good."  He nodded to himself and looked back down at his beer.

Shifting slightly Sam smiled up at Dean and pushed back into his brother's hand.  "Very happy," he said quietly then took a drink of beer. 

This made Dean smile in return and his hand dropped for just a moment to graze along Sam's jaw line. Dean shifted forward slightly and pressed his hand against Sam's heart, holding it for a beat before he dropped back onto the couch and resumed stroke Sam's hair. "So... we're okay then?" He glanced over at his dad, wishing it was as easy to tell him he still loved him. Cause the man would always be his father, no matter what, and he hoped he knew that.

"We're good," John looked over at Sam, "good?"  He tilted his head and smiled slightly.

Sam nodded, hair flopping down into his eyes, "good."

"Jesus Christ, Sam."  John's voice was loud in the room, "I can't get over you talkin'."

"I know, I'm still trying to get used to it," Dean chuckled and instinctively leaned forward to drop a kiss on Sam's temple. When he pulled back he flushed slightly, eyes darting toward John. "Sorry. It's the talking thing. It... it's good. That he is. But he knows there's no pressure too," Dean smiled, thumb smoothing over the spot his lips had been moments before.

"I got some news," John blurted out.  He almost looked like he regretted his words as he took a long pull on the beer bottle.

Sam struggled to hide his grin as he smacked Dean's leg.  Blinking up innocently at John he waited.

"I've been seein' someone.  She lives over in the next town - came in to the shop to buy a shotgun."  He looked over his son's faces and his lips twitched into a grin.  "Gotta like a woman with a good appreciation for weapons."

Sam laughed softly and curled his fingers over Dean's thigh.

Dean couldn't help his soft chuckle and he pulled from his beer quietly for a minute before fixing his gaze on his dad, "So... is it pretty serious? You and her?" He wanted to meet Sam's eyes but chances where they'd both break into laughter, or well, Dean would laugh and Sam would bury his face in his hands and it wasn't because their dad dating someone was funny. It was more the expression on his face.

John shrugged.  "I'm too old for serious, I'm lookin' for fun."  Even John had to laugh when he said that.

Sam choked on a mouthful of beer and dribbled half of it down onto his shirt as he tried not to laugh.

"Jesus," Dean scrunched up his face and shook his head. "I didn't need to know that dad," Dean chuckled and slid his fingers to the low part of Sam's neck, dipping slightly under the collar and sliding along the skin before coming around his neck and resting just over the collarbone. Dean stifled a yawn around his hand, glancing down at Sam with possibly more longing eyes then he should.

Wiping his mouth on his sleeve Sam grinned over at his Dad.  "Happy?"  He took another swallow of beer, his throat was feeling raw and sandpapery.

John smiled, "I am now, Sammy."  He emptied his bottle and put it on the table.  "Listen, I... I'm tired.  This was kind of... unexpected. I'm gonna turn in. You boys... do whatever it is you... anyway."  John stood and stretched his back out.  "Breakfast tomorrow?"

"Definitely," Dean agreed, and pushed up off the couch, holding out a hand for Sam to help pull him up. "See you in the morning," he smiled and turned slightly, still too amused by his dad's most recent comment.

Sam turned to look up at his brother before looking back down and writing in his notebook.  sorry throat hurts, was good.  I'm glad we came.  He held it up so Dean could see it and then grabbed his hand and pulled himself up.

"Yeah Sam, me too," Dean nodded slowly and pulled Sam into him, brushing their lips together. "I'm dying to meet the girlfriend," Dean admitted with a smirk and tugged Sam down the hall to the guest room. The nerves in him were finally beginning to settle and for the first time in a long time, Dean felt like all the pieces of his life were sorting themselves out.

Closing the door quietly behind them Sam whipped his t-shirt off over his head and threw it at his brother.  Grinning, he popped the button open on his jeans then slid the zipper down.  As he pushed his jeans and boxers down over his hips he smiled over at his brother, noting the fact that Dean's eyes were locked on his body. 

"Mm always so eager Sammy," Dean said softly, voice deep. He curled his fingers around his own shirt, tugging it off and tossing it to the floor. He couldn't seem to raise his eyes from their spotted fixed in on Sam's crotch and he shoved out of his own jeans and boxers a moment later. "C'mere," he held out a hand, finally looking up into Sam's eyes and stepping back to the bed.

Grabbing Dean's hand, Sam let himself be tugged forward.  He moved around Dean and flopped down on to the bed kicking his way under the covers and turning to yank Dean down.  "Long day," he whispered.

"Very," Dean agreed and brushed their lips together. "Not every day you have a conversation like that with your dad," he smiled softly and ran his hand through Sam's hair. "Love you Sammy."

Sam pressed his hand against his brother's chest, right above his heart.  He shifted closer, maneuvering his brother around until he could press himself up against Dean's side and bury his nose in his hair.

Dean snaked his arms around Sam's body and held high tight. It was actually relaxing to know he didn't have to worry about their dad finding them like this. Chances were the man wasn't going to be peeking in at all. With a small smile he brushed his lips to the top of Sam's head. "Sleep tight."

 Sam's eyes drifted closed and he smiled.

 

My name is Sam Winchester. Samuel, after my Grandfather, Sammy to my brother.  Sammy to the man who loves me more than anyone else ever has.  I suppose people might judge us for the way we are but there's nothing that's not right about it.  I understand my father better now, I get what he was trying to do even if I think he got it a little wrong.  Dean ... he is better now, calmer, it's like somehow the pieces of his puzzle have all started to fall into place.  I like that.  But then, I'm biased.

I have never really managed to explain to Dean why I stopped talking.  Maybe it just had to happen, like Dad had to try and send me away, like I had to run; if none of those things had happened then Dean and I would never have become what we are.  Hunting, I've seen enough to know that I believe in things outside our control;  I just don't know what to call it.  Fate? Magic? It's as though there's a place we're supposed to be, somewhere we have to travel to and as messed up as we get, as far as we stray from the direct path - the universe will get us there somehow.

I had to get to Dean.