Neon
bloodwritesDean sleepwalks sometimes.
Sam was 13 the first time he realized. Something woke him. A noise perhaps, and Dad was half way across the country, so it was just him and Dean.
Dean was up. It was the middle of the night and Dean was awake—or, at least, he was walking around. Sam thought he was awake, at first. Called out to him, asked him what the hell he thought he was doing getting dressed in the middle of the night, Dad will kill you if you just leave me.
Vampires, Dean said. Gotta kill the vampires.
That was when Sam realized Dean was sleepwalking. He had that sleepiness to his voice, and Dad had told them that vampires were extinct.
(so that turned out to be not true, but whatever, it was a long time ago)
Sam managed to get Dean back to bed without waking him, he'd heard stories about how if you woke someone who was sleepwalking something bad would happen. At the time Sam believed with his whole heart that if he woke him, Dean would die, but, you know, grow up knowing monsters are real, and anything seems possible.
After that, Dad kept the door locked, stacked empty cans in the doorway inside the line of salt, just in case Dean decided to go hunting vampires again, but he never did.
It looked like a one off deal. Years passed.
Sam was eighteen when it happened again. Dad was gone, Sam was in his last few months of high school. He'd refused to get in the car when Dad wanted to leave, was prepared to stay alone, catch up with his father and brother after he graduated. But Dean refused to go, too.
So there they were, in a crappy two bedroom rented house. Dean has a job working long hours for minimum wage, but it pays the rent, keeps them fed. He comes in dead tired every night, eats the food Sam prepares, collapses on the couch for an hour, and then falls asleep. Sometimes on the couch, sometimes he gets up and goes to the bedroom first.
That night Dean fell asleep on the couch in front of Survivor. Sam knew because he'd stopped talking to the TV. Sam left Dean there, tossed a blanket over him and turned out the lights and he went to bed.
He left the bedroom door open in case Dean woke up.
Again, Sam wakes in the middle of the night to something. Maybe it's a noise. More likely it's his brother's warm, mobile body pressed up against him.
"Wrong bed, Dean," Sam said, as he shoved at Dean, tried to push him out onto the floor. "Occupied. This is my bed. Yours is over there."
Dean opened his eyes, stared up at Sam. Then he reached up, and he kissed Sam hard.
It's a good thing waking up a sleepwalker doesn't actually result in their death, because Sam jerked out of bed so fast he fell onto the floor, kicked out with his feet so hard Dean fell out too.
And then Dean's head appeared on the other side of the bed. "What the hell?"
"Mine," Sam growled, as he climbed back into his bed and turned to face the door.
"Whatever, dude," Dean said, as he climbed into his own bed and rolled the other way.
Sam never told Dean about the kiss. Oh, he hinted at it, did everything but tell him straight to find out if he remembered. But Dean didn't twitch, didn't look away, and while Dean can act his ass off when they're on a job, he can't lie to Sam.
Sam never knew why he didn't come straight out and say it. Maybe he didn't want to embarrass Dean. More likely is that he couldn't be bothered trying to convince Dean when Dean would inevitably have denied everything. It'd just be weird and Dean wouldn't talk to Sam for days, and it was better that way.
Sam went to Stanford. Then his girlfriend died, and he was back on the road with his brother.
Dean sleepwalks again after Dad's death. It's their first job after Dean gets the Impala back on the road, and there's a neon sign flickering outside the window. Sam can't sleep, so he sees the moment Dean climbs out of his own bed and starts stripping.
He's not awake, because Sam talks to him. He calls out, yells even, but Dean won't stop. When he climbs out of bed to bodily restrain him, Dean shoves past and climbs, naked, into Sam's bed, lies down and starts snoring.
Sam doesn't know what to do. He could shake Dean awake, but in the end, he figures, it's better if he just climbs into Dean's bed. So he does that, and because it's further from the window, he actually gets some sleep.
He wakes in the morning wrapped up in Dean's warm, bare limbs. He tries to get out without waking Dean, but the sun is streaming in through the window, and Dean jerks awake when Sam's still wriggling out of the covers.
"What the fuck," Dean says. Sam gets out, just walks away. Goes into the bathroom to take a piss, lingers longer than he needs to. When he comes out, Dean's staring at him accusingly, sitting up in bed, apparently still naked.
"What the actual fuck, Sam?"
Sam rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "You were sleepwalking. You climbed into my bed. So I went to sleep in yours. And when I woke up, you were there, so don't what the fuck me, Dean."
"Why the fuck am I naked?"
"Because you took your fucking clothes off. Do I need to cuff you to your bed? Cos I'll do it."
Dean shakes his head and drops his eyes. "Turn the fuck around, Sam."
It starts to happen more often. Every couple of months, Sam will wake to find Dean in his bed, sometimes naked, sometimes just curled around him under the blankets. Dean refuses to talk about it.
Sam finally cuffs Dean to the bed at night, after he wakes up with Dean in his bed and Dean's hands down his shorts.
Dean curses him when he snaps the cuffs closed, yells, screams, drags the bed across the room and drops Sam to the floor, so Sam decides, fuck it, as he wipes blood off his lips.
"You kissed me. I was eighteen. Then you started taking your clothes off. Last night I woke up and you were jerking me off. Whether you admit it to yourself or not, Dean, some part of you wants to fuck me. You want to fuck your brother. So either admit it so we can do something about it, or put up with the goddamn cuffs, asshole."
To Sam's surprise, Dean doesn't deny any of it. He drags the bed back to the other side of the room, lies down in it, and he goes to sleep.
Sam wakes up in darkness to cuffs rattling like chains. Then it goes silent, and he goes back to sleep.
It works, until demons attack them in the middle of the night. Someone neglected the salt line, a few grains out of place and the demons get in and it's chaos. Sam's fighting off two and Dean's only got one arm he can use. They both come out bloodied and bruised and lucky to be alive.
As Sam's washing out Dean's wounds afterward, he starts talking. "You were just a kid," he says, barely above a whisper. "I mean. Not pedo young, you hear me? I'm fucked up, but not like that. Still too young, though. Started popping up in my dreams. Like..." He clears his throat, sounds like he's choking. "Like, sex dreams."
Sam's eyes flick to Dean's face, and then away as he keeps working. No judgment.
"So, okay, yeah. Maybe I do wanna screw my brother, on some weird fucking subconscious level. I don't know what you want me to do about it. I can't control my dreams, Sammy."
Sam keeps his eyes down, silence stretches out. Sam's putting a bandage on the worst of Dean's wounds when he finally finds the words he needs to say.
"What do you want me to do? I can't keep cuffing you to the bed. What should I do, Dean?"
He lifts his head, and they stare at each other for long, awkwardly confrontational moments.
Finally, Dean shrugs. "Keep waking me up? I mean. What else can you do? Apart from we go our separate ways." He looks suddenly horrified, but he doesn't take it back.
Sam shakes his head. "We're not splitting up over this." He almost smiles at the look of relief on Dean's face. "You'd probably try to drive to find me, and then you'd wake up in jail after some cop pulled you over and found you naked."
Dean snorts. "Right."
Dean doesn't sleepwalk for weeks. And then he does, and Sam wakes him up. Dean blinks at him, and they're both crammed into one narrow bed. "Am I naked?" he asks, like he's scared of the answer.
"Yep."
"Son of a bitch."
Sam watches Dean's bare ass as he crouches on the floor searching for his shorts. As he wills his erection away, he thinks about the fact it could be him, could have always been him in Dean's situation, he's just lucky enough that he doesn't sleepwalk.
The next time Sam wakes with Dean's hand inside his pajamas, he fakes sleep until he's in serious danger of coming in his brothers hand. Only then does he push Dean away and wake him up. Sam watches Dean's ass as he goes, waits till Dean's breathing has gone even and slow again before he gets up and jerks off in the bathroom.
Sam dies and Dean makes a deal, and Sam's just so angry and scared that he kicks Dean out of bed every time he tries for a whole year when what he really wants to do is kiss him breathless and push him down into whatever lumpy mattress they're on at the time and crawl inside him and never leave.
Then Dean's gone, and regret and guilt and grief messes him up worse than anything ever has. When Dean's back, Sam has all the secrets and Dean doesn't sleepwalk, like being dragged out of hell and healed of all his scars fixed that, too.
Then Dean knows everything, and Sam lets Lucifer out, and Dean doesn't trust Sam anymore and it's the worst he's ever felt.
Sam pines. It's pathetic, but he does.
When he's quit hoping for it, he wakes up to Dean in his bed, naked and asleep. Sam kisses him, because he can't help himself. He touches Dean, because he can't help himself. He squirms down under the sheets and lets Dean come in his mouth because Dean asked for it, moaning like he needed it.
Sam wakes up in the morning, and Dean's up and showered and dressed like nothing happened, and Sam can't ask him if he remembers because he doesn't know if Dean was awake or not.
Sam says yes to Lucifer, and Dean goes civilian for a year, and when they're back sharing a motel room Sam doesn't have a soul, and that's bad, because he doesn't care. He lies back when Dean comes at him, pushes Dean's head down, and even laughs when Dean wakes up in the morning and pulls a face like he can't figure out what the bad taste in his mouth is.
Sam doesn't remember that for a while. It comes back in little pieces, flashes of memory after the wall comes down, brings with it a whole lot of other shit Sam isn't prepared to deal with, so when things are a little better and Sam finally tells Dean, Dean just shrugs. "You weren't yourself," he says, and that's that.
Or it would be, if Sam didn't feel guilty enough that he gave Dean something he could actually be pissed about. "And I blew you one night. Before I went to the cage."
Dean's brows draw down like he's confused, like he's counting back to see when Sam's talking about, and then they fly into his hairline. "You're telling me," he says, low and dangerous. "You're telling me we've had our dicks in each others mouths, and I don't even remember it?"
Sam can't speak, because he's not going to fucking make excuses, Dean has a right to be angry, and he'll stand there while Dean punches him if it makes Dean feel better.
He braces when Dean grabs him by the collar of his shirt, yanks him forward. He's expecting a fist hitting his jaw, expects to hit the floor and take it. He's not expecting Dean to kiss him.
All he can think is he's awake, he's kissing me and he's awake. "You're awake," he says, and his voice is high pitched and manic.
"Did you like it," Dean says, and kisses him some more. "Did you like having my cock in your mouth, Sammy? Did you swallow?"
Sam says yes.
Dean stumbles back. He looks around them, and they're standing by the side of a back road in broad daylight. Then he says "Get in the car."
He drives to the next town, checks them into a motel, and he doesn't say a word when the guy looks them up and down and offers them the honeymoon suite.
Sam's never felt more out of control, like he's been swept along in a tide made of Dean, and he just goes with it like he never has before.
Finally shocks out of it when they're both naked and Dean's on his knees with Sam's cock in his mouth. Sam tangles his fingers in Dean's hair, pulls him off, pulls him up, throws him onto the bed. Scoots up beside him, top to tail, sucks Dean's dick into his mouth, moans around it even as he feeds his own cock to Dean.
They fall asleep all wrapped up in each other, for the first time in a bed that'll hold them both.
He wakes up in the dark, and there's neon flickering outside the window, and it casts a strobe-like effect on Dean's naked body.
He's straddling Sam's hips, and Dean's rising up on his knees, lining up Sam's dick.
"Dean," Sam groans, as Dean's sinks down, tight, so fucking tight, like Dean's never been fucked before, no reason he should have been fucked before, and he's so pretty, arched and moaning, and Sam grabs his hips, yanks him down. "God, Dean, what?"
His face is all scrunched up. "Shut up, Sammy, it's good, so good." Hand on his cock, jerking it while he bounces on Sam's dick.
Dean's come spurts across Sam's chest, dribbles into his belly button. And Sam's eyes roll back, and it's then he realizes, no condom, holy shit, how are they fucking with no condom, but it's too late, because he's filling his brother with come.
Sam watches Dean's face as he wakes up. Sam watches as a look of horror comes over it and Dean squirms.
"I thought you were awake," Sam says.
Dean's face goes white, and he drags the sheet off the bed, wraps it around himself, and disappears into the bathroom.
Weeks go by. They don't talk about it, because every time Sam tries to apologize, Dean shuts him down.
Until they're sitting over an open grave, bones turning to coals below, and it's a cold night, so they've got their feet dangling and Sam figures that this could only be more disturbing if Dean pulled out a bag of marshmallows and a fork.
"I want you to tell me about it," Dean says, and neither of them have spoken in long minutes, so it's kind of out of the blue, but Sam still knows exactly what he's talking about.
"I feel really bad, Dean."
"No. Not that. I want to know about it, not how you felt about it afterward."
There's a lump in Sam's throat that he can't shift. "Um."
"You fucked me, Sam. You came in my ass. That's all I know. All I'm asking is that you fill in the gaps."
Sam coughs. "I woke up. You were...you were on me. Sitting on me. You had lube, and you just..." He almost chokes. "You put me inside you. And you were moving. And it...it felt good, Dean, and you were talking, and I swear to god I thought you were awake, until I realized there was no condom and I was going to come inside you and there was no way you'd do that if you were conscious but it was too late."
Dean lifts an eyebrow.
"I'm so sorry, Dean."
Dean sighs, and he shrugs. "Well. I'm clean. Guaranteed. You?"
"Yeah. Yeah, of course."
"Don't worry about it, then."
Conversation over, apparently.
Dean slips into Sam's bed that night. It's dark, but for the flashes of green from the fritzing neon lights outside the window. "I'm awake," he says, and snuggles in. "Just so you know."
He doesn't do anything, and Sam doesn't know whether he's supposed to do anything, so he just holds Dean until they both go to sleep.
Dean stops sleepwalking. He's stopped before, for years, sometimes, but it feels like he's stopped because it feels as though it coincides with them starting this thing between them.
It bothers Sam. A little. More than a little. Maybe a lot. Because he doesn't know if he can be trusted, when Dean never gives him the opportunity to be trusted.
Or maybe he liked it. Liked sucking Dean when he'd have no memory of it in the morning. Liked the rush when he realized Dean was asleep while he was still riding Sam's cock. Liked Dean's hands on him when it felt as though it was against Dean's conscious wishes.
He's sick. He knows that. Likes screwing his brother sick, but also, likes screwing his brother without consent sick. It starts to eat at him, guilt, horror, and then he can't even get it up for Dean when he's awake anymore.
Yet when Dean's snoring beside him, Sam can't sleep because his cock is hard and his balls are aching.
Dean finally explodes at him. "What the hell is your problem?"
Sam's tried all the excuses. Tired. Bruised and sore from the job they just finished. Even avoided going to bed until Dean was already snoring. Sam can do it like that, if Dean's asleep, he can get hard, hard enough to fuck him when he wakes up.
Sam's sick of making excuses. It's time to come clean. "There's something wrong with me," he says, just wanting to get it over with. He's deserved this for years, will deserve it when Dean walks away from him.
"Well, duh, Sammy. You get off on doing your brother while he's asleep. It's not news."
Sam gapes at him.
"That's it, isn't it? It's the fact that I'm awake that's the problem?"
Sam drops his eyes, but gives Dean a single nod.
"Sammy's got a fetish," Dean singsongs. "That's adorable. The first step is admitting it, you know. Then we've got something to work with."
That's all Dean says, doesn't push Sam for the next few nights after that. They fall asleep, in two different motels, two different queen beds. On the third night, Dean pulls a vial out of his pocket, puts it on the nightstand. "Sleeping pills," he says. "The good stuff. One of these'll keep me out all night. You can do what you like to me."
Sam stares at him in horror. "No, Dean—"
"Shut the hell up." Dean cracks the lid open, pops a pill into his mouth, tosses it down with the dregs of his beer. "I'm giving you permission, okay? I trust you, you freak."
Sam watches him strip down to nothing and climb in under the covers. His breathing evens out quickly, going deep and even.
Sam almost sleeps on the couch. Finally, he makes a decision, led more by his cock than his brain, because as soon as Dean said 'one of these'll keep me out all night', he got hard.
He takes the lube to bed with him. Once the decision is made, he doesn't fuck around. He's never had his fingers inside Dean before when he's been asleep. Massaging Dean's prostate while he's asleep is insane, as Dean rocks and shudders and clamps down on Sam's hand.
He's so relaxed, so easy to open up, and Sam lines up his cock, slides inside so easy. Dean moans in his sleep, whimpers, comes in Sam's hand when Sam almost can't stand it anymore, and the rhythmic squeeze of Dean's ass around his cock drags Sam along with him.
When his cock softens and slips out, Sam gets back in there with his fingers, wet and messy, keeps at it while he jerks himself back to full hardness, then he fucks Dean again.
It's not the sort of thing they can do all the time. Sam's not going to turn his brother into an addict just to feed his fucked up sexual needs.
They don't need to, anyway. Not at first. When they wake up in the morning after the first time, Dean has Sam talk him through it. They both get so worked up that they have sex again, and it's rough and desperate and hot as fuck.
"You know, if I'm snoring, Sammy. You can go for it," Dean says, a couple weeks later, after Sam starts to get cagey about sex again. "I'm not gonna be pissed at you if I wake up and you're halfway done."
The thought of Dean waking up when Sam's close to coming inside him gets Sam hard, and he fucks Dean out in the middle of nowhere, over the hood of the Impala.
"See, Sam?" Dean says. "All we really have to do is talk about you fucking me while I'm asleep."
Sam knows that's not quite it.
Sam wakes in the middle of the night. Dean's snoring. There's neon lights outside the window, buzzing and painting the room with flashes of color.
There's something about a moment like this that's thrilling, terrifying. Sam often lies awake and listens to Dean sleep, often desperately aroused. He waits till Dean wakes, or he wakes Dean up, and then Sam falls on him, sometimes coming before Dean even knows what's going on, having to finish him off with his mouth or his hand afterward.
Sam doesn't want to wake him now. He has permission not to.
The way Dean's lying... Sprawled out on the bed, halfway face down, one knee pulled up, the other leg splayed out, is like he's opened himself up, just for Sam.
Carefully, so as not to disturb the bed springs, Sam slithers down the mattress. It's warm in the room, but he pulls back the covers slow, inch by inch, so as not to shock Dean awake.
Flickering neon illuminates Dean's flesh, the squishy, beautiful globes of his ass lit with irregular flashes of green and white.
As Sam gently moves his hands over Dean's ass cheeks, there's a desire to part them, slick his tongue over the furl between, but that's not something he'll get away with. The rasp of stubble on sensitive places is another thing that'll rouse Dean far too quickly.
Instead, Sam sucks his thumb into his mouth to warm it, to slick it with spit, and he rubs it, gently, over Dean's hole. Dean's breath comes heavier, but not enough to alarm Sam, and soon, he's slipping his thumb inside his brother’s body.
Dean moans, and shifts, spreading his legs wider. Every now and then, Dean clenches up, and Sam freezes.
Until Dean relaxes again.
Slowly, Sam gets Dean loose and ready. He knows the sounds Dean makes now, well enough to read him. Even though he's sleeping, Sam knows when Dean's ready.
He even makes that hungry, disappointed whimper, and writhes like he's searching for more when Sam pulls his fingers out.
Sam takes his opportunity. Dean's moving, moaning, and Sam moves with him to rise up and position himself. The head of his cock at Dean's slick, stretched hole, he eases forward.
Dean's body pulls him in. It's all Sam can do not to throw himself forward, not to plunge inside and fuck until he comes.
It'll wake Dean if he does. As hungry as he is, as consumed with lust his brothers willing, sleeping body makes him, he wants more to keep Dean asleep, for as long as he can.
Sam slowly presses inside. He eases himself in as Dean groans and clenches down around Sam's cock.
If fucking his brother when his brother is asleep proves anything to Sam, it's that Dean is more reserved when he's awake. The deeper Sam sinks inside, the more guttural Dean's moans get. He's gonna feel like he's been screaming all night when he wakes, Sam can almost feel it himself. Dean starts fucking himself back on Sam's cock, grunting with each thrust and for Sam, that pushes him over the edge.
He can't hold back. He starts fucking Dean hard, like Dean's body tells him he wants it. He fucks Dean like there's nothing more important than coming, than filling Dean's ass, and right when he's at the point of no return, he feels Dean wake up.
Crying out Sam's name, Dean's ass clamps down like a vice, and Sam immediately comes. He comes hard, driven deep inside his brothers body and unable to move, and he can't fucking think. Light flashes behind his eyelids and he collapses, stiff as a board, onto Dean's back.
He's still shaking when Dean shoves him off, rolls him onto his back. He registers sounds, his brothers voice, but he can't make out the words. Lit behind in green neon, Dean looks fierce, and Sam's almost afraid that he's gone too far, that this time Dean will punish him for what he's done.
"I gotta come," Dean says. "I need to come."
Dean looms over Sam's body, his cock in his hand, stripping it fast with his fist. He's weaving and his voice is thick and hoarse. Dean's barely awake.
His knees are planted either side of Sam's thighs. Sam's come is leaking out of him, slicking down the inside of his thigh, pooling on Sam's leg.
"Gonna come," Dean says, slurring and jerking as his back arches and his hand stutters over his cock. Thick ropes of come paint Sam's belly, his softening cock. With each spurt Dean stiffens and gasps, and then, spent, he collapses forward, heavy on Sam's chest.
Dean never sleepwalks again. "I figure I get what I need," he says, one day, when they realize it's been years since it happened. "I don't gotta go looking for you in my dreams when I have you in real life."
"I'm in your dreams plenty," Sam says, because he gets what he needs, too. In abandoned buildings, in the back seat of the Impala, in stark motel rooms across the country lit by flickering neon lights. Wherever they are, wherever they sleep, Sam sees to it that Dean regularly wakes up crying out his name.
fin