babybrotherdean:

Jess has been in the ground for a fortnight and Sam’s balls-deep inside his brother. It’s supposed to make things better, crawling into bed with Dean like he’s a little kid again but it just turns into a stuttered echo of what they used to have; a pair of tattered souls seeking comfort in each other. But it’s tainted; he’s fallen in love with soft, feminine curves, with smooth skin and everything that Dean isn’t. He’s hurting and he’s lonely and he knows this isn’t okay. He knows.

Dean needs Sam and Sam needs Jess and Sam is using his big brother in the worst way possible and they both know it. 

He doesn’t pull away because it’s easier to close his eyes and pretend it’s his dead girlfriend underneath him and like his entire life hasn’t been burned to the ground. It’s easier to pretend that he’s back at home in Palo Alto and like he can’t smell the stink of old cigarettes and booze, like the body underneath him smells less like gunpowder-leather and more like vanilla-eucalyptus. To pretend like maybe things are okay.

Dean stays quiet except for the grunts forced out of him with Sam’s rough movements, rougher than he ever was with Jess. Sam buries his face in his brother’s shoulder and whimpers out her name and Dean doesn’t say a word.

Things are about as far as they could possibly be from “okay,” but if there’s one thing that Sam remembers about his family, it’s that they’re better off not talking about it.

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