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Paved With Good Intentions
“Sorry Dean, but you’ll have to count me out. I’m up to my neck in research, you and Sam are going to have to pick up the slack on this one,” Bobby said.
“I know, but two missing campers, are you sure they’re not just lost?” Dean asked. He frowned as Sam gave him a pointed look, and mouthed what? when Sam grabbed for the map and unfolded it across his knee.
“Dammit boy, I’m not some worried mother hen. This is the sixth couple to disappear in that area during the past two years, but if you’re too busy?”
Dean glanced across at Sam and saw that he’d already circled the area in red on the map, his head bent, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he plotted the miles between Maine and Arizona.
“We could be there in two days, less if we share the driving,” Sam said.
“At least somebody’s got their priorities right. Put me on speaker phone,” Bobby said, satisfaction evident in his voice.
“Fine,” Dean sighed, handing the phone to Sam instead, and pressing down on the gas as Sam scribbled the numbers and instructions Bobby gave him onto the map.
“Got it, thanks Bobby. Yeah, you too,” Sam said. He disconnected the phone and passed it back to Dean, who took it without a word.
“Since when did you turn down a job?” Sam asked.
“Since we’ve been working over two months straight,” Dean replied. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ll hunt anything, go anywhere, anytime, but I had plans for the next couple days,” Dean huffed.
“Plans?”
“Yeah, plans in the shape of hot food that doesn’t come out of a microwave, a beer, or several, and sleep, in a bed where the sheets aren’t starched to hell. Remember those things Sam?”
“Dean these people could be in real trouble,” Sam said by way of reply.
“Fine,” Dean huffed out. “Arizona it is, but after that I’m finding the first motel with magic fingers, and you’re supplying the quarters.”
Dean cranked up the volume, cutting off any further conversation and drove for the next twelve hours flat, slept for three hours in the passenger seat while Sam took the wheel before continuing the rest of the way to Arizona, cranking open the window as the weather shifted from comfortable to hell’s own temperatures. “Dude, I bet that beer’s sounding good to you too right about now.” Dean said, he grinned across at Sam. “You think these cabins have hot tubs?”
“I don’t think it’s that kind of cabin, Dean,” Sam replied as they passed the marker for Arizona, he checked the map, and directed Dean toward Oak Creek.
Bobby’s directions took them past Flagstaff and on toward the river gorge, near to where the campers had gone missing, an hour later and Dean swung a sharp left - almost missing the turn off completely - until he saw a smattering of cabins. He pulled the Impala in at cabin number seven, surprised to see someone already there, and looked across at Sam, who shrugged and looked just as surprised as Dean.
“Hi, you must be the Winchesters?” The guy said.
“Sam, and this is my brother Dean,” Sam said. He held out his hand in greeting and was rewarded by a firm shake.
“Good to meet you, I’m Hank. Bobby told me you’d be coming. You’ll find everything you need inside. I’m sorry I can’t stay to show you around, but it’ll be dark soon and I want to get back to town before we lose anymore sunlight.”
Sam nodded, glanced up at the sky and noticed a visible reddish hue, another hour, and it’d be dark. It made sense to get some sleep and head out first thing.
“The cabin is unlocked, you’ll find the key on the table, just lock up when you leave, I have a spare,” Hank said.
“You’re not coming back?” Dean asked.
“Nah, Bobby said it was best to leave you boys to do your thing. I’m sure you’ll find everything you need inside.
Dean nodded. Glad to be out from behind the wheel, and grateful that Hank seemed to be aware of why they were there and happy to leave them to it. The last thing Dean wanted was to babysit some civilian determined to shadow them around with the excuse of knowing the terrain. He grabbed his bag from the trunk of the Impala, careful to keep the guns from view and made his way toward the cabin, leaving Sam to say their good-byes.
The cabin looked comfortable from what Dean could tell, nothing out of the ordinary or untoward about the large, square room that greeted his entrance. A table in the centre, a sink and small cooking area built into one corner, a wood stove in the other, and a comfortable looking sofa and matching chair next to a bookshelf that under other, normal circumstances, Dean figured Sam would love. Dean opened the door leading off the main room to find an ample sized bedroom with two queen-sized beds, and a small shower come bathroom. It was clean and well kept, and quiet, not a sound for miles. By the time Sam closed the outer door, Dean was back in the living area, a frown set firmly on his face.
“What?” Sam asked.
“You didn’t notice anything strange?” Dean asked.
Sam looked around the cabin, and shook his head.
“No car outside for a start, you think those missing campers walked here?” Dean began.
“Maybe they got a ride, or Hank brought them up,” Sam replied.
“And their clothes?” Dean asked.
“What about them?” Sam replied.
“They’re missing too,” Dean said. I just did a sweep and there aren’t any, no bags or luggage of any kind. So unless they packed for their vanishing act…”
“Weird,” Sam said, his frown matching Dean’s. “Look there’s nothing we can do now, let’s just find something to eat, and sleep. We can pick it up at first light.”
Despite the cabin’s reputation for missing tenants everything else seemed fine, quiet, no flickering lights, or abnormal scratching, and much to Dean’s delight, it provided a well-stocked pantry. He was on his second beer when they decided to call it a night, both tired from the two-day drive. Sam took the first shower only to find Dean already asleep when he re-entered the bedroom, mouth slightly parted, long, thick lashes fanned out against his cheek as he slept, the guarded look absent from his face. He looked peaceful, and Sam had no intention of disturbing what little sleep Dean managed. He pulled the comforter from the second bed and covered Dean, and smiled at his brother’s muttered response as he burrowed into the patch-worked material, one hand sliding beneath the pillow, fingers searching out the weapon Sam knew was hidden there. He waited a moment, sure that Dean wouldn’t wake, pulled on a clean pair of jeans, made his way barefoot into the other room, and took out his cell.
“Hey Bobby,” Sam whispered.
“Hey, Sam. How’d it go?” Bobby asked.
“Good, it went good. He’s sleeping,” Sam said, voice hushed so as not to disturb his brother.
“He didn’t suspect anything?”
“You know Dean. He doesn’t miss a thing but I managed to stall him, at least until the morning.” Sam told Bobby.
“You got everything you need?” Bobby asked.
“Looks like,” Sam said.
“Good. If I was you boy, I’d ditch those damn phones, at least for a day or two.”
“Thanks Bobby” Sam said.
“You’re welcome Sam,” Bobby replied.
Sam closed the call, switched off the phone and tucked it into his pocket. He grabbed for the bag Dean had left by the table and poured rock salt at the door and windows, more from habit then need and made his way back to the bedroom.
Dean still slept, snoring quietly into his pillow, Sam paused a moment, drinking in the sight he never once got tired of seeing. Searing heat pulsed through his limbs, like fingers branding his skin, and Sam fought the groan that lodged in his throat, so tempted to wake his brother. Instead, he shrugged out of his jeans, walked quietly over to the bed, and stretched out next to Dean, hooking a leg, and an arm over Dean’s waist, pulling him close. Dean edged closer, spooned back into Sam’s lap, and Sam almost tasted the sleepy whisper of his own name on the contented sigh that escaped his brother’s lips. He took comfort from his brother’s nearness and let the slow, steady sound of Dean’s breathing lull him into sleep.
…
Dean was the first to wake. It was still dark out but there was a faint misting of light, which Dean guessed meant dawn wasn’t far off. He shifted, slightly uncomfortable in his jeans, and shirt, not to mention socks, and hot, thanks to Sam, who was plastered against his back. One arm wrapped tight around Dean’s waist, hand snug beneath Dean’s shirt. He tried to ease away, to remove his jeans at least but Sam groaned in protest and pulled him back in.
“Shhh,” Dean breathed, and moved forward an inch. He tugged at the button on his jeans, pulling it free and eased down his zipper before inching the material down past his hips only for Sam’s hand to follow in their wake. “You awake?”
“No,” Sam mumbled, his breath hot against the back of Dean’s neck.
Dean smiled, turned over onto his back and lifted his hips, eased his jeans down until he was able to kick them off, and felt Sam pop a button on his shirt, followed by a second.
“I thought you were asleep,” Dean said, smile evident in his voice.
“I am,” Sam whispered, and popped another button.
Dean groaned, there was nothing he wanted more than to just turn over, and bury himself in his brother’s willing heat. But they were on a case, more importantly they were on unfamiliar territory, and Dean wasn’t about to let his guard down, at least until they discovered the lay of the land and what they were up against. He reached down, twined his fingers through Sam’s and lifted Sam’s hand to rest against his stomach, thumb stroking, up and over Sam’s in a gentle caress. “Sun’s almost up, I figured we’d get an early start, find out what we’re up against,”
Dean turned his head, brushed his lips against Sam’s and felt his cock harden, and stifled a groan, almost tempted to change his mind.
“Dean, I…” Sam began.
“What?” Dean asked when Sam merely tightened his hold on Dean’s hand. He heard the concern in Sam’s voice, the worry that hadn’t been there the night before. Dean frowned, turned over, and rested his forehead against Sam’s, ran his hands down his back, cupped his ass, and applied just enough pressure to bring him closer. He watched the changing expression on Sam’s face. The tired look, and extra lines that chased away the smile Dean loved, lines that even the natural, outdoor tan couldn’t hide. Lines that Dean was sure hadn’t been there just a few short weeks ago, and inwardly promised that after this, they’d take a break. “What is it, Sammy?”
“Nothing, grab a shower, I’ll make coffee, and pack what we need,” Sam said.
It took a little over an hour to reach the spot where Bobby claimed the campers had disappeared, and after a brief sweep of the area, Dean found nothing untoward or out of the ordinary. No backpacks, clothing, no sign of a struggle, not so much as a broken twig. In fact, the spot seemed idyllic. They were in a small clearing to the left of the river gorge, shaded from direct sunlight but still warm, just not uncomfortably so. The only signs of life were the man-made jetty that jutted out over a lake, and the soft thud of a row boat as it bumped against the jetty’s side.
“You sure this is the right place?” Dean asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Sam said, his back to Dean and shoulders tense.
“None of this strikes you as weird?” Dean asked.
Dean watched the way Sam’s shoulders lifted and then dropped, once, and then again as Sam inhaled a deep breath, and then released it but didn’t turn around.
“Sam?”
“Just don’t be mad, okay?”
“Mad?” Dean asked.
“I… I mean Bobby thought, and I agreed that…”
“What?”
“You said it yourself, we’ve been working flat out Dean, once case after another, and I think we both need this.”
“Need what?”
“This.” Sam turned around to face Dean, and lifted his arms to emphasize their surroundings. “This place, this time, now, the two of us, just…”
“Dude, what the hell?” Dean dropped the bag he was carrying, raised one hand to scrub at his face, palm flat and fingers scrubbing up and through his hair.
“There is no case, okay? We lied. I lied, but Dean it was the only way to get you up here, we both agreed we needed a break, and we’re here now so why not just enjoy it?”
“Sam…”
Sam dropped his own bag and backed up a step, and then another, as Dean stepped forward, Dean matching Sam step for step, until a nearby tree prevented any further movement on Sam’s part, save for raising his hands in submission, but then Dean smiled.
“You planned all this?” Dean asked as he advanced further.
Sam nodded, confused. He’d expected an explosion of anger from Dean, a few choice words at least, anything but the look of pleasure that washed across Dean’s face.
“So what’s in the bag?” Dean asked, and took the final step that brought him flush up against Sam’s chest.
“A blanket, sunscreen, a book…” Sam shrugged. “But if Hank is true to his word, there should be a cooler in the rowboat with food; the kind that didn’t come out of a microwave.” Sam smiled, and held Dean’s stare.
“And beer?” Dean whispered against Sam’s mouth.
Sam nodded, and lowered his head, curved his hand around Dean’s neck, and up into his hair, mouth mere inches from Dean’s, “Your favourite kind,” he whispered and closed his mouth over Dean’s.
The kiss was slow unhurried. Dean no longer surprised that Sam would do this, or angry. He’d seen how tired Sam was earlier that morning, and if he were honest, he felt the same bone-deep fatigue, only now it was pushed aside by want. The same want he’d felt earlier, and at last he could give it free rein, and he did, without saying a word or doing anything, but staring into Sam’s eyes and seeing the same longing reflected there.
Neither moved, barely breathed, just a meeting of mouths, soft, and slow as Dean teased his tongue across the fullness of Sam’s bottom lip, lifted his hands and wound his fingers in the soft length of Sam’s hair, grazed his lips across Sam’s cheek, once, gentle and barely there before easing back; just an inch. “So what now?” Dean said, voice husky, deepened by his need for more.
“We could go for a swim, or I know you like to fish, or…” Sam watched the smile spread across Dean’s face, one eyebrow arched as Sam fumbled for ways to please his brother. “What’s so funny?” Sam asked.
“I was thinking more about making use of that blanket,” Dean said, voice coloured by humour, and etched with need.
“Or we could do that,” Sam breathed.
Dean shrugged out his jacket, and shirt while Sam set the blanket down not far from the lake, close enough that he could hear the water lap gently around the edges of the row boat, and he took a second to just breathe in his surroundings, and realised that for once there was no real hurry. Normally their time together was snatched between hunts, salt at the door and windows and gun within reach, but not today and for a moment Sam faltered, unsure.
“Here,” Dean patted the blanket beside him and watched as Sam pulled his shirt over his head, followed by his T-shirt. “You want some of that sunscreen?” Dean smirked, and shifted over to make room for his brother.
“I’m not the one with the freckles,” Sam laughed, and eased himself down beside Dean, stretched out on his side, head propped against the flat of his hand, and leaned over to plant a slow, lazy kiss at the corner of his brother’s mouth. Followed by another, deeper, more eager as Sam shifted closer, lost in the taste of his name on Dean’s lips. Sam felt Dean’s hands working a path down his back, past narrow hips to cup his ass. Sam rolled over, almost crushing Dean beneath him as he forced Dean onto his back and came down on top of his brother.
“You maybe want to lose the pants first?” Dean asked.
“A little sure of yourself aren’t you?” Sam smiled.
“Always,” Dean smiled back, and revelled in the bark of laughter that followed from Sam. He waited until Sam eased away and up onto his knees to unbutton his jeans, and Dean followed, eased open his zipper and pushed his own jeans and shorts all the way down, and watched Sam do the same. Dean paused just to watch his brother, the way the sunlight lightened his hair as it caressed the long, silken strands, and he wondered why he’d ever teased Sam about cutting its length. Because right now it had never looked more beautiful.
“What?” Sam asked as he looked down at Dean, gazed at the expanse of streamlined muscle that tapered down to a flat stomach; and cock already hard. He opened his mouth to ask what was so amusing, and groaned instead, the words lost as Dean arched his hips, pulled Sam down against the hard slab of his stomach, and the strength of muscled thighs that wrapped possessively around Sam.
“Nothing,” Dean whispered against Sam’s mouth, “Just you… here… this…” He reached up, brushed a finger along Sam’s jaw, across his cheek, and up to tangle in Sam’s hair. He lifted up, his cock hard against Sam’s hip, and pulled his brother down, took back the final inch until nothing, not even a single ray of sunlight separated them.