Title: Does This Make Me Not A Man?

Author: BlazeorFade

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Set at the end of CSPWDT(That title is such a fucking mouthful). Sam comforts Dean the only way he knows how.

Disclaimer: No I wish they were mine. That would kick ass.

AN: Title was taken from Alone I Break By Korn, which is such a definitive Dean song to me.

Beta'd by Supernaturalgrl

All the shit I seem to take

All alone I seem to break

I have lived the best I can

Does this make me not a man?

Neither brother spoke after Dean's confession. After a few tense minutes sitting side by side pretending not notice each other's proximity, pretending not to want to reach out to one another, Dean pushed off the hood of the car and slid back behind the wheel. He waited till Sam got in, looking straight ahead at the road and started the car, turning off the radio so the Impala's engine was the only sound for a hundred miles.

When Dean finally stopped at some no-name motel in the middle of buttfuck, America, Sam was exhausted though he'd done nothing for hours but sit and watch the scenery change. He watched from inside the car while Dean got them a room, feeling a brief sting of hurt that Dean's first words in hours had been wasted on some stranger. It was the most irrational emotion he thought he'd ever felt.

He averted his eyes when Dean emerged from the office. Dean held up the keys and slid back behind the wheel of the car, driving them around the back of the motel and parking in front of the room.

Once inside Dean dropped his things and made a beeline for the shower without so much as a glance in Sam's direction. It was like Sam didn't exist. Sam knew what this was. The Dean Winchester way of dealing with problems; pretending they weren't there and right now Sam was part of the problem. He'd seen Dean lose a little bit of control of his emotions. And only with Dean would his lover seeing him vulnerable be seen as such a catastrophe.

Sam tried, fucking tried, to give his brother some space but when Dean didn't come out of the shower for twenty minutes Sam had had enough. He closed the webpage he'd been pretending to read and crossed the room. He was relieved to find the bathroom door was unlocked, at least Dean hadn't gone that far in shutting him out. He wouldn't get the chance to if Sam had anything to say about it. Opening the door as quietly as he could, Sam slipped inside, his clothes going damp almost instantly from all the steam filling up the bathroom.

Sam watched Dean, standing with his head against the tiles, his eyes closed as water ran in turrets down his body. Sam swallowed hard, raking his eyes over his brother's body. He had to clench his fists to keep them from shaking.

Dean's name left Sam's lips like air and nobody but Dean would have heard something that low. He looked over his shoulder at Sam with dark, hooded eyes.

Sam peeled his shirt off and reached for the button on his jeans looking Dean in the eye daring him to tell him to stop, to fuck off and go away. Sam's zipper is all the way down before Dean's eyes go hard and he opens his mouth, but Sam refuses to let Dean try to push him away. He stepped into his brother's space still in his jeans and smashed his lips against Dean with so much force their teeth knocked together painfully but he didn't pull back. Sam grabbed Dean's hands and held them against the cold bathroom tile while he ravaged Dean's mouth, demanding entrance into the hot cavern.

Sam pushed one sodden denim-clad knee between Dean's legs and pressed himself flush against the older man. Sam buried his face in the crook of Dean's neck, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses there, nuzzling the speeding thrum of Dean's pulse. Sam ground his hips into Dean's, reveling in the way it made his blood pulse harder and faster. Sam was so mesmerized by the measure of Dean's life beneath his skin that he started at Dean's hiss of pain and looked down to see red against Dean's skin where Sam's sopping jeans had abraded the softer skin of his thighs. He kissed an apology across Dean's lips and leaned back, heart racing at the sound of muffled protest Dean made.

He stumbled to get the denim off his body, nearly falling down a couple of times. He was shaking, everything at a fever pitch. He heard the sigh of Dean's skin against the wet tile and a shivering swallow stopped Sam's breathing. He turned to look at Dean laying against the shower wall, fully erect, water dripping down his golden skin. He breathed hard, the only sound besides the running water and regarded Sam with wounded half-closed eyes. Those eyes spoke of a thousand breaks, both emotional and physical. Sam was afraid of the day that Dean couldn't take anymore, the day that he was thrown down and stayed down. Or the day he ate his own gun from feelings of guilt and loneliness.

Dean reached out to Sam without meaning to. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to be with Sam. He wanted to touch and taste and feel clean again. He'd never be clean again. If he ever really was. Sam's hand clamped over his wrist and Dean let himself be pulled out of the shower and into the next room, dripping a trail to the wall where Sam pressed into him running his lips again over Dean's face. His forehead, his lips, his eyelids. Sam's erection was a familiar, comforting weight against Dean's leg. Dean clutched the wall as Sam rubbed his cock in slow circles against Dean's hip. Sam mewed softly against Dean's cheek, begging a reaction from his brother.

Dean brought his hands up to Sam's shoulders, using him for support as he could never seem to do except when they were like this.

He closed his eyes, seeing visions of death and pain. Consequences that never should have been flashed through Dean's mind and a broken sound escaped his lips. He opened his eyes to look pleadingly into Sam's eyes. Sam looked sad and lost but determined to make this better.

Sam leaned away from Dean, overwhelmed that even the small break from in contact left him feeling cold and alone, so fragile was their bond at the moment. Sam placed a hand on Dean's chest, trying to steal his brother's warmth as he pulled further back. Sam reached blindly behind him in the dresser searching till his hand closed around the small bottle of lube there. He yanked the lid off with his teeth. Sam was shaking with anticipation as he squeezed the gel into his palm and rubbed his hands together, his gaze flickering to Dean with each movement.

Dean was so still, so pliant, waiting for Sam, that Sam wasn't sure whether to be turned on or worried. Both were emotions he'd felt too much of lately without much satisfaction on either end of the spectrum. Sam shook his head, wondering why the hell he was even still capable of cognitive thought when Dean was leaning against the wall, gasping so Sam felt every shuddering breath through the hand pressed to Dean's chest.

Sam put his slick hands on either side of Dean's face, engulfing him in searing kiss that Dean moaned into. Lube smeared across Dean's cheeks making them glisten.

Dean let Sam draw his leg up to rest on the nightstand by the wall and just lay his head against the wall as Sam slipped his fingers into his hole slowly. Sam watched his brother for a reaction and felt the tears well up in his eyes because Dean still looked so lost and tattered even as desire took over and Dean started to roll his hips down onto Sam's finger instinctively.

Sam kissed Dean's cheek and throat soundlessly begging him to feel better. He slipped a second finger inside the older man. Dean's weeping cock swelled hard and red, begging for release but Dean made no move to relieve himself or ask Sam to. Sam was practically crying in frustration as he reached down to stroke himself in time with his fingers thrusting in and out of Dean. Dean's breath hitched, the sound impossibly loud in the desperate silence that had taken over their lives. Sam buried his face in Dean's damp neck and positioned his cock over Dean's opening and pushed inside with aching slowness. He hooked his arm under Dean's knee so he could plunge balls deep into his tight heat.

Please. Please Dean. He thought as the tears slipped down his face and onto his brother's shoulder. Sam was perfectly still, shuddering against Dean's chest.

He pulled out almost completely, too afraid to look into Dean's face as he fucked him and thrust back in setting a sad, yearning pace. He wondered if Dean felt anything and pushed up harder, he wondered if Dean even wanted this and bit down on his brother's shoulder. He wondered if it would just fuck things up more to tell him that Sam wouldn't trade Dean for anything. That his brother was his world and if Dean thought the dead should stay dead than Sam couldn't really regret loading his gun with a single bullet in the moments when he started to think his lover wasn't going to make it.

Sam was about to give up, break down and just beg Dean to stay with him when Dean's arms encircled him and stilled his now frantic movements. Dean forced Sam to look up at him, his face covered in lube, sweat and tears and kissed Sam as deep as the first time.

I love you, that kiss said.

Dean rolled his hips and Sam's cock ran over his prostate, making Dean arch harder against him. Sam tore into Dean's mouth as they began moving together for the first time that night. Dean kept his arms around Sam's shoulders, leaning on him, relying on his strength when he felt he would falter. Dean let himself go, with him all the pain. The relief was only temporary, he knew, but that didn't matter anymore.

For once Dean wasn't alone when he broke.

-fin