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Day 12 of 12 Days of Wincestmas: Happy Stanford!Era Headcanon

*see end of this slightly longer headcanon for notes for you, Bi!:) *

It’s winter, but it isn’t quite cold enough in Palo Alto to feel like it’s getting close to Christmas for Dean. He wants snow, he likes cold, white, drunken Christmases. But this is where Sam went, a place that doesn’t even have proper Christmas. Surely, Sam has gotten used to warm Christmases, with no cheap whiskey and cheap eggnog and no snow by now. Last year, Sam spent it here – or with friends or whatever he did. Dean didn’t last Christmas, or any other time – after Sam had left, he’d been too angry and felt betrayed by Sam. Then, around Christmas, he started to miss him too much to phone, too afraid of what he’d say and even more afraid to hear Sam say he was happy where he was. After that, he didn’t know how to call, what to say, how to explain why he hadn’t called Sam back in the beginning or why he’d been too afraid to call after that.

But it’s been too long and Dean needs to see if Sam is okay, make sure his baby brother is safe. He’s on his way to Palo Alto, but his plan is to keep his distance, to stay away from Sam. He just wants to see him, that’s all. When he arrives, he drives around a little. He isn’t even sure where Sam lives now, if he’s still in dorms, if he’s living somewhere else. He has no idea how to track him down without causing too much attention. So he settles for parking his baby at Sam’s campus, near the dorms where Sam lived the first year, just in case he’s still there. And then he waits. Hours pass by as he watches the students walk past; laughing, chatting, or rushing, all living their lives. They all look happy and Dean feels his heart ache a little. Sam’s one of them, he’s most likely just as happy as those students. For a few heartbeats Dean starts to fear that maybe he wouldn’t even recognise his brother anymore, with a huge, happy grin on his face, surrounded by friends. But he’s Sam and he’s his brother, he’s what’s been missing in his life for too long now. Dean realises that there’s no way he wouldn’t be able to pick him out of a crowd, no matter how much time will pass, he’ll know his baby brother.

When it starts to get dark and the campus starts to empty and no more students seem to file out of the lecture buildings, Dean starts to get worried. He hasn’t seen Sam, and maybe his plan to just sit and wait hasn’t been the smartest one. He gets out of the car, stomach growling in protest – he hasn’t eaten since last night he realises, and he really should get something to eat. Abandoning his look out, he searches for the nearest diner to eat. He makes sure to sit as far in the back as possible, just in case Sam walks in. The waitress gives him a beautiful smile, and tries to flirt with him whenever she approaches his table, but Dean’s very distracted. He’s keeping an eye on the door - even while he’s eating he can’t help but glance over every few second. He pays for his burger with fries and the soda, and when the waitress gives him another smile, he dares to ask her if she knows someone called Sam Winchester. When she shakes her head apologetically, he gives her a small smile and mutters a “thankyou”. He hadn’t expected her to know the name, but he needed to try.

He walks along the road back towards the car, preparing himself for a long night in the car. Maybe it’s a good thing it isn’t so cold here. He buys a bottle of whiskey on his way there. Gotta keep warm somehow, and it’ll make it easier to stay awake for as long as possible, and then it’ll make it easier to fall asleep. When he arrives back with his baby, it’s not long before he’s drunk quite a bit of the whiskey, and he’s starting to find it more difficult to focus properly on the people walking around. It’s a Tuesday night and although enough students seem to find it the perfect night to go out, it’s reasonably quiet. Dean starts to drift off to sleep a number of times, the alcohol making it too difficult to keep his eyes opened, the lack of distractions making it too difficult for his brain to stay awake. When he wakes at 3am, he’s cold and upset with himself for falling asleep and wasting time to find (or see) Sam. He takes another long drink from the bottle to feel the warmth from the inside, and another to wake up properly. The place around him is dark and empty, no soul wandering around. He’s been here for a day now and hasn’t seen Sam. This plan isn’t going to work. He could go to the administration’s office tomorrow, ask to find out where his brother went and hope they’ll give him this information when they see proof of their relation. On the other hand, he doubts this will really work unless he can bring up enough energy to flirt his way through. He takes another drink, annoyed with the situation, annoyed with himself for coming here with no real plan. He decides to stay awake, because he doesn’t want to miss the time when all students begin to go back to lectures, and partly also as punishment for his own naivety to believe that he’d simply see Sam walking around campus. By four am the bottle is more empty than full, and Dean is looking at his phone – at Sam’s name to be precise. He could text him to ask for an address with the false information that he wants to send a postcard. But in this very moment, at 4:07am, phoning his little brother seems much more appropriate. Since Sam left for Stanford, Dean has looked at Sam’s number more times than he can count, he’s been close to dialling it just as many times but each time he was able to stop himself. No matter how drunk he’s ever been, there was always the voice in his head telling him not to do it. But right now, this voice isn’t telling him that if he calls Sam he’ll have to explain himself, if Sam answers, he’ll have to find a way to speak to him; that voice is telling him that if he doesn’t call Sam now, he’ll never find him, he’ll never see him and know that his baby brother is safe. So he presses the call button. He isn’t sure if he expects Sam to answer, after all, Sam should be fast asleep right now with no worries in the world. But at the fourth dial tone, he hears Sam’s sleep-slurred “hello?”. He doesn’t know what to say. “Hey, Sammy, it’s you coward of a big brother, I wanted to see if you’re okay and where abouts you live now so I can come see you, make sure you’re safe. Don’t worry, I don’t want to talk, I just want to see you, I’ll leave as soon as I do” seems like the wrong way to go.

“Hello? Who’s this?” Sam’s voice sounds clearer now, and more annoyed than it did a minute ago. “It’s four am for fuck’s sake, whoever this is, this isn’t funny!”

“Sammy?”, Dean manages to whisper, too scared that his voice wouldn’t be steady if he spoke aloud.

“Dean? Are you okay?” Dean hears the worries and urgency in the question and feels guilty all the sudden. It’s four am, the only reason Dean would call at this time would be if something bad had happened to him or dad. And here he is, sitting in the impala, too drunk to really think straight, waking his brother only to hear his voice, to know he’s safe, to feel closer to Sam.

“Sammy, I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have called, I shouldn’t have woken you.” Tears are starting to fill his eyes. He shouldn’t have done this.

“Why did you call then?” Sam’s voice sounds annoyed again, no hint of worry left.

“I needed to hear your voice.” It slips out before Dean can stop it. Fucking whiskey.

“Dean, it’s been over a year, and tonight you feel the need to hear my voice?”

“I’m in Polo Alto. I’m parked in front of the dorms. I wanted to see you, make sure you’re okay but I didn’t know where to look for you. So I watched the students walk in and out of the buildings, I stayed awake almost all night trying to see you. But you weren’t there. I just want to make sure you’re okay. I didn’t mean to interrupt your life, I wouldn’t have approached you or talked to you. I just wanted to see you!” No point in holding it in now. He’s let one secret slip, may as well confess to it all.

Dean can hear Sam’s breathing on the other end of the line, but Sam stays silent, and Dean can’t do anything but hold his own breath and wait for Sam to react. He knows it’s more likely Sam will hang up than anything else, but he can’t take it back now, and anything he can say will only make it worse. He’s playing with the cap of the bottle, tempted to take another drink, hoping that maybe if he finished the bottle, he might forget this happened. But he won’t. So far, the alcohol has only made it worse, and if this goes badly, he’ll want to leave as soon as possible.

“Sam? I’m sorr – “

“Dean, listen. I don’t know what to say, okay? What do you want from me? I tried to call you so many times and you never answered or called back. I’m here now, I have a life here and you coming to check up on me now seems rather unnecessary. I’m fine, okay? I’ve got everything under control. I still keep salt everywhere, I’m keeping myself safe. Why didn’t you call a year ago? Why did you just cut me off? Why do you come now, over a year after I left?” Sam’s voice is getting louder and louder until it’s a frustrated and angry shout at the end of his questions. And Dean knows he’s right and he knows Sam has every right to react this way. But his mouth and brain don’t want to listen to that thought.

“I cut you off? You were the one who left me all alone, out of nowhere. You simply left, Sam. What did you want from me? Did you expect me to simply smile about it? Live my life like before? I was angry and hurt, Sam. I needed to process what had happened. You wanted a different life, you didn’t want me and dad in your life. You were the one who abandoned me. I couldn’t call you then because I would have come here and dragged your ass back home before you could start your perfect, happy life. I couldn’t call you and tell you that I missed you more than should be humanly possible. It felt like you ripped my heart out and took it with you. I felt lost and alone and fucking empty. Did you want to hear that? Because I sure as hell don’t think you wouldn’t have done!” Although he was shouting at first, his voice is a small whisper when he finishes. He feels a tear running down his cheek, and brushes it away with the back of his free hand. This was a mistake. He only wanted to see Sam, not accuse him of all this, not make his life difficult. He never wanted to upset Sam.

“Dean, I’m sorry. I told you I was sorry so many times. There isn’t any more I can do because this is my life. I need this, I need a normal life. I can’t be a hunter, and I don’t want to be. But I’d never want to cut you out of my life. I never wanted that!”

“I guess we can’t undo the past, and I’m not here to convince you to come back, no matter how much I want that. I’m not here to accuse you of what happened and I don’t want us to argue. I’ll leave, I promise, once I sober up. But I needed to know you’re safe. “ Dean closes his eyes. This isn’t how he’d hoped this would turn out, but at least he’d leave with them not arguing, not hating each other.

His head jerks up when he hears the faint knock on the passenger door window. And then Sam is opening the door and sits right there, next to him.

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” He says with a smile. “You could have just called to ask where I live. And not at 4am but when you arrived.”

“You know me, I don’t do things the easy way, bitch.”

“I know you don’t, jerk. So, do you want to come in and sober up in a warm and comfortable bed? Or would you rather stay here?”

“You….. are you…? Really?”

“You really think I’ll let you sleep in the car now that I know you’re here?”

Sam’s smiling and Dean can’t help but fall in love with the look on his brother’s face. He’s always imagined what it would be like if he came to visit Sam, he’s imagined every possible variation of expressions on Sam’s face – from hatred to disappointment to joy and happiness. But never would he have been able to imagine it quite like the real thing. Sam’s eyes are practically shining and Dean feels his eyes fill with tears again. He curses the alcohol for the fourth time this night, this isn’t the time for tears and chick-flick moments. He closes his eyes, trying to hide the tears and all the emotions going through him, when he feels Sam’s arms around him

“I’m glad you’re here, Dean. I’m really glad!” And they’re hugging and suddenly Dean’s tears don’t matter anymore because Sam is stroking soft circles on his back.

“I’m so sorry, Sammy. I’ve missed you so much, I couldn’t stay away anymore.” He’s sobbing in his brother’s neck, tries to imprint the memory of Sam’s scent and warmth in his brain forever.

“It’s okay. I’ve missed you too, Dean.”

They stay there for a little longer, long enough for Dean’s tears to stop and dry on his cheeks, long enough for them to feel less starved of their physical contact.

“Let’s go inside and get some sleep.” Sam slowly lets go of Dean, holds him shortly to make sure his brother is steady to sit without his support. They walk up to the buildings next to campus where Sam is living now. His flat is small, one bedroom just big enough for the wardrobe, a tiny TV and the double bed, a tiny kitchen and an even smaller bathroom. But it’s enough, and it’s Sam’s. Sam’s still in his boxers and t-shirt underneath his Stanford sweater and the jeans, and Dean quickly discards all his clothes except his boxers. The bed is huge compared to what they’ve shared many times before in motel rooms when cash was tight or John was in a bad mood. They could both be comfortable on separate sides of the bed with no physical contact required, but they lie side by side, arms touching, heads turned towards each other. “Thank you, Sammy”, is the last thing Dean says before he falls asleep, he doesn’t see the smile on Sam’s face, he doesn’t see the love that shines in his eyes.

They wake up late the next morning, with Dean’s legs around Sam’s and their faces close together. Sam wakes first. He is very conscious of the feeling between his legs and fears that this closeness and physical contact had its effect on his body, his brain not caring if it’s his brother lying next to him. He very slowly tries to untangle their legs, trying not to wake Dean – unsuccessfully. Dean stirs and slowly opens his eyes.

“Hey.” Sam’s soothing voice reaches his ears before he fully comprehends that last night really did happen. He looks at Sam, shakes his head, and remembers exactly how he landed in Sam’s apartment.

“Hey.” They smile at each other. “What time is it?”

Sam checks the alarm clock on the bedside table. “Half eleven.” He’s missed his first lecture for today, and he figures he can miss the rest too. “Want some breakfast?” He shuffles out of bed, careful to hide that he does in fact have quite a boner – again, unsuccessfully. The wide eyes on Dean’s face and the amused smile make it very clear that Dean can see it.

“Had a good night, Sammy?”

“Shut up and get ready. You’re making me breakfast.” He rushes into the bathroom, his face bright red and hot from embarrassment.

Dean shakes his head and chuckles to himself. Maybe he should sleep in the Impala tonight to make Sam less uncomfortable, in case he even lets him stay so long. In his boxers and socks, he makes his way to the kitchen and starts going through Sam’s fridge and cupboards. It seems Sam’s well stocked fridge should allow him to make his speciality – burnt pancakes with enough maple syrup to overshadow the flavour of burnt pancakes. Sam should have known this would happen, really, so Dean decides to go for it.

When Sam finally emerges from the bathroom, smelling of shampoo and shower gel, Dean has the stack of pancakes almost ready. He grins at his brother when he comes into the kitchen and sits down on one of the two chairs.

“We’re having pancakes à-la Dean”, he says.

“I could smell that all the way through the bathroom door, you didn’t have to tell me.” Sam smiles because he did know this would happen.

“Your favourite.”

Their eyes meet and they both look away quickly.

“So, what’s your plan for today then? I don’t want to interrupt in your life, Sammy.” He’s careful when asking that question. He wants to ask if he can stay or if Sam wants him to go, but he’s too scared to put it that way.

“Well, since I’ve already missed my lecture from this morning, I’m thinking I can miss my lectures this afternoon. What was your plan anyway? Wait another day to see if you can see me walk past the car? Or were you just gonna leave again?”

Dean’s quiet for a second and when he replies it’s barely a whisper. “No, I was going to wait until I saw you, I think. I didn’t really have a plan.”

“Well, in that case I assume you could hang out with me today? Unless you want to leave now that you’ve seen me?”

“I’d love to stay”, he says quietly.

They eat in silence, Dean enjoying his “maple syrup with a side of pancakes” as Sam calls them, and Sam eats one or two of his pancakes, taking his time, savouring the flavour that reminds him of the times Dean made them pancakes when they were little. He doesn’t think Dean has stopped smiling since they decided he’s staying, and he can’t stop looking at his brother’s face.

“Dean”, He hesitates before he continues. “I still can’t believe you’re here. I still can’t believe you got so fucking drunk last night that you called me at four in the morning, but I’m glad you did. Who knows how long you would have been stuck out there, considering you were looking towards the wrong side of the campus.”

“I’ll never hear the end of this, will I?” But he is glad too. He can’t believe Sam decided to let him stay, he can’t believe Sam even came to get him from the car.

When they’re done eating, Dean goes back into the bedroom. He’s still in his boxers and socks, and only put on a t-shirt after starting the pancakes because he’d gotten quite cold. He sits down on the bed with one of the books on Sam’s bedside table and doesn’t see the way Sam was staring at him while he walked to the other room. Slowly, Sam puts the dishes in the sink and follows him to the bedroom. Enjoying the view he has from the door for a few moments, he looks at his brother’s body, long and lean on his bed, legs stretched out in front of his seated upper body. He can see that Dean hasn’t changed much since he last saw him, although he looks slimmer, and firmer. He hasn’t been eating properly and working too hard, he thinks.

“You just gonna stand there all day and stare or are you coming over so we can sleep some more?”, Dean teases when he has enough of feeling Sam’s gaze on him.

“We’re not sleeping for the rest of the day, Dean. You’re finally here. I won’t waste the day by being unconscious.” He moves towards the bed anyway and sits down next to Dean. He’s more cautious about the amount of physical contact between them, though, and has to lean over a little to see what Dean’s reading anyway. It’s his old copy of 1984 which he’d started to read for what felt like the millionth time last week; a book he’d gotten from their dad one year when he’d begged for months and John had finally decided the whining was unbearable.

“What do you want to do then? Because I’m not going to read this, Sammy.” He looks over at his brother who’s still leaning towards him a little and is holding the eye contact this time.

“I really don’t mind. We could go out, rent some movies, order some food, and drink some beer. I just want to enjoy being with you, like it used to be, if that’s okay?” Sam’s a little ashamed of how much he’s clinging to this day. He wants so badly for them to be back how they used to be, but he knows he was the one who broke it.

“Sounds perfect. But can we stay in bed for a little longer?” Dean’s smiling at Sam. He’s here, he has Sam so close next to him, he’s happy, and he’ll stay for today. He wishes he could stop time, stay in this moment forever.

“’course.” Sam puts all his courage into one movement and puts his head on Dean’s shoulder, who tilts his head slightly and presses a kiss on his brother’s forehead. God, how they’ve both missed each other’s company and closeness. They stay there for a while, Dean mindlessly turning the pages of the book without reading, Sam simply breathing in all of Dean. After a while, Dean’s arm begins to get heavy and he moves slightly, encouraging Sam to lift his head and look at Dean.

“You’re so beautiful, Sammy. I’ve missed seeing your face, especially your smile.”

As if on cue, Sam smiles his most beautiful smile, full dimples and all.

“You’ve grown up, Sammy. And I’ve missed it.”

“You’re here now. You won’t miss anything else. You’ll come visit more often, won’t you?” Sam’s so hopeful, he holds his breath waiting for Dean’s response.

“Of course I will, if you’ll have me.”

And before Sam can reply that of course he’ll have Dean, he’ll keep Dean there for the rest of his life if he can, Dean moves his head and his lips softly touch Sam’s. Sam’s whole body begins to shake, he closes his eyes and has to remind himself to breath or he’ll faint eventually, and he moves into the kiss, turning it more certain, and stronger.

When the kiss breaks, neither of them knows who moved away first. They look into each other eyes, searching for disgust and horror in their faces, but they can’t find any, and before they know it, Dean’s hands are in Sam’s hair, Sam’s arms around Dean’s neck, and they’re kissing again. Dean softly licks his way into Sam’s mouth, tasting the burnt pancakes and sweet syrup on his brother’s tongue. Their breathing grows into pants, eager and needy their hands move all over the other’s body, and their kiss never breaks.

“Sammy”, Dean sighs into his brother’s mouth. “I love you, Sammy.”

And as though to prove that he loves him too, Sam moves and sits on Dean’s lap, kisses and licks his jawline all the way to his neck, places kisses and sweet whispers all along Dean’s collar bone, nibbles his ear and whispers “I love you too”’s.

Neither of them really knows where it came from, if it was always there or if the distance caused these feelings, but they know they’re soulmates, they know they love each other, and they’d die without the other one in their life.

“I need you, Sammy. God, I can’t believe how much I’ve fucking missed you. I can’t believe what an idiot I’ve been. I love you.” Dean keeps whispering sweet words, while Sam kisses every inch of skin he can reach. He’s rocking forwards and backwards, slightly but surely, causing enough friction for both of them to cause them to sigh and pant. When Dean can’t take it anymore, he meets Sam’s rocking with an eager thrust, which is all Sam really needed anyway. He pushes Dean’s boxers down, and quickly undresses himself. Before he crawls back onto the bed, they stare at each other, appreciating the view, each other’s thick, blood filled cocks.

“Get back here, Sammy.” He doesn’t need to be told twice, and within seconds, Dean’s lying underneath him, whose legs are now straddling his hips. They’re kissing again, until Sam replaces his tongue with his index and middle finger.

“Suck them, get them really wet”, he commands and Dean’s eyes roll back as a reaction to the pleasure he feels spreading through him.

Sam begins to fist their dicks together with his free hand, while Dean’s sucking and licking the fingers in his mouth as Sam has demanded.

“I want to put my fingers inside you, Dean.” It’s his way of asking for permission whilst talking dirty – he’s never been very good at that and he hopes that his voice doesn’t show how desperately he wants this.

“Fuck, Sam, do it.”

They’re kissing again, wet and deep, whilst Sam slowly moves his hand from their dicks to Dean’s ass. Carefully, he places one of his soaking wet fingers against Dean’s hole and begins to push in. When Dean’s whole body tenses, he stops and whispers soothing words to him. “Shh, I don’t have to do this, Dean. Tell me to stop. It’s okay.”

“No, I want this.” As if to prove the truth in these words, he moves his hips to move Sam’s finger further inside himself. When Sam works his whole finger inside Dean, and begins to fuck his hole, Dean begins to moan. God, if there’s anything Sam loves more than the happy smile on Dean’s face, it’ll have to be the sounds his brother is making right now, the sounds he’s coaxing out of him by doing this.

“More, Sammy. Give me more.” And Sam does as he’s told. Before he thinks to add the second finger, he collects as much saliva as he can and spits into his hand. He tries his best to lubricate both his fingers and Dean’s ass as much as possible, while Dean’s watching his every move. As he works a second and even a third finger inside Dean, he’s rewarded with the most beautiful sounds out of Dean’s mouth and the most beautiful view of Dean’s tight ass stretched around his fingers. Sam keeps looking at Dean’s face, the pleasure so visible on it that Sam thinks he might cum from just seeing that. When Dean opens his eyes, he nods at him, both knowing what the other is thinking. Sam slowly takes out his fingers, hearing Dean’s protest at the emptiness, coats his dick with the remaining spit, and places the head against Dean’s opening. When he pushes in, Dean opens up to him as though he’s always been meant to be right there, inside his brother. As he pushes in millimetre by millimetre, and pulls out before moving a little deeper, Dean doesn’t break their eye contact, his eyes widening with every inch of Sam inside him. And just as Sam inserts himself all the way to the base inside his brother’s ass, Dean’s entire body begins to vibrate.

“Sammy, I can’t, I’m going to come!” He’s shouting loud enough for the entire building to hear him, and it just drives Sam even closer to the edge. Sam starts slamming inside his brother, both for himself but also for Dean’s pleasure who is starting to shout with pleasure with every time Sam almost pulls out all the way, just to slam in even faster. Dean’s fisting himself so fast, it’s driving Sam insane. When Dean comes, he’s taking Sam with him, fast and messy and wonderful, both panting and shaking and Sam collapsing on Dean when they’re done.

“Fuck, Sammy”, Dean whispers. “This was amazing.”

“I’m even more happy you drunk-dialled me this morning”, Sam mumbles into his brother’s neck, his entire body weak and happy.

“I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too.”

They stay there for a little longer, Dean drawing small circles on Sam’s back, until they’re both able to move again.

“I think we both need a shower. Let’s go get movies after that.”

“I like the sound of a shower together”, Dean smirks. They’re both not ready for another round, probably won’t be for a few hours, but it can’t hurt to joke about it. Maybe tomorrow, he muses.

Dear Bi, I wasn’t quite sure if I should reveal my identity with my last gift or if I should wait until tomorrow, but I won’t be home much tomorrow, so I decided I’ll simply submit this from my blog, not on anonymous and that way you’ll know who I am.;)

I’ve loved writing and drawing and editing these gifts for you. And even more, I’ve loved reading your kind comments (tags) for each of them. I hope I was able to make you happy each day, I know it’s always difficult to make EVERY gift special or great, but I hope I managed to at least get some things in there, that you enjoyed.

As you’ve probably read by now, the ficlet above (which accidentally turned into a 5k thing :p ) was the promised happy stanford!era headcanon, mixed with drunk phonecall, bottom!Dean and just a lot of fluff.:) I actually LOVED writing this, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it.

Anyway, I’ll end my long ramble here. Merry Christmas (Eve) to you, I hope you have a wonderful Christmas. Thank you for being such an amazing person to send gifts to, it made my 12 days of wincestmas an absolute joy!

Lots of love, from your wincestmas anon :)

#noahsnowflake

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