Your Arms, Like Towers

Note: I'm very, very, very aware that slash is an acquired taste. So I'm going to say it again, so that anyone who didn't read the summary...can be told again this is WINCEST. I don't think that it is too explicit for a rating of M but if you think it is, please tell me, not the site administrators so that they delete my story, and I will take it down.

Disclaimers: I don't own Supernatural, I don't own Sam and Dean, God knows, I don't own Jensen or Jared, and the title came from the Paramore song, We Are Broken.

Chattooga, Georgia

Missoula, Montana

Saint Fucking Francis, South Dakota

The list was endless, city after fucking city, crap ass motel room, after crap ass motel room, that did, in fact, smell like ass, all you can eat shitty food…life on the road was hell in a box of forty fucking square feet.

And yet he'd never leave.

How could he?

He'd gotten every damn thing he'd asked for. He'd asked Dean to be his; completely, unconditionally, and blissfully his. And Dean had complied.

Dean had all but ripped out his heart, and given it to his brother even though everything inside him was screaming wrongbadsowrong ,

(Don't do it Dean, daddy wouldn't like)

And Sam was…fuck, he didn't know what.


Except…sometimes he wasn't.

(like when Dean fingertips grazed across bare skin, and whispered 'Iloveyousammy's' in his ear)


They slept together, because Sam wouldn't have it any other way.

Some things were still the same.

They hunted like the world would end if they stopped.

(And it probably would because Winchesters not hunting means the apocalypse has hit, and they're deaddead.)

Dean still puts Sam before himself during the hunt.

Dean still slept closest to the door, he'd be damned if anything-demon or otherwise-was going to get to Sam without going through him first.

Dean still worried about Sam every goddamn second of the day,

(Without Sam, he'd die, or at the very least, want to.)

And Sam still wanted for him not to.

Some things weren't.

They fell asleep together, and Sam woke up every morning with Dean's arms holding him close, and for however long it was…he was happy.

He just wanted for them to be suspended in that moment for forever.


He still remembered the Winter in some little shit town in Upstate New York.

Another crappy motel, a million years ago, and he and Dean were alone.

Some friggin' winter storm had knocked the power out and it was freezing, a sort of bone chilling cold.

October, or November maybe…he doesn't remember the details clearly.

He was finishing up high school, finally. He was keeping his fingers crossed, this would be the last move before he was done. He liked this one better than the last few in the cowpoke towns where everyone's big goal was to take over for daddy on the farm. Or pop out a few kids, and learn how to make apple pie.

None of that was important to that night though, it was the other part. The part that he remembered every single day when he was at Stanford.

The moment he curled up against Dean, he knew they both knew it didn't have a damn thing to do with how fucking cold it was.

Dean still shied away like it was some badsinfulwrong thing,

(like they didn't fit together like nature made them so)

Sam knew better.

He slipped his hand into Dean's pants, cupping him, and grinned, pleased, when he elicited the moan, the wantneedplease…

"Please, Dean," He whispered in is brother's ear, "Pretty please?"

He was practically in Dean's lap and could feel just how hard his brother was.

For him.


Dean sighed, resigned, as if he knew this was something to be regretted.

He half carried-half pulled Sam over to the bed, then motioned for Sam to dispose of his clothes.

Sam did it quickly, worried Dean would change his mind. He heard he heard the drip drip drip of liquid-lube, and looked back at Dean, naked, gorgeous, shivering in the cold.

Skin against naked bare skin…

Sam sighed as Dean's hand grazed across his stomach and slid down his cock, lingering to massage his balls ever so gently.

Dean reached around and caught Sam's lips under his, the hungry probing kiss making promises and apologies that Sam couldn't quite understand.

"Love me?" Sam asked, feeling the slight pressure at his back.

"Forever." Dean told him, the words escaping his mouth as an emission of guilt. "I'll love you forever."

As he pushed in, he caught Sam's lips in between his teeth, and began a hungry assault on his lips. He heard, felt, the slight whimper of pain, and stilled himself-comforting Sam.

"Don't…stop." Sam told-begged him.

Dean did as requested, pushing all the way in and stopping once Sam was filled with him.

Sam's ass clenched around the foreign intrusion , trying to expel it and hold it hostage all at the same time.

Dean rolled his hips, to get Sam accustomed to the feeling, and felt guilt, and pleasure, and love. He loved Sam so much it hurt. Dean rolled his hips again, and the little moan that Sam gave went right through him, and he almost thought he'd come right at the sound.

He didn't though, and pulled out keeping one hand on Sam's stomach to steady himself, finding himself to be surprised by how firm and muscular his abs were. He let the other hand linger on his brother' dick, waiting, he wanted them to come together.

They did, Dean thrusting against his brother, Sam almost screaming with the overload of stimuli…Dean flicked his hand expertly over the head of his brother's cock and once he felt Sam's body shuddering with orgasm he gave one last thrust and came, filling his brother with his seed…and himself with a complete in diminishable guilt.

Dean quickly pulled out of his brother, and pulled on his clothes, then left.

Sam watched through the window, as Dean made a beeline for the bar.

Dean didn't return until after he'd gone to sleep.

(after Dean thought he'd fallen asleep)

Something comes in threes, he recalls, but that night was threes for him.

Firsts. Three firsts.

He lost his virginity to his brother.

He decided he had to leave.

He listened to his brother cry himself to sleep.


He almost always felt cold, he figured that was because Dean was warm, so fucking warm.


Even when he shouldn't be warm, he was.

Sam pulled his hand away from Dean's chest and it was covered, dripping, with his brother's blood.

Even when he shouldn't be fucking warm, he was.

He's sure Dean gave up something else so that they would take him away in his sleep, so that he could keep lying and Sam could have one more night of blissful happiness, and wake up with Dean's arms wrapped around him.

Forever, Sam, Dean's whisper. I'll love you forever