The Winding Road Leads Home

A/N This is a sequel to Every Step Leads Home, please check it out. It is slash. Fair warning! Lots of sex. These characters don't use protection; they're monogamous and in low risk situations going in. Be responsible!

Based sort of in early/mid-season 10 of NCIS and season 8 of Supernatural, this splits into an AU where show plots remain episodic from the split (no trials, no Delilah), and there are spoilers.

Please review, it means so much to me!

Chapter 1

Driving for hours gave Timothy McGee way too much time to think. Sam had called. Sam Winchester, his friend, a man who knew him better than anyone else, the man he'd half-carried out of the mountains when he was injured, sleeping nights huddled together for warmth. The man he'd known off and on nearly all his life, the monster hunter, the smart, kind, brave... The only man he'd ever had haunting, intimate dreams about, who he couldn't get out of his waking mind, either. Words floated endlessly through his mind, the voice deep and rough with sleep. He'd woken to that voice in his memory again and again over the last weeks, and it always gave him a slight shiver and a tickle at the base of his spine. Trying desperately to analyze his responses, he tried to categorize, attempted to order his thoughts; all that shattered when he imagined forest green eyes looking at him from under heavy brows. He needed to see Sam. That was all there was to it. He had to see him and maybe all of this would make sense.

When he had agreed to meet Sam in Indiana, halfway between them, he'd dropped everything in his rush to get on the road. A quick email to Gibbs and the director informing them (not asking) that he needed a personal day, a phone call to warn Abby he was coming to drop Jethro, his dog, off at her place, and a flying whirl through his apartment to pack were all a blur in his mind. What was clearer was Abby's reaction when he'd told her he was going to meet someone.

"You're a good person, Tim. I hope she doesn't take advantage of you," Abby had said, frowning. She'd taken in his torn, confused expression and her mouth had formed a small 'o'. His eyes had widened at how well she could read him and he'd shaken his head mutely before fleeing.

Turning on the radio, he hit seek and stopped at the first music he heard. It took him a minute to recognize Dido's obsessive love song Here With Me, and when he did, he switched it off, stabbing the knob like he was afraid it would attach to his finger. Love. Was this love? He loved Sam, sure, he loved his friends, he wasn't so macho he denied it. Abby, Ziva, Tony, even Gibbs and Palmer and Ducky, each in a unique way. But was love...?

Eyes wide, heart pounding, he focused on the road, counting the mile markers, trying to get his mind to go blank.


Sam sat at the bar where they'd agreed to meet, sipping a beer and playing restlessly with the bottle. His brow was furrowed as he went over and over this whole...situation in his mind. A man. A dude! was Tim. Did it matter? He was feeling what he was feeling. Part of Sam wanted to just walk away from all this. He felt his stomach twist at the thought of never seeing Tim again, though, and he shook his head. He was here. Soon, Tim would be as well. His heart pounded at the thought. And then... Maybe it would be different, here in the mundane, public world. Having spent days relying on Tim as they hiked down off the mountain, well, that had been intense. Sleeping all bunched up like puppies after Tim's gear had washed away, it was undeniably intimate. Out here, the dreams might just fade away, replaced with the more concrete memories of their other meetings, once as little kids at a scouting camp, again in Arizona when he'd run away and lived on his own for two weeks, and the summer Tim had been a guest professor for a computer forensics seminar at Stanford. Maybe he'd seem like just a friend again, the dreams and musings vanishing like ghosts. Just a guy. A guy! It was unbelievable to think that he might be falling for...

Tim spotted Sam immediately. He smiled wryly: Sam was exceedingly hard to miss with his height, his long hair, broad shoulders... Those shoulders were rippling with tension under the thin plaid shirt Sam wore. Oh God...

Tim's feet took him forward without conscious choice. "Sam."

Sam turned and they stared at each other. Finally, Sam stuck his hand out to shake; pulling Tim into the familiar half-hug-with-back-slap fond friends might share. They both held on for a long extra moment. Tim tried to pretend he didn't take a breath through his nose when his face was next to Sam's, the long strands of Sam's hair soft on his cheek and the familiar clean scent vividly bringing a spine tingle. Sam tried to ignore the gentle waft of aftershave from Tim and how natural it felt to have the man close while enjoying the touch of his hand, the feel of his arm around him.

"It's good to see you, Tim," Sam said, sitting back onto the barstool, his voice as tense as his shoulders.

"Yeah, you too, Sam."

Tim sat on Sam's left and ordered two more beers. Sam felt electrified having Tim so close. Any thoughts that it was just something from their forced intimacy during the hike were disproved by the excitement flowing through him. Tim tried in vain to order his thoughts. The heat of Sam's body next to him was comfortably familiar and reassuring, which only confused him more. They drank in silence for several minutes, shoulders brushing as they instinctively leaned together, then parting when they realized what they were doing.

"It was really intense, out there with you," Tim blurted. His gut was roiling. His body was reacting in crazy ways to their closeness, and Tim was beginning to care less that this was a man beside him. Sam nodded. His breath was shallow and he was starting to admit to himself how much he hoped Tim was feeling the same things he was.

"I - I can't really stop thinking about it," Sam admitted. "About - uh, you, really." He kept his fingers on his beer so he wouldn't be able to tell if they were shaking. He stared ahead, using the mirror behind the bar to watch Tim. He was pale, but had red spots on either cheek, and he was intently studying the bottle he held.

"I've had these dreams... I just... I don't know..." Tim drank; barely cognizant he was finishing his beer already. The warmth of the alcohol fired the heat he was already feeling.

"Dreams. Yeah. And waking up..." Sam cleared his throat. Tim caught his eye in the mirror. He nodded slowly and finally tore his gaze away, shifting to look directly at Sam. He thought he saw Sam's breath catch.

"I woke up that last night in the mountains," Tim said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Coyotes, I think. You..." He swallowed hard and his voice dropped further. Sam leaned toward him. "You had your arms around me." Sam nodded slowly. "I was kind of freaked out, and I...asked if you were awake and you," Tim inclined his head and spoke very slowly, "kissed the back of my head and told me I was safe." He paused. "I believed you."

Sam's eyes were wide. "I don't remember that," he breathed. He remembered waking in the cold of predawn, holding Tim, breathing in the smoke and sweat scent of him, studying his sleeping face and feeling confused, trying not to think about how he felt.

"We should go someplace more private to talk. Back to my hotel?" Tim suggested. Sam nodded and indicated he'd follow. They left the bar, legs shaky and breath short.

Tim's hands gripped the steering wheel until they were white knuckled. Confessing even part of how he'd felt when Sam had reassured him that last night, hell, admitting it had happened, was momentous. As a young man he'd had some confused feelings about Sam, but had stifled them completely. This... This was so much more. It felt clear and pure underneath all the baggage of cultural concepts and archetypal roles. If Sam felt the same way... Was it possible? He wouldn't let his mind go any further with the thought. Not until they talked.

Sam grew calm. What Tim had told him made all the difference. In his mind the deed was done, the truth had been revealed while he'd been mostly asleep; it was just follow-through now.

The door of the hotel room closed behind them, and Sam turned to face Tim. They stood there, staring at each other. Tim felt his skin rise in gooseflesh all along his arms, and he sucked in a quick breath as Sam's hands came up to touch either side of his face. Sam's eyes searched his, open, vulnerable, asking, hoping. He must have seen Tim acquiesce, because he kissed him. Tim got the quickest erection he'd ever had; painfully fast. Sam was running on instinct: the same instinct that had made him smile at the sight of Tim's face when he woke on the mountain, the same instinct which had caused his body to curl protectively around the man in his sleep their last night in the wilderness and reassure him with a kiss.

Tim's body jerked like an electric shock had passed through him, and Sam pulled back, breath shuddering as he again looked into Tim's wide eyes. Tim took in the glint, the burning, in Sam's eyes and followed his own instinct: he closed the distance between them and resumed their kiss. Tim's hands came up to rest on Sam's waist, reassuring himself the man wasn't moving away, and at the touch, Sam took the kiss deeper, his tongue parting Tim's lips. Tim groaned, and his hands tightened on Sam, drawing the taller man against him.

Sam moved his hands from Tim's face and embraced him, sliding his arms over Tim's shoulders and cradling him close. After a long moment, he broke the kiss and kept his eyes shut as he rested his forehead against Tim's. Shaking, they clung to one another. When Sam opened his eyes, he found Tim watching him. Uncertainty flooded him, and his face flushed crimson. He moved away, further into the room. Tim leaned toward Sam as the hunter stepped back, and then rocked back, feeling drunk.

Sam shifted his weight, his hips twisting slightly in a familiar action to ease constriction in his pants and Tim relaxed. He wasn't the only one who'd reacted intensely in the moment.

"Look, I've never kissed a guy- "

"Don't," Tim's low cry cut Sam off. The hunter looked at him, tilting his head in question. Conflict tore at him, but if Sam was recanting, he'd honor the choice. "We don't need to go over that. We're both straight. Fine. We went through an extended trauma together-"

"Don't try to talk us out of this, Tim," Sam snapped. He set his jaw and gave the other man a hard stare. Tim looked away, knowing he'd been trying to rationalize their kiss, their feelings, all of it. But he had thought that was what Sam had wanted... He turned his eyes back to Sam and shrugged, feeling helpless.

Sam nodded, accepting that Tim was done with that train of thought. He went and sat down on the foot of the bed. His mind registered all the details of the room and catalogued the differences from the no-tell-motel places where he and Dean normally stayed. The list was long, and he sighed heavily. The contrast of their lives stood out starkly.

"That night. I have never felt... I was..." Tim shook his head. "There aren't words."

"Safe?" Sam asked gently. Tim nodded, and Sam's voice broke on the next word. "Home?" Tim's eyes bored into Sam's, and he slowly walked over and sat beside the big man. He knew that Sam had never had a real home and what it meant to him.

"Yeah," Tim breathed. "And more. So much more." He scrubbed his hand over his face and half turned so he was facing Sam. "This could get...kinda complicated."

"Federal agent and wanted criminal? Yeah," Sam sighed. "I don't want to ruin your life, dude."

Tim shook his head, discounting any danger to himself or his career. He'd been thinking of his long, unpredictable hours and Sam's constant travel. He choked when he realized that his mind was already planning how to make a relationship work. So much for talking. He was in. Sam's eyebrows rose in question at Tim's expression, but Tim just shook his head again. Sam looked pained, and he turned with one knee up on the bed to face Tim. He put his hand on Tim's leg.

"I really don't want to make your life any harder, Tim. Just..." He swallowed at the constriction in his chest. "Just say the word and I am out the door," he pointed, "and you'll never see me again."

"No!" Tim exclaimed. He grabbed Sam's wrist and looked up at him. "No," he said more softly. He frowned, unsure how to express the jumble of emotion and complexity his mind was awash with. "It's do we even try to start something?"

Relief so strong his hands shook went through Sam. "I thought- " he chuckled. Tim frowned, not understanding Sam's mirth. "I've been trying to read you and not just project what I want to see," Sam explained. "I keep thinking you're ready to walk." Tim frowned and shook his head. He moved their hands together and intertwined their fingers. Sam stared at the sight. He was holding hands with a guy. No, not just a guy, with Tim. He'd been desperate to see him, had dreamed so often of holding him, and now they'd kissed, and it had felt totally right. But Sam knew jumping in without even trying to discuss it wouldn't be Tim's way. He'd need time, and words, and a plan. "Look, we're here. Let's just straight up talk about what we want right now."

"I don't know, I - I think I just..." Tim trailed off. He looked away, inarticulate and frustrated by himself. Sam was surprised at Tim's reaction.

"I want to be here, with you," Sam stated. Tim looked back at him and nodded. "Kissing you was... Uh, really- " He blew out a quick breath and then hurried on. " -hot, but I think what I want most is to be close to you tonight. Like we were. I've dreamed about it, holding you, and what I want more than anything is that."

Tim slowly released Sam's hand and put his hand on the hunter's hip, leaning toward him and putting his cheek against Sam's shoulder. Sam moved, dropping his leg off the bed and scooting close to Tim. They put their arms around each other and each gave a long exhale of relief and pleasure. Tim breathed deeply, unabashed now in his desire to bask in the scent of Sam. Sam felt peace and warmth spread from their contact, and he laughed shortly. "Dean would accuse me of having ovaries for enjoying this as much as I am," he murmured. Tim frowned, holding on tighter.

"Can we just...ignore everything outside this room? Everything gets so complicated when I think about Dean, about - any of it, and I just want time with you so we can try to figure out what's going on."

It was so reasonable, Sam chuckled again. "You are so damn practical."

Tim drew back and looked at him with one eyebrow cocked. "You want to take all this on at once?"

"God, no! I like your idea; I just wasn't thinking that pragmatically." Sam's eye flickered to Tim's lips, so close. The perpetual pout of them was salacious to him now, and having had a taste of kissing them, Sam wanted more. Tim was shaken yet again, this time by seeing the naked desire on Sam's angular, stubbled, masculine, face. The softness of a woman's features would have blunted the hard edge of need he saw in Sam's eyes. He couldn't believe how sexy he found it. His toes curled and he had to tear his eyes away from Sam to control himself.

"If we're going to talk I think we need to get off this bed," Tim said with flat intonation. Sam bit his lip. Tim waited. He couldn't move, or he felt as if he'd shatter. It was up to Sam: he could get up and they'd discuss this, or he'd stay and Tim wasn't sure he would be able to keep from attacking him. "Well?"

Sam looked away and drew back, his hands dropping from Tim's back. "If that's what you want," he said, obviously hurt but willing to go along with what Tim wanted.

Tim closed his eyes, unsure if he was really ready, but certain he had to take that vulnerable, rejected expression off Sam's face. He could talk - they could talk and talk, or they could skip that and jump into the deep end. He'd always wanted to be with Sam, somehow; from their first meeting as kids, Tim had felt a bond with him and had somehow mourned the lack while they were apart. Now that the door had been opened to the possibility of taking this to a whole other realm, of taste and touch and intimacy, Tim knew exactly how to reassure Sam. Opening his eyes, he lunged, capturing Sam's lips with his own, his hand coming up to thread into the long hair and hold him steady. Sam rocked back at the impact, giving a short grunt, but almost instantly responded, pulling Tim close, using his strength to shift them up on the bed and dropping back with Tim leaning over him.

Kissing Sam had the same effect as before, and Tim groaned, stretching out beside the tall hunter. He pressed his erection against Sam's hip, his tongue exploring Sam's mouth; he was reveling in the reaction he was getting as Sam's powerful arms kept him close and his mouth responded to Tim's. Any remaining walls crumbled: he wanted this, more than anything.

Sam wasn't certain of the reality of what was happening. There was a dreamlike dichotomy of clarity and obscurity, but everything felt so good, so right, he surrendered to it. His hands slid over Tim's shoulders, and when his mind finally registered what the hardness was he felt pressing into his thigh, he palmed Tim's lower back and encouraged him to grind into it. Tim shuddered and threw his leg over one of Sam's, sighing as he rubbed against him. Sam slid his hand down to Tim's thigh and hiked it up to his own throbbing groin, rutting against the lean muscle. Their hands moved over each other: foreign, touching the hard muscles of a masculine body, but somehow perfectly familiar as well. They kissed and moaned into each other's mouths; they humped and groped and gasped. Sam finally tore his mouth free.

"What about - oh God - talking?" His voice shook with the effort it took to concentrate on speech. Tim shook his head. There was no way he was stopping in the middle of this conflagration.

"After," Tim informed him. Sam groaned and went back to what he wanted desperately to be doing: kissing Tim. Sam used his bulkier strength to roll them over so he lay half-sprawled on the other man. He reached up to touch Tim's face, breaking their kiss again to lock eyes and draw his fingers down Tim's cheek, Sam's thumb catching on his lower lip, caressing. Tim's breath stuttered and his hand rose to Sam's face. His long, sensitive fingers stroked Sam's cheekbones, slid down the hollow below, then along his jaw. Those hard lines captivated Tim. They studied each other up close, exploring with their hands as if this was an impossibly singular experience. Tim smoothed Sam's hair back, then stroked his fingers through it, finding the silky texture exactly how he'd imagined it. Sam slid his hand up, running along Tim's thick eyebrows and out to his temples. He traced the hairline over Tim's ear and stroked the slight curl behind it. Finally, Sam's fingers came down to Tim's shirt, and he begun unbuttoning. Tim took up the same cause on Sam's shirt, huffing when the thin fabric opened to reveal his powerfully built chest. Sam pulled Tim upright, shoving his dress shirt off of him and tugging the undershirt over his head. Insecurity flooded Tim at the contrast of his body to Sam's, but the expression on Sam's face was nearly worshipful as he touched Tim's pale chest, sliding his calloused hands across the soft skin. Getting Sam's shirt the rest of the way off just revealed more perfect musculature, albeit with many scars and his dramatic anti-possession tattoo.

Laying back down, both on their sides facing each other, they began kissing again, more sensuously. The heat of skin on skin as their chests slid against each other was intoxicating. Tim ducked his head to trail kisses down Sam's neck and he smiled when he heard the catch in Sam's breath. On impulse, he opened his mouth and bit and sucked, drawing a bruise to the surface of the skin. Sam gasped at the sensation and retaliated with his fingers sliding over Tim's chest, brushing against his nipple once, and again. Tim's hips bucked forward, and the slow exploration was over, the passion reignited. They pressed against each other, both trying to get closer, somehow both wanting what neither could have as they weren't equipped for sex as they'd always known it. They both seemed to realize that fact at the same time and came to an unspoken agreement as they reached for one another's pants.

Tim got access first since Sam wasn't wearing a belt like he was. His hand slid into the opening, under the waistband of Sam's underwear and wrapped around him, finding that his fingers barely touched around the thick member. Sam gasped and fumbled, trying to get caught up to Tim. It felt odd to touch a cock not his own, but Tim gave the most amazing sound as his hand slid up and down the sizable length of him that Sam quickly found himself liking the sensation. At last they began to stroke each other. It had been far too long since Tim had been with anyone and he found he desperately needed to climax. Sam's eyes rolled back at the feel on Tim's strong male hand on him. Unfortunately, neither could keep any kind of rhythm with how the other was making him feel. One would buck, the other hesitate, and frustration mounted.

"Shit," Sam hissed. He pushed Tim onto his back and grabbed his pants and boxers, pulling them down. Then he was back lying up against him, swatting Tim's hands away from his body. "We're taking turns, baby," he said, the endearment coming naturally. He kissed Tim deeply, his hand wandering over his chest, gently flicking at one then the other of Tim's nipples, making Tim jump and gulp air, before he dropped his mouth to Tim's neck and his hand back to Tim's cock. A firm grasp and long strokes had Tim making the most exquisite sounds Sam had ever heard. Tim panted, moaning Sam's name over and over. Sam's entire being ignited with the words. He tongued up to Tim's ear.

"Oh, Tim, yes, oh yeah. I wanna feel you come in my hand," he whispered, his ardor unleashed. Tim shuddered and groaned, turning his head for a short kiss and to look at Sam's highly aroused expression. His eyes squeezed shut on the sight and his hips bucked as he thrust hard into Sam's hand. "God, yes, Tim, baby, fucking come for me, yeah, let go, let me take you there, Tim, yes, yes," Sam crooned. Tim was transported. Panting, crying out Sam's name, his existence narrowed to the sound of Sam's voice and the sensations rolling through him as he came, shooting hard. Sam groaned; this was the hottest thing he'd ever seen, the heavy white spurts happening in time with his strokes and Tim's thrusting; Tim crying out his name, his face twisted in beautiful agony. Tim half turned, burying his face in Sam's neck, clinging to him as he slowly calmed. Sam held him, still whispering, now praise and gratitude, tears filling his eyes at his emotional response. Tim finally brought his mouth to Sam's, the kiss stopping the flow of words. Languorously tonguing Sam's lips apart and swirling sensuously, Tim expressed his appreciation. Sam shuddered with the kiss, arching his back and pressing tightly against Tim's side.

Running his fingers through Sam's hair, down to his neck, massaging gently, then trailing to the hard muscles of his shoulders, the deep v of his spine. He pushed Sam's jeans and underwear over the curve of his ass, fondling the pliable flesh and pulling his hips firmly against him for a moment before pushing Sam onto his back. Tim sat up and kicked his own shoes and socks off, then pulled his clothing off completely, using the boxers for a quick cleanup. He divested Sam of all clothing, not allowing Sam to help. The hunter lounged back, watching Tim, and Tim paused where he was, kneeling on the foot of the bed, taken again by what would be the perfect male figure if not for the scars puckering the skin in so many places.

"Oh, Sam," he breathed in sympathy and awe. He crawled back to his place beside his oft-wounded friend, hands honoring each mark as he went. The smile Sam gave him was soft and sweet, then their lips met again and Tim felt Sam's need. He didn't think about or consider what he was going to do, he just followed his instinctual desire to touch and taste and please Sam. He licked down Sam's neck, kissing the dark hickey he'd left only minutes before. Tim ran his hand down the length of Sam's arm and twined their fingers together, giving a good squeeze before resuming his movement. His mouth found Sam's nipple, the stylized flame of Sam's tattoo filling his vision as he nibbled and sucked.

"Oh, God, Tim!" Sam gasped. Tim smiled, tongue tracing across the defined abs and worked his way further down to the v-shaped indent guiding him directly to Sam's erection. Without hesitation, he opened wide and took Sam into his mouth, tongue swirling around the head then moving up and down as if this weren't the very first time he'd ever done such a thing. Sam's breath exploded out and he gasped, tossing his head. His voice deepened as he moaned expletives punctuated by Tim's name. Tim sped up, bobbing up and down, and in moments he heard Sam warning him. He sucked harder and drew him in deep as the orgasm ripped through Sam and thick gouts pumped out, coating the back of Tim's throat. He gagged at the new sensation but the sound of Sam's voice crying out, sobbing his name, was a brilliant distraction. He swallowed and slowly slid off. Shifting up to lay with his cheek on top of the protective pentagram tattoo, Tim listened to the thud of Sam's heart as it slowed. Sam's arms enfolded him, and that unnamable feeling, akin to both safety and home, but more powerful than either, stole through him. Tim closed his eyes and held tight.


A/N-I hope you're enjoying Tim and Sam as much as I do. I am very inspired by music as I write, so I posted my playlist for the Home series on my profile page. If you are a music person, check it out and drop me a PM with song suggestions. Please review! I love every single fav, follow, and review.