Word Prompt: Motorcycle

Warnings: Wincest, schmoop, slight angst


Motorcycle

Dean awoke for the first time in what felt like months in a warm, comfortable bed, courtesy of Sam's resolute insistence. And for the first time in years, he did not awake after three hours to the ringing of an alarm clock signaling the need to burn a body or to his blaring ringtone whose other side held the voice of a panicked victim or even to the screaming in his head from the nightmares that plagued him or Sam. He awoke after ten hours of blissful rest simply because he and his body wanted to. Because the sunlight was streaming gently through the thin curtains. Because he could hear the birds singing a beautiful song off in the distance. And because he felt the warm lips of his brother pressed against his own in a welcoming embrace.

As Dean's eyes fluttered open when his brother's warmth pulled back enough to let Dean up from the bed, he mumbled, "Mmmm, morning, Sammy."

"Morning, De," Sam whispered back, his hot breath ghosting over Dean's ear, "Happy birthday."

A groan escaped from Dean, his head plopping back onto the pillows as he was reminded of the reason for Sam's mysterious and random insistence of this special stay.

Dean had been hoping to forget today. The first birthday since Sam rejoined the hunt after Stanford. The first birthday since Sam and Dean had reunited. The implications of this birthday, the reminder of not having his brother with him for the past few birthdays, physically hurt Dean. He missed this; having his brother here to celebrate. But the constricting in his chest that reminded him that Sam had not been there before was just a lot to handle for the emotionally shattered Dean.

But the way that Sam carefully, lovingly pulled his brother back into a sitting position on the bed, snuggled up to his brother's side, and laid Dean's head on his chest; his ear right above Sam's beating heart, took some of the pain away.

After minutes of comfortable silence, Sam tilted Dean's head up with a forefinger under his chin and dipped down to lay a quick kiss on Dean's lips before pulling back to whisper, "I've got something for you, De."

Moaning slightly at the loss of his brother on him, Dean regretfully pulled away, yet the jump in his step that Dean had once Sam dragged him out of bed by the hand did nothing to hide his eagerness of what his brother had in store. Sam had always given Dean presents that he would treasure and love. Then again, Dean loved and treasured anything about and from Sam as a general, unspoken, unthought-of rule.

As Sam dragged Dean towards the door, his mouth began moving at a mile a minute, words simply spewing from his lips.

"It's not meant to replace to Impala, nothing like that, so don't think that," Sam began which caused an uneasiness to grow in the pit of Dean's stomach about what his brother had done to his baby.

"I hope you like it," Sam trailed off as he held the door leading outside open for Dean while using the other to sweep in front of something as if to say, "this is it."

Within seconds, the bewilderment and shock passed through jade eyes and the excitement that took over had Dean falling over himself trying to get a look at the beautiful creature before him; a black motorcycle.

When Dean had finally finished examining his new baby after what felt like hours, he slowly began to walk towards Sam. When he reached his baby brother, he wrapped his arms around his taller brother, tucking himself in his safe embrace before mumbling against his chest, "It's beautiful, Sammy. Thank you."

Dean lifted his head up a few inches to kiss his brother, the heat and passion and gratefulness radiating from the pair. Soon; though, the question began to pull at Dean and he could not help but pull back and ask, hesitantly, "Why?"

Sam pulled a confused face for a moment at Dean's question, "Because you're worth it," before leaning back down to press a reassuring kiss to his brother.

Dean continued to search Sam's eyes, knowing that there was more to his reasoning, especially with something like this, something that Dean had given up because the thought of the monstrosity bucking his brother off and hurting him had always frighten Sam.

It was the eyes that broke Sam.

He leaned his forehead against Dean's before sighing lightly.

"Because, Dean," he hesitated, "I got my chance at freedom with Stanford. No more hunting. No more hiding."

For a moment, Dean looked crestfallen at the direction this conversation had turned, but Sam was quick to continue, "I wanted to give you that same chance at freedom, maybe a smaller version because I hope that you'll always use it to come backā€¦But Dean, a motorcycle; it is something that you have wanted forever and Dad and I, we're the reasons that you didn't get it. You didn't go out to get what you want, so I'm bringing it to you. When you're on it, you don't need to worry about a hunt. Just worry about the wind in your hair and the feel of metal rumbling beneath you. When you're on it, you don't need to worry about hiding. The roar of the cycle will frighten away any monster.

Dean. You deserve this freedom. Freedom in general. And I know I can't let you be completely free. You're a Winchester. But I can give you something.

I don't want you to feel trapped with me like I felt with Dad. So, I know you have the Impala, but that's sort of a Winchester tradition. The motorcycle is yours. Your way of getting out when you need a break or time or anything. "

Sam breathed in a deep breath before containing, "I know you don't have to now, with this, but I just hope you want to come back."

Sam stepped away from Dean for a moment, or tried to before Dean pulled him back, close to him. Chest to chest, the boys stood, Dean's head resting against the juncture between shoulder and neck. Tears wetting the cloth there as the meaning behind Sam's action, choice, and words were internalized.

Sam was giving Dean the chance to be free; to be himself, whenever he needed it.

The older brother shifted and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Sam's neck before pulling back and whispering in Sam's ear, "I will always come back. I love you, Sammy. Thank you," before pulling his brother into a soul-searing kiss.

When the air left the boy's lungs and the need to breathe overwhelmed them, they pulled apart, thousand watt smiles lining their faces, and the first words to leave Sam's mouth were, "Thank you, De. Happy birthday."