Title: It's Time We Started Winning
Warnings: incest, AU, spoilers for Real Steel
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Ben's a cute kid, all spit-fire and stubborn pride behind wide green eyes. It's not hard to believe that he's Dean's kid. A bit surprising that Dean managed to keep the fact that he had a kid a secret from Sam for eleven years, yeah, but looking at them standing there, Sam can see the resemblance.
And Sam loves his brother-in every way he should and shouldn't-but he's also very realistic. Sam gives him a week before he's either ready to kill himself or is wrapped full-body around Ben's pinky.
Dean lasts four days before he's calling Sam and letting him know that the kid's "not bad for a pipsqueak."
Sam just grins and shakes his head and asks if they found any parts to fix Dean's robot.
"Nah, but the kid found a beat up bot in the junk yard. Probably not worth much, but he's pretty attached already," Dean tells him.
"When you looking to show up?" Sam asks, not bothering to go the long way 'round this conversation with Dean hinting and cajoling at coming back to the gym to have Sam take a look at the junked 'bot.
He can hear Dean's grin in his reply. "Be there in a few hours."
The 'bot's a G-2, sleek black where she's not dented from misuse and surprisingly intact. Sam gets her powered up and running, steps back as the kid discovers the shadow mode and grins at Dean as Ben falls in love with his first 'bot.
Sam's spent most of his life watching Dean try and try to be good enough and, when that wasn't enough, do his best to drown the world out in alcohol and boxing with 'bots.
He helps them pack up the truck to leave, stoops to check that the little fridge has actual food in it along with Dean's usual staples and stares, struck dumb by the sheer lack of beer. Ben's waiting to load Imp onto the truck and Sam looks at him, then past him to where Dean's sifting through spare parts.
Well. Maybe there's hope for things, yet.
Imp wins. Again and again and each time, Sam gets a phone call. Usually some variation of "Holy shit, man! This bot! This is fucking amazing!"
Except for the one just after Imp beats Crossroad Demon in the League fight. Sam still gets a phone call, but this time, Dean doesn't say anything for a long moment. And when he does, Sam nearly stops breathing.
"Love you, Sammy."
He's been awake since Dean stepped on the first step to the loft, but he doesn't move, keeps his breathing steady and slow. His subterfuge is rewarded when Dean lays down behind him, drapes an arm over his waist and presses his nose into Sam's nape.
Sam smiles, relaxes just a bit more and closes his eyes again.
Dean finds him on the roof the next morning, still dressed in yesterday's clothes. He sits down next to Sam and they stay like that for a moment, silent.
"So," Sam says. Dean scowls at his feet.
"I couldn't do it," he mutters after a minute. "I'd do it all wrong. He's better off with them."
Sam refrains from rolling his eyes, but it's a close thing. "Bullshit," he says. "You're great at it. You'd do fine. And he still needs a dad, Dean. He still needs you."
There's nothing, then,"Where would I even start, Sam? I'm coming in eleven years too late."
"You know where." Sam's certain of this, knows what he'd seen when he'd watched Dean with Ben. He tilts his head to look at Dean out of the corner of his eye. "You gonna try?"
Dean takes a deep breath and lets it out. He scoots closer, leans over and Sam mirrors it, lets their foreheads bump and their noses brush. "Yeah," Dean breathes, lips barely brushing Sam's. "I think I will."
And Sam has to kiss him, then, has to tilt his head just that little bit further and catch Dean's mouth with his. Once, twice, three times and Dean chases him for a fourth before they separate.
"Twelve hundred miles for a kiss?" Sam teases, getting a grin in return.
"Worth it," Dean promises. "Definitely worth it."
Sam swats at his shoulder, laughs when Dean ducks away. "Go get him, then. Jerk."
"Bitch," Dean answers cheerfully. He stands, brushes nonexistent dust off of his thighs. He's halfway to the door before he pauses and looks back at Sam. "Dad'd be proud of you," he says and Sam's breath hitches. He looks away, eyes suddenly stinging.
"He'd be proud of you, too," he manages. Dean doesn't answer and the door swinging shut tells Sam he's gone.
Sam stays on the roof until the gnawing in his gut forces him back inside.
It's the fifth round and Imp's holding her own, against all odds. The little bot is dull and dented and Azazel's hulking form is still shiny black and yellow, but he's stumbling under the attacks that Imp keeps raining down on him. Everyone's watching them, on the edge of their seats.
Everyone except Sam.
Sam's watching Dean. Dean, who's beautiful as he shadow boxes next to the ring, eyes focused on Azazel as he shows Imp how to fight for that win. He's sweating and breathing hard and Sam's never loved him more.
And when the bell rings and Imp is still standing, Sam's the first out of his seat, shouting himself hoarse as he pushes his way to the ring, to Dean. He barrels into his brother, wraps his arms around him, laughs into his shoulder as Dean holds him back just as tight.
"You did it," he says and he can feel Dean's grin against his ear.
"Yeah, Sammy, we did."
And Sam doesn't care that they're in the middle of a ring with media all around them, doesn't care that Dean's kid is feet away. He pulls back far enough to get his hands up to Dean's face, tugs him back in and up and kisses Dean hard and deep, pours everything he has into it. Dean kisses back, one hand firm on Sam's shoulder, the other tangled in his hair and it's the best feeling in the world.
He's got his brother, his lover, under the bright lights of a boxing ring after five rounds with the devil and everything's perfect.