Supernatural Fan Fiction ❯ Asylum ❯ Heavy Weight ( Chapter 19 )

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Asylum
Supernatural, AU
Dean/Sam

Summary: For the past few years, Dean Winchester has been a resident of various mental health facilities and has gained quite a reputation since being forcibly admitted. Abandoned by his father who had previously been a patient himself, the only thing keeping him going is the thought of his brother.

A/N: My beta is still chronically busy, so in the spirit of moving things along, I've decided to push out updates without that final proofing. Please bear with any glaring mistakes, typos, etc. if they exist.  Thank you to everyone who is reviewing!! Much love.

*Disclaimer* I do not own anything. Except maybe the occasional OC. Supernatural is property of Eric Kripke and others.
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Ch. 19: Heavy Weight


“Hey, Dean,” Ed, his indefatigably annoying roommate was saying one night as they sat on their respective beds during some down time, “what's eating you?”

“Nothing.”

“You sure? You seem... moody.”

“You want to see moody?” Dean asked amiably before his tone did a swift 180.  “How about you shut the hell up,” he snarled, forcibly at the last.

Ed flinched, a startled frown falling onto his face. Dean promptly ignored him and went back to reading a magazine on motorcycles. Not that he was being terribly successful; he was in one hell of a mood. It was because of Sam. But that was no real surprise, was it? All roads led to Sam. At least, they seemed to for him.

Damn it. Ed calling him moody really pissed him off.

Couldn't the kid mind his own damn business?

“Deaaaaan,” a voice called from the doorway.

Garnet.

Dean rolled his eyes heavenward. “What?” he ground out.

“Terrifying someone to death is bad karma, man,” the long-haired Native American looking biker said as he sauntered through the doorway with a bland nod towards Ed.

“Bite me.”

“Stop hiding in here all damn day. You're inflicting boredom on me.”

“Like I care.”

Garnet let out a long-suffering sigh. “Ed, leave,” he commanded sharply.

Ed nodded and scrambled out of the room.

“Dean, man, sometimes I have a hard time believing this is you.”

“What do you mean?” Dean muttered, flipping a page, a perpetual scowl on his face.

“This,” Garnet gestured at him. “You.”

Dean shrugged.

Garnet leaned in to peer at him from about a foot away. “How in the hell did Campbell manage to get you so wadded up? It's unreal.”

Dean didn't feel like talking about Sam, so he didn't say anything at all. Garnet was bound to get tired of being ignored and would eventually leave him alone. It had been almost three days now since he and Sam had sort-of talked, and he'd honestly thought that something might have changed. But if anything, his brother was ignoring him even harder than before. He'd pushed the issue once, trying to at least get Sam to acknowledge his existence, and he'd been summarily dismissed with a swatting arm and a cold glare.

Everything else aside, he was dying to know what was going on with his father and brother and their little visitations. He knew they were speaking and yet neither of them was speaking to him. And it made him seethe that his father didn't find it worth his time to even fucking acknowledge he had another son in here.

He felt like he was losing his grip.

Sam, his sanity, and his family... it seemed he was losing them all at once and there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

“Dean, for crissakes,” Garnet said, “go talk to him.”

“I think you saw how well that went last time,” Dean responded blandly. And who could have missed it? It was in the freaking cafeteria, and a ton of people had gotten an eyeful. Frustration and anger still boiled in his veins every time he thought of it.

Garnet flopped down on the bed. Dean gave him an unimpressed look with a raised brow.

“Location, location, location,” his friend said.

“You think that would change anything?” Dean shook his head almost ruefully. “You're wrong.”

“Gah!” Garnet growled in frustration, sounding almost as emotive as a normal person. “The both of you are so fucking stubborn! I'd swear you were related or something. I've never seen anyone else like either of you.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Fuck you,” Garnet muttered, his voice fading back into its typical deadpan tones, though he still looked put-upon. He shoved his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. “I lost a bet because of you.”

The glossy pages of the magazine crinkled as Dean turned them. “What on?” He wasn't really interested, but being around Garnet was forcing him out of his surliness and he was starting to answer on automatic pilot.

“When you two would finally bone each other.”

“That's sweet of you, really,” Dean said drolly. He wished he could have been surprised by such a revelation, but he just really wasn't. He supposed he knew his buddies too well not to expect a bet of that sort being afoot.

“Your stupid fight screwed me.”

“That must have been so painful for you.”

“Yeah, it bent me right over and--”

“Am I interrupting something?” Jared said, poking his head in.

“No,” Dean said blandly, as Garnet said, “Yes.”

“Well, if the two of you are finished with your slumber party, you might want to head over to the library. I hear there is a group that used to play cards there sometimes. You know, before one of them became a royal pain in the ass.”

“Aw, you can't kick Lewis out,” Dean said facetiously, making no move to get up. “Where would the little runt have left to go?”

Jared walked fully into the room. “Garnet. Out.”

Garnet heaved a sigh and slid off of the bed. It was too much trouble to argue. “Yessir,” he said and gave the bodybuilder a sarcastic salute.

Once he'd gone, Jared stood over Dean like a menacing shadow. “You know you're being a pain in the ass, right?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean agreed.

“Can't you at least try to give a fuck about anything?” Jared asked with what passed for concern with him. “We're down one man at cards, which throws everything off, and I personally am coming down with severe illness every time I see you mooning over Campbell.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Dean said in annoyance. “Why does everyone think this is about him?”

“Because it probably is.”

“I have other shit going on, too. Do I need to go all emo on your asses and spill my guts just to get that across? You need me to broadcast my issues for them to exist?”

“Don't be a bitch,” Jared said, shoving him aside and sitting on the bed. “And you've been plenty emo the last several days. It's freaking me out.”

“Look,” Dean said with irritation, “I'm sorry I haven't come by the gym and I left you hanging. I just don't feel like doing much of anything right now.”

“I know,” Jared said. “Which is exactly why I'm here to make you do something.”

“Tell you what,” Dean offered. “I could put my foot up your ass for that bet you started?”

“Me?” the shaved-headed man looked offended. “What makes you think I'm the instigator?”

Dean gave him baleful glare. “Because I know you.”

“Okay, fine,” Jared said, shrugging and losing the offended look altogether. “It was me.”

“You're a dick. Why do you think I'd want to jump him anyway?” He held up the magazine and displayed a photo of a model in a skimpy bikini leaning against a Harley. “This is more my speed, if you hadn't noticed.”

Jared raised an appreciative eyebrow. “I hear ya, and I couldn't agree more. Yet, you seem to have made an exception for Campbell.”

Dean tossed the magazine aside and got to his feet. Okay, no more of this. “Alright,” he said gamely, his brows lifting in a what-the-fuck-ever expression, “let's go.” He refused to discuss Sam with any of them. So he'd have to just play along for now to get them off his back. “I can see that I won't get any peace in this place,” he said wryly. “I might as well stop you people and your interventions from crawling up my ass.”

“You owe me some weight training,” Jared warned, “or I'll be back at it again tomorrow.”

“Whatever,” Dean shrugged in agreement. “Can we go? Something's telling me this game is going to see you all gripped by the short and curlies.” He flashed a brief, smug smile he didn't particularly feel.

“Feeling lucky now?” The weightlifter raised a brow. “How is it that your ego never suffers an emo moment?”

“It does, it just recovers fast.”

---

Several rounds of cards in the library went by, not too excruciatingly. Dean hyper-focused on taking his card mates for all they were worth, and it was a fair distraction. The only problem with distractions was eventually they were over and then you had to remember why you'd needed one in the first place.

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and made his way back to his room.

The thing that was really bothering him the most was that he didn't know what Sam was thinking. One day he'd been Sam, he'd been present, and the next, he looked like he couldn't care less if Dean fell off the planet. He wished he could blame it on whatever medications Sam had been given - that they'd jiggered his brain a little and he was just working his way through it. But Dean knew that wasn't the case. He'd seen real Sam poking through the frosty exterior when he'd ranted about their father. So, he knew that he was in there, he was just hiding out.

The other thing that was bothering him is that Sam's temper usually got the better of him, yet he was showing no signs of it at all. Not even a twitch. It was like he was putting all of his energy into being as inconspicuous as possible. And still, the visitations continued. It made Dean uneasy, like something was being plotted behind his back.

He rounded the corner, into the block where his room was located, and took pause. Sam? His brother's familiar form was passing by the room he shared with Ed, his back to him. Then he paused, regarding the entrance with what looked like hesitancy. He couldn't quite make out Sam's expression. Wavy brown hair swung forward as his brother dipped his head at the door, as one might nod to a headstone at a gravesite, making peace.

Anxiety jangled through Dean and it was like a steel band clamping suddenly over his chest, compressing it.

Is that what this is about? His `good behavior' and staying out of dodge - he's trying to leave this place? ((Without me?)

Sam started to turn away again, resuming his onward trek.

Before Dean knew it, he'd closed the distance between them and had grabbed Sam by the arm. It was solid and real beneath his fingers. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Sam looked momentarily startled, eyes expressive as hell, then it was all neatly boarded up again. “I guess.” He shrugged. “Can you make it quick? I'm kind of on a tight schedule.”

“Sure you are,” Dean said sarcastically, anger seeping into his voice. If that was true, you wouldn't have been loitering outside my room. He dragged Sam over to the door and pulled it open.

“Hey - what are you doing?” Sam protested, digging his heels in.

“I'll be damned if I'm going to talk to you out in the hallway, Sam.”  He gave his brother an ultimatum with his sharp glare.

Sam stopped just short of rolling his eyes. It was bravado, however; he looked edgy as he said, “Fine, fine. Whatever.” He shrugged off Dean's grip and went into the darkened room.

Dean followed close behind him, not bothering with the overhead light. Ed's alien head nightlight was plenty bright. It was like being outside on a full moon. “All right,” he said tightly. “Square with me, Sam,”

“About what?”

His brother sounded nearly authentic in his confusion. Nearly. But something was off, Dean could feel it. He stared Sam down and Sam stubbornly held his gaze with the stoic, unflappable expression Dean had become sick to death of these last few days. “You know what, now start talking.”

Grey eyes flicked from his for a moment then returned, bringing a wry twist to Sam's lips. “No, I really don't.”

Dean grabbed him by the front of the shirt and shoved him roughly against the wall with a thud. His fists clenched upon protesting fabric, and Sam's eyes had definitely gotten wider. He was close enough now to see something of his own reflection in their shiny surface. “You mind saying that again? I don't think I heard you right the first time.”

He could feel Sam's heart hammering under his hand.

Sam wet his lips. “What do you want to know?” he said in a even voice.

Dean expelled an angry breath. “I want to know what's up with you, and why you can't find time in your busy schedule to fucking speak to me anymore.”

“It isn't like that,” Sam said through a rough sigh.

“Does it have something to do with Dad?” Dean asked sharply. He felt Sam's chest rise with a swift intake of breath, unbelied by his distant expression. “Come on, Sammy, tell me,” he said with quiet intensity, changing tactics and appealing to whatever emotion his brother had left, “you owe me that much.”

“It's not just Dad,” Sam confessed stiffly, though he'd stopped looking at him. “But he did advise to keep a low profile, that it would make things easier.”

Dean said nothing for a minute, the words hitting him and shaking their way through him like an earthquake. “So you were just going to leave?” His voice sounded raw with disbelief.  

Sam's eyes snapped to his. The ambivalent expression was slipping, and a tortured look lurked beneath it. He was shaking his head as he said, “I was going to try and get you out.”

“With dad's help?” Dean laughed humorlessly. “He hasn't even bothered to speak to me and you think he's going to help you bust me out?”

“It's complicated.”

“Yeah, I'll just bet it is,” Dean said sarcastically as his temper began to flare. “It's complicated how you can trust him with this, but you can't trust him to tell the truth about the accident. Or have you forgotten all about the issue you had with that?'

“I thought this was what you wanted?” Sam shot back, all wounded anger. “You said I should believe in him, and I am, if only to get you out of here, and all you can do is bitch about it.”

“The way things are going, this'll just be goodbye and a lot of horseshit about `see you later'.”

“Is that what you think?!” Sam sounded beside himself.

“Yes, I do,” Dean said with irritation. “It'll all be just a big fat lie, smothered in good intentions.” God, but he missed Sam already. The last several days had been a rude awakening to just how things would be again without his brother around.

“I thought you wanted me out of here, even if it wasn't with you,” Sam said. “Isn't that part of why you were being such a dick to me? Trying to drive me off?”

“No,” Dean said, shaking his head, but it was obvious it was a lie.

Sam gave him a piercing look that seemed to dig down into his very soul. He moved closer to Dean, holding his gaze. “You can't lie to me, Dean,” he said with quiet intensity. “I can see right through you.”

Dean swallowed, treading water in the sea of fear he had at losing his brother. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he said gruffly. He was losing himself in those grey eyes as the space between them dwindled.

Sam's hand brushed the back of his neck, and he shuddered. Suddenly, Sam's expressive lips were the only thing in his field of vision and he was unable to look away.

Sam wet his lips and it was like it was happening in slow motion, Dean was so fixated. The slide of his quick tongue seemed to last minutes and Dean could think of nothing more than what Sam's mouth had felt like on his and how Sam's tongue had felt sliding against his own.

“I'll do whatever you want,” Sam said in a husky voice, and it was unclear whether it was in reference to the thing with their father and the plan of escape, or the sexual tension that was currently growing between them.

Dean looked up into his eyes and they were dark and compelling, closing a moment later as Sam gripped the back of his head and kissed him hard.

He fell into it, unable to help himself. Sam's mouth was warm and hungry against his, stirring reaction and chasing away everything else - the uncertainty, the anger, the fear, and the feelings of abandonment.

He pressed his little brother into the wall, giving in to everything; the hard body against him, the soft indulgence of parted lips and the peace of mind that, in this moment, Sam was his.

It seemed so unreal to be close like this after he'd spent so many days struggling for even a scrap of attention. And in the back of his mind was the thought that Sam was choosing this right now, choosing him, even with the promise of a return to normal life hanging within reach.

Dean pulled back enough to drag his shirt off over his head. Sam was doing the same. Dean barely waited for him to finish, mussing his longer hair in the process, running his hands over Sam's bared torso and chest as he hunted his mouth. The air between them was hot and thick.

`I'll do whatever you want.'

The offer wasn't just tempting, it was irresistible. Maybe later he'd take it to mean they'd figure out a game-plan together on who was getting out of here and when, but just now Sam was feeding into his debased desires, kissing him like this and following his lead. Just now he wanted to... Oh, there were so many things he wanted, but foremost was the thought of driving himself into his brother's tight, hot body until he could feel Sam's shudders even upon his tongue.

He felt Sam's hands on the front of his pants, working them open. “You going to kiss me all night?” Sam goaded him, slightly out of breath. The words sounded so dirty coming from his mouth, and appealing.

“Only between doing other things,” he responded, pulling Sam over to the bed and throwing him down upon it. He was so hard he felt like he was going to explode. How many times had he imagined this now? He kicked off his jeans. After breaking down the walls in his own mind, how many times had he violated his brother in his thoughts?

He sank down onto the mattress, his mouth crashing against Sam's, desire sharpening to a razor's edge. Fuck it, he was done fighting this. He was throwing in the towel.

Sam's hips rocked against his and he sucked in a breath. God damn. How would he last long enough to do what he really wanted when just this could finish him off?

He ground his hips into Sam's, forcing a sexy groan from his mouth. Ah, hell. There's always a next time, he thought as self-restraint took a back seat to instant gratification. He supposed he'd just have to wait see how long it would take Sam to handle a round two.

Sam's fingers were like tiny vices upon his arms as they moved against each other, hard flesh trapped between them. The sound of Sam's voice as moans and gasps forced their way through his clenched teeth... It was intoxicating.

If he sounds this amazing now, what will he sound like when I--

“Uunnh,” Sam groaned as his body tightened with the first spasm. “Dean,” he uttered in a groin-clenching moan as his back arched.

Orgasm hit Dean like a sack of bricks just hearing him. “God...damn...” he growled through clenched teeth, burying his face against Sam's neck and breathing him in. The warm, musky scent of his skin rolled his mind, fiercely perfect and arousing.

He knew this wouldn't be enough. Even as pleasure slithered through him, still twining about his body and mind, he knew he needed more. He caught Sam's lips and kissed him slow and deep, thoroughly and gently violating his mouth like he wanted to violate his body.

His hand trailed suggestively over Sam's hip, just lightly tracing down the arch of it. A small tension seized his brother's body in response, and as his fingertips deviated to stroke across his stomach, Sam shuddered into the caress.

“You sure about this?” he murmured against Sam's mouth. He knew he didn't have to be more specific about what `this' might entail. Their eyes met, and at times like this it was nearly like being psychic - words weren't necessary. He was nearly afraid that the answer might be `no'... full on sex was quite a different story than what they `d done so far, especially for a guy who thought he was completely straight till now. But then, that applied to both of them, really. Dean considered himself to be straight as well, so he was going on instinct here more than experience.

“No,” Sam responded in a desire-choked voice, “but I want to.”

“Oh thank god,” Dean breathed and kissed him with renewed vigor. He palmed Sam's hardening flesh, making him jump, then massaged and stroked it until it firmed in his hand and Sam was making small, urgent noises in the back of his throat. He was quite taken with all of it. “Heh, Sammy, you'd think you really liked this,” he teased with a soft leer upon his lips.

“Shut up,” Sam retorted, face coloring slightly. He made a failed attempt to cuff Dean in the head. It wasn't all that serious anyway and Dean easily evaded it while also sliding Sam's hospital issue pants down past his hips.

Being an ass, Dean also pecked him on the cheek patronizingly. He dodged another swat at his head, then leaned into to Sam's ear to whisper heatedly, “I'll be right back. We're missing something.”

He slid off the bed and went over to rummage in the dresser that wasn't his. In the far back of the second drawer down, his fingers touched on the plastic packets he was looking for. He even discovered a bottle which, upon closer inspection, would be infinitely handy. Luckily for him, Ed was a bit of a trader in certain goods. He seemed to turn a fair profit at it and could always barter for other things he wanted. If he recalled properly, Ed had a brother or cousin or something that would visit and slip the stuff to him.

Sam was sitting up, raising an eyebrow as Dean returned with his prizes. “Lube and condoms? Well, don't you have the damnedest luck finding those in here.”

“Shhh,” Dean said, getting back onto the bed and kicking Sam's now naked legs apart as his eyes raked over him with lascivious intent, “You're ruining the mood.”

“Worse than you?” Sam asked, a mischievous tilt to his eyes as Dean sank down to the bed, between his parted thighs.

“Me? I'm a freaking romantic.” He proceeded to rip the edge off one of the condom packets with his teeth as he held it in one hand; pretty much disproving his claim, Sam thought, though it was kind of impressive looking.

Dean rolled the condom over his first two fingers and spread a liberal amount of lubricant over that.

Sam chewed the inside of his lip as he watched him. He could guess easily enough about how this was supposed to work, the mechanics of it, but... well... actually doing it seemed a bit ridiculous. Having someone stick their fingers up your--

“Woah! Hey-!” Sam said as Dean pushed him back onto the bed, laying on top of him, and as a slick pressure prodded his backside.

“Woah hey what?” Dean said, distracting him with caressing lips upon his throat.

“You can't just-- I wasn't ready,” Sam protested.

“You think too much,” came the unrepentant reply. Dean began to mouth and suck upon a sensitive spot just underneath his jawline, soon rendering his mind officially useless, while pushing a finger inside of him.

Sam honestly thought it might feel weirder than it did, but he was too damn distracted to take much note of it. And when Dean's hot mouth covered his again, he was sort of beyond caring. He just wanted to do this thing, see what it felt like to have Dean within him.

Thinking about that was starting to become fuel for the fire. Suddenly, he was very aware of the fingers sliding into him as they brushed something that made his back arch sharply. “God,” he said as he sucked in a breath.

Dean hit the spot again and Sam's legs felt like they'd turned to jello. One more time or two and he'd be done. His body was positively thrumming.

“You look really sexy like that,” Dean said huskily, leaning in to suck on Sam's lower lip. “I almost don't want to stop.”

He slid his fingers out and pulled the condom off, then opened another to use on himself. He pressed one more into Sam's hand. “Use this,” he said. Sam dutifully ripped it open and put it on, though his mind protested the effort of even that minimal concentration, and his body burned as the rubber was rolled into place. By the time he was done, so was Dean, and he was soon feeling the press of hard flesh against his backside, seemingly too much for him to possibly be able to take in. “Just relax,” Dean said.

“Idiot,” Sam muttered, “How am I supposed to...” Ohh... Dean took him in hand, skilled movements of his fingers bringing the tight ache in his belly to a roar. It was during this that the press of Dean's arousal became the slide of his arousal, slipping slowly inside him as his body craved for more contact, craved for completion.

He groaned as he was filled to capacity, feeling every inch, and shuddering then as Dean's hips rocked forward in small snaps. He grabbed onto the plain metal rails of the headboard, clenching his hands upon it as pleasure began to ripple through him with force.

God, yes.

He'd never felt anything so intense, never heard anything as amazing as Dean's voice as his reservations started to crumble and he became more vocal.

Sam met his thrusts, hastening their mad rush, wanting this to last forever yet wanting to come so badly.

They found each other's mouths again, and the wet penetration was like an aphrodisiac.

Dean cried out in a sultry voice as he came and Sam wasn't long after. He could feel his muscles wringing Dean's flesh as he shuddered and gasped for breath; each tight contraction describing the exact shape of Dean inside of him and shooting pleasure through his lower body with every movement.

It took him a few minutes to catch his breath after, and to regain his mind - it was utterly blank, like it had been blasted open.

Slowly, sense was trickling back in. Just enough to become aware of their surroundings again. The bed, the darkened room, and the pleasant weight that still rested upon him. No higher functions yet. He couldn't even have a proper opinion on anything that had just happened, let alone the repercussions of what they'd done, if he'd been asked.

His thighs were still shaking and most of his body felt like jello when Dean pressed soft, inquisitive lips to his. Their bodies were still joined and even the small shifting reminded him of that viscerally, making him shudder with the ghost of orgasm as his burned out pleasure centers tried to process it.

“When are you going to get out?” he asked as he felt Dean become more interested, semi-hard inside him which embarrassed him a little. It wasn't that he minded, exactly, but he didn't think he could survive another round. Sensation was raw, unfiltered. It would have felt good but it was almost too intense.

“Done already, Sammy?” Dean taunted him lightly as he nuzzled his throat. He rocked his hips forward in a gentle motion - it speared through Sam and made his eyes roll back. Right now he was like an overloaded circuit. He'd burn out.

His hands gripped Dean's forearms tightly. “You can't be serious,” he panted through clenched teeth. “Again?” He was overly aware of everything, everywhere they touched. His body was hypersensitive, and he felt pinioned by Dean's insistent arousal.

He'd never had sex twice in a row in such quick succession. And he couldn't recall any time he'd attempted three times... that was just nuts.

“You need to work on your stamina.”

Dean slid deep into his resisting body, wringing a groan from him as he shuddered. And then he was kissing and nipping at his lips teasingly. The damnedest thing was, Sam was starting to feel a tightness in his lower belly, the first stray eddies of desire.

It got worse when he contemplated those green eyes, that expressive mouth, or if he really let it sink in that it was Dean's arousal that was inside of him, pushing his limits.

He resented this magnetism his brother had, and how he seemed unable to be unaffected by it. He was too attracted to him for his own good. “You're a jerk,” he said scathingly, sounding a little winded.

“And you're hot,” Dean said against his mouth, glibly ignoring his protests, then claiming it with irreverent passion.

It was then that desire really took over, flaring in Sam's belly and demanding to be dealt with. Sam found himself kissing back with fervor, hands smoothing over Dean's back and over the sides of his hips, encouraging him to move. His brain hazed over once more and his pulse was hammering in his skin as Dean began stroking him from the inside, thrusting against him with short, electric snaps. God...

Why couldn't he escape the feeling of wanting?

It was almost like it needed beaten out of him, wrung from his very being. As it was, Dean had been able to dredge it up out of him a third time to kill like this, thoroughly.

With Dean's voice in his ear, rough and overcome, Sam's body jolted, orgasm smacking him hard and fast.

He lay there after and his heart was pounding violently once again like he'd run a marathon. His lungs pumped with effort, trying to gain enough oxygen.

Maybe that was why everything was whited out like a blizzard - not enough oxygen to the brain.

That could also be why he thought he heard `I love you' murmured against the side of his cheek in a husky, compelling voice.

Imagined or not, it gave him a sense of peace. Just now, he drifted in a limbo where for once, all of the things that had been plaguing him were distant, like they didn't even exist. There was no pain, no suffering. Just a place to belong, and the reassuring warmth of his brother's body beside his.

---

Dean started as a timid knock came at the door and it opened. “Dean?” his roommate Ed called gingerly.

Dean felt Sam jump and he pressed quick fingers to his lips, telling him to be silent as he pulled the sheet up over his brother's head. He was on the outside edge of the bed so it wasn't too difficult hiding Sam from view. “Kinda busy right now,” Dean said in a pointed but lazy fashion. “You mind?”

Ed goggled as he caught sight of Dean stretched out naked on the bed with his back to the room. It would have been obvious that someone was in the bed with him, just not who.

Dean favored him with a bland look over his shoulder. “I wasn't really asking if you minded, Ed, I was telling you to get the fuck out.”

“I- er-” Poor Ed was pole axed. “Right...” He seemed unable to get his feet in gear.

“Keep staring like that and I'm going to have to charge you.”

Ed snapped out of it just enough to make a hasty retreat. “I um... have people I need to... friends I'm supposed to see. Meet up with.” He edged back towards the door. “So, uh, don't wait up,” he said before scuttling back through it.

Dean flipped the covers back off of Sam and shook his head. “My roommate,” he presented with aplomb.

Sam sat up, a pensive frown on his face. “There is something wrong with that kid.”

“Four out of five doctors agree,” Dean joked blandly.

“Well, I guess he wouldn't really be here without a reason.”

And neither would I, huh? Dean thought with aggravation. “Oh, don't start that shit again.” He was sick of his brother hinting around that he was mental.

“I'm not, I'm not,” Sam said quickly, holding his hands up defensively as he sat up. “I meant, I shouldn't be surprised to see people say or do weird things here. There's a higher chance of it, anyway, than on the outside.” He peered at Dean assessingly, his expression careful and positively radiating `I am logical to a fault, and fair, so I can't help making these kinds of observations. I would also not purposely piss you off (I'd probably lie first)'.

“I never said that everyone who is here should be here,” Sam continued in a perfect slippery-lawyer voice, meant to disarm. “Like I mentioned before, Rosenhan's experiment proved that at the least; People can be misdiagnosed or totally sane and still end up in places like this.”

“Alright, alright,” Dean interrupted before Sam got any more momentum behind his argument about how non-judgmental he was, “don't get all pre-law on me. I believe you.”

“You do realize I made it past pre-law?”

“Er... what's the difference?”

“It means I've gotten my bachelor's degree and had actually started law school already.” Sam sighed. “What have you been doing with yourself since you've been here? You're lucky I'm here to save what's left of your neglected brain.”

“Shut up, college boy. I may not have stuffed myself with factoids and higher education the last few years, like you, but I have plenty of other skills I've honed.”

“Like what?” Sam sounded dubious.

Dean did an obvious pan down Sam's body, calling attention to the utter disarray of him. “I think you may have recently been acquainted with at least one of them.”

Sam dragged the sheets up to cover more of himself, embarrassment touching his face. “Idiot,” he muttered. He ceded the argument by abruptly asking, “Where are my pants?”

“Right,” Dean said, looking around for them. “Guess you can't stay here.” Lights out would be any time now, and all of the residents would be expected to be in their assigned rooms.

“Would you want me to?”

Dean threw Sam's pants at his head in response. “What kind of dumbass question is that? You're going to be one helluva shitty lawyer.”

“Shut up,” Sam said as he dragged his pants off his face and started pulling them on. “We were sort of fighting before,” he reminded Dean. “I wasn't going to just assume anything changed - that would be stupid.”

“Well, I don't know about you,” Dean said, running a hand through his short, spiky hair, “but I'm sick of fighting.” His lips twisted slightly. “Can we agree to shelve our differences for now and just try to work together?”

“Sounds great. Why didn't you think of that in the first place when you were so busy being pissed at me?”

Dean's expression soured. “You're making reconciliation a bit difficult here, Sammy.”

“Don't you `Sammy' me.” Sam's eye glinted at him in a sharp look. “You totally started all of this when you flew off the handle, and then with the thing in the cafeteria. I wanted to talk, but you wouldn't allow it.”

“Fine, I started it,” Dean said in an irritated tone. “But you were no innocent party. What the hell was up with you after that? By the time I realized my mistake, you were snubbing me harder than vegetarians do meat.”

Sam shrugged and slid off the bed. “Seemed the right thing to do at the time.”

“That's it?”

“What do you want me to say?”

Dean shook his head abruptly and got off the bed, hunting his pants. “Nothing. Never mind.”

“Are we going back to fighting again, or were we going to put this behind us?”

Dean buttoned his pants. “Hell, no, we're not going back to fighting. The silent treatment was driving me up the wall.”

“Ditto,” Sam said firmly. He couldn't count how many times he'd wanted to beat Dean in the head for doing just that. And here he was acting like Sam had been doing all the ignoring and that he was a saint for letting it slide.

“Why do you have to go and be snotty?”

“Because you're so determined to get the last word in.”

“Sounds to me like you're the one doing that. `Ditto'?” Dean scoffed. “Pot calling the kettle.”

Obnoxious. “Dean, has anyone ever told you how aggravating you can be?” Sam asked evenly as he pulled on his shirt. Dean's blame-laying and stubbornness seemed to be on a near professional level. He wasn't going to win this by arguing, he'd probably just have to let it go.

“Of course not, I'm a joy to be around.”

Sam let out a short laugh despite himself. Dean's sense of humor really got him sometimes - it was so ridiculous what he could say in certain situations with a straight face. “I'm sure,” he said with mild sarcasm.

“You seem to be one of the paltry few who are immune to my charms.”

Sam stretched, bringing his arms over his head. “Mn, no, I wouldn't say that.” Considering what they'd been up to such a short time ago, he'd say nothing could be further from the truth.

“Good,” Dean said, flashing him a smile, “I'm wearing you down already.”

Sam made a show of rolling his eyes, though the corners of his lips were quirking up.

“Walk you to your room?” Dean offered.

“And be seen with you in public?” Sam joked. “I'd never live it down.” Actually, it was probably best if they avoided things like that - roaming the halls together late at night. The less attention they drew, the better. Besides, he'd already royally screwed up on his father's request for him to keep his distance from his brother. He was sure that in some ways it would have been for the best, but it seemed like staying away from Dean was just asking the impossible. In compense, they could just minimize the impression of closeness they gave to watching eyes.

“Eh, you're probably right. `Sides, I have to deal with Ed and he ought to be getting back any moment now.” He paused. “I get the feeling we have to keep our distance...?”

“For a little while at least.”

“Because of Dad?”

“Partly... I can't really say right now, but there are things going on here, Dean, that just - I don't know. Strange things.”

Dean didn't like having the truth withheld from him, but in the spirit of cooperation, he said, “Well, just tell me when you can, then.” He wanted Sam to know that he trusted him. That was the most important thing. Everything else could wait.

“Thanks,” Sam said, catching his eye. “I mean it.”

“Sure,” he responded. After a moment's debate, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Sam's in a quick, soft kiss. Strangely, even such a small thing felt taboo, despite everything else they'd already done. He supposed it was because this was all still so new that it felt so fragile and tenuous.

It was probably a bit nihilistic of him to keep testing it and poking at it, waiting for the backfire.

“See you at breakfast?” Sam asked, trying, like him, to gauge how they should proceed.

“Yeah.” It amazed him how good Sam smelled. He could just bury himself in it and sleep like the dead. It was a shame such indulgences were no longer at their disposal. It really made him want to break the rules. “Now get back to your room before your `bodyguard' blows a gasket.”

Sam gave him a parting kiss, cheekily slipping him some tongue, and then he was gone.

---
TBC

A/N: Chapter title from the song “Heavy Weight” by Infected Mushroom (instrumental). The B-side would be the following song:

“Hold Your Colour” - Pendulum

Soaking through
Colours that held us up against the wall
Soaking through
Colours that held us up against the wall

Hold your colours against the wall,
When they take everything away,
Hold your colours against the wall,
With me

Twisted the knife, and opened your eyes
[x4]
Twisted the knife, and opened your eyes (Twisted the knife, til you were in the right place)
[x4]

Soaking through

Hold your colours against the wall,
When they take everything away,
Hold your colours against the wall,
With me (Soaking through)

Twisted the knife, and opened your eyes (Twisted the knife, til you were in the right place)
[x8]

But, she looked into your eyes,
And saw what lay beneath,
Don't try to save yourself,
The circle is complete,
In reaching out and into you,
Nothing else can touch me

Soaking through

Hold your colours against the wall,
When they take everything away,
Hold your colours against the wall,
With me (Soaking through)

But, she looked into your eyes,
And saw what lay beneath,
Don't try to save yourself,
The circle is complete

Twisted the knife, and opened your eyes (Twisted the knife, til you were in the right place)
[x10]

Fading gently,
Soaking through,
And starting not to show at all
In reaching out and into you, nothing else could touch me

Hold your colours against the wall,
When they take everything away,
Hold your colours against the wall

Soaking through

Hold your colours against the wall,
When they take everything away,
Hold your colours against the wall,
With me.