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Delirium. That’s usually the first symptom, and this time is no different. Dean can feel the world waver beneath his feet, dizzy now, like vertigo, but he tells himself to just hold on. If he can endure and get past this first part, the rest becomes… manageable, he thinks to himself in a placating manner. Remember why you’re here, he repeats in his head, the cold sweats rolling in quickly, and his fever spikes. Remember who’s got you.
Sam comes into the room with ice packs, and the last thing Dean vaguely remembers is being swept off his feet, laid on his back and surrounded. He smiles dopily each and every time he slips barely back into consciousness, just to remind Sam that he’s happy with this decision.
* * *
The question was whether or not Dean should continue with his suppressants. They’ve officially done it all, hung up their coats for good and stored away all their guns, letting other hunters know they’re down for the count with the exception that they will always do a little research (well, Sam will while Dean looks pretty) or take a phone call. The bunker is still the safest place on earth, and the chaos of the impending doom of the world has faded to background static, things finally at peace again, falling into a perfect harmony.
Sam and Dean are just about everything but legally married. They decided to skip that part, figuring it would be redundant to exchange vows when they already share a last name, share everything — a perfect, impenetrable bond. They’ve traveled across the country, Sam finally giving in and giving Dean the road trip he always wanted. They saw the Grand Canyon, tried their luck in Vegas, went to Niagara Falls and then set their lawn chairs out at the beach. They traveled and traveled until they were homesick, cherishing even that feeling for the first time. It was perfect. It was an absolute dream. But it was incomplete.
Dean had first made the suggestion, Sam shooting it down almost immediately. “Dean, you haven’t had a heat in years. It’s not safe.” Dean had just rolled his eyes, kissing Sam on the nose and shaking his head at him.
“I think I’ll handle it okay,” Dean had said, a soft smile gracing his lax features, making the corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. Sam remembers how sure he had looked, how absolutely certain Dean seemed when he said it. “I want to give you that, Sam. I want to—” He had stopped, cheeks turning a twinge pink before his voice dropped low, quiet, as if to be private. “I want to give you pups.” Sam had then turned a bright shade of red, nervously trying not to pop a knot then and there because the thought of seeing Dean pregnant just about wrecked him.
It wasn’t about the sex, although the sex was a huge perk. Things just made more sense when the final semblances of boundaries came crashing down, the two of them sharing everything in a way they hadn’t so many times in the past. No more secrets, no more space, no more hiding. Now they were unstoppable, a perfect unit and a seamless duo.
And Dean wanted to have Sam’s pups. At first, Sam found himself shocked that he could really have such a thing. It felt like such a feat that he’d never made available to himself, never dreaming he’d be allowed. Him and Dean and kids? It sounded perfect.
And then Sam was suddenly in too deep, wanting it so bad it kept him up at night, having dreams about first days of school and packing lunchboxes, a baby’s hand wrapped tightly around his index finger, first words and sippy cups, potty training to riding a bike. It overwhelmed him pleasantly, filling him with radiator-warmth from his head to his toes, an excitement that felt like too much eggnog on Christmas Eve, cheeks flushed with bashfulness because Dean wants him like that.
Something in Sam healed when Dean told him he wanted to have Sam’s kids, like he could see Sam as not just a little brother but a father too. He had gifted him the capacity to be more than he was ever allowed to be at the start. But that was years ago, and they’re here now, and having kids is on the table.
The prospect of it is closer than ever because Dean is burning up, fever rising alarmingly fast, and yeah, Sam is worried, kind of afraid, but he also knows Dean is tough. A heat won’t hurt him, even if it’s a bad one. But it won’t be; Sam will make sure.
Dean sighs with a small “ah” as Sam helps to steady him on his trip back from the restroom. He insisted on going by himself, but he’s so dizzy and warm now, sweat beading down his brow as he teeters in the direction of his room, balance wavering. Sam grips him tight, grunting as he puts his weight into holding Dean upright, and when Dean lands on the ground, Sam only has him scootch over to the nest he made on the floor. It’s comfortable — padded with blankets and pillows, lined with Sam’s shirts and socks and underwear and anything else Dean might associate with Sam and his scent. Sam sometimes thinks he’s going to find a lock of his own hair one of these days with the way Dean is so cunning in his collection process. It would be downright scary if Sam weren’t hopelessly in love.
Dean rolls over into the soft fabric of one of Sam’s flannels, breathing in as his eyes start to roll. He’s bourbon honey thick with a hint of gun powder from his target practice earlier that morning, smokey underlying tones that compliment his average scent — rain water like fresh dew drops, a natural spring. He’s fresh-fragrant with that vanilla undertone that speaks to the fact that he’s wet, and it won’t be long. He’ll soak through the clothes he has on with sweat, his boxers clinging to him with slick, and Sam will change him out of it all, maybe give him a cold shower while he comes slightly back to his senses.
And then—
“Sammy,” Dean says reverently, and Sam looks to his beautiful big brother, normally so crude and audacious but so small and sweet to the core now. This is who Dean really is, underneath all the hard layers of lead, iron, and rock salt. He’s budding, opening up for Sam in a way that’s just for them, the only two people in the room, the only two people in the world.
“Sam,” Dean says again, voice gruff but emotion-filled. He extends his arms out until Sam joins him in the nest, going to wrap his body close to Dean’s, ignoring his mind’s impulse to avoid contact to cool Dean down. Maybe he’ll sweat off the fever here first, sweat it all out until he’s halfway coherent again. He looks red-faced, skin clammy with a sickly complexion Sam never likes to see on his brother’s face. He knows it’s temporary, knows Dean will be okay, but he looks like something else — somewhere between bonetired and crazed. Sam shivers with anxiety even as Dean’s hands come up into his hair. He doesn’t speak, just pets, nuzzling in close to Sam so they’re chest to chest, Dean cozying up against the crook of his neck as his nails go back and forth, teasing through thick tufts. Only then, when he can hear Sam’s pulse, does he finally start purring, body relaxing even as he slips into an almost sleep-state, so delirious he can’t even speak.
“I’ve got you, Dean,” Sam whispers, kissing the top of Dean’s head. “I’ve got you.”
Dean only nods, and Sam can picture the content smile he must be wearing.
* * *
Dean wakes up in a puddle of his own sweat. His skin is warm to the touch but not hot, and he realizes suddenly that the fever has broken. And now…
Dean bites back a whine once he realizes how wet he is in his boxers. Rubbing his legs together, he can’t decide if he should get up and shower or move to his bed and try to go back to sleep or if he should wake Sam. He goes for the option of quietly trying to sneak away to shower, stepping into one of the empty stalls and turning the water to warm. He steps in under the current as soon as the strands turn hot. The water pressure is so nice, and Dean swears he’ll never get over that, reverent of the fact as the water beats down his back. He ducks down to get his hair wet, running hands over his eyes as he resurfaces with a gasp. Then, he starts to lather, massaging his scalp as he applies shampoo, a content groan slipping from his lips. He goes to apply the bar of soap once he’s done, scrubbing from head to toe and washing off the clammy feeling of pre-heat. Putting it in perspective, it’s the hardest part of being in heat, especially if you have a partner to share the rest of it with. Yeah, the feverish high will return once the true heat starts, but with all the sex they’ll be having at that point, it won’t really matter.
He slips his hand down below his waistline, bar of soap in hand, and runs it along his hole, bending down to graze the sensitive area with a gasp. He goes to massage it right on, drawing circles around it with his free hand, eyes rolling shut. He doesn’t hear the creak of the door.
He continues to rub in deep circles, whine escaping his lips as he does, whimpering as he stands upright to wash the suds away. He can feel the slick slowly wash away from the inside of his thighs, new slick quickly replacing it, and he makes a small noise both in frustration and anticipation. He wants Sam.
And just like he’d manifested him in the flesh, Sam rounds the corner in the nude, looking Dean up and down with a predatory gaze, licking his lips. Dean can feel himself getting wetter, no matter the stream trying diligently to wash it away. Sam growls low and deep in his chest, his scent filling up the room.
Unlike Dean’s typical muted earthy scent, Sam’s is strong and herbaceous, savory to the senses and demanding. He smells like sage to Dean’s rainwater, and when he’s aroused like he is, he’s a sweet lemongrass on top — still leafy and bold but slightly sweeter. Dean’s all homemade vanilla extract over whiskey, a scent so powerful it nearly drowns the earthy scent he normally dons.
They smell candy shop sweet together with a heady masculinity underlying it all, and it’s heavenly being paired with Sam so richly. When he steps into the shower behind Dean and envelopes his hands around Dean’s middle, Dean sinks into the touch. He grinds back against Sam, and his mouth falls open, instinct driving him to get closer until he’s backed up and perfectly pressed limb-to-limb against Sam. The small of his back fits nicely against Sam’s navel, his shoulder blades pressed against Sam’s chest, and Sam’s face falls to the crook of Dean’s neck, his breath as hot as the shower steam as he says huskily, “You slipped away from me.”
Dean huffs, trying to catch his breath but finding himself winded, at a loss for words. “Needed to shower,” he pushes out, and Sam holds him tighter.
“Want you now,” Sam says right against the curve of Dean’s ear in that deep, demanding voice he reserves for the bedroom, and Dean’s knees shake with want, teeth sinking into his bottom lip.
“Then, have me,” Dean offers on a heavy breath, already nearly panting, eyes falling until they’re half-lidded and lust-blown.
Sam grunts, moving in to kiss Dean, pulling his face back to meet his with the water crashing over them and falling in pretty cascades from Sam’s long hair. It’s still warm, best of all, not like shitty motel showers that run out of hot water quick. Dean swears he’ll never get tired of this sort of luxury. Swears he’ll never get tired of being here with Sam, day in and day out until they have to assemble a crib together, put together a nursery. Dean hopes it’s sooner than later, hopes he can raise a kid with Sam. It would complete this: home-cooked meals and folding clothes together, sharing dish washing duty and Dean watching his favorite show while Sam sorts books in the library. Add a baby to the mix, and life is peaches and cream. Back to changing diapers and chasing around waddling tots, getting into all sorts of mischief. Dean laughs a little as Sam kisses his neck, and Sam asks “hmm?” in a hum against his skin.
“Sam, I’m gonna get to breastfeed,” Dean says with wonder, unable to wipe the smile off his face, and Sam groans, nosing along the line of his throat.
“Wanna see that,” Sam says, reaching around and groping one of Dean’s tits, just slightly swollen still from the pre-heat, still slightly tender. “Wanna see you big and pregnant. Wanna see you filled up with my pups.” Dean coos at that, so happy he could cry, but it’s evident that Sam is just horny, and Dean can handle that, too.
“Want you to get me pregnant, Sammy,” Dean whispers into the spray, and Sam grunts between gritted teeth. “Want to have your pups, baby.’’ Sam sinks to the floor of the shower like the words are too much for him, going to lap at Dean’s hole instead, and Dean moans as he feels the slick muscle clean him up, tasting every drop of him. Sam holds him tightly around his thighs, thumbs sinking into the plush skin there with the rest of his fingers gripping around his ass, spreading him wide. He goes to circle his rim, tracing the sensitive bundle of nerves deliciously, making Dean’s body light up with pleasure, sending sparks up his spine. Sam kisses his hole, sucking on it a little before darting his tongue out again, tracing the outside of it before decidedly dipping in, licking around the walls that pulse in want for more. Sam smiles against Dean’s taint, dropping another sloppy kiss to his rim, and then he’s inserting one finger, spreading Dean open who goes pliantly. No prep needed when he’s this far into heat, but Sam will give it to him anyway, just to tease if nothing else.
He works in a second finger, Dean’s hole opening up to accommodate him, clenching and pulsing hotly until Dean is crying out, skin starting to feel heated again, the water almost becoming too much.
“Take me to bed, Sam. C’mon, ready. Want it. Take me to bed,” Dean pleads, even as his core keeps throbbing with need, pushing back into Sam’s fingers. “C’mon, Sam. Need you inside of me,” he tries, Sam crooking his fingers up. “My baby brother,” he says quietly, wrapping his hand gently around Sam’s wrist. “Want you to fill me up. Want you to put your pups inside me.” Sam finally steps back with a groan, squeezing the base of his cock as he nods, flipping the water off.
He dries them both off haphazardly, getting them out of the shower and escorting Dean back to their room. The baby’s room is across the hall, closest to where they both sleep. Whereas Sam still has his own space, he sleeps in Dean’s bed now exclusively, using his old bedroom as more of a reading den than anything. It’s nice to be close anyway, will be nicer when the next room over isn’t vacant and they’ve furnished it with everything their baby will need. Dean feels himself shiver just thinking about it, about how bad he wants it. Yeah, Sam gets all worked up anytime Dean brings up pregnancy, and that’s certainly a plus for him, using that to his advantage to get Sam riled up. But at the same time, he genuinely wants this, means it when he tells Sam he wants to have his pups, wants to be big and pregnant for him. The idea thrills him to his core because he never really saw himself ever reaching this point. It’s exciting and new and all he’s ever wanted was family, and this is it.
It feels divine. It feels like finally being home.
* * *
Once Sam gets Dean on the bed, he’s all hands. Dean won’t let him go, gripping his shirt tightly as he mewls, purring as soon as Sam leans down to start peppering kisses on the landscape of his neck. He grazes Dean’s mating bite, feeling him shiver before he fully sinks his teeth into the soft flesh, inhaling deeply the wafting scent of honey-thick vanilla bourbon that’s now overpowering the rainwater smell of him. Dean’s hands go to wrap around the back of Sam’s neck, slipping into his hair as he holds him there, hips bucking up into Sam’s touch. Sam groans at that, hitching up his leg to encourage him to wrap it around his core, and he goes easily into the hold, sliding a foot up the small of Sam’s back as his breath hitches. Sam goes quickly to slot his hand around the curve of Dean’s ass, the scent of the both of them overwhelming in the small confine of their room. Sam can smell the way his lemon with grassy undertones mingles with whiskey, saturating shared air. It looms over them, Dean’s heat making his skin radiate like a furnace, the bulk of it coming from his middle. He’s all warm honey, husky sounds music to Sam’s ear as he gets them both positioned. Dean whispers against the shell of Sam’s ear small pleas and a symphony of his name, encouraging him until he finally slips in and slides home.
Dean groans in delight, head tilting back, but Sam already has him, hand threading through the hair at his nape to hold him, pressing another kiss to the spot where he just resolidified their bond. Dean whimpers Sam’s name, a hand sliding down his back and then gripping his ass tightly, pulling Sam further into him and just holding him there, Sam’s hips stilling and giving Dean proper time to adjust to the fullness of him. He doesn’t need it, but he likes this part. They both do — like to savor the closeness of it, like to feel how connected they really are.
“So full,” Dean groans, and Sam smiles against his temple, placing a gentle kiss there.
“Yeah, I’ve got you,” Sam promises, dipping down to kiss his lips. He starts a slow grind of his hips shortly after, barely pulling out before rubbing against Dean’s walls, aiming for that spot that makes his toes curl. They do as soon as he finds it, and he keeps up as Dean moans his satisfaction, hands threading through Sam’s hair and pulling him down into a kiss. Sam goes happily, feeling the plush fullness of them, nipping gently at his bottom lip before sliding his tongue in to mesh with Dean’s. Sam revels in the plump pinkness of his mouth when he pulls back, and Dean is breathless, pulling on Sam’s hair as he sinks further into the mattress, making a happy noise as he does it. Sam can’t help but smile again, swiping a finger down to brush at Dean’s nipple, feeling him tense up before relaxing again with a grunt. He rolls the pert bud between his fingers, pulling back to latch on to the other with his mouth, and Dean’s hand stays planted firmly against Sam’s head, holding him there as Sam starts to rock back and forth a little harder, working up to a steady pace.
Sam pulls back with a gasp, feeling Dean’s hole clench around him rhythmically, and their bodies move like music, soft and smooth and in perfect harmony. Sam knows how to play Dean’s body like a fiddle, knows him so well he’s practically his other half, and it makes this so much better, makes things so much warmer and nicer in the pit of his belly, in the depths of his heart.
He looks down into Dean’s eyes and finds them to be hazy, dazed and slightly fucked out, just like he should be, and Sam is overcome with the sensation of being connected with his soulmate, the feeling crashing into him like a tidal wave, and he lowers a hand to Dean’s stomach, presses there as he thrusts forward hard, making Dean dig his nails into his shoulder blade.
“Gonna put a baby,” Sam grunts, digging the heel of his hand hard right into the spot where Dean’s womb lies, “right here. Right there, Dean. Gonna fill you up… so good.” He jerks forward erratically, reveling in the groan he gets from Dean. “Gonna get you so fucking pregnant. Make you big with my pups.” Dean nods at him, biting his lip as he whines, pulling at Sam from his back and unable to sit still. He squirms in Sam’s arms, and his hole pulses hot slick, making Sam feel right at home in him.
Sam pushes his way inside, gritting his teeth as he moves a hand down to wrap around Dean’s dick, squeezing lightly before swiping over the head of it, moving down to fondle and massage his balls. Dean mutters a strained “Sam” as tears prick at the corner of his eyes, filling Sam with pride because he did that. He’s making his big brother come apart on his cock, and just like that, his knot starts to swell.
“Wannit,” Dean whimpers, and Sam grunts, pushing forward hard and fast, picking up to an unforgiving pace as he plows into Dean again and again, moaning as his knot fills up. “Want your knot, Sammy. Want your pups,” Dean babbles, and Sam smiles down at him, thrilled, until he can’t smile anymore, and he’s gritting his teeth, feeling his knot get impossibly larger as it catches on Dean’s puffy rim.
“Gonna make me come, Dean,” Sam says, and Dean pushes out a string of “please”s as he bucks up into where Sam is slamming home, all pretenses of going slow falling away.
“Yes, yes, yes. Sammy,” Dean moans, and god, he sounds fucking edible. “Gonna come. Make me come.”
On demand, Sam complies, pushing in hard until his knot pops past the rim and his seed spills deep inside, coming out in hot pulses as he groans, imagining his pups plugging Dean full. He continues to fuck forward as much as he can even with as little mobility as he has, hungry with how badly he wants his pups to stick, wants this to be the time he gets Dean pregnant and keeps him that way. God, he hopes Dean lets him, lets him fuck him silly until he’s popping out pups, and then they’ll go again, trying their luck for a full house just to keep Dean as gentle soft sweet as he is now. He looks like putty, so content to be filled by Sam, and the bliss doesn’t subside, just crashes down in waves as streams of his cum pump Dean full. When Sam finally comes to his senses enough to think again, he fumbles around for Dean’s dick, taking it in hand and jerking him hard and fast, taking in the way Dean’s back arches, his ass grinding back against Sam’s knot, and Sam opens his mouth to release a long, satisfied groan as Dean milks his swollen knot, pulling out strand after strand of his cum until he’s absolutely stuffed. Sam presses his hand against Dean’s womb again, imagining that it’s inflated with his cum, eyes rolling back as he empties and empties in a never-ending pull from his gut. Dean finally cries out and comes, streaking his chest with strands of white as his body shakes below Sam, Sam holding him tight as the euphoric feeling washes through the both of them.
Sam sighs as Dean starts to come down, some coherency returning to his features, and Sam can’t help himself from leaning down to join their lips. They kiss until their faces turn numb, unable to speak as Sam fills him to the brim, knot keeping them tied tight in the way they want to be.
Dean stays hard, Sam eyeing him, and Dean reclines his head in the pillows, sighing with satisfaction.
“God, can you come again?” Sam asks, and Dean huffs a laugh, shrugging a little.
“You can sure as hell try.” That’s all the permission Sam needs to start up with stroking his cock again, feeling Dean squirm like he’s trying to break free but is unable to go anywhere. He starts to moan again in little time, panting as his body fights for air, Sam going to play with his nipples again.
“Can’t wait ‘til these are filled with milk,” Sam says on a grunt, and Dean mewls, thrashing against Sam as he comes again, clenching hard and making Sam squeeze his eyes shut in bliss, the aftershocks of his orgasm rocking through him with renewed vigor. He feels absolutely spent and satisfied, Dean coming down and going limp in his arms, body heavy as Sam waits for his knot to deflate.
“Sleep,” Sam encourages with a peck to Dean’s forehead, and Dean nods, head falling against the pillow as his eyes soften.
* * *
When Dean wakes up, Sam makes him eat. It’s an unfortunate meal of cold turkey and cheese with mayo, and Dean would rather have Sam knotting his mouth, but he knows there’s time for that still. So he eats. Sam eats, too, and Dean clears his throat, thinking about how he can’t wait until he’s up and going again so he can try to make that cheeseburger casserole he has bookmarked in one of his cookbooks.
“So,” he starts, chowing down on the bite in his mouth, making sure he’s eating as much as he physically can with each bite. “Should I take a pregnancy test?” Sam laughs a little around the food in his mouth, shaking his head as he swallows.
“It’s too early, Dean. We’ll take one once you’re out of your heat.” He says it with the stench of Dean still stinking up the room, slick coating his legs still and keeping Sam’s eyes sharply dilated, even if he’s keeping his distance and talking cordially for the time being. Dean’s heat won’t be over anytime soon.
So they wait, and they fuck — a lot. Dean sucks Sam off until he’s knotting Dean’s fist, and then he takes him inside of him while he comes, not wanting to waste a drop. Sam eats Dean out, coaxing slick out onto his tongue and moaning as it hits. Sam always moans like Dean’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. Dean hopes his cooking is comparable, but he can’t be fooled; he knows what Sam’s favorite meal is.
They fuck with Dean’s head pressed to the mattress, legs spread in a mating press as Sam pounds into him. They fuck with Dean riding on top, sliding down onto Sam’s cock until it swells and then letting Sam flip him over while they’re tied together, combing at his hair. They fuck in the shower when they’re finally trying to clean up a little bit, Sam insisting cold water will do Dean good but it still having no effect on his libido. They fuck until they’re so tired, they can barely stand, and then they curl up in Dean’s nest, Sam whispering sweet nothings and promises that Dean eats up hungrily.
“You were my first baby,” Dean says in a stupor one day, laying in his nest and grooming Sam, purrs leaving his lip. He licks his hand and picks at Sam’s hair, slicking it down, and Sam sighs happily, a content smile on his face.
“I know,” he says after a little bit, holding Dean tight around the waist as he works.
“I used to hold you in my arms, and you’d— you’d look up at me and you’d babble at me, and… you were mine. You were my boy, Sammy.”
“Still am,” Sam says quietly, and Dean smiles, running his hand rewardingly along Sam’s skull, massaging.
“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Still mine.”
“Always,” Sam assures, curling into Dean’s side and nuzzling his forehead against Dean’s neck. “God, I’m gonna be a dad,” Sam says wistfully, wonder apparent in his voice. “I hope our baby has your eyes,” he adds, and Dean closes his eyes to imagine.
“I think our baby will look like you. Sasquatch that you are, probably takes up all the genes, needs more space.”
“Oh, whatever,” Sam says with a chuckle, exhaling toward Dean’s nape. Dean grins.
“I hope they look like you,” Dean adds quietly, and Sam kisses the spot just beside his ear.
“They’ll look like us, Dean. Me and you.” Dean thinks he’s alright with that compromise.
* * *
Dean rounds the corner quickly as he goes to find Sam, and when he does, he’s at his laptop on the phone with Jody, talking her through some information he found on a creature she’s hunting. Dean just waits, standing just barely in sight, partially concealed by a pillar. Sam shoots him a confused look like he wants to know what Dean wants, but Dean just shakes his head, waits. His hand wraps firmly around the surprise, concealed behind his back.
“Hey, let me call you right back, Jody,” Sam says, and Dean can feel his body thrum with anticipation, excitement washing over him in waves. “Dean?” Sam calls out, and Dean steps forward, barely concealing his smile.
“Sammy,” he says quietly, walking forward as he places the small piece in Sam’s large hands. It takes him a second to register the two solid lines, to realize that what he’s holding is a pregnancy test, but when it hits him, a huge smile buds on his face.
“Is it really–?” Sam asks, and Dean nods at him, grinning big.
“We’re expecting.”
Sam stands up and pulls Dean into his arms, hauling him up into a huge hug that’s almost crushing with the pressure of it. Dean hugs him back, tucking comfortably into the bend of Sam’s neck leading into his shoulder. He feels warm, inviting. Dean thinks back to all the time they’ve shared hugs like this and can’t think of a better circumstance. Out of all the times one of them was on the brink of death or just back from it, all the times they were emotional and needed this, this must be the best hug they’ve ever shared. Dean knows right then and there that this will surely go down in history as the happiest day of their lives, and he’s glad for it. Parents.
Yeah, they’re ready.