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Author's notes: This takes time around the season 2, when they hunt together but haven't yet found their father. In the previous part called 'C for Contradictions' Sam was really broken. This is how he has healed, and how the boys have returned to 'normal' which in Winchester case is nothing but normal but absolutely right for them.
They move together like the years spent apart never existed. The shadows are their best friends, the darkness like a perfect curtain between what is and what should never be. They move, and even when they don't look at each other, they know exactly where the other one is; what he's doing, how he's moving.
It's a beautiful dance in the dark.
Hunting. Preying. Killing.
As harsh as it sounds, the other has always known and the other has finally realized that this is what they were meant to do.
What they were meant to be.
They move together, more beautifully than dancers because their dance is full of excitement, full of testosterone, full of 'this could be our last night together and you know it'.
The dance of death.
It's not the kill that it's the highlight of it all. It's the thrill before it. You can't see it, I can't see it, but it's there, and if we don't kill it, it will kill us.
In a very sick sense it's the natural order of all things. Kill, or be killed, and neither of them has a death wish. At least not by a demon that is only toying with them.
They move together like the rest of the world doesn't exist; only the prey, and when they finally take the final steps and finish the mission, the demon looks like it's actually surprised.
And that makes Dean smile.
During all these years, haven't they learned anything? You don't want to fight against someone who has someone with you that you would die for in a heartbeat.
Adrenaline. Dean loves it. The way it makes his veins stand out from his skin, the way it makes his whole body ache in a good way.
Sam is right there with him. Dean can see the dilated pupils of his brother, the tendons that jut out; hears the breaths that are hard and ragged and victorious.
It's not like they enjoy killing, or at least neither of them would ever admit it, but when they get back to the car Dean is already hard and aching, and Sam's breathing still hasn't calmed down.
The ride back to the motel is too long. Doesn't matter if it's a mile or twenty, it's always too long.
It's the adrenaline that has led them to this point; the point of no return.
When the motel room door closes behind them, Dean really can't tell who's on who because they are both attacking each other like hungry animals. Lips, tongues, teeth. Mouths and muscles fighting for dominance, desperate to undo the tension built during the hunt.
It's Sam who gives in. Sam, who always turns needy and always, always manages to make a whole new meaning for the word 'desperate' whenever they return from a hunt.
It doesn't take long.
Soon they move together again, this time closer and not even air between them. The shadows are still dark, but the darkness no longer like a perfect curtain between of what is and what should never be, because this is just the way it has to be. They move, and this time they look at each other, and even better than before they know exactly where the other one is; what he's doing, how he's moving.
It's the perfect dance in the dark.
Sam's eyes close, his head trashes from side to side, but Dean's not done yet. He forces Sam's head still with his hands and stops moving until Sam opens his eyes and looks at him.
There are no words, but the look in Sam's eyes says 'pleaseneedwantlove', and that is enough. Dean thrusts deep and hard, and Sam keeps his wide eyes open, keeps his eyes on Dean until they are both through, shivering and spent.
Sam's breaths are hot and moist, and Dean swallows every single one of them.
Epinephrine. What a fine word.
If it keeps leading them into this, Dean promises himself to never use the synonym 'adrenaline' again.
After few hours they are both still too wired up to sleep. And if the dance between the sheets they had earlier was fiery tango, then, well...
The second time is like a slow waltz. Urges out, then take your time. Hell, be greedy and take all the time in the world that you have left.
You'll never know which waltz will be the last.