Notes: It's Wincest if you really squint but it's mostly just boy cuddling. Contains general spoilers through all aired episodes. It was Written for The Accidental Schmoop Meme, hosted by tvm, for the prompt, Huddling for warmth, over on Livejournal.
Disclaimer: The characters in this story remain the property of Eric Kripke, Robert Singer and related production companies. None of the pretties belong to me, I'm only borrowing them.
SAFE HAVEN
Sam opened the bathroom door, towel draped loosely around his hips. Steam billowed around him as the cooler air of the main room kissed his skin. He shivered; twenty minutes under the hot water and he still felt cold.
Shaking his damp hair out of his eyes he looked for Dean. He'd had dibs on the first shower when they'd fallen through the door an hour ago and he'd taken full advantage of it. Sam noticed a large lump of blankets in the center of Dean's bed, a single shock of unruly hair peeking out of the impromptu cocoon. Walking over, Sam reached out nudging what he hoped was a shoulder.
"Hey, feeling better?"
The mound of blankets shifted, Dean's head slowly emerged as he noisily exhaled. "Hmmph… Sam, I s..swear, the next fricking idiot we see ignoring the 'Thin Ice' signs, d..drowns." A hard shiver made him clench his teeth, even through his sweats and Sam's threadbare Stanford hoodie thrown on for extra warmth.
Sam's fingers trailed over Dean's face, checking for fever. If anything his skin still felt too cool to the touch. Deciding, he let his towel drop to the ground, reaching out to grab and lift the edge of the blankets piled there.
"Scoot over."
"Dude!" Even as he squawked, Dean moved to make room for Sam.
"Shut it, Dean, I'm cold, too." Sliding under the covers, Sam pulled Dean up snugly against him, stomach to back, his free hand moving to lie warmly against Dean's still chilled stomach. As twin icebergs masquerading as feet touched his shins, Sam jumped. "Fuck!"
Dean burrowed even closer, bunched muscles finally relaxing against Sam's warmth, his voice a sleepy burr. "Know you love it…"
Memories of a lost year, filled with Tuesdays and Wednesdays when he was always too late, where he couldn't save his brother, washed over him. Thankful for whomever it was that watched over wayward Winchesters he smiled, chin resting against Dean's hair. The scent of the spicy shampoo he'd always worn bringing its own sense of 'safe' and 'home' to Sam. Tugging Dean even closer his eyes slid shut, his last coherent thought following him down into sleep... 'Yeah, I really do.'
fin