Sammy fell, his knees taking the brunt of the force. His big brother was there almost before he could start crying. He picked Sammy up and trundled him into the hotel bathroom where their first aid kit was sitting on the counter. There wasn't a lot of damage but Dean did have to scrub a little gravel out of Sammy's left knee.
"Don't cry, Sammy," Dean whispered.
"I'm not crying. I'm four!" Sammy said, dashing away the perfect tear that hung at the corner of his eye.
"Yeah, you're a big boy," Dean sighed, sounding older than his years. He finally finished cleaning the scrape and he placed a batman band-aid over it.
"Kiss it better!" Sammy demanded.
Dean rolled his eyes but obediently leaned down and planted his lips on the band-aid.
Sammy pressed a sloppy , close-mouthed kiss to Dean's cheek and said, "I love you, Dean!"
"Yeah," Dean replied.
"Don't you love me too?" Sam pouted.
"Like a brother," Dean smirked. "Go back outside and play. Dad'll be mad if you don't run off all the energy before we get in the car."
"Ok," Sammy yelled before running back out of the hotel room to the rusty playground set next door.
ooooooo
Sam is sitting in the backseat. Dean looks in the rear view mirror as often as he can to make sure that he's not crying. Sam shoots him a glare when he notices.
"Stop it," Sam snarls.
"Sam, don't be rude," John immediately barks.
"Dean's looking at me," Sam whines.
"Sammy…" Dean starts.
"And don't call me Sammy!"
"SAM!" John shouts. And Sam buries his head in the ratty old blanket and pretends to be asleep.
Dean grabs Sam's arm after they leave the car. John ignores them and strides ahead of them into the diner. "We're ok, right Sam?" Dean asks.
"Yeah," Sam sighs. "I'm not mad at you. I just wish we could stay in one place and go to one school. Then maybe I could keep a friend for more than a week."
"Hey, you've got me. You'll always have me," Dean said softly.
Sam turned and latched onto his brother, burying his head in Dean's ribs. "I love you, Dean."
Dean stood there like a statue but Sam kept hugging him until Dean finally responded. "Yeah, like a brother, kiddo. Love you like a brother."
ooooooo
Dean snuck out of the house, leaving John in a pool of whiskey. He hoped he was not too late. Sam had been gone for hours but maybe his bus hadn't left yet. He sped the whole way to the bus station. He felt like he couldn't breathe properly until he saw that shaggy head through the window.
"Sammy," Dean said when he stepped through the door.
"It's Sam," his little brother replied through stuffy nose, his eyes still suspiciously shiny.
"Are you really leaving?" Dean asked, trying so hard so sound nonchalant.
"You could come with me," Sam sniffled.
Dean looked out the window because he knew he would cave if he actually met Sam's eyes. "You know I can't. Dad needs,,,"
"Dad doesn't need shit!" Sam spat. "He's a grown ass man."
"This fight. You know I gotta...I still remember her. This is still my fight," Dean said softly.
"And I don't remember," Sam said. "That's why I'm getting out before I lose myself to your fight."
"Suit yourself," Dean said, studying his nails.
"I do love you, Dean," Sam said.
Dean inspected a pattern on the floor.
"Like a brother," Sam said bitterly. "I understand." And then he boarded the bus in silence. Dean always wished later that he had had the strength to watch him go.
ooooooo
The smell of smoke is everywhere, in the air, in Sam and Dean's clothing, settling like a shroud over everything they own. It makes Dean want to vomit. Sam hardly seems to notice, so lost is he to his grief. Dean just wants to make it better. But he feels like his brother is pushing him away. He pushes clean clothes into Sam's arms and shoves him into the bathroom for a shower, keeping his ear to the door until he hears it come on, banging on the door when it goes on for too long, and again when the silence in the bathroom stretches out. He finds Sam's favourite foods and watches him eat them. He follows his brother around as Sam digs through the ashes of the home he shared with Jessica. He listens as his brother doesn't speak. And isn't that the strangest thing? Because no matter what Sam has been going through, he has never been silent and he has never shut Dean out for long.
Finally, Dean is fed up with the silence. "I love you," he blurts out, wincing as Sam jolts and turns to look at him, really look at him for the first time in a week. Dean scratches his head and laughs a little ruefully. "Like a brother?" Dean said weakly. It's not much. But it gets better after that.
ooooooo
Dean is still reeling from having the center punched out of his world. Sam bled out in his arms. He was cold and still on a mattress. And now he's back, sitting next to Dean in the car, talking about their next move, as if he never died at all. Dean wants to punch him, to beat his face in until he understands exactly how Dean felt when he heard Sam's last breath. He also wants to kiss him, to pour every unspoken word since childhood into one clash of lips and tongue. He doesn't do either of those things.
"Hey, Sam?"
"Yeah, Dean?"
"You know I love you, right?" Dean says gruffly.
"Yeah," Sam breathes. "Like a brother?"
The air rushes out of his lungs like he's been punched. "Yeah, Sammy, like a brother."
ooooooo
Dean finally has his brother where he wants him. Sam is writhing beneath him, lips red and swollen, every mile of smooth golden skin exposed to Dean's eyes. Sam moans as Dean works another finger carefully into Sam's hole.
"Want you. Need you," Sam pants.
"What do you want, Sammy?" Dean purrs.
"Want your cock. Want you inside me," Sam gasps and whines as Dean's finger finds his prostate.
And Dean decides not to make Sam wait any longer and sinks into Sam's willing heat. He moans as he is overwhelmed by the sensation of being inside Sam for the very first time. "Oh god, I love you," he groans.
"Like a brother?" Sam grins up at him impishly.
Dean growls and shuts his little brother up with a kiss.