Disclaimer: I own nothing ((Unfortunately)). Also, slash, meaning boyxboy, and some incest, as well! Don't like, don't read.
Rated: T
Word Count: 1,110
Shipping: Wincest (Dean/Sam)
A/N: I rarely write, but I'm trying to get into it more regularly~ Hopefully, you'll like this little Wincest that I pulled out for writingismysoul. Quoting the original request, "Kinda cliche but they're adorable." Also, first fic! Please review~
THE POWER OF LOVE
"Damn it!"
Dean Winchester's pained groan rang throughout the dense forest he and his brother were using as an arena. The hunter's hand flew to above his left hip, only to withdraw it from the bleeding flesh. He needed the appendage in order to evade the flaming blasts of the witch intent on killing him. As the hag hurled another yellow ball, Dean was forced into side rolling, pushing off with one hand to propel across the dirt. Sam, Dean's younger brother of course, swung an iron crowbar straight to the back of the witch's head. Shrieking, she dissipated to a flurry of sparks. The taller brother's triumph was short lived, however, when Dean emitted another grunt, this time sounding uncharacteristically like a whimper. Immediately, Sam dashed to his companion, frowning. Articles of clothing were torn off in an attempt to examine Dean's injuries. Nasty red and maroon gashes littered usually flawless, tanned skin.
"It burns." Dean winced.
"Well, the bitch nailed you pretty well, didn't she?"
Not being able to muster up any more energy, eyelids fluttered shut, and Sam found himself alone to care for his unconscious brother. He heaved up Dean and staggered to the Impala with him in his arms. As soon as they reached the car, Sam tightly bound the wound in bandages. Dean was placed carefully in the passenger seat, and his brother situated himself in the foreign driver's seat. The car crept out of the woods and back roads, suddenly accelerating when it hit the highway. At the nearest motel, Sam pulled in and checked out the cheapest room available. He lugged Dean and their belongings into the room. Quickly, Sam drew an array of symbols and scattered hex bags about the room for protection. Then, he turned his attention to the man who shot upright.
It took everything in Sam not to flinch at the sudden movement. "Sam?" Dean questioned, still shaking his head about and trying to process his surroundings. Sam appeared at his side, much to his brother's relief. The younger's finger prodded Dean's to shift into a position where the stained bandage could be removed. Dean obliged, but he immediately yelped at Sam's touch. There was burning. Intense burning was all that rushed through his side. "Sammy, what do I do?" For the first time in a long time, Dean's eyes met Sam's in terror. Fear danced through his gaze because Dean didn't like the unknown, and what to do about this pain, he certainly did not know. "Uh. I don't think you'll like this, but it's been a few hours and you're still bleeding. I don't know how you're awake with me right now." Dean replied, "W-What do you mean I'm still bleeding?" Sam simply raised his arm to manifest very red, very real blood, which, by the way, had begun pooling on the floor beneath the guys.
The sight of it had Dean woozy, but he managed to drag himself to the queen bed. Flopping on it, he nearly demanded, "Answer me this, little brother. You mean to tell me that wicked energy blast won't allow me to heal?" Unfortunately, Sam nodded his head, opting to re-bandage Dean. "I don't think you'll be well any time soon. I hope Bobby won't mind a 3 AM call from his favorite boys." An hour, a drawn out phone call, and a trip to an herbal garden later, Sam nudged Dean to wake him up. "Yo," Sam began, "I called Bobby. I also went out to get the herbs I needed for this lotion compound thing that I need to rub you down with." Dean half-smiled and flipped onto his stomach for Sam to start on his back. "Get rubbin', Princess." he laughed out, pecking Sam on the lips and respectively earning a slap to the back of the head.
Rolling his eyes, Sam tucked his overgrown hair behind his ear. He blushed slightly, out of Dean's line of vision, while he peeled Dean's undershirt away. After briefly admiring his brother's muscular back, he mercilessly dumped the cold mixture out of its bowl. "Jesus!" Dean flinched. With a smirk playing at his lips, Sam massaged the cream deep into the body before him. Every single dip and curve was appreciated, causing Sam to grow more and more flustered with each stroke. He found his fingers ghosting up to Dean's toned biceps. Lost in the moment, Dean thrummed with satisfaction, "I could get used to this, baby boy." Sam leaned down to whisper into his brother's ear, "Well, that could be arranged." After a careful rub down around Dean's injured side, Sam lifted his leg over and off the bed, no longer straddling. The older whined at the loss of contact, opening his arms for his counterpart to settle into. A cuddle session with his favorite brother turned lover was in order. Sam's head tucked into the crook of Dean's neck, and his lanky arms draped over his brother's strong frame. They fit together like some sorts of puzzle pieces.
The next morning, to his dismay, Dean woke up alone. He pawed at the cold sheets next to him, reaching for Sam, who waltzed happily through the room's door carrying a bag and 2 coffees. "Morning!" he mused. Dean began to slink towards Sam, but was stopped by a huge hand to the chest. "Sit back and relax hot stuff." A spoonful of soup was held in front his mouth expectantly. Sam dropped his jaw ever so adorably and motherly, gesturing for Dean to mimic his motions. When Dean's eyes widened and face reddened, he knew that his older brother would refuse. He won him over, however, with some puppy dog eyes and a pouty lip. Dean coughed roughly, "I hate soup… Don't make me eat anymore of that garbage." Knowing that the hunter would want more, Sam held another utensil with another food, eyebrows arched.
Not another word was spoken. The pie that Sam held moments ago was scarfed down and now rested within Dean. A hand patted on the bed, signaling that Dean wanted another set of snuggles. "Hold on, dude." Sam interrupted, checking Dean's cuts. Miraculously, the gash was nearly closed up, leaving just a thin line about 4 inches long for a scar. His jaw dropped, and he couldn't believe how quickly the compound worked. He lovingly caressed the scar and left lingering kisses up Dean's perfect chest and face, finally landing on his waiting lips. "Check it out, Dean. You're looking a lot better. It must have been the herbs."
"Nah." Dean answered, pulling Sam into spooning. "Baby, that right there was the power of love."