Pairing: Dean/Sam

Genre: Slash, Angst

Note: Unbeta'ed. Written for the "round of kink" LJ. The kink was "cuddling, touch". Coda for "My bloody valentine", so spoiler.

Fly away from here

Dean didn't know how much time he spent outside on the junkyard, drinking by himself. He found a car that he could sit without catching anything and stayed there, his eyes unfocused, just taking swallow after swallow of whiskey.

When he felt Castiel's hands on his shoulder, he didn't have the energy to even be surprised.

"What's up Cas?" asked Dean, his voice tired.

"It's over. I thought you should know."

Dean looked up and smiled faintly.

"Thanks Cas."

The angel just nodded and with a flutter of wings he disappeared.

-----

"Sam?"

Dean entered the panic room and closed the door behind him. Sam was lying on his stomach, his labored breathing echoing around the empty space. Dean approached the bed and sat on the edge of it. He slowly extended his hand and touch Sam's sweaty hair, his fingers sliding through the locks.

"Sammy?"

At the sound of the nickname, Sam's breath got even faster. His shoulders hunched. Dean drew away from his hair and touched the tense shoulder.

"Sam, what is it?"

"I'm sorry."

Dean knew that voice. Even forty years in hell and more than a year of fights and distance couldn't make the older brother to forget some things about Sam. And that hitch in his voice was like he was about to cry.

"Sammy, look at me."

Sam turned around and Dean's heart clenched at the tired, haunted look on his face.

"It's been a while."

Dean arched his eyebrow.

"A while what?"

"That you call me that."

Dean got confused.

"I call you Sammy all the time."

Sam smiled, bitterly.

"Not like that."

Dean approached on the bed.

"Like what?"

Sam looked away.

"Like still means something to you."

Dean huffed and approached even more, hugging his brother.

"Damn it Sam." he tightened his hold. "It never stopped meaning something."

Sam just hugged him back, hiding his face on the crook of his neck, like he used to do when he was seven and scared of a nightmare. The memory hit Dean like a brick on the head. The older Winchester sighed deeply and made Sam lay down again. But before the younger man could protest about anything Dean slipped behind him, holding against his chest, his face against his shoulder blades.

"Sleep for now Sam. We'll talk more later."

Sam just close his eyes and hold Dean's hand that is splayed on his chest closer to his heart. He doesn't care that they didn't sleep in the same bed, entangled as they are, since they were kids. It doesn't matter right now.

-----

Sam slowly goes back to consciousness with the sensation of warmth all around him. He blinks his eyes, sleep still clinging to his mind. Someone is embracing him from behind, holding him tight. Slowly the events of the last couple days return to him.

Sam goes completely awake in seconds. He tries to get up but the arm holding him is a dead weight on his body. That's when he slowly turns around and faces Dean, face slack with sleep.

The younger Winchester enjoys the little time he knows he has to study his brother. One of the things that was the most impressive about Dean was the way he could completely relax when sleeping.

But forty years on the pity took that away.

All that he sees now is the deep frown between his closed eyes, the downturn of his mouth, like smiling is too much of an effort. Slowly, very slowly, Sam raises his hand, touching Dean's cheek. His throat closes again, the lump bigger than ever.

How he could possibly ignore everything that Dean means to him?

"Stop staring."

Sam gasps at the low voice so close to him. Dean opens his eyes, smirking a little bit. He approaches and his hands slides through Sam's hair, feeling the silkiness and length.

"Are you better Sammy?"

Sam closes his eyes at the touch, leaning into it.

"Dean?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think we can ever return to the way we were before?"

Dean approaches even more, sharing air with his brother, their bodies touching everywhere.

"No."

Sam opens his eyes, hurt. Dean kisses him slowly, savoring the taste. He mumbles against that mouth.

"But maybe we can be something better."

Sam smiles wide and returns the kiss. Soon enough Dean rolls their bodies, landing on top of Sam, gripping his hair and deepening the kiss. Sam moans happily, his hands eagerly opening Dean's shirt, wanting to feel skin.

One by one the clothes fall from their bodies, leaving space for bare skin. Sam touches every inch he can, fascinated with the body without scars. He intends to leave his own mark on it.

Dean kisses and licks and bites every inch of Sam's gorgeous body. If he's a little rougher than he used to be that's okay. He still does everything to prove to Sam that he's loved.

When they are nearly there, reaching the end, Sam clutching at Dean's biceps as he feels his brother cocks pounding inside him, he can barely look away, locked in those green irises, seeing everything that was hidden in the fog that was last year: love, fear, sadness, anger, darkness.

But the thing that he was looking for is still there: love.

And Dean always gave that to him. Because he knew how much Sam needed.

END