Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot
Title: Love is all I have
Chapter: 1/?
Pairing: Sam W./ Dean W.
Words: 5,246
Warnings: Male/Male, Underage, Incest, Swearing
(A/N) I just needed to get it out of my system. This was more for me then anything else, a lot of random snippets meshed together into one story. Sorry for any spelling errors, 'tense' mix ups my fail at grammar, I've been staring at this for like a week straight, so bare with the ordered chaos and enjoy!
Sam can't stand the heat. He's sitting outside in his basketball shorts in a chair so old it creaks with the slightest movement. It's the middle of a balmy Mexico summer and heat rises from the asphalt in waves. They're shacked up in a cheap hotel with even cheaper food stashed in the mini fridge, again. His father and brother were gone, scoping the town, digging up what they could. Sightings of the El Chupacabre had been increasing in the past months and it was becoming harder for them to ignore. Sam wasn't too eager to begin school next month. He didn't know what town they would be in or what state their father's health would be balanced on. Being 14, Sam just wanted to be done with middle school, to him, it felt like it had been 10 years instead of 4, and it made Sam feel older then he really was.
Wiping a hand over his face, strands of hair followed his fingertips, creeping along his brow. Sam stared out at the road, he knew better then to sit in broad daylight, he had been scolded more then once, but the box of sweltering heat behind him was enough to take the risk. His t-shirt stuck to him, the cotton of his boxers uncomfortable and he wants nothing more then to go swim in the measly pool in the middle of the hotel complex. Then again, if he was even caught with out his brother somewhere, he'd get a swift smack to the head and a nice long lecture. Frowning Sam sunk low in the seat, picking at his sweaty shirt before hefting himself up and slinking inside before his father came back.
00
It's 2 in the morning when the door slams open and Sam's awake like his life depends on it. Dragging himself out of bed he catches the rumble of his father speaking low through the paper thin walls. Stumbling out of the hallway he sees his father slapping down guns and maps onto the old dinning room table. Dean spots the scraggly teen first and makes to steer him back to bed. Feeling hands too hot for they're own good come down on his shoulders, he's spun around. Mumbling something incoherent Dean squeezes his shoulders and makes the decision for him. The dim light of the kitchen fades and Sam hopes his brother won't be a dick and walk him into a wall. The familiar smell of Dean's musk and cheap hotel sheets assault his nose and he knows he's back in their shared room.
"But, Dean-"
"Go to bed Sammy, we'll talk in the morning," Dean leans in close, giving Sam's shoulders another squeeze before kissing him on the head.
The heavy scent of Mexico's dusty streets and a beer that Dean's not even legal enough to drink wash over Sam and he closes his eyes, feels his brother press close and kiss him like he's ten again. Dean's hands are unforgiving and he's shoved into bed, the door closing behind the young hunter and it's silent save for the voices floating through the walls, lulling him back to sleep.
00
The sound of their father yelling and the front door slamming wakes Sam, he's laying in a tangle of blankets and he can feel the heat seep into his bones and burn him from the inside out. His eyes are dry and rubbing at them only makes them itch. Blinking at the ceiling, Sam sweeps his eyes around the room, spots Dean's empty bed and frowns, he's the last one to wake up, again. Sitting up, he feels himself break into a sweat and he knows today is going to be just as hot as the last. Walking into the dinning room and living room he spots Dean in the kitchen, standing over the stove.
His 18 year old brother has no shirt and Sam pauses for a moment, stares at the expanse of tan skin and scars. More often than not he's noticed how Dean is more defined in places that Sam can only wish that he was. His lanky limbs make him feel like a dork compared to his smooth, experienced bother. Climbing onto the old couch situated in front of the TV, Sam crosses his arms along the back, feels the worn fibers chafe at his skin and he watches Dean cook. Just sitting there, with the stove on, not more then 10 feet away, has Sam sweating through his worn cotton bed-shirt. it's 3 sizes too big because it used to belong to Dean. That's why there's hole's dotting the fabric and when he moves just the right way he swears he can smell Dean, the phantom scent is intoxicating. His brother has never done him wrong and Sam is content to just sit there, melting into the couch and watch his brother drift around the kitchen.
Sam could have sworn he entered the room in compete silence, but as Dean starts pulling down plates, the older male pegs him with a forest green stare and calls him over to help. Peeling himself off the couch, his skin itches and he walks over to assist. Plates are shoved into his hands and he makes for the table, only to be egged on faster as Dean follows closely with the hot frying pan. Sitting down Sam sets a plate in front and kitty corner to him. Dean drops heavily into the seat and starts shoveling eggs and sausage onto their plates. The smell is enough to make Sam dizzy and his stomach roar in anticipation. Dean chuckles at the sound and shoves a fork into his little brother's eggs.
Neither of them wait before shoveling food into their mouths and Sam groans in appreciation as the food sends his taste buds tripping over themselves, Dean snorts and keeps eating. The food is finished in silence and Sam licks his lips to get every last flavor into his mouth. Grabbing both their plates Dean leaves the table in favor of the sink.
"Where's dad?"
Dean's hands pause briefly as he starts to wash the dishes, "He's going it alone today, said he might be back later."
Sam looks to the table, "Oh."
The scratches and worn wood form enough lines to keep his attention till Dean taps a knuckle on the table. Looking up into green eyes his bother gives him a smile that can only mean one thing. Breaking the rules because what daddy don't know, won't hurt him.
"Want to go swimming?"
Sam is up and out of his chair in a heart beat. He had been longing to go for a swim since they had arrived at least a week ago. Sprinting to their room he's practically ripping his shirt and boxers off. Flinging them onto the bed he digs through the small drawers of the night stand and pulls out a pair of basketball shorts. Shrugging them on he can already feel the cool water on his skin and he jogs to the bathroom to grab a towel. Dean more or less meanders through the hotel room, lazily putting dishes away before sauntering to their room. Sam is bouncing impatiently next to the door, he knows his brother is taking his time on purpose.
"Dean," he whines.
A deep laugh comes from the back of their room and Sam scowls. It doesn't take his brother much longer before he's walking from the hallway, a pair of shorts slung low on his hips and a towel over one shoulder. His bouncing slows and Sam stops to watch as his brother riffles through his leather jacket for the key card to their room before shoving Sam out and into the scorching heat. Sam groans because the heat makes him sweat and the sun is so bright he has to squint.
"Quit complaining. You should feel lucky I'm even taking you to the pool," Dean growls and leads the way.
"Maybe I should have just taken a cold bath."
"And miss all the action at the pool?"
Sam isn't sure what Dean means by action, his body feels as slow as molasses and he's wishing for a flash flood would poor down from the heavens. The walk to the pool has Sam whining like the teenager he is, hot and uncomfortable till he sees the edges of blue water as they round a corner and he instantly perks up. Using the key card to get past the gate Dean watches as Sam scrambles past and claims an empty white beach chair. Toeing off his sneakers Sam breaks for the pool and dives into the water. The splash he makes sprinkles down on Dean like rain and he walks to the chair, dumping his stuff on top of Sam's. There's a few people there already for 10 in the morning, a couple sun tanning, some kids playing at the deep end of the pool and the occasional employee walking by. Slipping his shoes off he pads over to the edge of the pool, the hot cement licks at his feet till he reaches the slick white tile that eats at the edge of the pool. Breathing deep he feels the humidity and chlorine slick into his lungs and slick along his throat like syrup.
Sam surfaces a few seconds later, all smiles and gangly limbs trying to keep him afloat. Dean chuckles at the sight. His younger brother his skinny and he knows the little Winchester is going to grow like a weed. Sitting himself down on the edge of the pool he relishes the feel of the water lapping at the back of his calves. He watched Sam doggie paddle over, spluttering water out of his mouth before he grabs at the tile on either side of Dean's knees.
"Come on!"
"What?"
"You know what," Sam glares, kicking his legs to stay above the water.
Dean gives him a lopsided grin, "No I don't."
Sam furrows his brow and juts his bottom lip out, all flustered from the heat and wet from the water. It tugs at something in Dean's gut, but he doesn't know what.
"Get in the water you dummy!"
"Oh that's what you want."
"Yes."
"You have to say the magic word."
He receives a death glare and Sam doesn't say anything. Dean knows how stubborn Sam is, he knows that the kid can't go a long with a joke sometimes because he's too hell bent on getting his own way. Sticking his tongue out Dean taunts his little brother. That is, till a swat of water comes from left field and douses his tongue in chlorine. Spluttering Dean yells and Sam laughs before pushing off from the edge because he knows he's won. Dean spits and tries to wipe the taste away but it's stuck and he shoots Sam a look that would melt the sun. Sliding into the water he barely notices the goose flesh that rises on his hot skin, quenched by cool water.
Sam doesn't look back as he tries to gain some ground, heading for the deep end in the hopes that the children playing there might serve as useful obstacles. Dean can touch the bottom of the pool for the most part, he knows what Sam is doing, sees the kid heading straight toward the boys playing keep away at the deep end. In the back of his mind he has to give the kid some points for effort. The plan would have been flawless, save for the fact the boys at the other end were playing rough and currently thrashing as they horse played on each other. What happened next almost stopped Dean's heart. In slow motion, he watched as the other kids shoved and flailed, he watched as Sam tried to swim around them, and his gut wrenched as he watched Sam get pegged in the face with a wayward elbow.
Dean pauses for a second before his movements become more frantic, Sam's nose is instantly bloody, he's clutching his face and forgets to keep swimming. Sam wants to scream in pain, the elbow had landed square on his nose. He froze up before he could keep swimming, water rushes into his mouth and his once careful strokes become less routine and more panicked. His eyes and nose sting as he dips under the surface, his lungs seize, water rushing in over his head, the sun becoming a churning ball of shimmering water. He doesn't hear his brother yelling after him, only hears his thoughts, dead, drowning, fill his ears.
"You kids! Move!"
Dean is yelling before he dives under the water, using his strong legs to push off the pool bottom and kick powerfully toward his bothers thrashing body. Dean can hear his heart pounding a beat of life or death in his ears, his eyes burn in the chlorine and it took all he had to keep them open, now was no time to he a pussy. Blood churned into the water, made the liquid around his sinking brother hazy. Dean gave a strong kick of his legs, grabbed onto one of Sam's limp wrists and pushed off the bottom, torpedoing up. His face broke the surface first and he forced air into his burning lungs. The dead weight of Sam almost brought him back down, except Dean wasn't ready to go yet, not like that. Hooking an arm around Sam's chest he kicked to the edge of the pool where people were crowded, worried and calling to him.
Using the muscles in his free arm he grabbed onto the tile, knuckles white and he strained to drag both him and his brother up. The cement was unforgiving, it bites into his knees as he lays Sam down, bloody and not breathing. His heart beat is still a thundering storm in his chest and he immediately tilts Sam's head back, listening with straining ears for any sign of breathing. Nothing. He knows what he has to do and Dean hopes he doesn't have to break any ribs while doing it. The people around him are a hazy blur of moving feet and worried voices. Lining his hands up along Sam's sternum Dean clasps his fingers and starts CPR. If he's thankful for one thing, it's that their father was a stickler for teaching them ways of keeping someone alive. Dean wasn't sure where to put his eyes, his hands or the pale face of his brother, he couldn't stop, no, he had to give it everything he had. There was no way someone else he loved was going to die. He pushed and pushed for what seemed like an eternity, Dean couldn't stop; wouldn't stop. A hand on his shoulder made him jerk a little harder on one downward thrust and a sound so heavenly filled his ears. Sam coughed and gagged, arms flailing out as he scrambled to his side and emptied the contents of his lungs and stomach.
Dean was barely aware the breakfast he had cooked was now baking on cement, all he saw was Sam's shaking form and dilated eyes looking at him for reassurance. Dean reached out and brought his brothers shivering form closer, he didn't care that blood smeared onto his shoulder, it was nothing new. A woman was talking to them, Dean had half a mind to snap at her, but just waved her away. Picking Sam up, all 100 and some pounds of him sopping weight, he turned and headed for their things. Dean could feel his heart twist as Sam wraps his arms around his neck and buries his face, shaking and sobbing.
"It's ok Sammy, I'm here. It's ok."
Dean just keeps whispering in his ear, low and hushed as he hurriedly grabs the key card and their shoes, forgetting the towels in favor of getting Sam home and safe. Dean ignores the burn of rocks and debris as he jogs back to their room, struggling to get the key card in the right position so he doesn't have to stand at the door and fumble like an idiot.
The key card choses that time to insist that Dean swipe the card twice before opening. Slamming the door shut Dean carries Sam, still a shaking mess to the kitchen and plop him down on the counter next to the sink. He tells Sam to hold his nose because the nose bleed is still gushing down his chin and onto his shorts. When Dean comes back from the bathroom with tissues and a towel, Sam has knees up and is curled in on himself, sobbing quietly.
Standing in front of his younger brother Dean speaks in a soft voice, "Sammy."
The mop of chocolate hair shifts and he can see red rimmed hazel eyes staring at him. He holds up the tissues and lets Sam take them with a quivering hand. They're instantly soaked and Dean searches the cupboards for thicker napkins. He comes up empty handed and turns back to the lanky mess of limbs still dripping dry on the counter. Bringing the towel up he works to dry Sam's hair first, leaving the towel on the kid's head before going for more tissues.
Sam stares at his hands, they're pink with chlorine and blood and he can't help but think of how the darkness closed in so fast he didn't even have time to think of his father or Dean. A choked breathed passes through his lungs and tears burn at his already abused eyes. Dean stepped into his vision again, worry writ all over his face and Sam can't stop the waterworks the second they start. He starts thinking of how someday he won't ever see his brother again, and how each day his dad might leave and never come back.
"D-Dean," he cries and feels strong arms wrap around him.
Sam doesn't remember clawing at his brother to get further into his arms, he doesn't remember Dean hoisting him up so he can wrap his legs around his brother and just hold him. Hot, calloused hands rub at his heaving chest and back, Dean coos in his ear and Sam can't hold back the sobs that wreck his slim frame. He buries his face into the crook of his brothers neck, breathes deep his scent. Even under all the chlorine he can smell Dean, he smells like home, like long drives at night and kisses before bed. Sam holds tighter, he doesn't want those memories to slip away, he doesn't want his brother to leave his arms. He holds tighter, and feels one of his brothers hands come up to drag through his hair, slick it away from his messed face and show him that they're still there, standing in the kitchen, alive and breathing.
It takes a few moments before Sam finally calms down, hushed by Dean gently swaying and words of reassurance. Dean waits for the sobs to turn into sniffling and finally into a normal rhythm. By then though, Sam is out like a light and Dean doesn't have the heart to wake him up. Taking a deep breath to settle his own nerves, Dean starts out of the kitchen and heads for their bedroom. When Dean tries to extricate Sam from around him, he finds the task easier said then done. Dean sighs, the kid was in shambles and each time Dean tried to pull him off the boy only held tighter. He finally resigned himself to taking a midday nap. Dean huffed and made for his bed across the room, he liked it better then Sam's, that's why it was his. Sitting down on the bed he laid back, the weight of his lanky brother settling over him and he could feel Sam's heart beating against his chest. He had to shift limbs and settle Sam's hips in the right place so as not to crush his balls. Finally relaxing, Dean rested his cheek atop of Sam's head, the poor kid had it rough and Dean knew it was only going to get rougher as they travelled the path to becoming hunters. Closing his eyes Dean let sleep claim him, his hands relaxing on Sam's hips and his breath becoming even as he drifted into dreamland.
00
Dean is used to waking up with a body tangled around his own, he's had a handful of one nightstands. Except when he wakes this time, he knows it's not a one night stand, he knows it isn't some girl looking for a quick lay. Still curled on top of him, head nestled under his chin, is his brother. Dean wipes gunk from his eyes and stares at the ceiling, his stomach growls and he groans as he tries to shift under his brother. Which was a had task since Sam has contorted himself sometime during their nap. Dean could feel a thigh pressed heavily to his crotch, a hand tucked between their chests and the other limbs splaying out doing god knows what. He didn't know what time it was, only knew he needed to get up and eat, maybe take a leak, but his brother wasn't helping.
"Sammy," he called.
No response. Dean breathed in deep, his brother's form moving with him and he brought a hand up to rake it through Sam's stiff hair. It pulled and snagged and Dean felt his brother shifting. A whine rose from his brother and a small hand came up to move whatever was causing him pain.
"Stop," came the pitiful demand.
Dean smirked, a low chuckle rising in his chest and Sam opened his eyes, feeling his warm bed moving. Rubbing a hand into his eyes to get the sleep out Sam groggily pushed himself away from his brother to sit up. Dean's hands immediately shot up, he groaned and winced as Sam's leg dug into his sensitive groin and he raked at the appendage dragging it unceremoniously over the side of his hip and pulling Sam's butt to sit higher on his stomach. He gave a sigh of relief when his balls were no longer in danger and relaxed his tensed muscles.
"Sorry."
"It's ok."
Sam shifted a little more, making himself comfortable before spotting what he had smeared all over Dean's neck and chest. A grimace pulled at his pink lips and he reached up to touch his face., flakes of dried blood came away at his fingertips and he frowned.
"Come on, let's go take a shower, I'm sure as hell not going to let you hog all the hot water.
Sam nodded absently, he was barely listening, his thoughts were yards away, at the pool. He tried not to think of how close death had come to snatching him away. Dean sat up, gripped under Sam's thighs and lifted both of them up and headed for the bathroom. It was a tight fit, he set Sam on the counter and went about setting the shower up. Dean said he would be back but Sam still wasn't listening, he moved on autopilot. Seeing the shower he stripped off his shorts and got in. It didn't matter that his skin was already hot, the water felt amazing on his skin and muscles. The door opened and he heard Dean shuffling around before the curtain was pulled back and his brother sidestepped in. Sam could feel heat prickling up his face, it wasn't from the water either. He glimpsed a trail of dark hair curling down to parts Sam knew they both had. Only difference was, Sam had never inspected Dean's bits and bobs as closely as he had done to his own. Turning way quickly he doused his head in water and tried not to think of how they were both naked.
"Trade me places Squirt," Dean's voice rumbled over Sam's spine and dipped low, sending his stomach flip flopping.
Dean shook his head, his brother was being stubborn, hogging the water. He grasped Sam's wet biceps and directed him in the right action. The water beat down on his chest and he hummed in pleasure. Together they shifted back and forth, one washing their hair, the other lathering the shampoo in. When it finally came to Dean trying to get the caked blood from his neck, hair and chest he called on Sam to help.
"Did I get it all?" he asked before leaning down, head bowed as he extended his neck for Sam to look.
Sam hesitated before leaning closer, he peered around the nape of Dean's neck, seeing a patch of red still crusted in his hair.
"No, there's some right here," he touched the patch with his fingertips.
"Nice package Sammy."
The statement made Sam's pulse spike, realizing the sheer bad timing his brother had , "Dean!"
"What? I'm just saying," he laughed before standing up to scrub at his hair under the water.
"Don't!"
"Aw, Sammy is blushing. It's a compliment, you can look at mine, don't be so innocent."
Sam didn't miss that shit eating grin his bother flashed before closing his eyes and leaning back to let the water rinse through his water once more. Sam knew Dean was giving him a free pass and Sam couldn't help it if his eyes were curious. The pool forgotten Sam's hazel eyes traveled that dark path and came to his brother's penis. He was circumcised just like him, larger than him, and Sam knew for a fact, more experienced then him. The dark patch of curls surrounding his brother's penis made him look to his own. He was on his way, just the whisper of a trail beginning to form from his belly button and he wondered if he would ever be as big as his older brother.
"Don't look so ashamed, you're still growing," Dean laughed before ruffling Sam's hair.
Sam glared and swatted his hands away. He huffed at his brother's nature and decided he was done with the shower and stepped out into the muggy air. The mirror was fogged and steam swirled in the light. Gabbing a towel from beside the sink he started at his sopping hair. He heard the shower stop and the curtain pull back, and to his gut wrenching dismay, he had to stop himself from turning around to watch his brother towel off. Sam could only think that normal brothers didn't want to to watch the other after a shower, but then again, they weren't even a normal family. Sam could feel the heat creeping back up his face and he hurriedly left the bathroom.
00
Their father didn't return that night, only called them from a payphone at the middle of the night, out in the middle of no where, supposedly following a lead. It was another 3 days before they heard him check in again. Sam didn't want to admit it, but nightmares wee beginning to curl around in the back of his mind at night. Instead of dreamless sleep he witnessed his family drowning over and over again, and he could only watch, helpless to them. On the fourth night, Sam was woken by hands shaking him awake and the murky outline of his brother in the dark.
"Sam! Sam!"
His breath caught in his throat at the worried tone in Dean's voice. Tears burned at the edges of his eyes and Sam was thankful the lights were off. Reaching he clung to Deans neck, waiting for strong arms to finally pull him close and off the bed. Sam could feel their chest stick together, it was the middle of the night and the temperature had barely dropped in the hotel room. The fact was far from his thoughts as he pressed his face to Dean's neck, feeling his brother's wild pulse and smelling soap, dust and musk.
"Shit Sammy, you scared me."
Same squeezed his brother in apology, "Can I... can I sleep next to you tonight."
The pitiful request carried to Dean's ear even over their breathing. Swallowing thickly he nodded, "Sure."
Walking over to his bed, Dean tried not to let Sam feel what he had been doing earlier. Dropping into his bed after wandering around the house, he had hoped Sam would be fast asleep. Jeans hitched below his hips and his dick straining in the hot air. Rushing to Sam's side had put his actions out of mind and he hoped the darkness would save his dignity. Carefully laying down, Dean tried to hike Sam up higher on his chest. His brother wouldn't have anyone of that, Sam wanted to get comfortable on his own terms. Except Dean froze when Sam's behind bumped into what he had been trying to hide.
"Move your leg Dean," Sam whined, reaching back to prod at his bother.
"No, Sam, don'," a groan shuddered through Dean's form when Sam's searching hand grasped at him.
"Fuck! Dean you-"
"Yeah Sam, I was beating off until you started flailing in your sleep like you were possessed," he growled.
A strangled noise escaped Sam's lips, he face heated up instantly and something curled through his chest, slinking down into his lower abdomen. Dean's hand swatted his away, and a minute of silence passed as Dean lifted his hips to tug at his pants. Tucking himself back into his jeans he growled low for Sam to watch where he sat. More time stretched by after that, each in silence, Sam trying to decipher why he swore he could still feel the smooth skin of Dean's dick on his hand.
"Jesus Dean, my bed is right there," Sam finally mumbled.
Dean was half asleep when he heard the statement, a laugh bubbled up in his chest, "Whatever Sam, like you've never done it in our room."
Sam squeezed his eyes shut, blush rising to his cheeks, "Shut up."
"Aw Sammy is embarrassed."
"Dean will you just go to sleep!"
His laughter died down and he brought a hand up to rub Sam's back. He could remember his mother doing the same to him and it soothed him, quieted his thoughts and made sleep easier. The same could be said for Sam, he hummed in appreciation, snuggling in closer to his brother, letting his worries slip away into the dark.