Chapter 11
For once, for an entire, blissful morning since it all began, Sam didn't even think about the demon or John. He didn't feel guilty or ponder the consequences. Instead his mind drifted through waves of joy and delight, crashing through him slowly like he was a shell lost in a sea of peace, picking him up and hurling him round in the rolling surf.
Dean's arms were still rocking him. Eyes sealed under a long fan of eyelashes and Sam tried counting all the freckles that speckled his cheeks. After a while he lost count. His body too fidgety. He wanted to lie relaxed but his mind was somersaulting with love and he couldn't contain it anymore. Just being here, safely woven into one another and submerged in the mattress and duvet made his heart skip a beat. His pulse out of rhythm and like a wrecking ball his heart swung against his rib cage. He scrunched his fists into the bedspread, pulling it close and shyly hid his childlike smile under the softness.
The air had a fresh coldness about it drawing his breath out like fog, reminding Sam that there was no heating. Normally a constant blaze would have simmered down to hot ash by now but he'd put the fire out last night. More than ever Sam didn't want to slip out of bed. Instead he took comfort in the warmth that he was soaking up from Dean's sweaty body for a while longer.
He slinked his fingers through the light, wispy hairs that trailed down his brothers belly button. Caressing around the navel. Writing the word 'Sam' with his index finger on Dean's lower abdomen symbolically. It was just for fun; reminded him of the game he and Dean used to play on long drives with Dad: guessing what the other had 'written' on their back (usually Dean would write different monsters but Sam would always ask for him to write again, revelling in the tickles that shot through him when Dean's finger graced onto his back). As his fingers swirled the final stroke of the 'M' his eyes twinkled gleefully This was Sams way of marking Dean. It was by no means permanent though secretly he wished it could be. He longed to see his name imprinted into Dean and imagined Dean's name branded on him. Matching. Connected. So that anyone who came this close to his brother would know he belonged to another.
His hand searched up Dean's muscled stomach and curved up to the bandage on his side. Last night Sam hadn't taken much notice of the stitches and Dean hadn't winced or complained as they embraced yet he felt slightly guilty for lying on him in this condition. He ghosted over the area, sudden anguish filling him up like water in his lungs, like he was swallowing a river. How come Dean was so brave? He didn't even seem to fear death even when he'd been so close to the end. Sam couldn't help but marvel at this man, his brother, who had managed to take his whole, entire life and fill it with love. Despite the darkness of living on the road and hunting these terrifying things, Dean had given Sam his heart and Sam felt that no one could ever strip that away from him.
Mesmerised Sam began to hum an old tune he had stuck in his head and he shuffled up the mattress. He planted a peck on Dean's lips, pressing lightly and slipped away from the bed. Absent of clothes and now exposed in the stillness of the bedroom Sam quickly scampered around the gloomy room and pulled a pair of boxers and black jeans from a bag. He yanked up his underwear, regretting his decision to leave the concoction of heat provided by Dean and the thick bedding. The jeans were slim fit so when he stuck his foot in one of the legs the fabric gathered causing him to lose his balance. The tune he was humming lost on his lips when he gasped. He reached out quick enough, caught the bed, steadied, then pulled the jeans right up and buttoned the fly. Smoothing down the fabric and regaining composure Sam restarted mumbling the tune as he slipped a thin t-shirt over his head.
He wandered into the other room and buried his hands in the bags, pulling out a few packets of crisps and some cereal bars. There wasn't a whole lot of food left and he wished he could make Dean a home cooked breakfast in bed; bacon, eggs, sausages, the whole lot. Half-heartedly he smiled.
"Hey Jude," a voice spoke behind him. Sam turned and Dean was leaning against the doorframe, buckling his jeans around his waist, smiling sadly.
"Huh?" Sam said. He hadn't even heard Dean approaching.
"The song you were humming, Hey Jude, mom used to sing it to us when we were kids," Dean said, his voice croaking slightly when he mentioned their mother. It had been so long since he'd said the word 'mom'. Felt strange hearing it roll off his tongue, it was always meant to be said but never was, like when someone says their own name out loud. Odd and foreign in his mouth.
"Oh," Sam paused, "You really shouldn't be out of bed, especially after yesterday. Your pushing yourself too hard."
Dean waved his hand dismissively, "I'm fine you big goof," he smoothed a hand over his bandage, "Feel great actually. I want to start walking around a big more."
"Do you really think that's a good idea?" Sam raised his eyebrows.
"Yes I do, so don't you go giving me that sarcastic, 'I know best' look your throwing me right now," Dean chuckled, pointing over at Sams expression.
Sam rolled his eyes and passed over one of the cereal bars, "We're beginning to run low on food supplies"
Dean munched vigorously into the bar, "You said there was a river close by? We could fish?"
Sam slumped down on the sofa, staring wide eyed at his brother, "Fish? What about after that? We've got no car, a demon on our asses, winters coming soon..." Dean hobbled over and dropped down on the sofa steadily, cupping his side.
"Listen, we're going to be fine. Don't worry about it. We'll just take every day as it comes. You said you liked it here, right?" Dean stroked his cheek.
Sam blushed, "Yeah, I really like it here."
"Then it's settled. We stay."
Sam bit his lip, he didn't want to say if but someone had to, "What..what about Dad?"
Dean sighed, "I don't know Sammy. We ain't got no phone signal in these parts anyway... Let's just wait till I'm better okay. We can deal with dad then." Sam smiled meekly at that and sunk himself into the sofa nibbling on his cereal bar. Dean didn't want to think of John. The last time he let his father impose on his dreams and he'd pushed Sam away. He wouldn't do that now. Couldn't. No more silly games. If they were going to do this then they did it properly. Dean leaned over the sofa and reeled in Sam for a kiss. Crumbles of cereal bar tingling on both their lips.
"I love you Sam, I'm not afraid to say it anymore. I love you. Crazy love. Like wanting to touch you and kiss you all the time kind of love. To see the world with you. I don't want to fuck this up again Sam," Dean rolled his fingers in Sams curly locks, tangling himself in his brother.
Sam shivered as Dean's fingers burrowed down his neck and he snuggled his head down, smothering Sams throat with kisses, "I love you too Dean. I always have. I don't care if it's wrong, I don't care what anyone says. We can stay here. Just you and me. I don't need anything else but you."
"Just you," Dean whispered into his throat, the vibrations thrilling his senses. Sam moaned, falling back into the sofa, body gurgling out for more. He worked his hands round onto Dean's back, palms skimming down the muscles and absorbing the movements as his shoulders curled into the touch. Dean put a hand behind Sams head and held himself over Sammy's body, slowly grinding down on him. Sam smothered his fingers down Dean's arm, feeling the muscles tensing underneath.
"Are you sure your okay?" Sam whispered, eyes looking up filled with awe. Dean was still so fragile.
"I'm fine. I promise, baby," Dean replied, kissing the tip of Sams nose playfully and Sam giggled goofily, stomach still churning with excitement whenever Dean used the pet name. Dean grinned like a wolf and began slipping his tongue into his brothers mouth. Sam welcomed Dean's familiar, plump lips onto his, their tongues swirling around each other. He felt like his mind and body were being charmed out, like Dean was singing a spell and drawing his soul to the surface.
"Dean..." Sam mumbled lustfully. He tried to keep note of every inch of Dean's body as they indulged on the sofa; the taste of his mouth in the morning - slight hints of cereal bar tingling on his lips, the feel of his tongue as it twirled around in his mouth, the way he closed his eyes firmly while they kissed like he was afraid to open them in case it wasn't real. Sam memorised it all just in case one day, if he was parted from Dean for too long, he could think back and remember each action. Remember that in this moment he was wanted.
"I love you, I love you, I love you," Dean chanted, pressing kisses into Sams neck and on his cheeks and all over his skin, kissing anywhere that was exposed. The rushes of passion simmering down to slow, gentle pecks. Sam could tell Dean was getting tired. He'd used almost all his energy and understandably wasn't back to normal yet.
"Let's go back to bed, I wanna lay with you a little longer," Sam suggested. Dean winked and gleamed happily. Carefully he got up and held a hand out to Sam.
"What a gentleman," Sam smirked, Dean helping him up and letting him lead on ahead.
Cheekily Dean smacked his hand against Sams tightly packed ass, "Watch it with the snarky comments." Sam turned back and scowled impishly, rubbing his jeans.
"Like it a bit rough, huh Dean?" Sam teased bursting out into fits of giggles as he flopped down on the bed.
"And if I did?" Dean said, a tinge of seriousness swamping his coy face, eyes sharply staring down at Sam.
Sam beckoned Dean down onto the mattress, "I'd do anything for you. Anything Dean."
Dean lay down beside him, "I might hold you to that Sammy." He dug his hands under Sams t-shirt, fingers tracing around his hip-bones. Dean had a way with his fingers and Sam couldn't help but adore the way they massaged his skin. Nails scraping into his flesh. Each fingerprint scorching through to his bones, sending euphoria circulating in his blood.
As Sam buried himself into Dean rain began to rattle against the paper-thin, glass panes, tapping in a rhythmic manner, like little soldiers on steel drums. The warped window frames groaned as the wind weaselled through the cracks and rainwater seeped in. An eerie, dampness choked the valley, heavy moisture suffocating the air. The brothers rolled around on the duvet, kissing every so often, delighting in the vibes of one another's bodies. Communicating via touch. Sam walked two fingers up Dean's chest and Dean smoothed Sams hair back. They linked hands and lay on their backs watching the ceiling, listening to their hearts beating and the rain drumming and the wind wailing.
The weather subsided and room seemed to flood with stillness; Sam felt as though he was underwater, submerged in Dean, swallowing all the loving glances, sinking in the cheeky curve of his lips and drowning under the force of his attention.
"I wanna go outside," Dean sat up, pulling Sam up too. Sam looked out the window at the wet woodland, drops of rain still tipped off leaves onto the forest floor.
"I don't think it's a good idea Dean. It's wet and you can hardly walk," Sam said.
Dean huffed and stood up, "Don't be such a sourpuss. You can help me walk. I just want to get some fresh air man."
Sam got up and flattened out the creases in the duvet behind him, "Fine. A small walk. Ten minutes maximum. Get your shirt and jacket on." Sam rummaged through a bag to get a jacket and Dean fisted the air while he had his back turned.
Dean put on a grey undershirt and half buttoned a plaid shirt, then Sam helped him pull his leather jacket up over his shoulders before they made their way to the door. Arms linked they stepped over the threshold and out into the autumn cold.
The ground was sodden underfoot and Dean's boots squelched on the mud. He was glad to have Sam keeping him steady. The chill of the air dived into his lungs and he felt as though every breathe was grating his throat. He pulled his undershirt up and bit into the fabric, pulling it up over his chin to give his exposed, windpipes some relief for a moment. His cheeks seemed to instantly flare red in the cold outdoors. Fat raindrops showered down on his head and clothes, as though the trees were dogs shaking off after a dip in the sea. Gradually they plodded into the woodland, moving as one body, feet stomping in cohesion.
Dean felt so impossibly small. Giant, daunting trees towered above him. He looked up. For the first time in days he had the sky exhibited overhead; a canvas of crisp clouds and milky blues. Black specks of birds flocked in the distance. The bleak hillside beckoned and Dean couldn't fathom that the Impala had tumbled all that way.
Only over a week ago the sun had been blazing in the sky and Sam couldn't believe how quick the temperatures had dropped. He rubbed his thumbs on the hem of his jacket to try and void the numbness that ached in his fingertips. He pulled Dean in closer.
"None of this seems familiar," Dean mumbled, turning slightly to glance back at the cabin. Moss lingered around the exterior walls, the wood a dark, wet brown, and trees shrouded the rooftop.
"You were pretty out of it when we found that place," Sam solemnly sighed and massaged his forehead. He didn't like thinking back to the day of the crash; haunted by the fear that he might have been left alone in the world had Dean not pulled through. He could feel the sting of tears prickling to the surface. Swiftly he brushed the corners of his eyes as they pushed onward through the damp bushes.
Dean unwound their arms and took hold of Sams hand, gripping it tight, "You really did save me Sammy, I owe you everything." Sam blushed, but the rawness of his skin masqueraded his reaction. He wasn't quick enough to catch a tear that trickled down his cheek. Dean stopped in his tracks. He stood on higher ground on the hillside and Sam, regardless of his height, looked so strangely vulnerable and small hovering beneath him in comparison.
"Sam?" Dean asked puzzled, watching his brother staring down at his feet shyly.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, blinking back the waterworks and digging his feet into the dirt, "I don't know why I'm so upset about it. I guess I just.. I just couldn't picture not having you here. If you had died in the crash.."
"Enough of that. I'm fine, silly. We survived. We're okay." Dean clawed at the fabric of Sams jacket and they lurched into an embrace. Sam felt drunk on emotion. The haze of tears and dizziness of crying warping his senses. His feet staggered. He swayed away and then crumpled forward into Dean's arms. Deep down his cage of fears unlocked and he started sobbing into Dean's shoulder, Dean patting his back and consoling him.
"Without you Dean... I couldn't survive.." Sam choked, his pent up words coming out raspy and sore.
"Don't get upset, it's okay. I made it. I'm alive," Dean clutched Sams face with his frosty hands, gathering his focus so that their eyes fixed together. The forest blurred and all Sam could see was Dean looking right back at him.
"I don't ever want to be apart. Ever. We're brothers and it's so wrong Dean, but if that crash had killed you I wouldn't have had the chance to tell you how much I love you.." Sam swallowed hard, the lump in his throat bobbing and aching, "And I do.. I love you so much.." The tears kept flowing and Sam began wailing, "So fucking much.."
Dean folded his arms around Sams body, enclosing him in the leather of his jacket. Sam pushed his face into Dean and inhaled the scent. Instantly he felt a sense of tranquility. Dean had a natural way of putting anyone at ease. The nature calmed and the trees swayed in the breeze. In time the tears subsided and Sams bawling dwindled till he was completely relaxed.
"It's okay, baby. I was just starting to think I can't love you any more than I already do and then you go and prove me wrong," Dean groomed his fingers in Sams hair and kissed his forehead, "I love you endlessly Sammy. We are a hell of a lot more than just brothers. We are meant to be."
They stayed weaved together, arms laced around. A slight drizzle of rain misted down over the pair, flurries of water dampening both of their heads. Droplets flicking off Sams shaggy hair. Dean curved his head so that his lips collided with Sams and pleasure bubbled in the pit of Sams stomach, heart fizzing like champagne.
"I want to see the Impala.." Dean said after a long minute of peace. It had been on his mind for days. From what Sam had told him he was aware that the Impala had been reduced to a lump of creaking metal. Yet he had hope that he could salvage it. He had to try anyway. That car was home.
Sam peered up at Dean, his eyes irritated and bloodshot, "Can we go tomorrow Dean? It's starting to rain and I'm cold. I just want to go back."
"Yeah sure, we'll go tomorrow. Let's get back," Dean let a wide smile fill his face, "Plus, you owe me that bath..."
To be continued...