Unable to stop himself, tiger or no, Dean whipped his head around and saw Sam crouched behind a clump of scraggly trees, just a couple of feet away.
Meeting his gaze, Sam shot him a forced grin. It was part 'Man, I'm glad to see you!' and part 'Holy crap, don't piss off the tiger!'
Relief flooded through Dean, so strong he felt tears pricking at his eyes, and he smiled.
At the sight of that tremulous smile, Sam's face sobered. "Scoot this way," he hissed.
Dean didn't bother to answer, just started crabbing his way toward Sam and the sheltering trees, ribs protesting violently at every movement. Sam jiggled impatiently in place the whole time, clearly itching to step out and drag him to cover.
The moment Dean was behind the trees and, presumably, out of the tiger's line of sight, Sam pulled him up to his feet and into a hard hug.
Dean choked back a pained gasp and Sam released him with an apologetic grimace. "Sorry!" he whispered.
Dean didn't care. He was so happy to see the hunky pilot that all his aches and pains faded to mere background noise. "You're not dead," he said softly.
Sam beamed back at him, but then his face darkened as he got his first good look at Dean's battered and bedraggled appearance. He started to reach out him again, but caught himself, and instead made a quick check on the tiger.
Eyes half-closed, the big cat still lazed on its hummock, contentment in every line of its big body. It seemed to have no interest at all in what the two pesky humans were up to.
Reassured that they weren't going to be eaten, at least not now, Sam slipped a supporting arm around Dean's shoulders and the two men slipped away through the trees, Sam keeping an eye out behind them for the tiger, just in case.
ΩΩΩ
By the time they made it back to the clearing, the only thing keeping Dean on his feet was Sam's strong arm around him. "Sorry, man," he said breathlessly. "I don't know what's wrong with me."
"Well, you look like hammered crap, so. . ." Sam grinned, pleased when that got a small chuckle out of Dean.
After looking around the clearing, he settled Dean against the base of a large tree, thinking that its thick foliage would give him some welcome respite from the sun. "That okay?"
"Better," Dean said, with a sigh of relief. Man. Sitting down was awesome.
Crouching down beside him, Sam said, a little tentatively, "I need to take a look at you."
Dean murmured an assent, watching contentedly through shuttered eyes as Sam sorted through the ugly bruises littering Dean's torso.
After a couple of minutes, Sam blew out an angry breath. "I'm pretty sure at least two of your ribs are broken. Did those bastards do all this?"
"Hmm." Dean shifted, winced. "Most of it. Might have to give the tiger some credit, though."
Sam snorted. "At least he didn't eat you."
"It's like with bears. All you have to do is run faster than the other guy." Dean tried to smile, but the sound of Camo Man's dying was a little too close, and it faded quickly.
"Did you take any hits to the head?" Not waiting for an answer, Sam looked into Dean's eyes. "Don't think there's a concussion." Mouth tight, he muttered, "Damn it, I wish we had some water. You need to hydrate."
"Oh." With a bit of an effort, Dean leaned forward, nodding to the pack on his back. "Gimme a hand?"
Mentally giving himself a smack in the head, Sam eased the pack off Dean's shoulders. Seriously, how had he not seen that before?
Once the pack was on his lap, Dean dug into it and pulled out the half-empty water bottle. He handed it to Sam with a gesture of triumph, but Sam shook his head and tried to hand it back.
"I'm good, you need –"
"You first," Dean insisted.
Giving in to the stubborn look on Dean's face, Sam unscrewed the cap on the bottle and took two small sips, then handed the bottle back. "Now, you finish it," he said firmly. "You need it."
Dean didn't feel particularly thirsty, but he was too tired to argue, so he did as he was told and, thirsty or not, he did feel a little better for it.
Bottle empty, he put it aside and looked over at the helicopter. "That's - I'm sorry about Bee Bee, Sam."
"Yeah." The pilot looked with regret at his crumpled darling. "She was a good girl."
"How mad do you think your boss is going to be?"
Sam looked confused. "My boss?"
"Because of –" Dean waved toward the copter.
"Oh," Sam said, surprised. "I thought you knew. I'm the boss."
"Wow." Dean blinked. "That's – cool." He shifted a bit, trying to find a comfortable position. "You think you can fix her?"
"Maybe." Sam hesitated, then admitted reluctantly, "Probably not."
Dean sighed. "Sucks."
Sam nodded absently, mind on something else. "Dean, last night - after the tiger – what the hell happened to you?"
"I spent the night in a thorn bush," Dean said matter-of-factly. "Then, this morning, I went looking for you." He shifted his position again, then gave it up, leaning wearily back against the tree.
"Hell." Sam frowned. His ribs ached just looking at Dean. "Hold on."
Trying to be as gentle as possible, he helped the injured man move forward a bit, then slid in behind, settling himself against the tree. Then he pulled Dean back into the V of his long legs. "Lean back. Relax."
Dean lay back gingerly against Sam's chest, sighing contentedly when Sam's arms closed around him. His hunky pilot's broad, muscular chest was much better than the knobby tree.
After a few minutes, he said quietly, "What happened to you last night?"
Sam's face was grim. "Once all the screaming and shooting stopped, the other two guys disappeared, and you – hell, you were just gone." His arms tightened around Dean, just a bit.
Dean hmmed questioningly. "So, you went after them?"
"Yeah. I managed to suss out the direction they were going and got close enough to see you weren't with them, so –" Sam shrugged. "I came back. It was stupid. I never should've left in the first place."
"You had no way of knowing," Dean protested.
Sam shrugged again.
Wanting to get the man's mind off what he clearly thought was a dereliction of duty, Dean said, "You sure the S&R guys are coming?"
"Yes," Sam said surprised. "Why?"
"I thought maybe the tracker in the copter. . ." Dean trailed off.
"No, it's fine. They're coming. We're not that far in. We'll be fine." Sam looked down at the man in his arms and said diffidently, "Uh, Dean. That Falcone guy. . ."
"Huh?"
"That guy. Eddie Falcone. Are you two together?"
Dean blinked, realizing he hadn't even thought about his ex since he'd climbed on board the Bumble Bee. Tilting back his head, he squinted up at Sam. "Not anymore."
"No?"
"No." Dean's green eyes narrowed. "I have a rule. When I'm with a guy, I'm with that guy, and no one else. So, if I find my guy with his dick up someone else's ass –"
Sam winced. "Ouch."
"And in our own bed." Dean's voice was thick with contempt. "Found out he's been fucking around for a while. Dude's a freaking tool."
There was a significant, very speaking pause.
"You have a special reason for asking?" A slight smile lurked at the corner of Dean's mouth.
"Well. . ." Sam hesitated.
Dean rolled his eyes. Ignoring the screech from his ribs, he reached up, pulled Sam's head down, and buried whatever the pilot had been going to say in a bruising kiss.
Several mind-blowing, pants-tightening minutes later, Sam pulled away, breathless and panting. "Falcone is an idiot."
Dean's grin was sly. He started to pull Sam's head back down, then both men started at the sound of a loud roar from the tiger.
"Shit." Eyes wide, Sam's hand went to the gun in his belt.
Dean snorted. "That'll just piss him off. Come on, get me up!"
The two got to their feet to the sound of another roar from the cat. Then another sound, a loud rotary thwacking from the east.
A huge grin blossomed on Sam's face as a large helicopter came into view. In a couple of minutes, a large Metro-Dade Fire Department helicopter was hovering over the clearing, a couple of men at its open side door waving down at them.
Dean -filthy, starving, aching and exhausted, but still feeling pretty damned good - smiled at Sam. "Dude. Beer."
"A shower." Sam laughed. "No - a hot tub."
The two men stared heatedly at each other for a long moment, caught up in the many directions that could take them, and then Dean cleared his throat. "Cheeseburgers."
Sam groaned, then grasped Dean's arm, as if inspired. "Pie."
Awestruck, Dean stared at the pilot.
Sam was, truly, the perfect man.
Possibilities thrumming between them, they retreated to the edge of the clearing as the men above waved them back and the rescue helicopter began its descent.
"You know what I really want to do once we get outta here?" Dean shouted over the noise of the rotors.
Sam grinned.
"Yeah, that, too." Dean snickered. "But I want to take that other helicopter up and see the sharks again." He pressed close to Sam. "That was awesome."
"Yeah?" Sam looked down into Dean's laughing green eyes and planted a kiss on his beautiful man's forehead. "Yeah. We can do that."
((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((THE FREAKING END)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
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