Brother - Kodaline

"Dean," he called softly. His heart was thundering against his rib cage. He did not know why he was so nervous. It was just Dean.

"Yea?" he heard, before the door opened, catching him off guard. He felt silly standing there, but Dean did not pay that any mind. His brows were already creased in concern. "What's wrong."

"No- no," Sam hastened to say. "Nothing's wrong. It's just..." There, his voice trailed off as his words escaped him.

"Well come on in. No use standing out here in the hallway." He moved to the side to allow Sam room to enter.

Gratefully, Sam quickly entered the room. It granted him a slight reprieve. He had a few precious seconds to gather his thoughts.

He watched as Dean closed the door and took a sit on the couch in his room. Sam started to feel silly standing in the middle of Dean's room. Like a child in a place they weren't allowed to be.

Dean tightened the straps of his dead guy robes. He looked like he was just preparing to go to bed. Sam couldn't help thinking that he looked comfortable, relaxed.

"Well. What's going on?" Dean asked expectantly.

"Actually... So..." he gestured with his hands awkwardly. Now that he was here, he did not know how to say what was on his mind. Guess the reprieve didn't really do much.

"Come on Sam. Spit it out." Dean, impatient as always.

"So it's not a big deal or anything but I've kind of been having nightmares and trouble sleeping, so can I crash on your couch?" Sam said in a rush. I don't want to be alone, hang in the air around them both unsaid. He stood there feeling more vulnerable than he had at any point in his life. It felt like he'd just bared his throat to a knife.

Dean opened his mouth to speak but then abruptly closed it. He was giving Sam that look again. It soon it turned into a considering one.

"You have been looking really worn down lately man. Want to talk about it?"

At this Sam made a slight pained face. "Honestly right now I'm just so tired. I just want to crash."

"Alright. When you're ready," He said easily. He was making it clear that there was no escaping. He'd let it go without saying anything throughout the week but now that they were acknowledging this, Sam wasn't going to be able to avoid it.

Dean got up and started to pull down the covers on the bed. The light of the night lamp cast soft shadows across his back as the fabric of his robe moved with him.

Sam had not moved from his spot yet. Just observing his brother. It was so strange. They had shared a room for the majority of their lives. When they traveled with dad, or when they ran out of money they'd even shared beds occasionally. Heck they'd shared a motel room only a few weeks ago, yet this felt... intimate. Maybe because the room was so clearly Dean's. It was his space. It felt like he was invading it somehow and this made him feel slightly uncomfortable.

Shaking his head to clear the thoughts, Sam shrugged and moved to sit on the couch.

"Take the bed Sammy. I'll take the couch."

"No Dean. It's fine," his face scrunched up a little.

"Come on dude. You look like you're about to keel over. Take the bed," he insisted. "I can survive a night on the couch."

"I don't want to put y-"

"Come on princess. You need your beauty sleep," he cut him off. "Don't fight me on this." Dean said straightening up and turning to look at his brother.

Smiling tiredly, Sam got off the couch and moved to the bed. He gave Dean a grateful look and climbed in. He watched as Dean got settled on the couch, pulling the throw rug over his body. His robe hanging off the end of the couch.

"Get some sleep Sammy," he said.

"Okay," Sam answered softly. He reached over and turned off the lights before lying back down on his back, the covers tucked under his arms. He stared up at the dark ceiling, thinking.

After several minutes of silence he said, "You knew."

"Hmm?" Dean mumbled sleepily

"You knew something was wrong." This time with even more conviction. That look he'd been getting playing over and over in his mind. "Why didn't you say anything?"

He heard rustling on the couch. Dean must have turned to face him. "You're an adult Sam. I gotta start treating you like one some time right?" he said wryly. "In my mind you will always be my kid brother and that makes it hard to see you as the overgrown man that you are but you aren't a kid anymore. So I can't keep treating you like one," He said this with almost a tinge of deprecation. "I figured you'd come to me when you were ready. Sure took your time about it though. Bitch."

Chuckling softly, Sam answered him with, "Jerk."

He turned over onto his stomach and rubbed his face into the pillow, taking a deep breath. It smelled so much like Dean—like home. It was almost like a drug. He could feel himself sinking into the throes of sleep.

"'Night Dean," he murmured. As he lost consciousness he thought he heard a "'night Sam," which tucked a smile on his lips.

He woke up to gentle hands shaking him. "Sorry to wake you up brother. You've been asleep for fourteen hours. Come eat something and you can go back to sleep."

"Dean?" he croaked, voice sandpaper rough with sleep.

"Yea buddy," he whispered. "I was starting to think you were in a coma."

Sam stretched his aching muscles and let out a long groan. Dean chuckled as he gave him a friendly slap on the back "Atta boy. Come on. Come eat something and if you still want to you can go back to sleep."

"Alright," Sam sighed as he flopped over onto his back.

"Meet you in the kitchen." Already on his way out the door, Dean chuckled again and shook his head.

Taking a deep breath, Sam quickly sat up in bed and immediately regretted it as the world around him started to spin and swirl and his vision dipped in and out. Dropping back down onto the bed again, he moaned at the sharp pains stabbing his skull. He closed his eyes and just breathed for a few seconds. He felt so comfortable where he was but he knew that if he took too long, Dean would come looking for him. He got up again, this time taking it slow.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he propped both hands on his knees and let his neck hang down. He felt so groggy, like his muscles had atrophied. He had to really concentrate to get his limbs to move. He stretched his long arms over his head, reaching for the ceiling and let out this high pitched whine. It was insane how amazing a good stretch could feel.

Smiling at nothing in particular, he got up and trudged down to the kitchen.

"There you are," Dean exclaimed as he sat at the table. "I can cancel the search party."

"Sorry. Still feeling a little tired I guess,"

Whatever Dean was about to say died on his lips. He stopped what he was doing and came to stand in front of Sam surprising him. "W-what's going on."

"How are you feeling?" Dean ignored him to ask.

"Tired and a little achy. No big deal." It really wasn't. He'd felt worse than this more times than he could remember.

"You look like a lobster. I think you have a fever." Just as Dean put his giant palm against his forehead. "Dude. You're burning up." He started pulling out drawers. "We have a thermometer right?"

"Not in the kitchen we don't," he snarked. "Seriously. Chill" he said as Dean continued looking through all the drawers.

"You – chill," he stuttered. Comeback king Dean, ladies and gentlemen. "Actually that's a good idea." He poured Sam a cup of cool water. "Drink this."

Sam drank his water obediently. He was feeling a little patched. He put the glass down and jumped slightly when he noticed that Dean was looking at him – really looking at him.

"What?" he paused. "I'm fine. I promise. Fevers are only really dangerous to kids and immune compromised adults. I'll just take some Tylenol."

"You'll tell me if you feel like you can't handle it?"

"Yes Dean. I promise." He said again.

Nodding decisively Dean asked, "feel like you can eat?"

"Yea but not a lot."

After eating, Dean sent him back to sleep but he was not sure if that meant he could go back to Dean's room or not. Hesitating outside his brother's room, he decided to take a detour and went to his own room.

He didn't think Dean would mind but it wasn't cool to just assume. Grabbing his towel, he headed down to the showers. That could help bring his temperature down.

Padding into the first stall, he undressed absently as his mind drifted back to his brother. Dean was being unusually nice. Not to say that he didn't always put Sam first. He did. It's just that it was bordering on pampering him. When he got like that, Sam found himself regressing into that little boy who basked in his big brothers affections. He didn't like that about himself because he felt like he lost himself, his identity in Dean.

The lukewarm water poured over his body in a steady flow and he let his head fall forward, his full weight resting on his arms as they propped him up against the wall. He could hear the roar of the water as it beat down on his head, drenching his hair and blurring his vision.

Dean was being patient now but he knew that no matter what he'd said last night, Sam didn't have long before Dean would be demanding that he start talking.

He didn't know how to organize his thoughts. How was he going to explain this all to Dean?

Grabbing his soap, he lathered his body perfunctorily.

All of this was exhausting. With a sound of frustration, he quickly rinsed off and turned off the shower. Wrapping the towel low on his hips, he walked the short distance to his room, dried off quickly and got dressed.

All of this left him feeling exhausted. He was starting to get sleepy again. His earlier dilemma resurfaced. He wanted to go to his brother's room but he wasn't sure if the invitation was still open.

He waffled back and forth for a short while before chickening out and dropping himself onto his bed. Climbing under the covers, he closed his eyes, determined to sleep.

Several minutes later, he turned over onto his side. A few minutes after that, he turned to his other side. That soon followed with him rolling onto his stomach and finally his back. He laughed this humorless sound and closed his eyes.

Not long ago he was so tired. Now he couldn't seem to get comfortable. He dragged the fingers of both hands into his damp hair and sighed again.

A soft familiar scent wafted under his nose. He couldn't quite place it. Frowning, he searched the source and realized that it was coming from him. Bringing his wrist to his nose, he took a deep breath in.

He smelled like Dean.

It was subtle but definitely there. He must have accidentally used Dean's body wash. A deep feeling of longing settled over him.

"This is stupid," he said. He would go to Dean's room. He was being ridiculous. It's not like Dean would get angry at him or anything.

Quickly walking down the hall, he paused outside his brother's room, ears to the door. It was quiet in there. Dean must be in the garage or something.

He quietly opened the door and peaked in only to freeze. There was Dean lying on the couch back to the door. He had headphones on and was watching a movie on his laptop.

He closed the laptop and turned around when he noticed the light at the door. Taking off his headphones, he smiled at the deer in the headlights look on his brother's face.

"You forgot to take the Tylenol." He pointed to the bottle of pills and cup of water on the nightstand.

Sam closed the door when Dean gestured for him to come over. "Feeling any better?"

Shrugging, "about the same."

"Take your pills and sleep it off. I'll wake you in a few hours."

"Alright." He quickly swallowed down two pills and the entire glass of water and hopped into the bed.

"Get some rest kiddo," Dean said as he picked up the glass and left the room, closing the door silently behind him.

Sighing contentedly, Sam turned over and hugged the pillow to his face. That familiar scent again, this time stronger and slightly mixed with his own. He had to admit that it appealed a lot. Sighing again, he couldn't help thinking that he had the best big brother in the world. Maybe it was the fever making him delirious but he felt settled.

All his worrying had been for nothing. Every time. Dean continued to surprise him. How could he care so fully and completely for him? How could he continue to put Sam first so unwaveringly after so many years?

Suddenly he didn't feel so worried about talking to Dean after all. Maybe it would all work out. His brother would never abandon him. He fell asleep with that thought as his anchor and didn't have a single nightmare.

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