A/N: Sam has saved Dean from Pirate Benny's lair in the nick of time. They both need a while to mend...

The Pompatus Box (Chapter 21: So Close and Yet Too Far) by frostygossamer

Wrapped in the healing vapour of the steam-shower together, Sam insists on detailing Dean's every injury by hand. He's using his lips to soothe every... single... bump... and boo-boo. Dean allows him to do this because... well, because. It's not unpleasant.

Truthfully, it feels pretty good and Dean can use a little cosseting right around now. Even from this long-haired, overemotional embarrassment of a man. The YED is thrumming through his system but his neck and ass still ache a little from the collar and a night on the cage floor.

Normally Dean resorts to numbing pain, emotional as well as physical, with whiskey. But this is also good. Not that Dean is a fan of girly tender-heartedness. Ever. But, hey, almost two metres of manly Sam can hardly be mistaken for girly. Those dimples though, they're maybe a little girly, huh?

"You shouldn't've made me stay behind," Sam mumbles against Dean's skin.

"Dude, you woulda wound up in the same damn cage as me."

That's logic speaking. Dean tells himself he only really cares about losing a valuable asset but, if he's honest with himself, the guy is getting to be more than that. Sam isn't convinced by his reasoning.

"Nah. We couldn't've BOTH fallen in the son of a bitch's trap. 'Cause I woulda had your back."

Dean wonders if Sam might have a point. He had thought of him as some wussy pampered pet who wears uniform in public because it looks good on an expensive clotheshorse like him. He never realized that the military training they gave minor royals was the real deal. He assumed they would get a wave through. It came as a surprise that Sam could actually handle himself in a fight.

Not only in a fight. Sam is doing a pretty fair job of handling Dean too. Those long, sensitive fingers are playing his body like a clarinet. Dean can't help simply melting in the bigger guy's arms. Sam leans him up against the deliciously cool wall of the shower chamber, lips locked on his collarbone. A knee finds its way gently between his legs, slim digits caressing the pert cheeks of his ass, a questing thumb slipping between.

Dean isn't averse to this. They have an understanding.

"Had you chained up like some ANIMAL," Sam sobs.

His lips are soft against Dean's abused neck. The raw image seems to excite something in him. Dean feels the guy's manhood stiffen against his. It's looking like reciprocity in the shower is a distinct possibility. Yeah, sure. Bring it on.

Then Sam goes too far. He tries to move in for a kiss.

Nuzzling at Dean's shoulder and nibbling his neck are fine. Dean can let Sam do that all day. Beats a machine's not so tender touch any day of the week. But then he slides a sneaky hand up the back of Dean's neck and tilts his face towards him. His soft lips are on Dean's mouth before he knows what is happening. Still slightly dazed, Dean lets it continue for a spell before he reacts, pushing the big guy away.

"What the...? Hey! No kissy-face, bitch. Not the deal."

Sam looks genuinely confused. "I- I thought we were having a- a moment."

Dean should have known it was on the cards. Sam has clearly chosen him as the new object of his sappy devotion. Dumb-ass.

"A freakin' moment? I don't have moments with cargo."

But, damn it, yes they WERE having a moment and that won't do. Dean needs to put a stop to this without delay. He stomps out of the shower, shutting off the warm steam with a wave of his hand.

Sam is left quietly dripping in an empty chamber, the air suddenly clear and surprisingly cold.

He follows Dean out onto the main deck and up to the captain's cabin door. Dean is inside angrily pulling on his PJs, wincing and cursing as he tries to bend still slightly stiff and sore limbs into sleeves and pant-legs.

When he notices Sam in the doorway, he heaves an exasperated sigh.

"Dude, it's time you went home to your grandpa. You're fit. You're clean. You're DONE."

That is so NOT what Sam wants to hear.

"Oh no, no, no, Dean! NOT going back there. NEVER wanna go back there. Dude, I ran away from that phoney life. Why can't I stay right here with you? I can be your, uh, your sidekick. I said we'd make an awesome team, you and me. And, jeez, for two 'straight' guys, the sex is MORE than good. So... yeah?"

Well, it is for Sam and he's pretty sure Dean is only faking that he doesn't enjoy it.

Dean was afraid this would happen. He let the guy get too close. He should have known that a soft head like he is would muddle up sex and romance. Dean NEVER makes that mistake. But he tries not to come off too heartless. The poor guy has clearly misread his signals.

"Sam, this sappy way you're feeling about me. It IS gonna wear off."

Sam is obstinate. "No. It won't."

Dean persists. "You gotta know it's ONLY an after-effect of the Demonblood."

"Nah, I doubt that. Sure, I guess that's how it started, but if you'da known me before, you'da known I was ALWAYS this way. Guess I'm just-"

"You're NOT gay. Because the fiancee? Giveaway."

Dean is a black or white kind of guy. He doesn't believe in rainbows.

Sam pauses for a moment to think of his lost Jessica. The day he met her, his first day at officer training school, she became the object of his selfless devotion. He adored her for her beauty, her kindness and her innocence. He immediately recognized her as his spiritual soulmate. Her gender actually didn't have so much to do with it.

He has been feeling drawn to Dean in precisely the same way. Jessica was Sam's Cinderella, Dean is his Prince Charming. Same difference. And, let's face it, Dean is every bit as beautiful as Jessica was. So gay, straight, pansexual? Not all that relevant here.

"No, Dean. I was gonna say, I'm just hyper-romantic, kind of a fool for love."

Dean blinks. That word gives him the jitters. The whole concept is something he has never gotten familiar with growing up, or even after years of strictly casual womanizing. He's long suspected it's another media fiction designed to sell product.

"You believe in fairytales too, huh? Dude, love isn't REAL."

He says it like it's a proven fact even stupid people ought to know.

Sam looks down at him pityingly. "Dude, uh-huh."

Dean so does not need his pity. He points an angry finger right at Sam.

"That attitude right there is exactly why you gotta go back. You are NOT my sidekick OR my goddamn lover. Crap, you could be a freakin' performing chimp for all the relevance you have to ME and THIS. I'm gonna take you HOME and you better get used to the idea."

With that Dean grabs the door and slams it in Sam's face. Sam stands there a second, damp and naked, and feeling like a dumped puppy. Then he picks up his dropped jaw and goes to get himself a towel to dry off, grumbling all the while.

"Freakin' pigheaded jerk."

He rubs listlessly at his wet hair, wondering what to do next. He's starting to think Dean is so deep in denial he could pilot Cleopatra's barge. A blind man could see there is something crackling between them. And, no, it's not just physical, not just pharmaceutical. They chime together somehow.

When he makes up his mind to tell him so, he opens Dean's cabin door and walks in, ready to bawl the idiot out. But Dean is feigning sleep already, and he looks so perfect that Sam shrugs and lifts the covers to slide in bed beside him. He says not a word as Sam quietly snuggles up against his back.

But Dean's not asleep. He's planning a stopover in Campobello.

TBC

A/N: Looks like Sam made his move too early. Dean's not ready for commitment. Next chapter soon.