Fic: Cold as Ice
May. 24th, 2015 01:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
majestic_duxkRating: G
Pairing: Sam and Dean
Characters: Sam, Dean, Castiel
Kinks/warnings: deprivation, touch starved dean, brotherly feelings, supportive sam, supportive cas, embarrassed Dean.
Summary: Dean is stranded for a long time for whatever reason. He's half-mad and desperate for human contact by the time he's rescued or makes it to safety. Sam is the first person he encounters. I'd adore lots of Dean clinging and nuzzling Sam's chest, leaning into his hands when he moves them, and being pretty embarrassed about it all but too addicted to the contact to stop.
This was originally written for a prompt on spn_masquerade, but I didn’t get it finished in time, and I am pretty sure it is not quite what the prompter wanted. Regardless, here it is.
special thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tsukichibi for the read-through.
------
He didn’t know how long he’d been there. It could have been days. Weeks. Months.
All he knew was that there was nothing and no one. No one to fight for him. No one to find him. He was alone.
Or was he?
Someone must have been there. Food appeared regularly – at least he assumed it was regularly. He wasn’t hungry. He never felt thirsty. He wasn’t even cold. At least, not physically. Not on the outside.
He’d always prided himself on his strength, both physical and mental. He’d always had a bone deep knowledge that he had the ability to weather whatever the Fates threw at him.
Until this. And what was this? Nothing. It wasn’t painful, or frightful, or even dangerous. He’d been to Heaven, Hell and everywhere in between, and was this all it took for Dean Winchester to crumble? A little alone time?
Time passed and the coldness grew. Time passed, and Dean knew that this was it, that Dean Winchester, whose very name caused Hell to quake and Heaven to tremble, was going to die.
And that was the worst part. It was such a let down. He should have gone out with a bang! Gone down fighting, in a blaze of glory.
Instead? Gone crazy from loneliness. He would have laughed at himself, if he could have laughed, but that had been one of the first things to go. He’d lost his words too, but that was how he knew it was the end. They came back. He was grateful that he found the words that said all those things he’d never been able to say. The things he’d wanted to and never could.
--oo--
“I wish you hadn’t died, mom.” Did Dean really say that? It wasn’t even something he’d let himself think. “I really wish you hadn’t died. It would have all been different. We could have been a family. We could have been happy! It’s not fair, mom! It’s not fair! Why’d you have to die?”
Dean cried after talking to Mary’s memory.
--oo--
“I wanna hate you, dad. I really do. You… you didn’t do right by me. Why was I never good enough? Never good enough to love and look after. I hate you! I should hate you!”
Dean yelled at the empty room, but soon the anger dissolved to tears.
“I don’t hate you.” The words were quiet. “I was never worth it. I know that’s why you didn’t love me. I was never worth anything. So why did you trade your life, huh? Why’d you do that for a son who wasn’t fucking worth it?”
--oo--
“I’m sorry, Cas. I’m sorry I’m saying this now instead of to you. I should’ve said it. I should have told you. I hope you forgive me.” Dean snorted to himself. “A-course you forgive me. You’re a freaking angel! Forgiveness is your thing, right?”
Dean frowned. “But not the rest of you dicks. Cas’s the only good on of the lot of you. The rest of you can fuck off.” Dean nodded to himself. He didn’t need to say much more than that. He’d already told them that.
“Sorry, Cas,” he whispered again. He hoped Cas could hear.
--oo--
It took a long time to die, but he knew it was finally the end when he was talking to his brother and Sam actually appeared
“Ahhh. Sammy. I’m glad it’s you. It’s more than I deserve. I know I was a terrible brother. You deserved to have the life you wanted. You almost did! And what did I do?” Dean’s kept his eyes down, but listened for a response. There was none. That wasn’t surprising; after all, Dean had ruined Sam’s life. “And… I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Sam! I should have protected you better, looked after you better. Let you be free…” Dean looked away, unable to bear the scorn he was sure could be found in his brother’s face. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, Sammy. And I that I never told you… you’re a good man, Sammy. A good man. I hope… I hope you know how much I love you.”
Dean wished he had the strength to look at Sam before he died.
--oo--
“Dean!”
Sam grabbed his brother as he slid, unconscious, to the ground. He filed the words away for later –he wanted to remember those words – but more importantly, he needed to save his brother.
Who was indeed alive. With that confirmed, Sam attempted to find anything to explain Dean’s unconscious state. Running his hands over Dean’s body, Sam came to the conclusion that there was nothing physically wrong with him: there were no bumps, burns, scratches, nicks, or marks of any kind.
Pursing his lips, Sam knew he couldn’t think on it now. Getting Dean – fuck, getting them all out! – was imperative. Kneeling down, Sam gave a grunt as he lifted Dean into his arms. He almost dropped him when Dean gave a little mumble and nuzzled into his chest.
Because this was Dean. The brother who avoided physical contact at all costs. Dean, the brother who kept his distance even when he was bleeding out on the floor, had even when unconscious kept his space, had just nuzzled into his chest.
What the actual fuck?
“He’s been held somewhere else, Sam.”
Gritting his teeth, Sam turned to the angel. He knew he didn’t say that out loud, so if Cas had been in his head…
Castiel rolled his eyes. An annoyingly human gesture he’d picked up from Dean. “I didn’t read your mind, Sam.” At Sam’s glare Castiel rolled his eyes, again. “Either time. These are things you would want to know.”
Castiel paused, face screwed up in thought. “It’s been… I think it’s been weeks for Dean, Sam.”
“Weeks? Then ho-”
Castiel held up hand, requesting Sam’s silence. “Weeks in which he could have been starved and beaten. Or worse. But he was not. His body displays not physical damage.
Sam watched as Castiel’s brow darkened.
“This is an angel trap, Sam. Dean’s physical needs were met, but he has been starved in other ways.”
--oo--
The angel stared at Dean, feeling his grace sink into his charge, wincing as Dean’s soul recoiled, crying piteously. It didn’t remember him. That gave Castiel pause. He and Dean shared a profound bond, one forged in the depths of hell. Such a thing was not easily broken. Such a thing took… time.
“It would seem I am wrong.”
That was the wrong thing to say, given the relief that flowed into Sam’s face. Castiel quickly removed that expression. “I don’t believe it is weeks, Sam. It is… longer. Much longer.” Castiel wouldn’t hazard a guess, letting his grave face speak for him. Angels were cruel, and a human soul delicate. “Dean’s soul has been isolated. He’s going to need… care.”
Castiel could read the confusion in Sam’s eyes. He didn’t know how to explain it, how Dean’s very soul was crying out for affection and… well, love. Castiel knew things were not good between the brothers, and Dean needed…
“I will take care of Dean, for the time being. Looking after Dean will be a full time job for the foreseeable-“
“You are not taking my brother.” Even Sam was shocked at the growl in his voice. He pulled Dean closer to him. “He’s not leaving my sight again! He’s my brother, and I’ll look after him. Thank you for your help Cas, but-“
--oo--
“-we don’t need it.”
Sam staggered a little as they landed in the bunker.
“The car is in the garage. The fridge and pantry is stocked. Call me if you need anything, Sam. And I do mean anything.”
Castiel didn’t wait for a reply. Sam didn’t care. He carried Dean to his room. He gently laid his brother on the bed – Dean whimpered as Sam stepped back, one hand unconsciously reaching towards Sam.
Biting his lip, Sam was torn. He needed to get things – water, food, clothes, everything.
But Dean needed him. His tough, stoic big brother who never asked for anything… Fuck. What was he even doing thinking about it? Dean was still half out of his mind, and Castiel had… Huh. There was a water bottle already by the bed. He sent silent thanks, and could have sworn he felt smugness in return.
A small whimper brought him back to the present.
“Oh, Dean.” What did those bastards do to you?
His big brother had never looked so small. Carefully, he lowered himself onto the bed, giving Dean ample time to move away if he needed. Instead of retreating though, he gravitated towards Sam, onto Sam, plastering himself across Sam’s torso, until there was no space between them.
It wasn’t until Dean stilled did Sam realise how cold his brother was, his icy skin causing Sam to shiver.
Fuck! Was there a point past hypothermia where they stopped shivering! Was Dean going to die? No… no. Cas would have said something. Cas did say something. What was it? That Dean needed looking after? Well, Sam could do that.
Wrapping big arms around his brother, Sam pulled him in tight. Whispering words of love and calm and warmth as Dean burrowed in, head pressed against Sam’s chest, cheek smushed right against his heart.
Dean was alive. Dean was safe. Dean was here.
Sam lay there, his big brother wrapped in his arms and felt like the luckiest man in the world.
--oo--
Every time Dean woke, he pushed Sam away, but didn’t let go. He apologised, begged forgiveness, and told Sam to leave, to save himself.
It broke Sam’s heart. When Dean moved away he covered Dean’s hand in his own, willing his brother to feel how loved and wanted he was. When Dean collapsed, Sam had been ready, catching Dean before he hit the floor, after which Sam moved them back to the bed, and pulled him close.
This happened again and again and again until Dean shuddered in arms and wouldn’t stop. Dean’s skin was so cold Sam couldn’t tell if he was colder or not, but it wasn’t long before he was calling on Castiel.
“Cas, what do I do? Do we need more blankets? He just started shivering… how do we make it stop?”
“The cold is soul deep, Sam. It takes more than a blanket to change that.”
Five times Castiel came and left. Five times Dean shivered in his arms. Eventually, Sam demanded answers.
“Nothing is changing! He won’t stop shivering - what do I do, Cas?”
Gentle eyes met his. “You keep doing what you are doing, Sam. I can feel his soul warming, although with your human abilities you would not be able to sense it. You love him, and he knows.”
Sam Winchester was not a trusting man and now it he had to take the word of an angel. Sam had no choice but to hold on and hope.
--oo--
He fell asleep. When he didn’t know, but he woke to something soft and warm was wiggling against him. Sighing happily, he tightened his arms and snuggled against it. Then he remembered – Dean!
Sam’s eyes flew open to be greeted with the top of Dean’s head. Reflexively, he rolled to the side, the shift in weight causing Dean to slip off him. Instead of rolling to his own side of the bed, Dean immediately rolled back to Sam, burrowing against his side. Without his permission, Sam’s arms went round his brother, holding him close.
This was really fucking weird, but Sam was more focused on the fact that Dean was in his arms and warm - warm! Did this mean Dean was better?
While Sam really wanted to wake Dean, to make sure that he really was fine, that he was warm and that he was still there, that angels hadn’t done something irreparable. But Sam had some self-control, and was sensible enough to know if Dean was sleeping he needed to sleep. Plus… It was kinda nice having Dean in his arms. Now that he was relaxed and not shivering, he was surprisingly comfortable, and it was endearing the way he nuzzled against Sam’s chest, making happy little sounds. Snorting, Sam knew it wasn’t going to last. As soon as Dean was awake and coherent he’d be punching Sam in the gut, and out of Sam’s arms and across the room before Sam could even open his mouth.
So he’d take this. He’d take this opportunity to feel like he was looking after Dean.
“Love you, Dean.” He whispered.
He didn’t expect to be staring into Dean’s eyes when he looked down.
--oo--
“Fuck!” “What the fuck!”
As expected Dean rolled out of Sam’s arms, putting as much distance between them as he could. Back against the wall, he panted, staring at Sam. Sam sat up, preparing himself for a verbal onslaught. This left him unprepared for Dean diving right back into his arms. Grunting as Dean hit his chest, Sam felt himself fall back. Even as his back hit the mattress, he kept his arms at his sides, given Dean ample opportunity retreat: a caged Dean was not something Sam was willing to deal with.
So Sam lay there, as Dean lay on him, then pulled away, only to collapse against him again. He did it again and again until Sam.
“I don’t care if you lie on me, Dean, just make up your fucking mind!”
Sam could practically feel the embarrassment rolling off his brother.
“I wanna have a shower.”
“Am I stopping you?”
Dean growled but didn’t actually move.
“I want a shower… But I don’t want you to come with.”
Sam didn’t even know what to say to that. The uncomfortable silence stretched on until Sam had enough. Sitting up, he placed Dean firmly beside him ensuring their thighs touched.
“You can either tell me what’s going on, or I’ll call Cas and – ah!”
The angel appeared. Sam jerked in shock, which in turn dislodged Dean who fell to the floor with a thump.
“Cas? I didn’t actually call you –ah!”
Dean had leapt on him again, this time not bothering to play around. He plastered himself to Sam’s front, and glared at the angel.
Sam watched as a small smile crossed the angels’ lips.
“It looks like you are in good hands, Dean.” He opened his mouth to say something, then thought the better of it. “Call me when Dean can bear to be away from you, Sam.”
Blinking, Sam looked at the spot the angel had been.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
--oo--
At least they’d made it out of bed. Sam had to go to the bathroom, and Dean had trailed after him, right on his heel. When he’d followed Sam right in, Sam couldn’t help his exasperated, “Dean!”
He couldn’t say any more, though. Dean looked so embarrassed, even as his hand curled into Sam’s and he pressed himself against his brother.
“I just… I can’t…”
Closing his eyes, Sam counted to three. That was all he needed. Opening them, he looked at Dean, who was looking at the floor, freckles highlighted by his blush. Yeah, Dean wasn’t enjoying this at all. Shrugging, Sam grasped Dean’s hand firmly, and moved it to his shoulder.
“I have to piss. It’s not like you haven’t seen it before. Just… just leave your hand there.”
It was difficult relieving himself. Perhaps a smattering of performance anxiety, but really, why did it matter? It was Dean who taught him how to use the toilet! Shaking himself, he pulled his boxers up, turning back to his brother.
“Since we’re here, do you need to go?”
--oo--
It was the most humiliating experience of his life, and Dean could only be grateful that Sam was so fucking matter of fact about it. Having to have Sam cuddle him while he pissed? Not an experience he wanted to repeat.
When Sam had gently, but firmly moved him towards the shower, Dean had panicked. Big time. Dean didn’t really remember anything until realising both he and Sam were under the water – still fully dressed, as Sam held him and talked at him.
“Not going to let you go, Dean. Not until you’re ready. It’s ok, Dean. I’ve got you.”
Also another experience he didn’t want to repeat.
But he did feel better now. Cleaner at least. Although he was still embarrassed as Sam puttered around the kitchen and Dean wrapped his arms round Sam’s waist so Sam couldn’t go anywhere without him. Sam, bless his soul, didn’t say anything, just hummed to himself, asked the occasional question, and patted the hands tightly knotted around his waist reassuringly.
As Sam whipped up eggs, Dean rested his cheek against Sam’s back. He was such a fucking pussy! Poor Sam, stuck with someone like him.
“What the fuck!”
Dean found himself cradled between Sam’s legs, as long arms held him back.
“Uh… Sam?”
“You are amazing, Dean.”
What?
“You are so strong. And amazing. I don’t know what you went through, and you don’t have to tell me.”
Dean blinked at that. Sam generally pushed for every last detail. By the smile on his face, Sam knew what he was thinking.
“If you ever want to tell me, I’ll listen. But it’s your choice. Whatever you want to do.”
Sam looked at the ground, then looked at Dean. Then opened his mouth. And shut it. Then he cleared his throat and –
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Sammy! Spit it out!”
Chuckling, Sam took one last deep breath. “I love you, Dean. You’re my brother and I love you. It doesn’t matter what happened in the past, I’m here for you now, for however you need me. Even if you’re my limpet for the rest of our life–“
“Hey!”
“–I’m ok with that.”
This time Dean’s mouth opened and no words came out. He was made of sterner stuff than Sam, and gathered himself to argue. But Sam cupped Dean’s face in his hands, and to Dean’s eternal embarrassment he closed his eyes and leant into it.
“For as long as you need, Dean, I’m here.”
Dean kept his eyes closed, but he also wrapped his arms round Sam’s middle. And it was enough. For now it was enough.
Pairing: Sam and Dean
Characters: Sam, Dean, Castiel
Kinks/warnings: deprivation, touch starved dean, brotherly feelings, supportive sam, supportive cas, embarrassed Dean.
Summary: Dean is stranded for a long time for whatever reason. He's half-mad and desperate for human contact by the time he's rescued or makes it to safety. Sam is the first person he encounters. I'd adore lots of Dean clinging and nuzzling Sam's chest, leaning into his hands when he moves them, and being pretty embarrassed about it all but too addicted to the contact to stop.
This was originally written for a prompt on spn_masquerade, but I didn’t get it finished in time, and I am pretty sure it is not quite what the prompter wanted. Regardless, here it is.
special thanks to
tsukichibi for the read-through.------
He didn’t know how long he’d been there. It could have been days. Weeks. Months.
All he knew was that there was nothing and no one. No one to fight for him. No one to find him. He was alone.
Or was he?
Someone must have been there. Food appeared regularly – at least he assumed it was regularly. He wasn’t hungry. He never felt thirsty. He wasn’t even cold. At least, not physically. Not on the outside.
He’d always prided himself on his strength, both physical and mental. He’d always had a bone deep knowledge that he had the ability to weather whatever the Fates threw at him.
Until this. And what was this? Nothing. It wasn’t painful, or frightful, or even dangerous. He’d been to Heaven, Hell and everywhere in between, and was this all it took for Dean Winchester to crumble? A little alone time?
Time passed and the coldness grew. Time passed, and Dean knew that this was it, that Dean Winchester, whose very name caused Hell to quake and Heaven to tremble, was going to die.
And that was the worst part. It was such a let down. He should have gone out with a bang! Gone down fighting, in a blaze of glory.
Instead? Gone crazy from loneliness. He would have laughed at himself, if he could have laughed, but that had been one of the first things to go. He’d lost his words too, but that was how he knew it was the end. They came back. He was grateful that he found the words that said all those things he’d never been able to say. The things he’d wanted to and never could.
--oo--
“I wish you hadn’t died, mom.” Did Dean really say that? It wasn’t even something he’d let himself think. “I really wish you hadn’t died. It would have all been different. We could have been a family. We could have been happy! It’s not fair, mom! It’s not fair! Why’d you have to die?”
Dean cried after talking to Mary’s memory.
--oo--
“I wanna hate you, dad. I really do. You… you didn’t do right by me. Why was I never good enough? Never good enough to love and look after. I hate you! I should hate you!”
Dean yelled at the empty room, but soon the anger dissolved to tears.
“I don’t hate you.” The words were quiet. “I was never worth it. I know that’s why you didn’t love me. I was never worth anything. So why did you trade your life, huh? Why’d you do that for a son who wasn’t fucking worth it?”
--oo--
“I’m sorry, Cas. I’m sorry I’m saying this now instead of to you. I should’ve said it. I should have told you. I hope you forgive me.” Dean snorted to himself. “A-course you forgive me. You’re a freaking angel! Forgiveness is your thing, right?”
Dean frowned. “But not the rest of you dicks. Cas’s the only good on of the lot of you. The rest of you can fuck off.” Dean nodded to himself. He didn’t need to say much more than that. He’d already told them that.
“Sorry, Cas,” he whispered again. He hoped Cas could hear.
--oo--
It took a long time to die, but he knew it was finally the end when he was talking to his brother and Sam actually appeared
“Ahhh. Sammy. I’m glad it’s you. It’s more than I deserve. I know I was a terrible brother. You deserved to have the life you wanted. You almost did! And what did I do?” Dean’s kept his eyes down, but listened for a response. There was none. That wasn’t surprising; after all, Dean had ruined Sam’s life. “And… I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Sam! I should have protected you better, looked after you better. Let you be free…” Dean looked away, unable to bear the scorn he was sure could be found in his brother’s face. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, Sammy. And I that I never told you… you’re a good man, Sammy. A good man. I hope… I hope you know how much I love you.”
Dean wished he had the strength to look at Sam before he died.
--oo--
“Dean!”
Sam grabbed his brother as he slid, unconscious, to the ground. He filed the words away for later –he wanted to remember those words – but more importantly, he needed to save his brother.
Who was indeed alive. With that confirmed, Sam attempted to find anything to explain Dean’s unconscious state. Running his hands over Dean’s body, Sam came to the conclusion that there was nothing physically wrong with him: there were no bumps, burns, scratches, nicks, or marks of any kind.
Pursing his lips, Sam knew he couldn’t think on it now. Getting Dean – fuck, getting them all out! – was imperative. Kneeling down, Sam gave a grunt as he lifted Dean into his arms. He almost dropped him when Dean gave a little mumble and nuzzled into his chest.
Because this was Dean. The brother who avoided physical contact at all costs. Dean, the brother who kept his distance even when he was bleeding out on the floor, had even when unconscious kept his space, had just nuzzled into his chest.
What the actual fuck?
“He’s been held somewhere else, Sam.”
Gritting his teeth, Sam turned to the angel. He knew he didn’t say that out loud, so if Cas had been in his head…
Castiel rolled his eyes. An annoyingly human gesture he’d picked up from Dean. “I didn’t read your mind, Sam.” At Sam’s glare Castiel rolled his eyes, again. “Either time. These are things you would want to know.”
Castiel paused, face screwed up in thought. “It’s been… I think it’s been weeks for Dean, Sam.”
“Weeks? Then ho-”
Castiel held up hand, requesting Sam’s silence. “Weeks in which he could have been starved and beaten. Or worse. But he was not. His body displays not physical damage.
Sam watched as Castiel’s brow darkened.
“This is an angel trap, Sam. Dean’s physical needs were met, but he has been starved in other ways.”
--oo--
The angel stared at Dean, feeling his grace sink into his charge, wincing as Dean’s soul recoiled, crying piteously. It didn’t remember him. That gave Castiel pause. He and Dean shared a profound bond, one forged in the depths of hell. Such a thing was not easily broken. Such a thing took… time.
“It would seem I am wrong.”
That was the wrong thing to say, given the relief that flowed into Sam’s face. Castiel quickly removed that expression. “I don’t believe it is weeks, Sam. It is… longer. Much longer.” Castiel wouldn’t hazard a guess, letting his grave face speak for him. Angels were cruel, and a human soul delicate. “Dean’s soul has been isolated. He’s going to need… care.”
Castiel could read the confusion in Sam’s eyes. He didn’t know how to explain it, how Dean’s very soul was crying out for affection and… well, love. Castiel knew things were not good between the brothers, and Dean needed…
“I will take care of Dean, for the time being. Looking after Dean will be a full time job for the foreseeable-“
“You are not taking my brother.” Even Sam was shocked at the growl in his voice. He pulled Dean closer to him. “He’s not leaving my sight again! He’s my brother, and I’ll look after him. Thank you for your help Cas, but-“
--oo--
“-we don’t need it.”
Sam staggered a little as they landed in the bunker.
“The car is in the garage. The fridge and pantry is stocked. Call me if you need anything, Sam. And I do mean anything.”
Castiel didn’t wait for a reply. Sam didn’t care. He carried Dean to his room. He gently laid his brother on the bed – Dean whimpered as Sam stepped back, one hand unconsciously reaching towards Sam.
Biting his lip, Sam was torn. He needed to get things – water, food, clothes, everything.
But Dean needed him. His tough, stoic big brother who never asked for anything… Fuck. What was he even doing thinking about it? Dean was still half out of his mind, and Castiel had… Huh. There was a water bottle already by the bed. He sent silent thanks, and could have sworn he felt smugness in return.
A small whimper brought him back to the present.
“Oh, Dean.” What did those bastards do to you?
His big brother had never looked so small. Carefully, he lowered himself onto the bed, giving Dean ample time to move away if he needed. Instead of retreating though, he gravitated towards Sam, onto Sam, plastering himself across Sam’s torso, until there was no space between them.
It wasn’t until Dean stilled did Sam realise how cold his brother was, his icy skin causing Sam to shiver.
Fuck! Was there a point past hypothermia where they stopped shivering! Was Dean going to die? No… no. Cas would have said something. Cas did say something. What was it? That Dean needed looking after? Well, Sam could do that.
Wrapping big arms around his brother, Sam pulled him in tight. Whispering words of love and calm and warmth as Dean burrowed in, head pressed against Sam’s chest, cheek smushed right against his heart.
Dean was alive. Dean was safe. Dean was here.
Sam lay there, his big brother wrapped in his arms and felt like the luckiest man in the world.
--oo--
Every time Dean woke, he pushed Sam away, but didn’t let go. He apologised, begged forgiveness, and told Sam to leave, to save himself.
It broke Sam’s heart. When Dean moved away he covered Dean’s hand in his own, willing his brother to feel how loved and wanted he was. When Dean collapsed, Sam had been ready, catching Dean before he hit the floor, after which Sam moved them back to the bed, and pulled him close.
This happened again and again and again until Dean shuddered in arms and wouldn’t stop. Dean’s skin was so cold Sam couldn’t tell if he was colder or not, but it wasn’t long before he was calling on Castiel.
“Cas, what do I do? Do we need more blankets? He just started shivering… how do we make it stop?”
“The cold is soul deep, Sam. It takes more than a blanket to change that.”
Five times Castiel came and left. Five times Dean shivered in his arms. Eventually, Sam demanded answers.
“Nothing is changing! He won’t stop shivering - what do I do, Cas?”
Gentle eyes met his. “You keep doing what you are doing, Sam. I can feel his soul warming, although with your human abilities you would not be able to sense it. You love him, and he knows.”
Sam Winchester was not a trusting man and now it he had to take the word of an angel. Sam had no choice but to hold on and hope.
--oo--
He fell asleep. When he didn’t know, but he woke to something soft and warm was wiggling against him. Sighing happily, he tightened his arms and snuggled against it. Then he remembered – Dean!
Sam’s eyes flew open to be greeted with the top of Dean’s head. Reflexively, he rolled to the side, the shift in weight causing Dean to slip off him. Instead of rolling to his own side of the bed, Dean immediately rolled back to Sam, burrowing against his side. Without his permission, Sam’s arms went round his brother, holding him close.
This was really fucking weird, but Sam was more focused on the fact that Dean was in his arms and warm - warm! Did this mean Dean was better?
While Sam really wanted to wake Dean, to make sure that he really was fine, that he was warm and that he was still there, that angels hadn’t done something irreparable. But Sam had some self-control, and was sensible enough to know if Dean was sleeping he needed to sleep. Plus… It was kinda nice having Dean in his arms. Now that he was relaxed and not shivering, he was surprisingly comfortable, and it was endearing the way he nuzzled against Sam’s chest, making happy little sounds. Snorting, Sam knew it wasn’t going to last. As soon as Dean was awake and coherent he’d be punching Sam in the gut, and out of Sam’s arms and across the room before Sam could even open his mouth.
So he’d take this. He’d take this opportunity to feel like he was looking after Dean.
“Love you, Dean.” He whispered.
He didn’t expect to be staring into Dean’s eyes when he looked down.
--oo--
“Fuck!” “What the fuck!”
As expected Dean rolled out of Sam’s arms, putting as much distance between them as he could. Back against the wall, he panted, staring at Sam. Sam sat up, preparing himself for a verbal onslaught. This left him unprepared for Dean diving right back into his arms. Grunting as Dean hit his chest, Sam felt himself fall back. Even as his back hit the mattress, he kept his arms at his sides, given Dean ample opportunity retreat: a caged Dean was not something Sam was willing to deal with.
So Sam lay there, as Dean lay on him, then pulled away, only to collapse against him again. He did it again and again until Sam.
“I don’t care if you lie on me, Dean, just make up your fucking mind!”
Sam could practically feel the embarrassment rolling off his brother.
“I wanna have a shower.”
“Am I stopping you?”
Dean growled but didn’t actually move.
“I want a shower… But I don’t want you to come with.”
Sam didn’t even know what to say to that. The uncomfortable silence stretched on until Sam had enough. Sitting up, he placed Dean firmly beside him ensuring their thighs touched.
“You can either tell me what’s going on, or I’ll call Cas and – ah!”
The angel appeared. Sam jerked in shock, which in turn dislodged Dean who fell to the floor with a thump.
“Cas? I didn’t actually call you –ah!”
Dean had leapt on him again, this time not bothering to play around. He plastered himself to Sam’s front, and glared at the angel.
Sam watched as a small smile crossed the angels’ lips.
“It looks like you are in good hands, Dean.” He opened his mouth to say something, then thought the better of it. “Call me when Dean can bear to be away from you, Sam.”
Blinking, Sam looked at the spot the angel had been.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
--oo--
At least they’d made it out of bed. Sam had to go to the bathroom, and Dean had trailed after him, right on his heel. When he’d followed Sam right in, Sam couldn’t help his exasperated, “Dean!”
He couldn’t say any more, though. Dean looked so embarrassed, even as his hand curled into Sam’s and he pressed himself against his brother.
“I just… I can’t…”
Closing his eyes, Sam counted to three. That was all he needed. Opening them, he looked at Dean, who was looking at the floor, freckles highlighted by his blush. Yeah, Dean wasn’t enjoying this at all. Shrugging, Sam grasped Dean’s hand firmly, and moved it to his shoulder.
“I have to piss. It’s not like you haven’t seen it before. Just… just leave your hand there.”
It was difficult relieving himself. Perhaps a smattering of performance anxiety, but really, why did it matter? It was Dean who taught him how to use the toilet! Shaking himself, he pulled his boxers up, turning back to his brother.
“Since we’re here, do you need to go?”
--oo--
It was the most humiliating experience of his life, and Dean could only be grateful that Sam was so fucking matter of fact about it. Having to have Sam cuddle him while he pissed? Not an experience he wanted to repeat.
When Sam had gently, but firmly moved him towards the shower, Dean had panicked. Big time. Dean didn’t really remember anything until realising both he and Sam were under the water – still fully dressed, as Sam held him and talked at him.
“Not going to let you go, Dean. Not until you’re ready. It’s ok, Dean. I’ve got you.”
Also another experience he didn’t want to repeat.
But he did feel better now. Cleaner at least. Although he was still embarrassed as Sam puttered around the kitchen and Dean wrapped his arms round Sam’s waist so Sam couldn’t go anywhere without him. Sam, bless his soul, didn’t say anything, just hummed to himself, asked the occasional question, and patted the hands tightly knotted around his waist reassuringly.
As Sam whipped up eggs, Dean rested his cheek against Sam’s back. He was such a fucking pussy! Poor Sam, stuck with someone like him.
“What the fuck!”
Dean found himself cradled between Sam’s legs, as long arms held him back.
“Uh… Sam?”
“You are amazing, Dean.”
What?
“You are so strong. And amazing. I don’t know what you went through, and you don’t have to tell me.”
Dean blinked at that. Sam generally pushed for every last detail. By the smile on his face, Sam knew what he was thinking.
“If you ever want to tell me, I’ll listen. But it’s your choice. Whatever you want to do.”
Sam looked at the ground, then looked at Dean. Then opened his mouth. And shut it. Then he cleared his throat and –
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Sammy! Spit it out!”
Chuckling, Sam took one last deep breath. “I love you, Dean. You’re my brother and I love you. It doesn’t matter what happened in the past, I’m here for you now, for however you need me. Even if you’re my limpet for the rest of our life–“
“Hey!”
“–I’m ok with that.”
This time Dean’s mouth opened and no words came out. He was made of sterner stuff than Sam, and gathered himself to argue. But Sam cupped Dean’s face in his hands, and to Dean’s eternal embarrassment he closed his eyes and leant into it.
“For as long as you need, Dean, I’m here.”
Dean kept his eyes closed, but he also wrapped his arms round Sam’s middle. And it was enough. For now it was enough.
