Together

Sam glowered at his brother as they walked the short distance from the car to the hotel room. Even though Dean was limping heavily, he had refused the help that Sam offered. Considering that he’d almost certainly sprained the ankle, it was idiotic in the extreme. Sam knew it was probably because he’d had to be rescued, but it wasn’t like he was lording it over Dean or anything. They were each other’s back-up; if Sam needed rescuing, he expected Dean to jump in to save him.

Not that he would.

Sam half-grinned at the memory of coming to Dean’s rescue like a White Knight rescuing a Damsel in distress.

“Wipe that smirk off your face right now, or I’ll do it for you,” Dean snapped.

Swallowing a chuckle, Sam gave his brother his most innocent look and replied, “What smirk?”

Dean grunted as he slid the key into the lock and pushed the door open, then entered the room.

Sam followed and shook his head as Dean all but collapsed face-forward on the bed. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to admit that you need help now and again.”

“Says you.”

“Fine. Suffer. I’m taking a shower.”

Dean flipped him off as Sam headed for the bathroom and at that, Sam did laugh. The hot water felt great, sluicing the dirt and dust from his pores, even if the pressure wasn’t all that good. Once clean, he dried off quickly and walked to the bed, not bothering to get dressed. Staring down at his brother, dead to the world, he smiled fondly and started undressing him.

First the boots, where he found a very swollen ankle and grimaced. He carefully rolled Dean onto his back and, when his brother didn’t wake, started undoing the pants. Pulling them down and off brought the boxers with them, and was more difficult than it should have been, since he was trying to not wake Dean in the process. Getting the shirt off was a serious bitch, even though it was a button-down flannel, and he was glad that Dean hadn’t bothered with a t-shirt underneath for a change.

Once Dean was naked, Sam kicked aside the clothes and went to the mini-fridge to put a makeshift icepack together. Wrapping the ice cubes in a face cloth, he tied it together with a shoelace and then sat on the bed, holding it against the bruised ankle. That, of course, woke Dean.

“Damn it, Sammy! What’re you trying to do, give me a fuckin’ heart attack?” Dean snapped, instinctively jerking his foot away.

Sam grabbed his brother’s shin and held fast, keeping the ice pack where it was. “If I don’t take care of this now, it’ll just get worse, so chill.”

Dean glared at him, but sank back against the pillows with a grumble.

After a good twenty minutes, Sam dumped the mostly melted ice and wet cloth in the bathroom sink and then walked back to the bed. “Are you going to cooperate now, or do you want to bitch some more?”

Dean sighed. “Whatever.”

Huffing in amusement, Sam held down a hand and waited. Finally, Dean gripped it and allowed himself to be hauled upright. Putting his arm around Sam’s waist, Dean rested on him as they moved slowly to the bathroom. He stayed there while Dean showered, just in case, and then dried him off slowly, enjoying the flush that ran over the pale skin as he did so. Due to circumstances, they’d been celibate for almost a month solid, aside from whatever solitary pleasures they’d had time for in the shower.

“Sammy,” Dean warned. “I’m in no shape to be doing anything tonight.”

Sam quirked a grin at him. “Would I take advantage of you in a weakened state?”

“If it got you laid? Damn skippy,” Dean retorted.

Sam laughed softly and assured him, “You’re safe with me. Come on, let’s get into bed and I’ll put the ice on for another twenty.”

Though he grimaced, Dean didn’t object and they hobbled back out to the bed. Sam had a new icepack put together in short order and he sat patiently on the edge of the bed as he held it in place.

“Thanks.”

The single word surprised Sam and he gave Dean a curious look. “For?”

“Saving my ass back there,” Dean replied, almost grudging. “If you hadn’t shown up right then, I would’ve been toast.”

Not wanting to think about it, Sam shrugged it off and countered, “You would do the same for me.”

As if remembering something, Dean’s lips twisted, but he agreed, “And then some. Come on up here. My ankle’s as good as it’s going to get.”

Sam put a pillow under the injured limb before joining Dean. He curled up around his brother, instead of their usual position of Dean sleeping on him, and wrapped a protective arm over Dean’s midriff. This was good, knowing they were alive and together, warm and comfortable with nothing and no one to come between them. There were still plenty of flare-ups between them in the cold light of day, but at night, like this, they were definitely of the same mind.

“Sammy?”

“Yeah?”

“You know I love you, right?”

Even though he knew it was the post-trauma speaking, the need to reconnect, Sam couldn’t help but smile, tilting his head up to look at his brother. “Yeah, I do. Same here, Dean.”

Dean grinned tiredly and kissed Sam’s temple, then said, “Night, Sam.”

“Night, Dean,” Sam replied.

Sam could tell the moment that Dean dropped into sleep, the relaxation that made him heavy where they lay together and the slower rise and fall of his chest. They’d cheated death again tonight and Sam knew that one of these times, they wouldn’t both escape. It wouldn’t stop them from fighting against the evil that hunted innocent people, but every so often, it gave him pause.

Shaking off the funk, Sam kissed Dean’s warm, bare shoulder and closed his eyes. They were together and for the moment, it was enough.