All That Really Matters

As Sam's eyes fluttered open, he groaned against the morning light filtering in through the window and tried to figure out where he was. He had no idea how he had gotten into bed, what had happened, or why his head was throbbing. Even worse, as he stretched out his arm, the other side of the bed was empty and Sam was alone. Normally, not a big deal, but Sam wasn't used to being left alone when he was sick or hurt. Dean was the type to hover, to ask Sam how he was every hour and force feed him food and make him watches stupid movies on television. And as much as it annoyed Sam at times, he counted on it too. It was so ridiculous and so Dean that it helped to keep him sane.

He turned his head, his neck howling in protest, but managed to move enough to see that Dean wasn't in the room with him. He tried to sit up, but the throbbing in his head quickly spread through his body. His body was stiff, locked into place as his muscles ached in protest against any movement. Sam groaned again, louder this time, the closest to talking he could muster, and shut his eyes.

Sam's eyes only darted open when he heard click of the lock in the front door. Relief flooded through him when Dean entered with a bag in one hand and coffee in the other. Dean's gaze immediately settled on Sam and he smiled weakly. He dropped the stuff on the nearby table, shrugged out of his jacket, and made his way over to Sam, lightly gripping Sam's arm.

"It's about time you woke up," Dean said.

Sam tried to sit up again, but this time Dean helped, fixing the pillows behind his back to give him more support. Sam scratched his head and said, "What happened?"

"I was wondering the same thing, man. One minute you're trailing behind me and the next thing I know you're tumbling down a hill," Dean said. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pressed his hand against Sam's chest. He asked, "How are you feeling, Sammy?"

Sam wasn't sure how to answer. He felt like crap, but he had a feeling his brother already knew that, and anything beyond that would probably freak Dean out. He shrugged in response and used all his energy to pull Dean down onto the bed next to him. He ignored Dean's annoyed mutterings as he pushed Dean back against the pillows and wrapped his arms around him, curling in close.

"Do I need to buy you a stuffed animal? What the fuck, dude?"

"No need for a stuffed animal. You'll do just fine," Sam responded, resting his head on Dean's chest and closing his eyes. Aside from the bitch of a headache, Sam decided he could stay like this forever if it was possible. Just him and Dean and nothing else.

"Pain in the ass."

"Yeah, but you love me," Sam replied, tightening his hold on Dean, and getting more comfortable. This was the best medicine he could ask for and as much as his brother complained, Sam knew Dean really didn't mind or Sam would be on the floor. "And I'm fine, Dean. Stop worrying."

"I wasn't worried," Dean replied. He ran his fingers through Sam's hair – surefire proof that Dean was a big, fat liar and had been more than a little freaked out – and added, "You were out for awhile, Sammy. I was beginning to think we'd have to make a trip to the hospital. Maybe we still should."

"I'll be fine. What about you?"

"What about me?"

Sam rolled his eyes. His brother was a stubborn idiot a lot of the time. "Are you okay?"

"Aside from a sore back from carrying your ass out of the woods? I'm peachy, Sam."

Sam traced his fingers along Dean's stomach and said, "Sorry."

"I'm used to your uncanny knack for attracting trouble by now," Dean replied. His hands slid down Sam's shoulders and along his arms, massaging the muscles as he went, and he added, "I picked up some more medical supplies and grabbed a few newspapers. If you get off me, I'll go find you something to eat."

Sam shifted slightly to center his weight and keep Dean from getting up. "No. I'm good."


"I'm comfortable like this," he replied. It wasn't completely true – using all his strength to keep Dean from pulling away was exhausting – but it wasn't a lie either. He could fall asleep like this, with Dean's heartbeat echoing in his ears and Dean's fingers drawing circles onto his back.

"You need to eat. It'll help you get better."

"I need you more," Sam said. He tilted his head up to meet Dean's gaze and ran his fingers over Dean's lips. His chest tightened and warmth spread throughout Sam's body as Dean took Sam's finger into his mouth and sucked on it. Sometimes Sam thought he was going crazy. It wasn't normal to love someone so much, to need them all the time, but he didn't really care. As long as he had Dean, Sam was pretty sure that everything else, normal included, was insignificant.

"I was only going to run into town and grab some sandwiches, dooface, not make a break for another country."

"That's not the point, and I'd only come after you if you did run for the border," Sam replied. He moved his arms to brace himself and slid on top of Dean, chest-to-chest. He bit down on Dean's bottom lip, sucking where his fingers had been moments before. He took his time with the kiss, lazily exploring Dean's mouth with his tongue. He grinned as Dean's body reacted beneath him and a small moan emanated from his throat.

Dean pressed their foreheads together and said, "Sammy…"

"Just need you…"

Dean rolled his eyes. "You can barely move, you horny bastard." Sam kissed a line of freckles from his jaw to his throat and went to work on sucking and biting at his favorite patch of skin by Dean's ear. Dean's hand slid down Sam's back and groped at his ass, pulling him closer, before mumbling, "Stubborn asshole."

Sam bit down on Dean's shoulder in response. His hands went to work on getting Dean out of his shirt and unfastening his pants. He trailed his tongue along the contours of Dean's muscles, his fingers playing with Dean's nipples. Dean moaned and squirmed beneath him, until Sam covered Dean's lips with his own.

Everything but him and Dean and being close was gone from Sam's mind. No more weirdness at waking up alone and the aches in his body were blocked out by the much better sensations of need and want. This thing between them – right, wrong, whatever – was the only thing that mattered, the best way he had learned to keep the ugliness and loneliness of their world at bay, and Sam was never going to give it up. This was home.