Glad You're Alive

Glad You’re Alive
Word Count: 1416
Summary: Coda to “Faith.” Sam is glad that Dean is alive.
Disclaimer: Not mine, don’t sue.

Sam watched Layla walk away from the motel room. Giving his brother a few more minutes to be by himself, he drank his soda in long gulps, wishing that there had been another way to stop the Reverend that wouldn't have hurt someone else. He knew that it wasn't fair, but he couldn't bring himself to regret the fact that they hadn't found out before Dean had been cured.

Finishing the soda and tossing the can into the trash, he backtracked to the room. Opening the door, he wasn't really surprised to find Dean sitting on the end of the bed, face in his hands. Crouching in front of him, he rested his hands on Dean's knees and said, "Don't ask me to be sorry, Dean. I'm not. I need you."

Dean dropped his hands and glared. "Don't go there, Sammy. You don't need me - never have. You'd be just fine if I hadn't walked back into your life."

"How can you say that, Dean? You're my family - you're my brother. I didn't disappear from your life just to go and party, I went to college." Sam felt sick to his stomach at the venom in his brother's words. He thought that they were finally on the same page, but obviously not.

"I can say that because it's true. You had your perfect little life and then I showed up and fucked it all back up. You'd finally gotten out and I drag you back in."

Sam didn't know what to say or how to argue the point with Dean. He'd never been good at this part - mostly because usually Dean wouldn't talk about it. In frustration, he grabbed the front of Dean's shirt and shook him. "Look, believe what you like, but you're my brother and I'm not letting you go that easy, you hear me? I've told you before, I'd kill for you and I'd die for you. Don't you dare tell me that I don't need you! You're the only part of this stupid, fucked up life that makes sense!"

Dean shook his head, and Sam snapped. He shook Dean again, and then pulled him forward and planted his lips onto Dean's. For an eternity, Dean didn't move, didn't even react. Then he swung up and pushed Sam away, so that he landed with a thud on his ass.

Sam didn't even hesitate, just rolled back up onto his knees and grabbed Dean again, pulling him forward and resting his forehead against Dean's. "I love you, you bastard. Get that through your skull." Then he twisted his head and kissed him again.

This time they stayed unmoving for at least an eon before the muscles in Dean's shoulder's relaxed, and he sighed against Sam's mouth. Then his lips were moving, and his mouth opened slightly.

Taking it as an invitation, Sam slid his tongue in, tasting his brother. His eyes slowly closed, and the death grip he had on Dean's shirt changed to something softer, more like a massage than a stranglehold. He didn't fully relax, though, until Dean moaned softly and his tongue came to play with Sam's.

When Sam needed to breathe, he finally pulled away, raining small kisses down over Dean's jaw and neck, feeling reassured by the strong pulse under the skin. Dean tipped his head so that Sam had better access, but the only thing he said was "Dude, you know this isn't normal. You're my brother, man."

Without moving away, Sam smiled against Dean's neck. "Since when are we normal?"

"You have a point there." Dean turned his head and sought out Sam's lips, kissing him deeply. Sam moaned, reassured that Dean was okay with this, Dean was actually participating. Hands on his shoulders, pressing Dean back into the bed as he clumsily climbed to his feet, bending over him as he tried not to lose contact with Dean's mouth.

He wound up straddling Dean's hips, hands pinning his shoulders to the bed as he kissed him hard and deep and messy. He only backed off when Dean was arching beneath him, hips coming up off the bed, actually lifting Sam with them. He always forgot how strong Dean was.

Sliding down, legs still bracketing Dean's, he shoved his shirt up, kissing every inch of skin he could reach. When his lips reached the area over his heart, he rested there, reassured by the steady thump-thump he could feel. "I was so scared, Dean," he whispered.

Dean shifted below him, twisting and turning till he had their positions reversed. "Look, Sam. I'm okay, already. Enough with this touchy feely bullshit."

Sam bit his lip. He wanted to say so many things, but Dean was well past the part where he was willing to hear them. Instead, he ran his hand down over Dean's chest, to the bulge in his jeans. "What about this kind of touch?"

He gasped, body stiffening under Sam's hand. "Yeah, that kind of touching is okay." His voice sounded strained, hoarse.

This time it was Dean who leaned down and kissed Sam. Unlike the previous kisses, this started soft and gentle, almost chaste. It couldn't stay like that for long, though, and it rapidly became heated. Sam couldn't keep his hands still, roaming over as much of Dean's body as he could reach.

Suddenly, it became too much, and he had to have more, right now. Flipping them once more, coming perilously close to rolling them off the bed, he ripped off Dean's shirt, then his own. The first touch of skin to skin, and he was ready to come in his pants like a horny teenager.

Pushing back up to his knees, he panted hard, trying to get his control back. Dean stretched, folding his hands under his head and licking his lips. Sam closed his eyes, trying not react, only to have them fly open when Dean's hand found one of his nipples, gently pinching it.

Growling, he frantically undid Dean's jeans, lifting up just enough to tug them down around his thighs. Dean's cock was hard, wet at the tip, and Sam's mouth watered. His eyes darted back up to Dean's face. "Is it - can I?"

Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah..."

Sliding down the bed, he tentatively licked at the tip. Dean's flavor burst over his tongue, salty and musky and deep. Moaning, he opened his mouth and took the head in, running his tongue around the tip. Dean groaned and his hands gripped Sam's head, fingers tangling in his hair. "Oh, god, Sammy."

It had been a long time since he'd done this, but it was like riding a bike. The only difference was that this wasn't a drunken frat guy or a one nightstand, but Dean, and he wanted to make it good for him. So he used every trick he could think of to make him moan and shake and cry out.

When Dean's hands tightened even more forcefully, he fought the pull, trying to get even more of his dick into his mouth. It took Dean's repeated, "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy..." to get him to let go and pull up. "C'mere..."

Sam took long enough to unfasten his own jeans and shove them off before he slid up Dean's body, sharing another kiss. Their cocks touched, and he sucked in a gasp of desperately needed air. Their legs tangled, and somehow they ended up facing one another and thrusting against one another. Each movement ratcheted up the temperature in the room, till they were sweating and swearing, sliding slickly.

Dean's hands gripped his ass tightly, as he bit down on hard on Sam's collarbone. "Fuck, Sam!" Sam felt him pulsing wetly between them, and that was the last thing he needed to push him over the edge. With a moan of Dean's name, he came as well.

Clinging tightly to his brother, he tried to get his breathing back under control. As it slowed and steadied, he whispered into Dean's shoulder. "Don't you ever leave me, you got me?"

Running his hand through Sam's hair, Dean sighed. "I can't promise that, Sammy. You know what we do is dangerous. But I'll do the best I can."

"I guess I'll have to accept that. But if you die, I'm selling the Impala."

"Don't you fucking dare!"

Sam held out as long as he could, but eventually he had to laugh. Dean waited a beat, and then they were both laughing too hard to breathe.