Work Text:
Title: A Heartbeat Means Safe
Prompt: Cuddling
Medium: meta
Characters: Sam Dean
Warning: None
Word Count: 1254
Summary: There are no hearts beating in their chests in hell. Set after S6.
The sound of Sam’s screams followed by loud crashes brought Dean running up the stairs into the bedroom. He didn’t bother to ask Bobby if he could give his brother another dose of sedatives. They’d already given him enough to bring down a horse that weight 1000lbs more than the Sasquatch sized man. Cursing Cass’s name for doing this to Sam, Dean hit the bedroom and skidded to a halt.
Sam had slid down between their twin beds and had successfully ripped apart the small nightstand to get to the wall between the headboards.
“Sammy?” Dean dropped to his knees and approached the younger man slowly. “Come on, kiddo. Look at me.” Not even sure his brother was awake, Dean moved so he was sitting with his back to one of the beds. “Come on, Sammy, just tell me what you’re seeing, baby boy.” When he was close enough, the older Winchester reached out and took Sam’s injured hand. “I hate this.” His fingers closed brutally over the injury.
The reaction was instant, but, as he suspected, Sam had still been asleep. The larger man’s body tensed and his eyes snapped open. “He won’t stop. He won’t stop. He won’t stop.”
Repetitive words in a strained whisper set off alarms in Dean’s head. The way Sam had his legs drawn to his chest, he couldn’t get closer. So he reached over and gripped Sam’s shirt, pulling his brother to him. “Come here, come on, he’s not here. Just me, Sammy. Just me.”
Suddenly it was like something snapped in Sam. Long arms and legs folded around Dean and a head covered with shaggy brown hair was against his chest. Unable to move anything but his arms, Dean wrapped them around his brother, stroking through the long hair. “I’m here. I’m right here, little brother.”
Frantically, Sam shifted his body around over Dean, finally stopping when his ear was directly against his brother’s chest. When he found the spot he wanted, his grip tightened almost painfully and he finally took a deep breath.
“Hey, Sammy, not really breathing too great here, kiddo. The whole teddy bear thing kind of went away when you were about 8, and I-“ A memory broke through Dean’s mind and his voice cut off. When Sam was little, he always plastered himself against Dean, just like he was now. And he’d shift around on top of his brother until his head was in the exact spot it was currently residing. All he could do was run his fingers through Sam’s hair and watch to see what his brother would do now.
Little by little, the taunt muscles in the larger man’s body began to relax. Finally a sigh drifted across Dean’s chest and soft words began to form.
“Your heartbeat. Still sounds the same to me. Did you ever hear a heartbeat in hell? I mean besides when they yanked it out and showed it to you.”
Now Dean’s body tensed. He knew exactly what Sam was talking about, and no, hearts never beat while inside whatever passed for a body in Hell. But the memory of Alistair removing his heart was followed too quickly by the memory of him pulling hearts out of anyone on his rack for a decade. And yes, they were all beating.
“Even then, it didn’t sound like this.” The jaw against his chest moved in a way that could only mean Sam was sliding his tongue across his dry lips. “Alive.”
All Dean could do was hold his brother tighter and sigh. “Yeah, kiddo. We’re alive.” Keeping one hand gently entwined in the too long hair, he allowed the fingers from the other hand to stray to his brother’s neck, feeling the strong heartbeat there. The affirmation of life under his fingers brought a lump to Dean’s throat and he sighed again.
“You know, when you and Dad came back from a hunt, I wanted to be right here. Right where I could hear your heartbeat.” He laughed softly. “For some reason, as long as I could hear your heartbeat I knew we were both okay.”
“We are.”
Now Sam actually snorted softly.
“Well, we’re all kinds of fucked up, but we’re okay.”
“Dean Logic.”
“Don’t knock my logic, you overgrown cuddly puppy.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Dean was afraid he would have inadvertently teased Sam into moving away. When the arms around his waist tightened, Dean silently thanked the sedatives that were still undoubtedly running through the younger man’s system.
Taking a deep breath, Sam cuddled even closer, if that was possible. “Smells, too. I couldn’t remember what you smelled like after a few decades. Blood, burning flesh, entrails, they all had smells. Maybe. I mean, I think they did.”
Now cursing the sedatives, Dean closed his eyes and fought his own tears. He knew on some level that Sam needed to say these things. These things were behind most of his nightmares and hallucinations. But it dug a deep agonizing hole in the man that he couldn’t erase these things from his brother’s memories.
“One of the best smells I remember was when you were a baby. Whatever cheap shampoo Dad bought, with whatever baby powder or lotion he’d picked up, and you.” Dean’s voice was low in Sam’s ear.
“Gun powder, gun oil, leather, some cheap aftershave.” They both shared a laugh. “I know. All kinds of fucked up.”
“Well, when I wasn’t cleaning you I was usually cleaning guns, and my memory blocked out every smell you had after introducing you to Burritos, so that does make a certain-“ When Sam laughed harder, Dean smiled. “Okay, fucked up. But us.” Now it was Dean’s grip that tightened. “I’m just glad you’re here to hear it, smell it, and feel the uncontrollable urge to tell me about it.”
Sam sighed and maneuvered himself so that his nose was actually closer to Dean’s chest while still keeping his ear over his brother’s heart. Now that he knew what Sam was thinking, the older brother held him as tightly as he could.
All of his life, he’d had a strict no cuddling rule, except that Sammy always found a way to break every rule that he’d ever heard. This was no different, and if Dean were going to be absolutely honest with himself, he liked this. Missed it. He’d had no idea what was actually going through Sam’s mind back then, but he’d always known that throwing himself across his big brother’s chest had always calmed Sam and made him feel better. And Dean had only rarely not allowed it. Now he regretted those few times he’d chased Sam away, even though those rare times included dozens of stitches or dislocated joints. After all these years, it was Dean that meant ‘safe’ and ‘home’ to Sam, and he opened his mouth to promise that he’d never deny this to his little brother again. But he realized the vibration against his ribs was actually soft snoring.
Shoved between the beds at an awkward angle, 6’4” of solid muscle cuddled around his body like a 200lbs spider monkey, Dean had never been more comfortable. Bobby would have to rent a forklift to get them out of this position in the morning, but it would take more than temporary paralysis to make Dean even think of moving at that moment. He could still make his brother feel better, and he wasn’t about to let anything get in the way of that.