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I Can't Lose You

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“Come on, come on, pick up.”

 

“- This is Sam. Leave a message.

 

“Goddammit.” Dean’s blood rushed in his ears, beating faster and faster with every passing second that Sam wasn’t there . How many hours had it been? Three? Four? He’d said he was only going out for groceries, hadn’t he? What kind of grocery trip took that long?

 

Images of Sam bleeding out on the floor of a dirty cabin in the middle of nowhere flashed through Dean’s mind. Only a couple weeks ago Sam had been fucking shot and Dean had almost lost him-

 

Dean shrugged on his jacket and practically ran to the Impala.


 



No matter how many times Dean called Sam, he never picked up, and eventually all of Dean’s calls started going straight to voicemail.

 

His first stop was the farmer’s market Sam insisted on frequenting. Whenever it was Sam’s turn to do the shopping, he always came back with a bag from the place, so they should be able to recognize him by now, right?

 

The market was twice as big as Dean expected it to be, so it took him longer than he would have liked to search the place for his brother. He checked every stall, every nook, every cranny, even stopping other shoppers to ask them if they’d seen Sam.

 

The vendors were noncommittal when Dean asked them if they’d seen “a stupidly tall guy with shaggy brown hair that could use a pair of scissors,” either giving him a “maybe” or an outright shrug.

 

Which is how he ended up screaming “Sam!” repeatedly in the middle of a farmer’s market, feeling like one of those mothers who lost their kid at a grocery store, until fucking security escorted him out of the market.

 

He always knew farmers markets were evil.

 

So Dean raced back to the bunker, trying to swallow the panic in the back of his throat, threatening to choke him.

 

It was stupid. It was stupid , why was he panicking? Sam was probably fine. He had to be fine, or else-no, he was fine. He was a big guy, a trained hunter who could take care of himself.

 

But Dean could still remember how hot and sticky his brother’s blood was as it flowed out of him, as it coated his own skin and clothes as he dug the bullet out of Sam’s body-

 

Dean silently asked Baby for forgiveness as he pushed the gas pedal to the floor.


 



Dean’s hands trembled as he fumbled with the key to the Bunker, dropping them for the third time.

 

“Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck FUCK!” He kicked the door until his foot throbbed and his lungs ached from screaming, and he sank to the ground.

 

He took long deep breaths and tried to calm his racing heart. He needed to calm down. Freaking out wasn’t going to help Sam. He needed to think clearly. What Would Sam Winchester Do? And all that shit. He had to think like Sam.

 

If I were Sasquatch, what would I do?

 

The first step was obviously finding Sam, and to do that, Sam would undoubtedly use a tracking spell.

 

Feeling a little bit calmer, if unstable, now that he had a plan, Dean let himself into the bunker and went straight for the library. Now where did Sam keep the spell books? He was always the one to handle that shit. He frantically searched the library for anything that looked like a spell book, throwing random books on the floor-

 

“Uh, Dean? What’s going on?”

 

Dean whirled around, heart threatening to jump out of his chest at Sam’s surprised timbre. Sam stood there at the entrance to the library, balancing several grocery bags on his arms, head cocked to the side like a confused puppy. An amused smile graced his delicate features (he’d lost a little weight since the gunshot), as if he’d half expected Dean to be doing something weird (which he probably had).

 

For the first time in hours, Dean felt like he could breathe again.

 

He practically tackled Sam with the force of his hug, felt Sam hiss at the pain, but still Sam returned the hug, wrapping his arms around his big brother. Dean only squeezed him tighter, refusing to let go for a full minute until his heart rate resembled that of a human being.

 

“Dean, is something wrong?” Sam asked, sounding concerned for Dean’s mental state as he pulled out of the hug.

“I… I thought… I thought you were…” Dean choked out.

 

“Why would you…?”

 

“You weren’t answering your fucking phone! I went to the damn farmer’s market and you weren’t there . I couldn’t find you. You were gone, Sam. ”  Dean reached out and grabbed Sam’s wrist, running his fingers along the pulse point, needing to feel that Sam was right there, with him, looking at Dean like he was an idiot, and not bleeding out in a ditch somewhere.

 

Sam looked down where Dean was practically stroking him but didn’t comment on it. “My phone died, sorry. After the farmer’s market I stopped by the bakery to pick this up,” Sam reached into a bag and pulled out pure heaven in the form of a white bakery box filled with an apple pie. “Took longer than I thought since the pie was still in the oven when I got there. Sorry Dean, I didn’t think…”

 

“It’s not your fault. God, I’m such an idiot.” Dean ran a hand over his face, suddenly feeling a headache coming on and feeling stupid for going all Taken -mode when Sam was just getting fucking pie .

 

“Dean, it’s okay, I get it. I can’t lose you either.”

 

“I can’t Sam, I can’t, I can’t -”

 

“Hey, I’m right here. I’m right here.” Sam grabbed Dean’s shaking hand and held it to his chest. Dean could feel Sam’s heart beating, strong and steady beneath his fingertips. “My heart’s beating.” Slowly, Sam leaned into Dean, burying his face in his brother’s neck, Dean wrapping his arms around Sam’s body so tight he didn’t think he’d ever be able to let go. “I’m in your arms, safe and sound. It’s okay, big brother, everything’s okay.”

 

For what could have been hours, Dean held Sam in his arms and just breathed in the comforting scent of his little brother and listened to the steady thrum of Sam’s heartbeat. Neither said a word, merely content to have a moment to themselves outside of their chaotic lives to just be human. To just be .

 

Dean tugged gently on Sam’s hair. Sam looked up from where his face was buried in Dean’s neck. Dean leaned down, Sam moved forward, and their lips met in a soft kiss.

 

The kisses grew more and more heated as Dean’s hands wandered all over Sam’s body, slipping on Sam’s flannel to pinch as his sensitive nipples. Sam let out a breathy moan, the sound going straight to Dean’s rapidly hardening cock.

 

“Need you, Sammy, need you right now,” Dean breathed against Sam’s ear, flushed pink like Sam always did whenever they were together like this.

 

“Then take me,” Sam whispered. “I’m yours.”

 

Buttons went flying across the room but neither paid any attention to the mess as Dean tore Sam’s flannel open, desperate for more of his brother’s velvety flesh. His hands roamed all over Sam’s body, shoving his jeans and boxers off in one fell swoop. Sam’s cock, long and standing at attention, absolutely mouthwatering, bounced free. Dean couldn’t resist a moment longer and took it into his mouth.

 

Sam moaned. “Dean-mmm-want to come with you inside me, please?”

 

Dean pulled off Sam’s cock with a wet pop. “Course Sammy, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

Luckily Dean was always prepared to have sex any time, any place, and pulled out a small bottle of lube from underneath the nearest library table. He made quick work of prepping Sam, knowing he enjoyed the stretch of Dean entering him. He bent Sam over the table, teased Sam’s hole with his cock for a few moments, and pushed inside.

 

It started out slow and gentle, as Dean had intended to keep it, he really did, but found himself pounding into Sam at a punishing pace after a few thrusts.

 

“Ah-ah-ah-ah-” Sam moaned as every movement of Dean’s hips hit his prostate. He wanted to be fucked, he wanted to be owned . He reached behind himself and spread his ass cheeks even wider. “C’mon, fuck me harder big brother, fuck me, fuck me.”

 

But instead of fucking him harder, faster, Dean pulled out without a word.

 

“Dean?”

 

Dean manhandled Sam on top of the table, and Sam grinned, spreading his legs wantonly as Dean reentered him. “Fuck yeah,” Sam gasped.

 

Dean pounded into Sam until he was screaming beneath him, legs wrapped around Dean’s waist to pull him in even deeper. “Like it when big brother fucks, you Sammy? Like it when big brother fucks you so hard you’re a screaming mess?” The table beneath them creaked dangerously with the force of Dean’s thrusts.

 

“Yes, god yes, fuck me big brother, fuck me and let me come!”

 

Dean jerked Sam’s cock in time with his thrusts and within minutes Sam was coming all over Dean’s wrist and the table. Dean wasn’t far behind, filling Sam up with his come, marking him from the inside.

 

“Hah,” Sam panted, sweaty and sated, enjoying the feel of his brother’s cock and come still buried inside him; if they fucked in bed sometimes he liked to go to sleep that way.

 

The table groaned-

 

“Holy shit!” Dean pulled Sam into his arms, cock still inside him,  just as a leg on the table snapped and gave way, collapsing to the ground.

 

“We broke a table having sex,” Sam said incredulously.

 

“You should be in awe of my skills, Sammy.”

 

“You’re fixing it.”

 

Dean felt his dick stir again and rolled his hips, smirking when Sam let out a gasp. “How about I fuck you all night long, and I fix it tomorrow?”

 

“Deal,” Sam grinned, and pulled Dean in for a soul-searing kiss.