RockStarPeach

Title: You And Me
Pairing: gen, mentions of Dean/Cassie
Rating: PG
Word count: 1000
Summary: Set mostly during Route 666 (because seriously, I've seen that episode SO MANY TIMES, it was only a matter of time. Don't ask). Dean’s feeling a little vulnerable after John didn’t answer Sam's call about Dean nearly dying in 'Faith'. Add that to facing Cassie, who dumped him, and maybe he needs a little reassurance from his little brother.

A/N: written for rog457 who said: Its always bothered me that they never explained why John never responded when Sam called him to tell him Dean was dying in Faith, and something like that had to really screw with both the boys heads, so I'd like to see some brotherly comfort with Sam telling/showing Dean how much he cares for him and will always be there for him even if their father isn't.

Err, you didn’t ask for wincest, so this isn’t that, but I hope it’s close enough to what you wanted :)


***

“You called Dad, didn’t you?” Dean asks. His eyes are fixed on the road, his voice doesn’t waiver. His knuckles are tight on the steering wheel, white almost, but they’ve been that way since they put Nebraska in the rearview mirror.

They’re two states down the road now, Roy LeGrange a distant pinprick in their minds. There’s a new case ahead of them, an ex-girlfriend in Missouri, a crushing rejection long past to be re-visited right when he needs it least, right when he’s been cut open and left bleeding by his own Goddamn father.

“Dean…” Sam says, sighs and hedges, stutters on his next breath.

“Right,” Dean says, clipped and short, cutting off whatever Sam wasn’t going to say. He doesn’t need to hear it, he already knows. “That’s what I thought.”

“Dean, he’s…” Sam stops and sighs again. He sucks at this. Dean tells him as much.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Sammy,” he tells him. “Not like it matters. I know he’s got more important shit to deal with.”

“More important that his son dying? Dean, you shouldn’t let him off the hook for this. He should have answered. He should have been there.”

“Dad’s dealing with a lot, right now, Sam,” Dean argues. And he is. Gangking the son of a bitch that killed thier mom comes first, no matter what. Dean believes that, he does. “Six months ago, would you have answered if Dad left you the same message you left him?”

“In a fucking heartbeat,” Sam snaps, the words coming out gritty and harsh, through clenched teeth. Dean blinks and jerks back, lets off the gas just barely. He hadn’t been expecting that and Sam calls him out.

“You’re surprised?”

“You ignored my calls for two fucking years, Sam. Yeah, I’m surprised.”

“That… I was trying to forget you. Trying to live a normal life. You know that. But if I ever thought you were in trouble, real trouble… Hell yes, I would have been there, Dean. And Dad should have been, too.”

“Well, he wasn’t,” Dean says. Sam opens his mouth to respond, but Dean cuts him off with a sharp honk of his horn, when he cuts in front of a green Subaru.

Dean turns up the radio after that, and they don’t talk again until they’re checked into the motel and Dean’s head is spinning with old feelings, dredged up by a slight, beautiful woman, who he once thought he could trust.

***

“She really does seem sorry,” Sam tells him. “If that makes a difference. I think she wishes she’d believed you, back then.”

“Yeah. Her dad’s dead now. If I’d been around, maybe he wouldn’t be. Of course she fucking wishes she’d believed me.”

“Dean, that’s not…”

“Sam, seriously. Shut up, okay?”

Because Sam’s not an idiot, he does.

***

“So are you guys… back together?” Sam asks, when the truck is gone, eaten up by the ghost of a church, the children that had died there, screaming. When Cassie and her mom are safe, when everyone is safe and they’re back in the room, packing their bags. When they're getting ready to head out of town. It's what they do, it's what they always do, but this time, Dean almost doesn't want to. He could live here, he thinks. He doesn't want to, but he could. It might be worth it, if the right person asked him.

But she won't.

He can still taste her watermelon lip gloss on his tongue, can still feel the way her thighs gripped his hips, but she won't ask him to stay.

“Yeah,” Dean answers, facetiously. “We’re gonna sneak phone calls in between banshees and write love notes and she’s gonna send them to… oh, wait, I don’t have an address. No, Sam, of course we’re not back together.”

“You could be. I know it would be hard, but… you could be.”

“No, we couldn’t.”

“Dean, you…”

“Sam, shut up!” he shouts, and Sam’s eyes go wide for a second before he stuffs the last of his shirts in his bag and steps closer to Dean. “I don’t get that, okay? I don’t get the devoted girlfriend, waiting at home for me while I risk my life. I don’t get Dad worrying about me, calling once in a while, caring when my damn heart gives out. I don’t get people giving a shit. I’m not that guy.”

“I give a shit,” Sam corrects, stepping even closer. “I know Dad hurt you, Dean. It was a dick move, him ignoring my calls, but I know he gives a shit, too.”

“Then why…” Dean starts, stops and sucks in a breath. Jesus fucking Christ, he’s going to cry. He can feel it in the hitch of his breath and the way his throat tingles. But no, no he’s not. Dad is a son of a bitch and he doesn’t deserve Dean’s tears.

“I don’t know, Dean,” Sam tells him, words whisper soft, damp and hoarse. Sam’s going to cry too, the giant pussy.

“God, you suck,” Dean says, lets out a wet snort, muted and choked off. “Unless you’re trying to make me feel worse, in which case, bang up job, little brother.”

Sam laughs a little at that, sucks back a mucoussy breath and opens his arms a little. Dean flinches and steps back, because that looks a little too much like Sam’s going to hug him and while Dean might be suffering from a little too much rejection, he doesn’t need a fucking hug.

Only, maybe he does.

Because when Sam says, “I’m here. I’ll always be here, when you need me,” and wraps his arms around Dean’s neck, Dean sighs and lets his own arms fold around Sam’s waist, lets his forehead fall to Sam’s shoulder.

“What the hell could be so important?” Dean wonders, out loud. “What could he be doing that's more important than…”

“Than you?” Sam finishes, when Dean’s voice fades. “I’ll always be here,” Sam says again. “When you need me.”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut, nods shortly. He presses his head hard into Sam’s shoulder while he takes a deep breath and then pulls back, pushes Sam out of his way while he straightens his coat.

“You think she’d really want me?” Dean asks. He tries for casual, doesn’t want to give away, not even to Sam, that he hopes the answer is yes.

“I think she’d be crazy not to,” Sam tells him, smiling as he grabs his bag off the bed. “But like you said, different lives. It probably…”

“No, you’re right. ‘S okay. ‘M better off without anybody tying me down, anyway. We done feelin' our feelings yet, or what?”

“Yeah,” Sam agrees. “We're done. Just you and me, right?”

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean says, as they head out of the room and climb into the car. They’re on their way to say goodbye to Cassie, probably for the last time. “Yeah, just you and me.”

And really, Dean’s okay with that.

END