Work Header

No Place But Here

Chapter Text

The first thing Dean became aware of upon opening his eyes was pain. Not at all a pleasant way to wake up. Blinking slowly Dean stared up at wooden panels along the ceiling. It didn't make sense, being here in this room, because Dean was fairly positive he had been camping with his friends in the middle of the forest just that morning. They had been hiking, Dean remembered that much at least.

Pushing up from the mattress, Dean scowled and lifted his palm to his temple, mind spinning as the world tilted unsteadily beneath him.

"Fuck," he hissed as his lower body shifted on the sheets, slipping out from a thin blanket, revealing a splint fashioned from planks and rope around his left leg. Damn his leg was radiating pain up his body in slow twists. Leaning against the wall Dean blew out a slow breath and looked around the small room his bed was in.

There wasn't much, a wooden chair that looked crooked, as if homemade. A small table beside it, a bowl on top. It was completely silent, outside the faint chatter of birds barely penetrating the wooden logs making up the walls.

There was no window in the room but the floor was splashed with the faint light from the room beyond his own. If the pain in his body hadn't been so intense Dean might have started to panic slightly because seriously waking up in a cabin in the middle of the Ozark without a person in sight? More than a little disturbing.

Dean swallowed roughly, throat sore and dry. A harsh cough shook his lungs, causing him to wince a moment later as pain radiated from his rib cage. Great, he'd probably broken his ribs too. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Lifting a hand to touch a stinging cut along his eyebrow, Dean searched his memory to try and make sense of this scenario. They'd been traveling along the edge of a cliff, heading up the mountain, and Dean had just been pointing out how much a fall like that would suck. Then something had shifted beneath his foot, and Leslie had screamed, then everything went black.

Until he woke up.

Something creaked in the distance and Dean's eyes shot up to the door, heart racing in his chest. So the facts stood that Dean had slipped, taken a pretty nasty fall, and now he was in some cabin about to meet his rescuer. Dean just hoped he wasn't some crazy hillbilly who was going to chop him up and eat him for dinner. Or something.


Sam blinked a few times peering around the door frame from where he was standing. Tilting his head to the side he watched the other man carefully, watching him wake up. The man looked like he was in pain, confused - of course - Sam had brought him here while he was unconscious.

His long fingers curled around the door frame and he rested his cheek against his hand. The man in the bed was tall, although not as tall as Sam and he looked strong. Sam had spent a few stolen moments in the morning staring at the freckles that were dabbed across his sun-browned cheeks.

Sam had been glad that the man was unconcious when he'd moved him to the cabin. It had been a difficult trip. Sam had carried him over a mile and then fashioned a kind of litter out of some red oak branches and pulled him the rest of the way. It had taken the better part of twenty-four hours and Sam had been exhausted when they'd finally reached the cabin. He'd reset the break in the man's leg, splinted it just like his Dad's first aid book showed to do.

Watching as the dazed green eyes moved across to the doorway, Sam stepped into the room.

The man who stepped into the doorway was not anything close to what Dean would have imagined. He was impossibly tall, almost touching the door frame, shoulders broad, arms defined by the strong curves of muscles. Dean swallowed deeply, taking in the tanned glistened flesh of his chest, six-pack clearly defined. Jesus Christ Dean had been rescued by some greek god hillbilly in the middle of the Ozarks.

Clearing his throat around the lingering roughness, Dean blinked a few times and shifted on the mattress, "Uh... hello." The words sounded strained even to his own ears and Dean rubbed his fingers against his throat.

Tilting his chin up in a greeting, Sam moved slowly to the side of the bed and held out a glass. "Drink," he murmured keeping a careful eye on the stranger. His eyes were kind but that didn't mean he was going to be entirely understanding about his situation. If Sam's father had taught him anything it was that most of the people in the world were far from trustworthy.

Dean took the glass gratefully and brought it to his lips, draining the cool water in several long gulps. His eyes lifted up once more as he offered the glass back to the stranger, taking in his almost shoulder length brown hair that fell in slight waves and guarded hazel eyes that watched him curiously. Dean didn't know where to begin so he said softly, "Thank you. I... did you do this?" He gestured down to the splint on his leg.

Nodding, Sam took the glass and stepped back. "You in pain?"

Sam set the glass carefully on the shelf beside him and moved down the bed to slip the cover back and peer at the man's leg. It was still badly swollen but the wounds were clean and didn’t look infected. Dad's second rule; infection can kill you when you're alone.

"Yes," Dean nodded slowly, watching the man's fingers curl around the blanket. "I'm Dean," he offered, unsettled by the situation as a whole. It definitely wasn't every day you woke up in the middle of nowhere and found a guy like this. "Um, who are you?"

Reaching up to wind his hair around his finger Sam glanced up at him. Dean. The name suited him somehow. "I'm ... Sam." Turning quickly he left the room and moved across to the woodstove. It wasn't quite cool enough yet to have it on but he'd needed to boil the prickly pear that he'd cut to make into a tea. It was stronger than he usually made but he was hoping the intoxicating effect would ease the man's pain and possibly make him sleep longer. Grabbing a rag he pulled the cast iron pot off the stove and poured the opaque liquid through a strainer into some honey. Grabbing a jar of dried willow he pulled some out and ground it up with the pestle then stirred it into the tea. Hands curled around the heavy mug he moved back into the bedroom and held it out to Dean. "It will make the pain better...." he held it out further, urging Dean to take it, "and help you heal."

Taking the mug slowly, Dean eyed the contents before looking up. "Thank you, Sam," he said softly, testing out the name before bringing the mug up to his lips for an experimental sniff. Dean was fairly certain it smelled sweet but he couldn't decipher all the different aromas.

Looking back up at Sam he let his lips press to the rim and sip. It wasn't like anything he'd ever tasted, earthy and sweet, the hint of honey, a mixture of new across his tongue. Taking another small sip Dean smiled softly and considered Sam. "I really appreciate what you've done but um... do you have a phone or something? I should probably call my friends and let them know I'm alive..." Something hummed pleasantly through him as Dean trailed off with another long drink from the mug. Already he was feeling a little more relaxed, the pain dulling.

Shaking his head Sam shrugged a shoulder. "No... no phone." His fingers curled around a piece of hair again, twisting it nervously. "I brought you ... a long way." Sam's back muscles were still aching even though it was well over a day ago.

"They won't find us here." It wasn't a threat, it was merely a statement but Sam saw the shadow of fear darken Dean's face.

Swallowing another large mouthful of tea, Dean blinked slowly. "Um... okay," he murmured and looked around the room once more. Everything was blurring slightly around the edges and Dean felt a distinct, sharp jab of panic rise in him. Great, he'd been drugged by a sexy greek god hillbilly man who had him trapped in some cabin in the middle of nowhere. "You're not gonna kill me are you?" He asked quietly, hating that his words sounded slightly slurred.

"No." Sam smiled and stepped forward to grab the mug as it started to tip in Dean's hands. Putting the mug on the shelf beside the glass Sam reached down, hesitated, then smoothed Dean's hair back from his forehead. "I'm not going to hurt you," he rubbed his thumb over the man's temple gently, careful to avoid the cuts on his face. "I helped you."

Leaning into the warm, calloused fingers, Dean hummed softly, "Yeah, suppose you did." His body was tingling slightly now, the pain almost completely gone. Shifting along the wall Dean slid back until he could once more stretch out along the mattress. It wasn't like a usual bed, Dean couldn't pinpoint what the difference was but it certainly wasn't normal. "You... you live here alone?" Dean asked softly, eyes fluttering.

Nodding again Sam smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Just me. I have a raccoon that lives here too, he won't bite you though." Dean's hair was smooth and soft under his fingers and Sam liked the way it had smelled when he'd found him. Sweet somehow, like vanilla or something but a weaker scent.

"When you are better, I'll take you as far as the nearest road and you can go home." He sighed, watching as Dean struggled to stay awake then pulled his hand away and tucked the blanket back up over Dean's chest.

"Kay..." Dean swallowed a few times and let his eyes drift closed.


It was odd - having another body in the cabin again after so long. Sam hadn't seen another human being since his father had died three years prior. Before that - there had been only the occasional person as Sam grew up. Bobby he'd seen a few times over the years but he'd stopped coming long before Sam's father had died. John and Bobby hadn't always seen eye-to-eye on things and Bobby had seemed to think that Sam should have gone back to town with him. John wouldn't allow it.

Wandering back out into the main room Sam started to make some soup. Dean would need some good nutritious food if he was going to heal. It was unlikely that anyone would find them. There was very dense forest, muskeg and one safe passage through the lower part of the mountain - the searchers could be looking for months before they found any sign of Dean. They certainly wouldn't think to look higher in elevation either - assuming that Dean, if he were able, would have traveled down the mountainside.. Sam would be safe and when Dean was mobile again he would get him through the worst of the traveling and set him on his way back to his world.

Yanking up a trap door in the floor Sam kneeled down and reached in to grab a mason jar full of soup stock then flipped the door down again. He'd spent his entire life learning how to prepare food, cultivate what he needed to survive, cook, fix things, build what he might want. That was Sam's entire life. Surviving day to day.

Spooning some of the stock into a large ceramic pot Sam set it aside and reached for a container of water. He had some vegetables to throw in and some quail he would roast for Dean later. Once the soup was started Sam cleaned up the mess and moved to the front porch of the cabin. He needed enough water to heat up to wash Dean's wounds again. Sam would remember to explain the rules to Dean later, the rules that had kept him alive his entire life.

It took Sam a few hours to get his water hauled for the next few days and he built a fire in the pit that was a short walk from the cabin, started the Quail cooking and the water heating. He'd been away for a while and realized he'd completely forgotten about Dean as he worked. It was the way of things there - routine. Striding back up the steep slope to the cabin Sam grabbed a cloth and wiped the sweat off his face as he wandered around the corner into the bedroom to find Dean slowly waking up. "How are you feeling?"

Dean groaned softly as he tentatively stretched his muscles, testing the limits of his pain. "A little better," he said quietly and looked up toward Sam. There was a lingering fine sheen of sweet on his skin, working it's way along the grooves of flesh. Dean swallowed thickly. He could just imagine licking that sweat off, which was totally an inappropriate thought to be having at this point in time. Pushing up until he was slightly sitting, Dean leaned into the wall and exhaled slowly, "I uh... need to go to the bathroom."

Sam stared at him for a moment, "You just gotta piss?" Leaning against the doorframe he stared over at Dean wiping the cloth across his chest.

"Uh, yeah," Dean nodded, surprised that the word made a flush of embarrassment rise up in him. It was likely the fact that they came from different worlds, completely, one hundred percent different. Pushing to the edge of the mattress Dean struggled to stand, pain stinging along his ribs.

"Stay..." Sam was across the room quickly taking Dean by the shoulders and holding him back from putting weight on his leg. "You can't stand on your leg."

Wrapping an arm around Dean's shoulder he made sure he was stable, "You sit here for a minute." He moved away slowly, taking a few steps back then turned and opened the wooden trunk in the corner and pulled out a stainless steel urinal. Back at Dean's side he handed it to him. "Here, can you ... manage?" Nervous, he held Dean's shoulder again.

"Oh um... yeah, I should be able to," Dean flushed and looked away, reaching up to take the urinal. He waited until Sam left the room before shifting around on the mattress, tugging down at his pants. It definitely wasn't easy work but there was no way Dean was asking for Sam's help in this situation. There were just some lines that shouldn't be crossed. Once he'd managed to empty his bladder Dean dragged his pants back up and awkwardly set the urinal to the side.

"Um..." Dean cleared his throat once more and looked up toward the door. Not seeing Sam he called a little louder, "I'm done now."

Striding back into the room Sam picked the urinal up and took it outside to the outhouse to empty it. It was going to be a while before Dean was able to make the trip himself; it was a good thing that Sam had spent so much time taking care of his father while he was ill. While he was ... dying. Sam rolled his shoulders and tried to shake off the sadness. He'd been alone for so long.

Back at the cabin in a few minutes Sam peered around the door frame into the bedroom. "Want to wash?" Tilting his head slightly he watched Dean's face for signs of returning pain.

"Oh..." Dean rolled the muscles along his back, frowning at the pull along his ribs. "I uh, not sure I'm up for it right now," he wet his lips slowly and looked around the room. The idea of being stuck in here for weeks until he could walk wasn't really appealing. "Is there any... food?"

"I'll bring you some soup and then I'll wash you." Sam moved out of the room quickly returning a few moments later with a mug full of soup and some of the meat he'd already pulled off the quail. "Here, eat..." he handed the mug to Dean waiting until he took it and put the small plate of meat beside him on the bed.

"Thank you," Dean's lips tilted up in a slight smile as he brought the mug forward. It seemed Sam was very eager to please, which made Dean wonder even more about him and his mysterious circumstances. After a few long drinks he let the mug rest warmly between his fingers and looked up at Sam, "Do... you want to eat something? You could sit in here with me?" Dean shifted the mug in his grip to reach out for the meat, lifting a piece and taking an experimental bite. It was surprisingly good, seasoned with a mixture of things Dean couldn't pinpoint.

"I ate." Sam waved his hand vaguely at the other room. "You slept a long time." A shy smiled moved onto his lips, "Do you need anything else?"

Sam moved the blanket off Dean's leg slowly. Dragging the pads of his fingers down Dean's shin he checked to make sure the bone was still lined up and the skin felt warm.

"I'm okay," Dean said softly, watching Sam's fingers slide down his skin. "Thank you again. You didn't have to do all this to help me." A small smile played across his lips as he popped a piece of meat into his mouth and chewed. "So how long have you been living out here?"

Sam's eyes stayed on the cuts on Dean's leg for a few moments then he glanced up at the man's face, "My whole life."

Moving across the room swiftly he returned with a small bottle of willow oil and a clean cloth. Dabbing some of the oil on to a corner of the cloth he rubbed it over the cuts and bruises gently. "Let me know if I hurt you."

The only person he'd spent time with, his father, was a really quiet man. Sam wasn't used to answering questions, conversation for the sake of conversation. It was strange. Not unpleasant - but strange. Resting his hand on Dean's shin he looked up and smiled. "Does that soup taste alright? I made it the way I like it."

"It's really good." Dean nodded, curling his fingers around the mug again to sip from it. Whole life. Dean could hardly stand camping in the forest for a full weekend without the usual comforts of home, to never have them...

"You... you haven't always lived here alone right? I mean, well clearly as a child you couldn't..." Dean chuckled softly and glanced at Sam. "You weren't raised by wolves or something right?"

Blinking, Sam frowned. "No, I was raised by my Dad." Walking over to the shelf Sam put the small bottle away. "He died a .. a few years ago."

Sam wasn't entirely sure how much time had passed but he knew it had been three winters alone. "I took care of him here until..." he waved the rest of the thought aside. He'd never spoken about his father's death and the words seemed completely foreign on his tongue.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Dean watched Sam with sad eyes. He felt pretty damn shitty for even bringing it up, wanting to smack himself in the head for even suggesting that Sam grew up all alone here.

Of course his curiosity was sparked and he wanted to know all about Sam and this mysterious world outside everything he knew but Dean was beginning to get the feeling Sam didn't talk about himself often. Which was a pretty big duh when he thought about it. Apparently the fall knocked away some valuable brain cells in Dean as well of damaging his body.

"Hey, did you find a bag with me? By my body?" Dean perked up at the thought. His bag wasn't going to fix everything but it at least had some of the essentials that would help Dean feel more comfortable.

Bending over Sam reached under the bed and pulled out Dean's day pack. "Here, I didn't look in it." Sam left it on the bed. "Are you finished eating?" He wanted to clean Dean up, get rid of the rest of the blood from around his wounds so that they stayed free of infection.

"Oh, um," Dean glanced at the meat and picked up the last few pieces, popping them quickly into his mouth before draining the rest of the soup. The food felt warm and pleasant in his system and counteracted the pain.

"Yeah, thanks, here you go." Dean offered the plate and mug, feeling the urge to say thank you once more though he already had so many times in the last few minutes.

Leaving the room without a word, Sam washed up the plate and mug. The soup could be kept simmering for the rest of the day and Dean could eat whenever he was hungry. Pouring some water into a bucket from the cast iron pot Sam added a bit of cold from the pitcher and grabbed another clean cloth before returning to Dean's bedside. "I need to clean you ... your wounds."

Sam blinked his eyes rapidly, unaccustomed to feeling uncomfortable. He didn't seem to know what to say to Dean, how to word things the right way.

"Okay," Dean shifted on the bed, glancing down at himself to see where all the wounds were. It was hard to pin point when his whole body was aching almost everywhere. "Should I lay down?" He asked softly, looking up at Sam. God the guy was really gorgeous, in that special sort of way where he didn't seem to realize he was. It was like an innocent beauty. It was really no wonder Dean trusted him, Sam had the type of face that you instinctively trusted.

"Just a minute, I don't want to turn you." Sitting on the edge of the bed Sam dipped the cloth in the bucket and looked at Dean through the hair that had fallen over his eyes. "Lean into me." Holding his arm out Sam pulled gently on Dean's shoulder guiding him forward to rest against his chest. "Don't try and hold yourself up - I think your ribs might be cracked, just relax against me."

Dean swallowed and sank into Sam's chest, leaning heavily against him, arm curling around his shoulder. It stung along his chest, causing him to suck in a quick breath, but feeling the heat of Sam's strong muscles against him kind of made up for the pain. "You smell good," Dean said softly, flushing slightly at the words that slipped past his lips out of his control. But Sam did smell good. All earthy and musky and a little intoxicating.

Rubbing the cloth gently over Dean's back Sam washed him as quickly as he could without hurting him. "You smell good too," he turned his face quite naturally into Dean's hair. "Your hair smells... I've never smelled that before."

Taking a deep breath he buried his nose in the soft curls behind Dean's ear. "It's fading," he murmured, still rubbing the cloth over Dean's back. Holding the man up against his chest was causing a bit of a tempest to flare up inside Sam. It felt good to touch someone else, but the strange sensations were stirring up unusual feelings in Sam.

Surprised by the tingle of heat through him, Dean swallowed thickly and curled his fingers into Sam's back, wetting his lips. "It's uh... my shampoo. Vanilla something or other," he murmured, shifting slightly on the bed to adjust the faint arousal crawling through him. Dean wasn't one hundred percent sure about things regarding this man but he had a hunch he was unaware of how much those little touches were affecting him. "I... have some in my bag. I read a brochure that said, that said the smell might attract animals," he explained, stumbling over his words slightly.

"I like it but it does smell like something you could eat." Sam ran his free hand over Dean's hair hoping to stir up the smell again, sighed, and finished washing his shoulders. "Okay," his long fingers curled around the back of Dean's neck, "straight back to the mattress," he ordered.

"Uh huh," Dean shifted back on the bed laying out with the guide of Sam's hands. "Thank you for doing this," he said again, staring up at Sam's form. "I know you don't have to. You could have left me at the bottom of that cliff."

"You would have been dead when they found you," he shrugged, "or a bear ..." he mumbled the last word as he tugged the covers down, dipped the cloth once more then wiped it over Dean's broad chest. As his moved the cloth too near one of the deeper cuts Dean winced; Sam pulled the cloth back and leaned forward to blow on the cut. "Sorry, the oil in the water will sting a little." He blew on the cut some more then glanced up at Dean. "Better?"

Dean blinked owlishly at Sam, the pain instantly gave way to a tingling wave of pleasure from Sam’s warm breath along his skin. "What?" He stared at the man for a minute before dropping his head and chuckling, "yeah, better. I... yeah."

Dean could feel the arousal in him build up and he frowned softly. Pretty soon Sam was going to notice his semi-hard-on which was pretty awkward. "Have you ever done this before? Saved some one from being eaten by bears?" He chuckled softly to ease the tension in his body.

"No," Sam frowned, "I've only seen Bobby and he doesn't come here anymore." Sam smiled and looked up at Dean's face, "You're unusual." Curling his fingers over the waistband of Dean's hiking pants Sam pulled them down and wiped the cloth low across the man's abs. "Where are you from? Far away?"

Clamping down on his bottom lip for a moment, Dean's mind zeroed in on the touch low on his body. "Um..." he was really having a difficult time conversing with this man which seemed pretty ironic in the grand scheme of things. If anyone had an excuse to be a big fumbling idiot it was Sam, not him. "I'm from Texas, or, that's where I live now. I'm out here visiting some friends, who thought camping was a smart idea," Dean blew out a long breath and fought against the urge to arch his hips up into touch for more. He continued to tell himself that it was unlikely Sam had any idea how the touch was affecting him.

"Camping is dangerous for most people. They don't know what they're doing. It's all one big world, everything relies on everything else. People come out here and they affect the way things are, upset the balance." His eyes darted up to Dean's and he blew out a breath realizing he was talking too much. Pushing up from the bed Sam dropped the cloth in the bucket. "Let's get your pants off and I can wash them."

Swallowing once more Dean considered Sam before dropping his hands to his waistband. "This was my first time, camping that is," Dean said softly, hips shifting up slightly to drag over his hips. At this angle he could half cover his tented boxers and Sam would be none the wiser. "Guess it didn't turn out too well," he murmured softly and blew out a low, slightly painful breath as he dropped back on the mattress.

"Try not to use your muscles so much, let me help you more." Sliding his arm under the small of Dean's back Sam leaned forward and using sheer muscle power lifted the man's hips enough to slide his pants the rest of the way down. He lowered Dean back onto the bed gently.

"Okay?" Resting his hand on Dean's waist he looked up and smiled. At least Dean wasn't fighting Sam while he tried to help - he'd been a little worried about that at first. He was reminded of all his father's stories about how paranoid city people were. How they thought that people were all out to get them.

Dean considered Sam for along moment, acutely aware of how his boxers did very little to hide anything from Sam. On most occasions Dean could judge a person, determine how they might react to the news Dean was about to deliver Sam, but it was impossible to know the outcome of this. Sam wasn't like anyone else, clearly, and Dean was still trying to decide if this was a good or bad thing. "Sam, I... I think you should know something about me, to be fair. So uh, you can be wise about the way you touch... me... and stuff." Face heating at the words Dean looked to the side and blew out another long breath. "I'm gay."

Sam blinked and leaned down to pick up the cloth. "You like to have relationships with men." He slid the cloth over Dean's left thigh, leaning closer and wincing as he had to dab at a rather nasty looking cut.

Before John had died he had always answered Sam's unending stream of questions. Looking back, Sam couldn't remember how it had come up but he remembered John telling him that some people chose to be with people of the opposite gender, some chose the same. "I don't have relationships ... well, I've never had one." His hand froze for a moment and he looked up again. "Am I bothering you by touching you? I can stop, I'm really just trying to help." And, he actually liked touching another warm body. Sam had liked watching Dean while he slept, his face was nice - like he belonged in some of the books that Sam had.

"I wouldn't exactly say bother," Dean mumbled, and pursed his lips. "It's uh... obviously... affecting me though and well, you know, you keep touching..." Dean lifted his head to stare at Sam, tucking an arm under his head. "I just thought you should know. I'm not gonna jump on you or anything like that, clearly. Broken ribs and all. God, I should just shut up," Dean groaned softly and closed his eyes. Nothing like being a babbling idiot while some gorgeous guy was bathing his thighs.

"Oh." Sam stopped for a moment. "You mean it feels good." Moving to Dean's other thigh Sam wiped at the rest of the dried blood. "My Dad said that most people don't say what they think. I say what I think." Sam smiled and brushed his hair back from his face with his forearm. "By the way, you couldn't jump me - you're not nearly strong enough even without injuries." Standing once more he moved down to lift Dean's pant leg over the splint and remove them completely. "I"ll wash them with my clothes. Do you have more clothes in your bag that you want to put on?" Sam peer curiously up at Dean's backpack. "Do you have other things in there I can smell?"

Dean stared at Sam for a long moment. Definitely wasn't how most people would react given the information Dean had just provided him. "Um, yes, I believe I do," Dean rolled slightly to tug his bag close, pulling at the zipper. Sorting around he pulled out a pair of jeans, two shirts and a pair of boxers. "I'd appreciate it... if you could wash these," Dean smiled at him for a moment before looking back in the bag. A few moments later he tugged out his bottle of cologne, his shampoo, and his after shave. "You might like the smell of these."

Grabbing the shampoo Sam fumbled with the bottle for a few moments then managed to flip the top open. "That's the smell in your hair," he sniffed at it again, "but it smells nice mixed with your smell." His eye watered a little when he lifted the glass bottle of cologne up to his face. It was a tiny bottle, fit into the palm of his hand and even though Sam couldn't think of a practical use for something that small the colored glass was beautiful. He held it up to the light coming through the window.

"You smell nicer than this does." He dropped the two glass bottles back into the bag and held on to the shampoo, "can I have some?" He smiled shyly then his eyes brightened. "You said I smelled good, smell my hair." Hands on either side of Dean's chest he lowered himself down careful not to put any weight on Dean's body.

Jesus Christ this guy really had no idea about physical closeness and how it could affect a person. Inhaling sharply Dean pulled in Sam's smell and swallowed around the heat stirring up in him, "You uh, you smell good. I don't think you really need shampoo but if you want to use it you can." Dean lifted up slightly, burying his nose in Sam's hair for a moment before turning his face to let his nose slide along Sam's cheek. Every part of him did smell amazing and Dean drank in the smell, enjoying the way it filled his senses. "Do you use anything as shampoo now?"

Sam tucked his cheek to his shoulder, surprised at the way it felt when Dean's nose touching his cheek. He pulled back quickly, "I sometimes ... sometimes I use crushed up geranium in the water. It's good for skin." Licking his lips nervously, unsettled by the way his heart was suddenly racing he pushed up from the bed and yanked the blanket back up over Dean. "If you're okay I should go somewhere else for a while." He took a few steps backwards then remembered the bucket and darted forward to pick it up. "If you need something ... call me." He walked out of the room and took a deep breath once he was in the hallway and dropped back to lean against the wall. He'd been alone too long.

For awhile Dean simply stared at the door, wondering what had caused Sam to turn tail and run like that. Then he realized touching his lips so close to Sam's cheek was pretty damn stupid. Apparently Dean wasn't in his right mind or something, he was doing a really good job of making a fool out of himself. Sighing softly Dean shifted on the bed to roll on his side.

Over the next few hours Dean dozed on and off, letting himself drift off when the pain threatened to be too overwhelming to be tolerable. At some point he was aware of Sam walking quietly and setting another glass of water by him on the small table but otherwise he didn't see much of the man. The sun set in between his naps and Dean had a brief moment of panic when he woke in the pitch dark, steadying himself before he shot up out of pain and caused more damage to himself.

It took longer to fall back to sleep after waking with such a start and Dean stared into the darkness until his eyes adjusted enough to feel comfortable. Shifting slightly, Dean was relieved to find the urinal close enough to reach and use, though he felt beyond awkward leaving it sitting on the floor after he'd done his business. He wondered what the rest of the cabin looked like, where Sam slept, whether the forest outside his home looked any different from the rest of the giant expanse of woods.

At some point Dean drifted off to sleep again and didn't wake again until sunlight was once more pouring into the open door of his room. Dean felt a lot better now than he had the day before, though the pain in his chest and leg were still very present.

Sighing softly Dean shifted up on the mattress and tugged on his backpack, pulling it open to look over the inside contents. Some snack foods for the hike, a book, his cell phone - which wouldn't even turn on - a bottle of old water, his watch. It all seemed pretty trivial. Even his wallet was useless in a place like this. Opening his wallet Dean pulled out the picture of his family, scratching along his forehead as he stared down at their familiar features and considered them silently.

"Hello," Sam peered around the door frame, "can I come in?"

He'd spent most of the night sleeping just outside the door in case Dean needed him but the man had barely made a sound. It had been a long night. Sam had thought over all the things that Dean had told him and decided that he should stay away, give the man a bit of space and let him heal in peace. He certainly didn't want to make the only person who had ever been here uncomfortable.

"Please do," Dean looked up and smiled up at Sam, repositioning on the mattress. "I was... just looking at my family," Dean held out the picture. "My mom, dad, little sister. I was thinking... about whether they'd heard yet. It's been a couple days?" He asked softly, looking at Sam with curious eyes.

Sam nodded and took the photo. Staring at it for a long while he smiled. "They look nice, your sister has pretty hair." He held the picture out for Dean and froze. "You have a book."

Stepping closer as Dean took the photo back Sam leaned closer. "Can I read it?" Sam had read every book in the cabin so many times he almost had them all memorized. Curiosity got the better of him and his idea to keep his distance from Dean and he settled back down on the edge of the bed. Reaching out he picked up one of the snack bars, "What's this?"

Dean couldn't help smiling, tucking the photo back into his wallet and resolving to speak to his parents again once he was home. Or try to talk to them. He could only do so much. "Those are granola bars. Would you like to try one?" He nodded at Sam, urging him to continue as he pulled the book out. "This is” The Da Vinci Code”, by Dan Brown... I uh... I'm assuming you haven't read it. So by all means, feel free," he held it out as well, watching the man.

Grinning Sam tucked the book under his arm, "I'll be very careful with it." He tore open the granola bar and sniffed it. It smelled very sweet. Breaking off a piece he held it up to Dean's lips, smiling. "You first..." He wanted to make sure that Dean kept eating while he was healing.

Eyes locking on Sam's features Dean took in a deep breath before leaning forward slightly and opening his mouth. The sweet granola sparked taste across his tongue, mixed with the faint salt from Sam's flesh. Chewing slowly Dean watched Sam, trying to determine if the flick of his tongue along the pad of Sam's finger had any affect on the man. "Thank you," he said quietly, dropping his gaze.

As he watched his own fingers near Dean's lips Sam could feel that strange heat building in him again. He shivered like he was cold which didn't make any sense and rubbed at the goosebumps on his arm. Laughing softly he looked away for a few moments, embarrassed. "I like your lips," he murmured eyes looking everywhere but at Dean. The man's lips were the color of crushed berries, wider than Sam's own lips and more full.

Swallowing past his discomfort Sam shifted back a little and pulled off another piece of the sticky bar. Sniffing it once more he popped it into his mouth; the taste was overpowering and he let his hand fall to Dean's chest. It was sweet, chewy and his eyes widened in pleasure; he had tasted things sweetened with honey and the mostly earthy sweet of dandelion wine but nothing like this. "S’good," he mumbled as he chewed, fingers curling against Dean's chest.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, glancing down at the fingers on his chest before looking back up Sam. "It's supposed to be healthy for you, but it's packed full of sugars and such..." Dean shrugged gently, wincing at the slight pain. "Do you think... could I get out of this bed for awhile? Not that it's not comfortable, I just... you know, two days stuck in the same place wears on you," he smiled tentatively at Sam, urging him with a wave of his hand to continue eating the granola bar.

Munching away on the granola bar Sam nodded. "Would you like to sit by the stove this evening? It's going to be cooler, I can smell it outside." Saving the last piece of granola bar for Dean Sam folded the wrapper carefully and blushed as he looked down. Very slowly he held the snack up to Dean's mouth fingers resting lightly against the other man's cheek.

Dean could really get used to Sam feeding him like this, it was certainly enjoyable. Turning into the fingers Dean opened his mouth and pulled the granola in, tongue flicking out once more to touch Sam's skin and swipe the lingering flavor from the flesh. "I would like that," he said softly, watching Sam as he chewed on the remainder of the granola. "Do I make you nervous?"

Sam ran his hand through his hair and slipped the snack bar wrapper in the pocket of his pants. "Do you want to go out there now?" His hands fiddled with the hem of his shirt as he glanced up at Dean's face.

"Sure," Dean nodded and scooted across the mattress until he could drop his legs over the edge, splint holding his damaged leg in place. Dean belatedly realized he was still only in his boxers and he glanced down at himself before looking up Sam. "Do you happen to have any sweats or something I could borrow?"

Sam slid off the bed and out of the room coming back with some very worn flannel pants and a big wool sweater. "Here," he knelt at Dean's feet and carefully slipped the splint into the flannel pants and pulled them up. "Lean on me," he held up one hand for Dean's, smiling at the feel of the other man's hand in his.

He pulled Dean up gently, "just don't put weight on your leg." As Dean stood slowly, Sam stood with him and pulled the pants up for him. Smiling down at Dean he breathed in again trying to steal some of the vanilla smell without appearing too obvious. "Do you want the sweater? I have blankets out there if you'd rather just wrap up..." It was really hard not to stare into Dean's eyes. They were the same color as the willow leaves in spring.

"Sweater works," Dean nodded, shifting back from Sam enough to help him pull the sweater on. It was soft and so worn it felt more comfortable than any clothing Dean had ever worn.
"You're really gracious, you know," Dean said softly, leaning back into Sam's body heavily as the man continued to help him out of the room. "I'm fairly certain more than half the people in this world would have just left me at the bottom of that cliff. And you... bringing me into your home, sharing your resources, patching me up, you've definitely got some good karma coming your way."

"You said thank you, you don't have to keep thanking me." Sam smiled and kicked at his bedding as they moved out into the living room. "I was sleeping there," he muttered, "in case you wanted anything."

Dean's body felt firm against his and Sam moved his finger slowly over the side of the other man's ribs. The sweater was big on him, the pants too long and it made Sam smile. Dean looked like one of the little kids in the Christmas book. Holding Dean by the shoulders he turned him and tucked both his arms under the other mans so he could lower him onto the pillow-covered wooden bench near the stove. Leaning down over Dean Sam propped the pillows behind him then helped to raise his leg up on the bench. "Comfortable?"

"I am, thank... you," Dean looked up at Sam and laughed, head tilting back slightly. "Sorry, I guess I was raised in a really polite home or something," Dean's eyes turned around the living room curiously, scanning over the small stack of books, the random little items that Dean knew he'd have to get close to if he wanted to get a real good idea what each was used for. The cabin was comfortable, warm, lived in. "I like your home," Dean turned back to Sam, thinking of his own mostly empty apartment back home. A home that was hardly his any more. "You know, my friends dragged me on this trip to try and shake the funk I've been in recently, guess an extended stay in the middle of nowhere without any means of contacting them is going to give me that chance."

"Why are you in a funk?" Sam paced over to the stove and pried the top open long enough to put another log inside then stirred the tea the was steeping there. Watching Dean out of the corner of his eye he could see how curious Dean was; he watched the man's eyes move over almost everything in the cabin. Sam knew that his home must be very different from what Dean was used to. Fixing Dean a cup of dandelion tea with lots of honey Sam brought it back to him and dropped to the floor in front of the bench to sit cross-legged.

Dean took the cup gratefully and smiled at Sam, sipping from the steaming liquid before cupping his fingers around the mug and resting his forearms on his thighs. "Well, it's been a long few years. I came out to my family a few years ago, didn't go over so well. I uh, actually haven't seen them for awhile. My parents really aren't interested in any communication. Which in the grand scheme sucks but it wasn't too bad," Dean swirled the liquid slowly in the cup, watching it move in gentle circles. "About half a year ago this guy and I broke up. We'd been together for awhile. It... fuck it was awful. Kind of lost myself for awhile. So my friends dragged me out here. And... here I am," Dean shrugged and looked at Sam. "That must sound all very trivial, huh?"

"No." Sam turned a bit and leaned his arm on the couch by Dean's hip. "I think it must be horrible to have your heart broken. I think it must really hurt," he reached his free hand up and rested it on Dean's chest. "Does it feel bad still sometimes when you think about it?" Sam really had nothing to compare it to. When his father had died he'd been sad, then scared. The thought of being alone all the time - for the rest of his life seemed overwhelming. "One day ... then another day..." he murmured.

"Yeah it still hurts sometimes, but more because of the way it ended. He cheated on me, with a close friend. So, you know, it was a lot to deal with. Especially since I'd known both guys more than half my life," Dean sighed and rubbed at his forehead before draining half the warm liquid in the cup. "But it's been awhile now and the hurt has mostly faded. I think it hits me the most when I think of something we both would have thought was funny and I go to tell him but... he's not there," Dean fixed his eyes on Sam and shrugged. "It's weird, to feel so lonely with all these people around. Guess I just put a lot of stock into that one thing and when it ended, I didn't think I had much left."

"It must be really nice to fall in love though," Sam's hand slid off Dean's chest and he sighed. Sam couldn't even conceive of that that kind of relationship would be like. Sure, he'd read all the books that his father had brought and then the ones Bobby had left on his last visit. But, in the books it nearly always ended up being something miserable and Sam's father had said love wasn't always like that - that it could be easy too.

"Yes, it can be amazing." Dean nodded slowly and considered Sam for awhile, watching the unknown play of emotions on his face. "Do you think you'll stay here forever? All alone? I mean, wouldn't you like to find a nice girl somday, settle down and have kids?"

Sam looked down at his fingers where they traced the pattern of the blanket. "I have no one to go to ... no family. This is my home and .. I doubt anyone would want me." He smiled up at Dean then looked away again.

"The only things I've learned is what my Dad taught me and from all the books here. I've read them all so many times. But I didn't ever go to school ... or anything." Sam remembered when he was young and reading many of the books for the first time being angry at the decisions his father had made, bringing them out into the middle of nowhere. It had seemed so unfair when he was a kid, now, Sam just viewed it as the way things were meant to work out for him. "I've never even met a girl." He shrugged, "well, not that I remember anyway. Maybe when I was a baby."

"Oh," Dean nodded, considering the room around him as he thought over Sam's words. "Well for the record I think you'd be a real catch. You're drop dead gorgeous, and you know, sweet and kind, nice, friendly," Dean chuckled and reached out to lay his hand on the man's arm, curling his fingers. "To the right person, things like education and stuff don't matter you know? I used to think there was one person meant for each of us but I think that it's more there's a right type of person you know?"

Sam rubbed his fingers on the goose bumps that slid up his arm from where Dean's fingers touched him. "No...I don't really." Sam laughed softly and lined his fingers up with Dean's. "Do I have big hands?" He blinked a few times and looked up. "Do you get goose bumps when I touch you?" Tilting his head slightly he met Dean's gaze.

"I wouldn't really call them goose bumps," Dean smiled and let his fingers rest against Sam's. "But I definitely feel something that's not normal with most people. Something like a spark."

He turned his gaze from Sam's features to the press of their hands together. "Your hands aren't so big. For your height. I'm sure all of you is big." Dean blinked wide eyed at him, mind instantly supplying where exactly Sam would be big. It was probably a good thing Sam's mind didn't come programed that way.

"A spark," Sam echoed as he turned Dean's hand over. His long fingers ran over the lines on Dean's palm. His skin was so soft. Pulling his hand back into his lap Sam rubbed at the callouses on his own hands. "You have really soft skin." Without looking up Sam stood and moved back over to the stove to warm his hands.

"I don't do nearly the type of work you have to do." Dean matched Sam's quiet tone, watching his body move gently. "I... I don't mind, you touching my skin. It's nice. It's been awhile since someone touched me without the air of sympathy behind it." He sighed softly and shifted his hand through his hair. "So what do you do during the day? Tell me about the life you lead out here."

Shrugging, Sam kept his back to Dean for a while. "I cook, fix things. There are fences around my cabin for safety... animals... I have some corn...well, not right now - but I grow things depending on the season." He walked over to the front door and latched the door then pulled a rolled up blanket across it to keep the breeze at bay.

"When I have free time I carve things..." Sam glanced over his shoulder and smiled, "would you like to see the chess set I made?"

A wide smile curved Dean's lips up and he nodded, settling on the bench. "Sure. We could play a game? I can't say I'm really good but you know, if you want." Dean shrugged and scratched along his head for a moment. "What else do you carve?"

Smiling Sam dragged another trunk across the wooden floor and kneeled down by Dean again. Flipping the trunk open he pulled out a box. It fit in the palm of Sam's hand. "I make boxes... that are like puzzles." Holding the box flat on the palm of his hand he held it up. There was a cross on the top in dark grained wood and Sam slid one arm of the cross forward then the other and twisted the lid and the box opened. "Do you like it?"

"Wow," Dean stared down at the box, reaching out to graze his fingers along the fine wood. "This is amazing Sam. Do you know how much money you could make on something like this? People love these types of things," Dean took the box, playing with the lid slowly so not to damage anything.

"Seriously. If you ever..." Dean shrugged, realizing that wasn't the type of thing Sam was after. He didn't have to worry about things like money. "Anyway, it's really awesome."

"You can have that one if you want. If you like it, I mean." Sam closed the trunk lid and left his hands resting on the lid for a few moments. "It's not much but it keeps me busy." Rolling his bottom lip under his teeth he turned and looked back up at Dean.

"You probably have lots of things you could keep in it." Gesturing to the box Sam reached his fingers up slowly and curled them over Dean's arm, thumb rubbing on the veins underneath the smooth skin of his wrist. "How are you feeling?" Staring up at Dean Sam swallowed then glanced back down at his fingers.

Dean stared into Sam's eyes, wetting his lips slowly. "Like I might kiss you though I'm sure I probably shouldn't," he whispered, body humming slightly from the touch along his sensitive skin.

"Kiss me?" Sam's eyes were wide in the dimly lit room. "I've never kissed anyone." Shaking his head he looked away, "I wouldn't even know how." His heart was racing like all the times he ran up the mountainside to the cabin only it felt different; like it was thumping harder or louder. "Can you hear my heartbeat?" Eyes darting up to Dean's for a brief moment Sam took a deep breath. He was sure Dean could hear it.

"No," Dean said softly, extending his hand to lay across Sam's chest and pressing firmly, "I can feel it though." Smiling softly despite the slight sink of his own heart, Dean withdrew his touch and let his hands fall in his lap. "It's okay, about the... you know... I won't force you into anything. I'm sure you weren't anticipating anything when you brought me here," he shrugged and looked away with a slow exhale. "But if you want to, I could probably teach you."

"You could?" Sam licked his lips and shifted a little closer, fingers clenching tighter over Dean's wrist. He could feel his cheeks getting warmer as he thought about Dean's lips. They were very soft looking and Sam was curious. Breathing a little faster he looked up. "What do I do?"

Dean turned to better face Sam and slowly reached up to touch the side of the man's face with the tips of his fingers. "Well, it's fairly simple. You want to make sure your lips are slightly damp, so wet them with your tongue. Then my head tilts one way, your head tilts the other, and we let our lips touch. Just something small, to see if you like it," Dean couldn't help his slight smile. Sam was nervous enough for the both of them; he tried to ignore his own nerves.

Licking his lips again Sam touched them lightly with his finger tips to see if they were wet, smiled again and pushed up on his knees so his face was right in front of Dean's. "Now?" Swallowing nervously he licked his lips once more.

"Yes," Dean murmured, wetting his own lips and taking a deep breath. His hand on Sam's face slid down to cup along his jaw gently, urging him forward with a small pull.

Leaning forward too quickly Sam's mouth collided with Dean's uncomfortably hard ... and still ... it sent shock-waves through his body, things he'd never experienced in his entire life. Heat raced through every part of his body, adrenaline surging through his veins. His hand hovered between them for a few moments as Dean's lips slid gently against his.

Sucking in a deep breath Sam's hand landed hard and pushed against Dean's chest, "M'sorry..." he muttered and moved back so quickly he fell over. "I said ... I wasn't... wouldn't be..." stumbling to his feet Sam whipped the blanket back from the door and fumbled with the latch for a few moments until he finally managed to yank it open. Glancing back over his shoulder he murmured, "Sorry," and slipped out the door closing it softly behind him.

Dean barely had time to process the too brief kiss before Sam was gone and he was left alone in the cabin. Reaching up slowly to touch his lips Dean couldn't help the grin that pulled up the corner of his mouth. He could almost taste Sam, just a faint whisper, but his heart was racing and he suddenly felt more than he had in months. Looking around the cabin he slowly dropped his hand and sighed. This whole thing turned out to be one unexpected circumstance after another. Kissing Sam was definitely something he wouldn't mind repeating though. If the man wasn't too shaken up at least.