He'd been dead to the world in sleep, but now that he was waking, he wished he could go back to that state. One by one, alarms started ringing in his head. He smelled of sex and of Dean. He was laying on top of Dean... naked, limbs entwined, held loosely, but held nonetheless. He'd let his brother fuck him senseless... till they were both senseless. He took a deep breath as his heart skipped a beat. His body ached, everywhere. In places he didn't know he could ache. He was afraid to get up, and even more afraid to stay.

Nothing would ever be the same. That scared him the most. It hadn't been perfect between them, but it had been perfect for him.

He slowly climbed off his brother and out of bed, wincing when the simple act of sitting sent a shooting pain up his hole. Yeah, it wasn't gonna be easy forgetting... not at all.

Dean was out cold. Damn him. Why did he get to sleep? Why didn't have all the voices in his head? It wasn't fair.

But he'd stayed. He was here.

A lump formed in Sam's throat. It would have been so easy for Dean to hightail it out of here. To use this as an excuse, to use it to prove he could be dangerous. But he'd stayed.

Sam's gaze swept over the room, and flashes of last night struck him between the eyes. How the bed got so wrecked. The dents on the wall where the headboard had slammed repeatedly into the plaster. How their clothes had gotten strewn around. Dean pressing him against the door as he proved Cassandra had nothing to do with his state of arousal. Dean's hand on his back, pushing him down, the way he growled and kept him in line.

One night. How did one night change their lives? What started this chain of events? Was it the close call with the wolves? Was it something from earlier? The drinking? Or even earlier... from when he'd cuffed Dean. No doubt about it, there had been deep emotions on both sides.

*

When he came back to the room with two coffees, Sam didn't remember getting in the shower. He didn't remember dressing. Or picking up all their clothes. Or tossing his torn shirt into the trash. He didn't even remember cleaning the headboard, or how hard he'd had to fight to keep from pulling the sheets off the bed with Dean still sleeping on them.

One thing he didn't forget, because he couldn't, was the ache that plagued him with every step he took, and which doubled in strength when he sat.

Dean came awake slowly. He wasn’t sure if it was the coffee, or the soft sounds of movement in the room that had finally begun to draw him out of his death like slumber. Nothing like a caffeine addiction to set ones priorities straight. Too bad the smell of coffee wasn’t strong enough to drown out the scent of stale sweat and sex that still hung heavy in the room like a cheap brothel. The scent of his brother clinging stubbornly to every inch of his skin…

His eyes remained closed. Feigning sleep. The subtle change in his breathing, other than the pounding rhythm of his heart, the only sign he was awake.

Fucking coward. An angry voice whispered in his head, and Dean wholeheartedly agreed. Like he really needed any more guilt or shame piled on top of the mountain that was already trying to crush him. Unfortunately it didn’t shame him enough to open his eyes. Not yet anyway. He just… needed a few moments, to get his head together before facing… everything…

What a polite way to put it. How about the colossal shit storm he’d made out of their lives because of the simple fact that he was alive. Because he was a fucking animal. Because he’d… Fuck, why beat around the bush? Because he’d fucked his baby brother raw last night and loved every minute of it.

Dean tensed, and he knew he wasn’t doing a very good job of pretending to be asleep, but he wasn’t really thinking about that right now. Even as guilt twisted like a hot knife in his stomach making him want to retch, the memory of how his brother had felt like in his hands, how he’d tasted, what he’d sounded like when he came, it made his skin flush, excitement stirring him… fuck, he could get hard right now if he let himself… he was thinking about his little brother! Sammy… But his body didn’t seem to care how his mind objected.

He was keenly aware of his mostly naked state. He was still dressed in his jeans, for what it was worth, though they were still bunched around the middle of his thighs leaving him completely exposed without even a sheet covering him. Strangely he felt very little modesty over this, but why hadn’t Sam at least covered him up so he wouldn’t have to look at him after…

Last night Sam had wanted him to hold him. Had asked him to promise not to leave in the morning. But now Dean was the one waking up to empty arms. Alone. He didn’t know what to feel about that. What fucking right did he have to feel anything? After what he’d done to his brother… and he wasn’t really alone in the room anyway. Sam was there, he could smell him.

Why hadn’t Sam left? Why hadn’t his brother put a fucking bullet in his brain while he slept? Instead… Sam had brought him coffee…

He didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh, cry, or scream. Why the hell couldn’t anything just be… normal… again? How the hell could he have believed, even for a few hours, things could be like they once were? Everything was just going from bad to worse. Always bad to worse… he was a fool to think it could be otherwise, and now Sam was paying the price for it. Again.

Time to face the music. Face what he had done. He owed his brother that much at least.

Dean opened his eyes slowly, turning his head to look at the younger man sitting at the table by the window with his laptop. It was obvious Sam had showered and dressed before going to get them coffee. He looked mostly relaxed, even though he was staring intently at the laptop screen, and Dean felt his heart twist a little more seeing the very subtle signs even his father had never been able to pick up that his brother was anything but relaxed. Dean didn’t fail to notice also that sitting over by the window like he was Sam was about as far away from him as he could possibly be and still be in the same room.

The elder man swallowed hard before he glanced away and pushed himself up slowly. Fuck, if he felt this sore then Sam… Dean swallowed again and blinked back the stinging in his eyes. Sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to the younger man, as he pulled up his jeans to at least cover himself even if they were disgusting.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there on the edge of the bed. His fingers digging into the mattress like he was afraid he was going to fall off or something if he let go.

“I’m going to take a shower.” He finally said softly, barely recognizing his own voice as he stood. Feeling strangely numb as he walked across the room and shut the bathroom door behind him. Yeah, he was running away. So much for facing the music…

Coward. The voice whispered again, but at the moment Dean wasn’t really listening to it. He was too busy wondering what it meant, if it meant anything at all, that Sam hadn’t tried to stop him.

“Okay Dean,” Sam answered long after the door was shut, leaving him alone in the room. Putting his hand on the table, he pulled himself up, slowing before he straightened completely. He glanced at the steaming coffee he’d left on the night stand, still untouched.

Any other day, a third of the liquid would be in Dean’s stomach before he hit the shower. Guess he had to wash off the…

He let out a soft breath of air and started to put their stuff away, into the duffel bags. His, Deans, his… every time he bent, he winced, every time he stood… he felt like an old man. Every time he looked at the bed, he reminded himself he wasn’t going to allow himself to wallow in shame or regret. It was over. Done with.

Still, he pulled the sheets all the way up over the pillows. Then the blankets. Then the damned spread that had slipped to the ground, covering every shred of evidence. By the time he was done, his heart was slamming in his chest, and he didn’t even know why.

He was back at the desk, packing his lap top up, when he heard the bathroom door open. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Dean emerge with a towel around his waist. He waited to see if his brother had anything to say to him. Nothing.

“I talked to dad.” He dropped the lap top into the messenger bag, and zipped it. “He’s got the car ready, a couple towns over. I asked Andrea, the neighbor, if we could use her car… leave it there for her.” His throat constricted slightly. “I don’t know why, but she said yes and didn’t ask any questions. So that’s what we’re doing.”

Though the scalding hot water had rinsed away every trace of sex from his skin, erased the smell of his brother from his flesh, it couldn’t erase the memory of Sam’s touch. If only it were that easy. To scrub away the memories as easily as he scrubbed his teeth clean, removing the taste of his brother from his mouth.

But it couldn’t. Couldn’t banish the memory of being so deep inside of his brother, feeling Sam so hot and tight around him. His brother crying out his name over and over, taking everything he had to give and giving more. Clutching at him, begging for him…

Dean stood with his hands braced on the cold porcelain sink. Staring into the foggy glass of the mirror, unable to see his own reflection, and that was probably a good thing because he was liable to put his fist through it. He had done a lot of fucked up things in his life. A lot… but this…

Forcing his brother against the door of their room… Kissing him brutally… Why hadn’t Sam stopped him? What would he have done if Sam had tried to stop him? No, he didn’t blame Sam for this. He’d given his brother no choice, absolutely no choice, but to go along with him. His teeth had been at the younger man’s throat for god sakes.

Don’t bite.

His fingers clenched remembering his brother’s protest. The only one he’d really given. So easily he could have… so easily… If Sam hadn’t given him what he wanted. If his brother hadn’t… participated… to his satisfaction. He had practically raped his brother last night… Dean hung his head and laughed bitterly to himself. Practically?

Dean wasn’t sure how long he stood there, or what finally prompted him to move. For all he cared he could have stood there till he rotted, but instead he wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door. Funny… why weren’t his hands shaking? Somehow he thought they should be, but he supposed that would take feeling something and right now all Dean felt was hallow, empty, cold…

He didn’t miss how all their things were now packed away. Nor did he miss how Sam had roughly made the bed, hiding the ‘evidence’ of what they’d done… what he’d done to his brother. He looked at the younger man now packing away his laptop. Didn’t miss how stiffly his brother was moving. He heard what the younger man was saying. Talked to dad, Dean wondered briefly exactly what Sam had told him, though he knew he’d never ask. The car, any other time or place Dean would have felt at least a little excitement getting his ‘baby’ back, but now…

“Fine.” Was all Dean said at last when his brother mentioned borrowing the neighbor’s car to get their own. He wondered if his voice really sounded as hollow and empty as the rest of him or if it was only because he felt that way that made it seem so. Then again, he really didn’t care. Thankfully neither did Sam.

Dean went over to his duffel and pulled out some clothes. Dressing quickly. If he had been thinking slightly more clearly he probably would have gone into the bathroom to dress so at least Sam wouldn’t have had to see him. But considering it felt monumentally difficult to concentrate enough just to button his shirt, he couldn’t really be blamed for not thinking. Or maybe he could. Him not thinking is what had gotten them into all this, after all.

He zipped up his duffel again, leaving his come stained jeans in the bathroom on the floor, he was sure the cleaning staff had found much worse, and it wasn’t like he was going to ever wear them again even if they were cleaned. Dean then hefted both bags, almost expecting a protest from his brother and the fact that he didn’t get one was probably the most telling of all how much he’d hurt Sam last night. Physically. Not to mention emotionally or psychologically.

Still without a word Dean tossed the bags into the back of their borrowed car and then went to get in. The passenger’s side. Normally he insisted on driving everywhere, but today he just didn’t trust himself. Understatement. He didn’t realize until they were already out the door that he didn’t even touch the coffee Sam had brought for him once.

The drive was silent save for the crappy soft rock playing on the radio station that neither one of them bothered to change. Probably because neither one of them were listening to it anyway. It only took them about an hour and a half to get to the town where a buddy of Dad’s had dropped off the impala for them. Still, every second seemed to stretch into an uncomfortable eternity.

Still, no words passed between them when they got out of their borrowed car and Dean transferred their bags from one trunk to the other. Even seeing his car again for the first time in six months did nothing to lift his spirits in the slightest, if anything, the reminder of how things could have been, and had been, before only darkened them more. With a sigh he walked around, to the passenger side again, and waited for his brother to unlock the door.

It was hard to say whether he was relieved at the silence, or would have preferred they discuss the weather or how it was nice to be getting away from that one street town. One thing he did know was that every moment of silence widened the chasm between them.

With the keys to the Impala in his hands, and Dean walking to the passenger side instead of taking them, Sam was lost. He looked at Dean for the first time in hours, but his brother refused to look back. He couldn’t tell if it was because of shame or revulsion. Drawing a breath that sounded more like a sniff, he just nodded and opened the driver’s door and got in.

Reaching to unlock Dean’s door, Sam made an almost inaudible sound of pain, slowing his motions. Mentally, he cursed Dean for his refusal to modernize the car just a little. Just another reminder of his cave man outlook.

Once Dean settled in, Sam nodded toward the glove compartment. “Dad left us maps.” Instead of getting the maps and directions and looking at them, his brother merely passed them to him. “Dean.” Words escaped Sam, so he just started reading his father’s bold scrawl. Turning the map around, he looked at the two destinations their dad had marked for them to choose from.

“I vote for bigger town,” he turned his head, or he wouldn’t have caught Dean’s almost imperceptible nod of agreement. Sighing, then kicking himself for it, he neatly folded the map so he could follow it, and put it to the side. Starting Dean’s precious Impala, he wondered just for a second what would happen if he was reckless driving it.

Dean stared out the window, watching the country speed by, but not really seeing any of it. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before, after all. Sometimes he thought they’d been on every road, seen every inch of the lower 48 states, and even some of Canada, as Dad dragged them along from one hunt to another.

Trees. Fields. Telephone poles. One house after another. It all began to look the same after a while till he swore they were driving in circles even when he knew they weren’t.

He was beyond bored after the first hour of driving. Actually he wasn’t driving, he was sitting. Dean didn’t mind driving. He loved it even. Especially when he was behind the wheel of this car. But he’d let Sam keep the keys, and maybe that was a mistake in hindsight because now all he had to do was sit and think.

He didn’t want to think, so he looked out the window. It was easier to look out than inside. Better to stare at places and strangers going about their boring everyday lives that he’d never meet then to, look at the person who meant the most to him, and remember how he had hurt him in the worst possible way.

Dean leaned his forehead against the cool glass. Closing his eyes and swallowing hard. Sam hadn’t even turned on the radio, or tape player, in the car and the silence was deafening. Torturous even. But he didn’t know how to break it. He couldn’t even look his brother in the eye without his heart feeling like it was being ripped out of his chest and his stomach twisting with so much guilt he felt ill.

He felt so nauseous in fact when Sam offered for them to stop to get something to eat for breakfast, Dean had refused with only a shake of his head. They didn’t stop. At lunch time, Sam didn’t even ask. Though it was around then that the first sound other than the rumbling of the engine and their respective soft breaths pierced the space between them, startling the elder man after it being quiet for so long.

It was Sam’s phone.

The car ate up the highway with Sam speeding just a little and getting nowhere fast. Minutes slipped into hours and more than half a day was gone, and only a few words were exchanged between them. The words came mostly from him, Dean merely nodded or grunted his agreement. It made him wonder if Dean would agree with him if he said demons has the right to live in human hosts. Made him think Dean wasn’t listening at all.

Yeah, all he did was look out the window or close his eyes. One word, couldn’t he manage just one? Or how about ask for coffee, or turn the fucking radio on. No, he entombed them in silence.

Maybe if dad got back... Maybe that would give them some semblance of normality. Or it would just get weirder.

The sound of his phone pulled him out of the realms of possibilities and struck him full force with reality. “Jess.” Her name broke from him in a low hiss. She was probably out of class now wanting to know why he hadn’t called. Ignoring the insistent ring tone growing louder by the second, he hadn’t even thought of her. Not once. Blocked her out.

When he couldn’t stand the sound anymore, he put out a shaky hand and hit “ignore.” There was a first time for everything.

He took a deep breath. He could handle this. He’d gather his thoughts. He’d call her later. Tell her....

His swallow as audible. Somewhere along the line when he was ‘handling,’ he broke out in a cold sweat. He wanted to ask Dean... but Dean wasn’t there, not really. No one to talk to, no one to talk him through this. His chest started to rise and fall, he couldn’t take full breaths... and all he kept seeing was her face, smiling, trusting...

Slamming his foot on the brakes, he swerved to the side of the road and blindly opened the door even before the car was at a complete stop. Outside, he put both hands behind his head, clasping them together with his elbows almost covering his eyes as he turned around, and around. What had he done? What had he done?

He wanted to shout, he wanted to scream... he wanted to know why. How? How had he slipped off the edge? How had he betrayed her with his brother of all people? “Oh God. Oh God, oh God...” once the words started coming, they wouldn’t stop. They just wouldn’t.

The insistent ringing of the phone was beginning to grate on his nerves, just how the many fucking rings did it take to go to voicemail? Though a morbid sense of curiosity had Dean wondering in spite of himself why his brother was not answering the phone. If it was their father it was probably important but…

Jess…

A human probably wouldn’t have been able to hear the barely whisper, but Dean heard and his expression shifted to confusion as he glanced towards Sam for the first time in hours. The question burning unasked in his mind.

Who the hell was Jess?

At least his brother had turned off the damn ringing, but that didn’t stop even more questions from forming in the elder man’s mind. So ‘Jess’ was someone his brother didn’t want to talk to? Or couldn’t talk to? At least not in front of him…

Dean didn’t have the chance to identify the bitter emotion that began forming in the pit of his stomach, and it was probably a good thing. His brother suddenly slamming on the brakes, the abrupt stop throwing the elder man against his seatbelt with a curse rather than the burning poisonous questions that were trying to work free.

However his angry words regarding the treatment of his car died as well in his throat as he watched the younger man get out of the car and just… it looked like his brother was in the middle of a nervous breakdown or something. Concern and his instinct to protect Sam from anything had his hand on the door handle before he realized it, but realization slammed into him quickly and refused to let him open it. Refused to let him go to his distressed brother because he knew somehow he was the reason for this. For all of it. Because he’d…

How the hell was he supposed to help his brother when he was the fucking problem? How the hell was he supposed to protect Sam from himself? His hand fell away from the door as a new level of despair crashed down on top of him with the force of a freight train. There was no way he could ‘fix’ this. Not this. All he could do was watch his brother suffer, and suffer right along with him.

Ten minutes felt like a life time. Ten lifetimes. The ground had been cut from under Sam’s legs for the second time in too short a period and he was left out of balance. As he leaned against the Impala and took deep breaths, trying to get a hold of himself, trying to stop the shaking that had overtaken his body, he couldn’t think of how things could go worse. One stupid drunken night and he’d lost both his brother and his girlfriend. If his dad ever found out… that would make three.

His eyes stung, but by sheer will he stopped himself from crying. He’d have to get back into that car with Dean, and he couldn’t stand the thought of his brother staring steadfastly out the window as tears streamed down Sam’s face. And that was exactly how it would be. He knew it.

A few more breaths, and he gripped the cold hard door handle and opened it. Easing himself slowly into the driver’s seat, he risked looking at Dean. Right. Still not talking. Still not acknowledging. Running a still shaky hand through his hair, he started the car, looked into the mirror and pulled back onto the highway.

Each of them was lost in his own world, but Sam’s mind kept working… wouldn’t leave him alone. He needed to talk, and Dean was the opposite. It burned him up. Burned him up for miles, until he couldn’t help himself. He asked softly, not even sure he’d get an answer, “Ever cheat on anyone, Dean?”

A small eternity seemed to pass before the car door opened again and Sam got back in. To be honest, Dean wouldn’t have been all that surprised if his brother didn’t get back in the car with him. That the younger man didn’t just walk away from the impala, him, everything, despite being in the middle of fucking nowhere. Just leaving him there sitting in the car alone. Walking away and never once looking back.

No, wouldn’t have surprised him at all. In fact, it was almost more of a surprise that Sam didn’t do that instead of getting back in the car without a word and starting it up. Pulling back onto the road as though the little ‘interlude’ had never happened.

A hundred questions burned in his mind. Sticking like jagged glass in his throat, refusing to come out and it was probably a good thing because he had a feeling he wouldn’t like the answers to any of them.

The silence was almost a blessing then. Unfortunately for both of them, Sam chose that moment to break it.

Dean really wasn’t as dumb as most people thought he was. He might not be the brainiac that Sam was, but he wasn’t a complete idiot either. He was perfectly capable of working problems out on his own, most of the time he just preferred to let other people worry about the ‘details’… unfortunately his brain was deciding to be extra ‘sharp’ right now. Not that it really needed to be. Even a blunt instrument like him could put two and two together.

Sam’s ‘question’ answering most of the questions that Dean really hadn’t wanted answered. Such as ‘who was Jess?’ and ‘why had his brother freaked out just now?’. The possessive monster inside of him that had reared its ugly head inside of him last night suddenly woke up and it was seeing red.

Ever cheat on anyone?

His brother had said it so ‘casually’. Obviously having no idea how those words would affect him. Hell, Dean was even shocked by the level of anger and jealousy that was clawing around inside of him. Feelings he had absolutely no right to feel whatsoever. What he’d done to his brother last night… it had been wrong on so many levels where did he even begin? Even though something inside of him had driven him to mark and claim his brother like an animal in heat…

Sam didn’t belong to him. Just because he had forced his brother to… Yet the idea of Sam with someone else, this Jess person…

“Just drive, Sam.” Dean finally managed in a low strained voice. Not even registering the pain from where his fingernails bit into the flesh of his palms he was clenching them so tightly. Fighting back the primal urge growing in him to prove to Sam once more just who his brother belonged to.

The air thickened, practically crackled with tension. It was a simple question. Why couldn’t he just answer? Why did he stare out the window, as if he’d just been asked the hardest question in the world. Yes or no, how hard was that?

The silence stretched and grew heavier, choking Sam. He glanced over and sucked in his breath at the hard, implacable expression on Dean’s face. Hard as stone. The look he usually reserved for the bad guys, or anyone hassling Sam.

Still, he’d expected an answer, but not the order his brother barked out at him… yeah, it was a quiet bark, but a bark nonetheless.

“Sure, Dean,” he answered woodenly. ‘Yes, Dean.’ ‘Okay, Dean.’ He was so fucking tired of his own answers. He shook his head, and gripped the wheel so tight, his knuckles whitened. Was this how it was gonna be from now on? He didn’t think he could stand it.

He had no choice but to stand it.

One hour, forty eight minutes, and twenty five seconds later, he found himself climbing out of the oppressive mood in the Impala. The motel looked pretty decent from the outside, and there was a 24 hour coffee shop next to it. Outside, he walked by Dean, “I’ll get the room. I’m hungry.” Slowly, he put a twenty dollar bill on the roof of the car, and walked into the motel. If his brother couldn’t stand to see him or talk to him, he sure as hell wouldn’t want to risk touching his fingers either.

Sam filled in the form, forked over some cash and took the keys to the room. By the time he moved the car to a spot right in front of their room, Dean was walking up. He left the trunk open so he could get his bag. Carrying just one was more than enough for Sam right now.

Inside the room, at times, he thought he felt Dean looking at him. But he was wrong, his brother was looking anywhere but at him. He took another couple of bites of the burger, and left the rest on the table. Maybe he’d get hungry later.

Then he moved to the bed, turning on the television just to hear voices. It didn’t matter what was on, he wasn’t really watching. He was tossing his phone from one hand into the other, just staring… not registering much, just staring.

Dean was glad to be out of the choking atmosphere of the car. The feeling had been worse than whenever they’d have to drive somewhere after Sam and Dad had gotten into a fight. Worse because his brother’s anger was, rightfully so, directed at him this time. Not to mention the elder man was trying, and failing miserably, to deal with his own issues regarding… everything…

He hadn’t been able to stop himself from stiffening when his brother approached him. Like he was more than half expecting Sam to throw a punch at him or something. His brother only laid some money down on top of the roof of the car and Dean stared at it for what felt like a long time before he finally picked it up, shut his car door, and walked over to the coffee shop.

Put in their food order automatically, not even really looking at the menu, since the food was pretty much all the same everywhere in places like this. Thankfully it didn’t take long and he was soon walking back to the motel with two Styrofoam containers.

Sam was walking into the room, leaving the trunk open for him to get his bag out and Dean found himself moving pretty much on autopilot. Shifting the containers to one hand as he hefted is duffel over his shoulder however before he shut the trunk he found himself pausing.

Once more, just like at the diner two nights ago, Sam was too distracted to watch him closely. Maybe Dean should have felt guilt even as he realized where his line of thinking was going, but that didn’t stop him from lifting the secret compartment underneath the trunk. All the weapons were there, pretty much as he’d left them, though he could see Dad had restocked them a little.

Dean pulled out a gun, checking the clip. Silver.

He slipped the gun into the back of his waistband and quickly shut the trunk before Sam wondered what he was doing. The heavy weight a surprising comfort as he walked inside. Setting down their food and his bag. There had been a time when he’d never gone anywhere without a gun, a few knives, and lock picks, hidden on him. But that wasn’t why it was comforting.

Dean ate on his bed. Not really tasting the food, in fact it tasted a bit like ash in his mouth but his body was demanding food so he ate. After all, it was easier to concentrate on his food then to concentrate on everything else.

He didn’t look up when his brother moved to his own bed, turning on the television. Once he finished his own burger and fries he got up and threw his trash away, then he went into the bathroom. Shutting the door behind him, and even though he hadn’t really been thinking about it, locking it automatically.

Putting the lid down on the toilet he sat down. Taking the gun out and staring at it in his hands for a long time.

As soon as Dean left the room, Sam took a deep breath. It was almost a relief to have the room to himself. The silence was so unnatural, so fucking awkward. He was sure if they exchanged a few words here and there, if they acted like themselves… things would be better. But it took two… and one of them definitely had other ideas.

The t.v. droned on. He changed the channel, flipping quickly and flinching slightly when he went past a porn channel and saw two men. Granted there had been a woman too, but he only saw the guys, and then he only saw himself and Dean.

Harder Dean.

Yeah, that had been an idiotic request, as his body was still telling him. But how had they gotten there… to that point? Just when the hell had he even thought of Dean in a way that he would want his kisses, want him to touch him. Tasting blood, he stopped biting his lip. And just where did Jess fit into all this. How come he hadn’t thought of her.

He had only questions… no answers… and no one to talk to. His gaze went to the bathroom door. When he realized how much time had passed, he got up and opened the window, sticking his head out to get fresh air. Maybe they should have gotten two rooms, then Dean wouldn’t be stuck in the bathroom.

Yeah, he got why it was hard to talk. But he didn’t get why he deserved the full silent treatment. That was a bit much when they were both hurting. The only thing he could think of was that Dean was blaming him, maybe hating him. Maybe he didn’t even get that it was the wolf thing… that it wasn’t his fault.

The clouds separated, and he saw the moon. It was growing… definitely getting fuller. Slamming them shut, he went back to his bed. A nice hot shower might be good. It could relax him. Taking the bottle of painkillers out of his bag, he popped two of them in his mouth.

He’d taken the clip out again. Just staring for a long time at the silver bullets shining dully in the bathroom light. They all had to be made by hand, of course. Just couldn’t walk into a gun shop and ask for silver bullets, unless you wanted to get the bat shit crazy look. He could remember the first time dad had taught him how to melt down the silver, pouring it into the little moulds, making each individual bullet.

It was a bitch, and he remembered the nasty burn he’d gotten the first time he’d tried to do it without his Dad’s help. Of course it was a skill he’d picked up rather quickly. Never knew when you would need silver bullets, after all. Best to have a good supply, since they were good for killing a lot of shit.

Dean slapped the clip back into the gun. Idly clicking the safety on and off and startling when Sam started pounding on the door. His heart leapt into his throat but his brother was just demanding to use the shower. The elder man quickly clicked the safety back on and shoved the gun back down into his waistband. Hiding it.

He unlocked and opened the door, avoiding his brother’s eyes as they slid past each other awkwardly without touching. As soon as the bathroom door shut again, Dean started getting ready for bed. Stripping down to his t-shirt and boxers. Never mind that it was way too fucking early, he felt exhausted physically and mentally anyway.

Hiding the gun underneath the mattress Dean crawled under the covers he shut the light off. Putting his back to his brother’s bed as well as the bathroom door and closed his eyes. Trying to force himself asleep before Sam returned.

Sam took his time in the shower, letting the hot water pour over his head and face for a while until the force of the water helped drive all of his thoughts out of his mind. Turning around, he leaned his forehead on the cool tile and gave his tight back muscles up to the water, hoping between the heat and the meds, his pain would ease.

He’d thought he’d been in there maybe twenty minutes, but when he came out and looked at his watch, he saw it had been about an hour. Letting out a soft breath, he got into clean shorts and a tee shirt, but not before he noticed, even in the steamy mirror, the marks Dean had left on him.

Just like that, he remembered how it felt to be under his brother... to want him. To beg him. To fucking forget his girlfriend, his sanity, his decency... and to just beg.

Sam took a couple of deep breaths, wiping his face and hair with towel. One minute he thought he was handling, and the next...

If only Dean was talking to him, they could work through this... figure it out. Or bury it forever. His chest constricted suddenly, and he walked out, huffing angrily.

The first thing he looked for was Dean. Always the first and last, and look at him now... on his side, giving him his back. Sam thought he shouldn’t be surprised at all. For one awful moment, he thought about hitting Dean. Just dragging his awake ass out of that bed and having it out.

Instead, he padded to his bed, sat slowly down and played some more with the remote control. Every once in a while, he’d want to say something... words would bubble up his chest, but there was Dean, so fucking forbidding. It took a while, but Sam finally realized not all the sound from the television would take the place of real conversation. Shutting the t.v., he lay back with his hands under his head , forcing his eyes shut.

He could hear his own breaths, and he could hear Dean’s. Turning his head, he glanced over at the dark lump on the other bed. Could he feel it? Couldn’t Dean feel how much he was hurting inside?

You’re not a kid anymore. You told him... them, both of them you don’t want to be treated like a kid.

Right. Right, he’d said that. He’d meant it.

Then.

A lump rose in his throat, and he tried to ignore it and the loneliness eating at him. A tear escaped down his cheek, and he furiously wiped it away. All he wanted was a few words. Or a hug or... yeah... he remembered how well he’d slept once Dean’s arms were around him last night.

“Dean.” He looked toward Dean’s form. “Can I come by you?”

The words hung between them for so long, one of them had to break.

It was Sam. He got up suddenly, dragged his jeans on and walked out of the room, taking his boots but leaving his jacket and even his gun behind. He couldn’t stand it, not one moment longer. Not a second more. The door slammed so hard behind him, he heard curses coming out of the room next door. Yeah... exactly how he felt.

He should have been asleep long before now.

Despite the god awful early hour, it wasn’t even 10pm yet, but he felt exhausted enough that he should have been able to fall asleep long before his brother finally came out of the bathroom. Almost an hour after he’d gone in.

Dean didn’t move. Didn’t alter his breathing. Trying not to give the younger man any clue that he was awake. In the end he should have known he could never fool Sam.

His brother’s question made him tense involuntarily. Made it hard for him to breathe. Sam’s voice so soft. Hesitant. Unsure. Sounding too much like the young boy right then that his brother no longer was. Though Dean couldn’t really remember any time that Sammy had sounded so unsure of himself when he’d asked him similar when they’d been children. When their Dad could occasionally afford to rent them a house where they had their own rooms. When Sammy would come to his bed in the middle of the night, just because they both slept better together than apart.

Everything was different now. They weren’t kids anymore, for one, and even though his brother was practically begging for comfort now… and god how he wanted to be able to give it… he knew he couldn’t. Especially when just the thought of holding Sam close made his body react in away far from brotherly. Their bodies pressed up against one another, the younger man’s warmth soaking into him. Touching him… tasting his flesh again…

Dean squeezed his eyes shut tighter. His hands clenching, his nails biting so deeply into the flesh of his palms he wouldn’t be surprised if he were drawing blood. But even the pain, and the shame he felt, wasn’t making the images go away.

But then it didn’t matter anymore because Sam was… leaving. At first he was too stunned to react, and by the time he did, sitting up, about to say his brother’s name, he was already gone. The slamming of the door echoing through him long after the actual sound was gone.

Go after him. Do something. A voice insisted weakly inside of him, but it was crushed quickly by reality. He’d hurt his brother in a way he could never take back. Never make up for. Never undo. He couldn’t control himself. He was a fucking animal. Just like them. He was only going to keep hurting his brother. There was no way to protect his brother from what he was… what he was becoming…

Dean sat there on the edge of the bed in the dark and buried his face in his hands.

“I’m sorry, Sammy…”

He didn’t know how far he’d walked, but it was far enough to find himself in a residential neighborhood where some of the residents were having a block party. Leaning against a tree, he’d watched as the party wound down. Laughter and drunken arguments reached his ears. Sounds… people talking, it was what he craved, and what he’d found.

Someone came over and invited him to have a drink or a burger. He didn’t know any of them. They shouldn’t give a damn about him. And yet, they were talking to him, looking him in the eye like he was there… not like they could stare right through him. He’d wondered if he’d gone invisible, if he’d disappeared.

“Thanks, I will,” he smiled, and got himself a beer. Everyone was in long sleeves and jackets. There were several comments about him thinking he was a ‘he man’ in his tee. Truth was, he was freezing, and that was part of the reason he’d accepted the beer.

*

A couple of hours later, he found himself back at the twenty four hour diner next to the motel. Nothing else was open this late anyways. Rubbing his arms, he sat at a booth and ordered a coffee and French fries.

He was intently listening to the conversation at a nearby table, laughing at all the right time, even nodding. His gaze connected with an old man at the table, and he knew he’d been found out, but instead of a glare, he was on the receiving end of a nod and a smile. Smiles were underrated, they really, really were.

After two hours Dean realized that Sam wasn't coming back.

He'd worried. He'd paced. He'd considered going after his brother countless times, but guilt always stopped him in the end. Feeling helpless knowing there was nothing he could do for Sam. He was the fucking problem, after all.

His brother was better off as far away from him as he could get.

Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed again. His brother's this time. Staring at the gun in his hand he'd 'stolen' earlier from the trunk of the Impala.

Too late. Too damn late. Sam should have just let him go off that damn bridge. Maybe it would have been hard for his brother to deal with, but at least it would have been before he could rape his baby brother…

Dean chuckled bitterly to himself. Clicking off the safety of the gun. He certainly didn't deserve to die this quickly or easily after what he'd done. But it was really the only way to be certain. Silver.

He'd promised his brother he wouldn't do this. That he wouldn't try again, but… everything was different now. He had proof now, didn't he? Proof he couldn't control himself. Proof he was dangerous. The worst of it was… he still wanted him. Sam. Like an itch underneath his skin, he wanted to touch him again. Taste him again. Fuck him… if he had a chance to go back, he didn't know if he would have, could have, stopped himself. If he had a chance again…

Dean closed his eyes as he pressed the barrel of the gun between his lips.

He wouldn't give himself another chance to hurt his brother.

Sam approached the room almost soundlessly. The sharp protests of the neighbors were still fresh in his mind as he quietly unlocked and opened the door. His gaze went to the light that was on above Dean’s bed, lowered to see the bed was empty, and shifted to find his brother sitting on the edge of his bed. All of that, and the realization that Dean had the barrel of a gun in his mouth happened almost at once

Three seconds were a lifetime.

Three seconds to cross the room and stop him. Or three seconds to lose and find his brothers brains all over the white sheets.

Fuck three seconds, fuck his pain he felt in every part of his body, and fuck the fact his heart was wrenched out of place.

He lunged and in less than two seconds, he had one arm around Dean, and a hand on the gun. “Dean, no!” he shouted as they rolled off the bed and onto the hard floor, locked in a struggle for the gun. “No,” he repeated, shouting until he was hoarse. But no one was listening. Not Dean, who hadn’t heard him since last night. Not dad, who wasn’t there. And not God or any other supposedly all powerful entity out there... no one. It was up to him.

Dean’s curses didn’t faze him, but his brother meant business and wasn’t pulling any punches. Nor was Sam. He used everything he had, his elbows, his forehead, his legs... trying to make Dean let go of the gun as they rolled back and forth over the ground.

“No, you promised... fuckin—“ Seeing the wild look in Dean’s eyes, being subjected to the increasingly aggressive moves his brother was making, not caring now if he injured Sam, Sam started to panic. They might have been more evenly matched before, but now... Dean was a heck of a lot stronger, and like a predator, he took every opportunity and would show no mercy.

“No... no, dammit it.” Sam kept his hand clamped around the gun, biting his lower lip as Dean started to crush his hand against the metal. He’d have to break it... because there was no other way he was losing Dean, no matter what happened between them, no way.

He should have at least heard Sam come inside. Should have. Maybe he would have if his heart hadn’t been pounding so damn hard. If the taste of gun oil hadn’t been so strong in his mouth as he started to depress the trigger. If he’d thought for one second that Sam was actually going to come back and find him rather than the cleaning staff in the morning.

Instead his brother had managed to take him completely by surprise. Ripping the gun out of his mouth so fast it was a wonder he didn’t knock loose a tooth or two at the same time. The instinct to struggle was just that. Pure instinct.

Dean wasn’t thinking as he tried to twist himself out of his brother’s grip. Trying to get his brother to let go of the weapon they were fighting over so he could finish what he needed to do god damn it! Why couldn’t Sam see that?

“Let go of me! Damn it! Let go!” He growled viciously. The double meaning of his words not lost on him even in the state he was now.

What started as a twisted parody of one of their countless wrestling matches growing up quickly developed into an all out fight. Both of them shouting and throwing punches. Kicks. Hitting. Probably would have been biting if Dean wasn’t so damn afraid of infecting his brother though that didn’t stop him from growling and cursing the younger man as they struggled.

Ending up on the floor. Both of them getting increasingly more violent. Dean tasted blood on his lips when a lucky hit of Sam’s elbow reopened the scabbed over bite he’d done to himself last night. He wouldn’t be surprised if his brother ended up with a black eye or worse from a punch he landed to the younger man’s right cheek. He was trying not to hurt Sam. He really was… but he could feel himself losing control. Just like before. The wild animal inside of him growing impatient and lashing out unthinkingly.

With a vicious sound Dean twisted them around and finally pinned his brother underneath his weight. Holding him down with his legs, one hand wrapped bruising tight around Sam’s wrist, the other still around the gun they were still fighting for. Even as Dean’s angry eyes locked with his brother’s. Panting heavily. His blood dripping down onto his brother’s face. He wasn’t surprised that he was hard. Ashamed. But not surprised.

“Damn it, Sam! I have to do this. Can’t you see that!” Dean was surprised he could even think clearly right now much less speak. But somehow he managed it. “I’m not going to hurt you again! I’m not going to rape you like…” Like I did last night. Like I’m thinking about right now…

All of the air was slammed out of Sam as he landed heavily on his back with Dean pinning him down and now doing serious damage to his wrist. Still, as his eyes clung to brother’s, he wouldn’t give in, not to the heated anger that leaped from Dean’s eyes and not to his conviction that ‘dead was better than this.’

“No, I can’t see that,” he answered, moving his face as another drop of blood landed near his mouth. “Don’t leave me Dean, you promised.” He didn’t bother covering his anguish, and then he felt his fingers start to slip off the gun. No.

Hardly thinking, or maybe he was craftier than even he realized... or maybe it was just desperation, but he lifted up suddenly, melding his mouth messily to his brother’s. Only as he started to kiss him, only as one of his own legs wrapped around Dean’s to pin him just as surely as Dean was holding him in place, did the rest of Dean’s words register.

Rape you.. What the hell? The idiot... Sam shoved his tongue inside Dean’s mouth, tasting blood, tasting regret. As he lifted his hips in an effort to get closer, to prove to himself they were both still alive, they could feel, acknowledge each other, the pressure on his wrist loosened.

Just like that, heat blazed between them. Dean might have tried to pull away, to resist, but Sam wouldn’t let him, not until he ran out of breath. When their mouths parted, he was breathing hard and sharply aware of Dean, of the hard planes of his body pressing down on him, making him hurt and ache in ways he shouldn’t... in ways his body probably couldn’t take right now. “Is this me raping you, Dean? Cause if it is, you’ll have to take me out too.”

His nostrils flared, knowing what a stubborn idiot his brother could be. “It’s fucked up. It’s wrong. But it’s not rape Dean. If it had been... I might not have stopped you.”

Don’t leave me Dean, you promised.

Dean closed his eyes. He had to. Because he simply couldn’t look into his brother’s eyes anymore. Shaking his head. Trying to deny Sam’s words. Deny how much fear, desperation, and pain was in the younger man’s voice. A part of him wanting to give in, so badly. Like he’d done before. Like he’d always done. Because when had he ever been able to truly deny his brother anything? Especially when his refusal hurt Sam so much…

No. Not this time. He couldn’t. He refused to go on hurting his brother. It was only going to get worse. He was only going to get worse. Until he couldn’t control himself at all anymore. Until… No. He wouldn’t let it happen.

The elder man’s eyes snapped open suddenly in shock when he felt his brother’s lips crush against his own. Hot and wet and far from gentle, his body responded instantly even as his mind tried to deny. Even as he tried to pull back. To stop Sam. What the hell was he doing! No, no he couldn’t do this. Please, Sam, no…

But his body was not listening to his frantic please, nor was his brother who was clinging to him so desperately, and as Sam shoved his tongue into his mouth, lifting and rubbing his hips against his suddenly painful erection, even his mental struggles began to die away. Groaning in desire and defeat into the younger man’s mouth as he pressed himself harder against his brother’s hip even as his fingers loosened a little around both Sam’s wrist and the gun. The fight bleeding out of him like from an open wound and a different kind of desperation filling its place.

They parted for air, and he gasped raggedly against his brother’s mouth. His eyes open, a wild hungry look in his eyes mingled with sorrow. His brother’s eyes the only thing that filled his vision.

Is this me raping you, Dean? Cause if it is, you’ll have to take me out too. The younger man’s words, soft though they were, hit him like a slap, making him wince. No, this wasn’t Sam’s fault. He couldn’t let him do this. He had to stop it. He had to god damn it!

It’s fucked up. It’s wrong. But it’s not rape Dean. If it had been... I might not have stopped you. As his brother continued, the elder man froze completely. His eyes growing so wide it was probably comical. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He knew Sam was likely to say anything, anything right now to stop him from doing what he had to, but…

“So what… now you’re trying to tell me you wanted me to fuck you? You like me making you my little bitch?” Dean all but growled. Anger at himself, frustration, guilt, shame, and fear all making his voice harder than he would have wished. But there was a definite challenge in his eyes now. Daring his brother to take back what he’d just ‘admitted’.

The elder man leaned in closer. Their faces a hair’s breadth apart.

“Prove it then.”

This was different from all the times he’d been called bitch and Sam’s anger erupted in a slap to the side of Dean’s face. “Don’t call me that.” His brother’s face immediately snapped back, almost as if he hadn’t felt it.

Sam’s chest heaved as he tried to breathe with Dean still right on top of him, still close, his question… his demand, still hanging between them. He struggled to bring his thoughts into some sort of order. Had he wanted that kiss to end? No, it could have gone on forever, and he wouldn’t have complained. Was he burning up with need, even knowing it was wrong, knowing there was no way on hell anyone… any normal person could know this… what was between them… and not be disgusted? Yes Godamnit, yes, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it, about how he liked seeing the wild look enter Dean’s eyes and know it was for him, or how he liked pushing Dean to the edge, watching his brother struggle against primitive instincts, knowing despite how hard it was for him, he’d keep that last shred of control, he wouldn’t cross the line even if he thought in his idiotic mind that he had.

“Alright,” he licked his lips and releasing the gun, gripped Dean’s arms, swallowing hard as powerful muscles moved under his palms, reminding him of his brother’s strength, how he could hold him down, how he could fuck him senseless… had fucked him senseless. “I did ask you to fuck me… I wanted it. You had me up against the door, and all I could think about was I wanted more. You had your tongue down my throat, and it wasn’t enough. You ripped my clothes of Dean, and it … it wasn’t close enough.” He arched, deliberately dragging his body along Dean’s rock hard erection. “I wanted that, and you gave it to me.”

His heart started to slam against his chest as the need to be claimed… branded all over again, flooded through him. “You want me to prove it, I will. I’ll jerk you off again, like I did when you were drunk and asleep. I’ll take your dick in my mouth and suck you off, like you did to me… I ‘ll let you fuck my mouth as hard as you want.” His brother’s eyes grew darker, hungrier, and it sent excitement surging through Sam. “You can’t fuck me, not now, not when I still feel everywhere you’ve been, but anything else you want… you got it.” His voice lowered an octave, “I know how to say ‘no’ and mean it, and you… I don’t care if you’re scared of crossing the line. You stay behind the line, like you did last night when I told you not to bite and you fucking wanted to.”

He was breathing hard, and starting to push up against Dean, asking him to lose control again. “Just one thing. If you hate me after. If you refuse to look at me again, so help me Dean…” and he started to roll Dean over, reaching for his mouth with his own.

The slap to his face shouldn’t have surprised him one damn bit, especially given what he’d said. Though it did, but not in the normal sense.

It made him realize just exactly what he’d said. He’d never spoken like that to his brother before, at least not so hatefully mocking, and the guilt that followed hit him much harder. Shocking him out of his blind anger. Cutting off the threatening snarl that had nearly escaped from his lips at being struck.

He knew he’d deserved that, and a hell of a lot more, yet the furious look in his eyes faded only a little when they locked quickly back to his brother’s. Furious even though he knew wasn’t angry at Sam. Not really. Though it was easier to feel anger right now than anything else, given his state of confusion. How in chaos all his emotions were. So that, like everything else, was directed at his brother.

His every sense hyper focused on the younger man beneath him. His pupils blown wide, lust, fear, anger, and shame all warring for control. The feel of Sam’s body underneath him, his heat, his chest heaving against him was distracting, throwing him even more off center, leaving him completely unbalanced. The taste of his brother’s breath on his lips making him long to crush their mouths together again, even as a part of him recoiled at the thought. His smell… oh god his smell… like a fucking aphrodisiac, like a drug, like he was addicted and he couldn’t pull away even though a part of him screamed to.

Don’t do this to him again. Don’t. Please…

Dean tried to close his eyes but he couldn’t. Flicking down to where his brother licked his lips, feeling even more heat flood through him if it were possible. Sam gripped his arms, and he knew he could have broken that hold easily if he wanted to, but he didn’t. He felt paralyzed. Even his breath stilled as Sam spoke. Telling him how he’d wanted it…

No… no he hadn’t given Sam any choice. Sam had only said those things… done those things… because he hadn’t given him any other option. Better to just let it happen then…

The elder man’s breath left him in a rush when his brother suddenly arched up against him. Dragging their bodies together. Rubbing against his rock hard cock and letting him feel his arousal in return. Dean closed his eyes, bit his already bloody lip but was unable to stifle the groan of need that was ripped from him.

His eyes snapping back open quickly, dark and hungry and wild listening how his brother offered to ‘prove’ it to him. Just like he’d demanded. Just thinking of Sam’s large hand wrapped tightly around his cock, those fucking sinful lips sucking him off, nearly driving him insane. As though he wasn’t already. Offering him anything else he wanted. Anything he wanted…

Sam pushing against him, trying to roll them over both broke his paralysis and whatever resistance he had left. His fingers wrapping around both his brother’s wrists, the gun momentarily forgotten laying beside them, as he pushed them back down against the carpet, pinning Sam down. His body blanketing the younger man’s as his lips claimed his brother’s hungrily. His tongue claiming every inch of that hot wet mouth as though he could suck his brother’s soul into him through that one contact. Practically dry humping the younger man as he ground their hips together so hard it almost hurt.

“Never hated you, Sammy… I thought… damn it, I’m sorry… ” Dean whispered, panting roughly against his brother’s mouth when they pulled apart, licking his kiss swollen lips tenderly. He didn’t really expect the younger man’s forgiveness right now to the apology, though he hoped he could at least start making it up to his brother right now.

His hands released his brother’s wrists to slide down the length of his entire body possessively. Nibbling lightly on the younger man’s lower lip as he gently palmed Sam’s ass through his jeans. What did he want? Well, he knew what he really wanted, but he couldn’t have that right now. He wouldn’t hurt his brother like that. But…

“I want your lips around my cock, while I suck you off too, little brother…” He whispered hotly into the younger man’s ear.

Sam knew the exact moment Dean broke. He was pushed forcefully back down, his wrists trapped in Dean’s iron grip, and then he was being devoured by long scorching kisses. Dean was everywhere at once, in his mouth, covering every inch of him, stamping the imprint of his body on him with every powerful thrust of his body, pressing him down into the unforgiving floor. Instead of scaring Sam, it just had him clamoring for more. His brother’s needs were his, his brother’s wants were his... together, they could burn so fucking hot, nothing else mattered.

He wanted to touch Dean so bad, so bad it was frustrating, but he touched him with the parts of his body that were free. His mouth, his legs, his hips... lifting them to grind against Dean. Oh God, how could anything feel this good, and be so wrong?

When Dean pulled his mouth away, he whimpered in protest, the listened intently as Dean said he didn’t hate him. Now, yeah... but later, after? One flick of Dean’s tongue over his aching lips and his questions scattered to the winds.

Abruptly, his wrists were freed and a distinctly predatory look crossed Dean’s features. For a heartbeat, Sam held his breath, then Dean’s hands were consuming every part of him, lifting him up, owning him, and it was so damned right. He could feel Dean’s arousal pressing insistently into him, pulsing... see the naked lust reflected in his eyes, and holy... the ache, he could feel the ache in his brother’s voice.

Moaning out his name, he wrapped his arms around Dean, stroking his back, pulling him close. Even if he hadn’t been on sensory overload, those words... so filthy when coupled with little brother... could easily have taken Sam over the edge right there.

Burying his face in Dean’s throat, he whispered back. “Sounds so fucking dirty,” he swallowed out loud, licked Dean’s pulse point and softly sucked on it, tasting salt and his brother. “Tell me what you really want to do, but won’t...” He knew he was playing with fire, that he was pushing Dean, but he couldn’t stop himself, he needed to claim Dean in his own way. Dragging one hand over Dean’s ass, down it’s cleft and then grinding his palm against his sack, he made his demand again. “Tell me how you want to fuck me.”

Tell me how you want to fuck me.

Jesus Christ. He wondered if Sam had any idea what he was doing to him? How close to the edge he was right now? If he knew just how close he was to… to ripping his brother’s cloths off of him, flipping him over and burying his cock deep as deep into the younger man’s body as he could…

No.

Dean’s fingers dug into his brother’s flesh as he bit his bloody and bruised lip hard. Stifling an obscene groan as his brother licked and suckled at his neck. Those filthy things whispered into his ear should have shocked the hell out of him. Hearing them from Sam’s lips. He should be saying ‘Christo’ to make sure his brother wasn’t fucking possessed or something.

Instead of making his blood boil with lust. Making it impossible for him to think. Because he simply didn’t have enough blood left for his brain because it all rushed straight to his cock at Sam’s words. And he ground his erection hard against the younger man, moaning almost like he was in pain, trying to ease some of the ache.

“I want to strip you naked right here on the damn floor. Turn you over and lick you open, like I did last night. Just to see if you still taste like me…” He whispered, his voice little more than a low purr against his brother’s neck as he kissed and licked Sam’s throat. Giving his brother exactly what he wanted, despite the almost torture it was. To say what he wanted to do, knowing he couldn’t…

“Once you’re wet and begging for me, I’ll slide my cock into you slowly. So you feel every inch of me filling you up. When I’m balls deep in you, baby brother, I’m gonna fuck you slow, so slow it’ll be torture for both of us. Until you can’t stand it anymore and start trying to fuck yourself on my cock, and I’m gonna let you ride me, just like that, till you come your brains out. I’ll fill you up so much then my come will leak out of your sweet little ass around my dick…” Dean groaned in frustration as he rocked his hips slowly against the younger man.

The sound Dean made as he thrust hard against him was filled with such raw need, it made Sam tremble. For an instant, he thought his brother was going to deny him. Then Dean was whispering the things he wanted to do to him in such fucking graphic terms, Sam could barely manage the force of his body’s intense reaction. Just knowing Dean was on edge, that each word he whispered tortured him… that he was doing this and holding back just for him… it was intoxicating. Cupping Dean’s ass in desperation, he lifted his hips, again and again, growing wilder as each word left Dean’s mouth, getting just a little more insane, listening… drinking in each word and giving a broken “yes” each time Dean paused.

“Oh God… Dean.” His mind was so clouded with desire, Sam was ready to tell Dean to go ahead… to fuck him again, that he could take it. He tried to make Dean rock faster against him, tried to tell him he needed him right now, skin to skin, when he heard the lock move in the door. “Dean!”

Sam reached for the gun a fraction of a second after Dean, his hand coming over Dean’s just as the door pushed open. His heart leaped to his throat, and this time it had nothing to do with Dean.

It was too much. Too fucking much. They were both out of control. The way his brother rocked against him, lifted his hips against his every thrust, clutched him tighter, made him so hot. Taking everything he gave and asking him for more. Made him insane. The more wild and uncontrolled Sam became, the more he felt his control slipping away. His brother’s passion feeding into his lust, making him burn hotter, and then giving it back into his brother.

They were playing with fire and both of them were going to get burned, it was just a matter of time to see which one of them would burn first. He was deathly afraid it would be Sam who was hurt again, and yet he couldn’t stop…

He was so far gone he heard the door unlocking only a second before Sam, but his reflexes weren’t dulled in the slightest by his desire. His instinct to protect his brother, before anything else, stronger than anything. His hand closing around the gun with a vicious growl as the door swung open, and if it weren’t for Sam trying to grab the weapon at the same time, Dean might have already been shooting the intruder.

That second of hesitation when his and Sam’s hand both struggled for the weapon to use against their unknown attacker probably saved his father’s life. A second later, as John’s eyes met his, Dean froze completely. He could only imagine what this looked like to their dad. There were only two choices really. Bad, or really fucking bad.

Whatever John Winchester had been expecting to find when he entered his son’s motel room, nothing could have really prepared him for what he saw. He’d expected to find his boys either asleep, or maybe watching some late night television. Not lying on the floor between the beds. Dean on top of Sam. Both of their faces flushed, bruised, and bloody. Grappling over a weapon he had no doubt was loaded.

The older man’s eyes locked with this elder son’s as both men froze motionless where they were, and for a few heartbeats it was so silent in the room a pin drop could be heard. Then John was rushing inside, not waiting for an explanation, as Dean still seemed stunned by the turn of events and the older man wasn’t going to wait for him to regain his senses. He didn’t know what was going on, but he had an idea. It was a fear that both he and Sam shared. That Dean might try something like this, and the mental image of his elder son’s head blown open by a silver bullet was all John could think about as he kicked the gun away from both his boys and yanked Dean off of his brother with a surprising amount of strength.

A second later the elder man had his son slammed up against the wall, shaking him like he was trying to rattle his head off of his neck, and shouting in his face.

“What the hell are you doing!” Loud enough that complaints from the neighbors next door could be heard through the walls, but he hardly cared, his voice both furious and pained. Dean still too stunned to protest the rough treatment. His mouth opening and closing but no words coming out.

The sight of his father froze Sam’s brain. He couldn’t think... he couldn’t formulate a lie to save his life, if he had to. He didn’t even feel the gun get kicked out of their hands. But he did feel Dean’s warm body get ripped away from him.

Dad.. His chest still heaving, Sam sat up on the ground. He’d have thought his father’s presence would be like a bucket of ice water pouring over his head. Well it was, but it hadn’t reached the parts of his body still screaming for release. His skin was scraped raw in some places from his clothes rubbing too hard against him, but it only made him more sensitive... more aware of what had just been taken away.

He licked his lips, trying to will his aching erection away as he looked at his brother getting manhandled and yelled at. There wasn’t a thing he could do or say, not really. It was better for dad to think they were still arguing about the gun than to let him get wind of the fact Dean had backed down from using it. Meeting his brother’s gaze for a moment, he wondered whether he was sick... sick for wanting to see the heat in Dean’s eyes again, sick for still imagining his hot breath in his ear whispering those dirty things to him, sick for wanting to push his father out of the room to make Dean pick up where they’d stopped.

Was this one of those ‘saved by the bell’ moments, or divine intervention... or was someone or something reminding them how wrong... how fucked up what they were about to do was? If his dad ever found out...

Swamped by shame, and still hot... hot for his own fucking brother, Sam got up and slipped into the bathroom while the shouting continued. Looking at his face in the mirror, he wondered how his dad couldn’t tell... he looked guilty, Dean looked guilty... shouldn’t everyone be able to tell?

He washed his face with cold water, getting rid of the blood from Dean’s lip. Then wiped his face and started to see that his jeans were no longer so tight that it was uncomfortable. Finally, he pushed the door open and joined the other two men.

He put his hand on his dad’s shoulder. “Why don’t we all get a cup of coffee, and then Dean will give his word he’s never trying this again.” The steely edge to his words were meant for his brother. He had no right to put him through this again and again, and if their dad hadn’t been there, he would eventually have had it out with Dean anyway... probably several hours from now.

His father yelling and manhandling him, the pain, fear, and disappointment in the elder man’s eyes, was a hell of an anti-aphrodisiac. Dean wouldn’t have been surprised if John actually hit him, their dad looked so angry. He almost wished the older man would. Though guilt and shame was hitting the younger man far harder. Not only for what he would have done if Sam hadn’t stopped him in time… again… but for what he and Sam had been actually doing before their father stopped them.

Dean’s eyes met his brother’s briefly before Sam made his ‘escape’ and he had absolutely no idea what he was thinking, or feeling, right now. It was hard to believe that moment ago they’d been kissing so desperately. Humping against each other like teenagers in heat. Saying things that brothers should never say to each other. Wanting… what brother’s should never want…

How could Sam have wanted it too? It was so wrong. So fucked up. At least Dean had a ‘reason’ to be as fucked up as he was. But Sammy… Sam had wanted it too… what did that mean?

“Do you hear me!” Dean had actually almost forgotten that John was still yelling at him, until the older man shook him so hard his head smacked against the wall. Shocking him back to his senses but not erasing any of his confusion, unfortunately. It was probably that confusion more than anything that kept him from protesting the treatment. Kept him from fighting back. Especially when he knew he deserved it.

It wasn’t like he could explain himself either, even if he wanted to.

“I’m sorry, Dad…” He whispered, his voice shaking and he felt tears forming in his eyes as his father’s expression abruptly changed. Some of the anger draining away, more pain and disappointment replacing it, and that was almost worse.

Then Sam was there, and his brother’s hard words, especially after… everything… was like a slap and Dean actually flinched physically. Blinking back the tears in his eyes that were threatening to fall. He wasn’t going to cry in front of his father, damn it. He dropped his head and closed his eyes, unable to look at either man.

John looked at his younger son, then back to Dean. The elder man took a deep breath and forced himself to release his elder son. Taking a step back and watching as Dean slumped against the wall like it was the only thing supporting him right now and maybe it was. Dean looked defeated, and that fucking scared the hell out of him more than anything. He was torn between wanting to shake that look out of Dean, to knock some sense into him, and hug him like the child he no longer was.

In the end he didn’t do any of those things.

“I’m going to get my things out of the truck.” John said tightly, giving Sam a look that said they would talk when he got back. After he cooled off a bit. He needed to know just what the hell had been going on since he left. The little bits Sam had told him over the phone hadn’t really told him much. Other than the shit had pretty much hit the fan. An understatement by the looks of what he’d walked in on tonight. His sons had a lot of explaining to do.

As soon as their dad walked out, Sam released his breath. “You alright, Dean?” He glanced at the door and then at his brother, cocking his head. “That was close... I...” he swallowed, not really knowing what to say. “You got the brunt of it but nothing I could really do, you know?”

“Dean?” He put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, then he realized Dean wasn’t looking at him... was avoiding him. It was yesterday all over again, and it ripped a big hole in Sam’s gut. “This again?” He shoved him, making Dean jerk his head up at least for a second. “After...?” he looked at the ground where they’d been about to fuck like they were in heat. “Sure you don’t hate me...” he whispered, and walked away.

He felt the tears sting his eyes, but he fought them. Sitting on the bed with his back toward Dean, he hoped their dad would get back soon... or he just might contemplate using that gun on himself.

Was he alright?

Was Sam serious? Dean almost wanted to laugh. A harsh sound even escaped his lips before he silenced it abruptly. He didn’t know whether he felt like laughing, cursing, or crying. Though he knew if he did any of those, there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to stop once he started.

Fuck. Maybe that meant he was going insane. Maybe he already was… Maybe? Yeah, and wanting to fuck his baby brother was just a normal healthy impulse. Dean flinched when his brother touched him. Fighting the urge to pull Sam back against him. Hug his brother to him tightly. To take more than just comfort from the younger man…

Instead Dean’s hands curled into fists at his side. Biting back a groan of frustration. He didn’t know what to think, what to feel anymore. What was right or wrong? Everything… everything was so fucked up.

His brother’s hard shove made him look up in surprise, even though a part of him wasn’t really. He wondered if he could really be surprised by anything anymore. He wished that meant he couldn’t be hurt anymore either… but he knew that was just wishful thinking. Especially when Sam’s words cut him to the core, and again, somehow, he felt like laughing.

Sam could be such a fucking idiot sometimes.

“No, I don’t hate you, Sam. God damn it…” He finally managed to choke out bitterly. Feeling too fucking drained and sick to even keep standing, Dean slid down the wall to sit on the floor. “I’m so fucked up… this is so fucked up…”

Sam rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and shook his head from side to side. “You don’t think I get that? At least you have an excuse...” He sniffed, this time wiping at his nose. “I don’t know what’s happening either. It’s...hell. See there’s only one person I can maybe talk to about this, try to figure it out... but he won’t even look at me, let alone talk to me, unless we’re... doing it,” he choked on the words, but they were true. “And I just... now isn’t the time to be all alone. It just isn’t.”

Excuse…

Another harsh, choked sound, broke free from his lips before he could stop it. Before he bit his already abused lip again before the sob that was building up inside of him could slip out.

Yeah, he had an 'excuse'. He was a fucking monster. A fucking animal. He was just like them. He was becoming more like them every single day. How long before he couldn't resist it at all anymore? How long before he was nothing but a bloodthirsty killer, even when he wasn't changed. What more did he have to do? How much more did he have to hurt Sam?

Cassandra was right…

It was ironic, in a really sick twisted way, that the only time he felt he might have a chance to resist these urges… That maybe Sam was right. That maybe it could be all right, and his only way out of this wasn't with the barrel of a gun shoved between his teeth… Was when they were 'doing it', as Sam put it.

Yeah, that just proved how fucked up he really was… That the only time he felt… human, or even a little bit like himself… was when he was fucking his baby brother. So he had to fuck Sam up just so he felt less fucked up himself?

"I never wanted to hurt you… and now thats all I'm doing..." Dean managed in a choked whisper, squeezing his eyes shut tighter but he couldn't stop the tears that leaked free.

The long silence was ripping Sam apart. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t re-do yesterday, he just couldn’t. Maybe if he left, it would be better. Right... like he could leave Dean like this. Like leaving him behind and going off to college hadn’t been bad enough.

Then his brother spoke, and Sam held his breath and listened to the soft, emotion-laden words. He swallowed over the hard knot in his throat. “You don’t get it, do you? You’re hurting me now... not then.”

Licking his lips, he turned around, his eyes widening when he saw Dean on the ground, crying. “Dean!” Three strides had him across the room and down at his brother’s level. He had the tendency to think of Dean as unbreakable, the stronger one, and it always surprised the hell out of him when he caught him in moments like this. Without thinking, he cupped Dean’s face and stroked his thumbs over his tears, wiping them away. “I’m sorry for...everything. You want this to stop, we stop. If you don’t want it to, then we...” he glanced at the door. “Whatever you want Dean. Just don’t give up, don’t leave.” His own eyes were tearing now. “You don’t have to talk to me, you don’t have to do anything. I’ll man up, okay... whatever you want.”

He was lost again. Dean had always been his light house, and every time that light went out...

You’re hurting me now, not then. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? Nothing apparently. Because suddenly Sam was kneeling there right in front of him. Caressing his face, wiping away his tears, apologizing to him… and it was so wrong. All so wrong.

“Sammy don’t, please… don’t apologize…” He whispered, looking up into the younger man’s eyes that were as wet as his own. His brother had nothing to apologize to him for. Absolutely nothing. Sam hadn’t done anything wrong. Except maybe in trusting him.

If he wanted this to stop… didn’t it just prove how messed up he was how his heart clenched painfully at the thought of them stopping. Did he want it to continue? He didn’t have an answer. The fact that Sam was even asking him one or the other proved just how messed up they both were.

Whatever he wanted…

No. He couldn’t let Sam do this. Couldn’t let his brother offer him this. His eyes silently begged for the younger man to take it back, because he wasn’t strong enough to resist. Couldn’t stop himself from touching him, cupping the younger man’s cheek, mirroring Sam’s touch, caressing his brother’s face. Drawing Sam closer to him. Close enough their breaths mingled once more.

“Promise me… you’ll stop me if it goes too far. Promise me you won’t let me hurt you.” He choked out around a sob. Pressing his forehead against his brother’s. His fingers sliding back into the younger man’s hair.

“I’m so fucking scared, Sammy… of everything. Of what I’m becoming… of needing you so damn much…”

He was so afraid he’d lost Dean, so deathly afraid, and it wasn’t until he was pressing his cheek into Dean’s palm that he had a spark of hope. He didn’t know what Dean’s decision would be, and either alternative scared him. There just wasn’t a good one, not really. Both would hurt them and maybe other people too.

Then they were forehead to forehead, and Sam wanted to be closer. His throat closed up tighter as Dean told him his fears... and chose. “You won’t hurt me, Dean. Don’t you know that?” He wanted to kiss him so bad, wanted the oblivion they could give each other, but he knew it was too dangerous. Their dad could walk in any minute.

Swallowing he hugged Dean close, putting his head on his shoulder, burying his face in his throat. “I’m not afraid of you, just for you. I think... I think I know what is happening to you. You’ve chosen a mate, Dean. Just like... she chose you. She wouldn’t let anyone hurt you, you know that.” Dean would probably immediately argue that Cassandra had herself hurt him. “She was rough on you but it was part of the chase, part of turning you into a wolf. There wasn’t anything between you two before, but you and I, we’re family. It’s not the same. If you said ‘yes’ to her, she’d probably cut off her right arm before hurting you again, ever.”

No. No he didn’t know that. That was what he was so damn afraid of.

But then Sam was hugging him tightly, pressing his face into his neck, and it was difficult for him to think about anything other than his brother’s warmth. The feel of the younger man’s warm breath against his skin. His arms wrapping around his brother’s body almost of their own will and holding Sam even tighter to him.

You should be… Dean couldn’t help but think when Sam said he wasn’t afraid of him. But when his brother ‘explained’ what he thought was ‘wrong’ with him he almost wanted to laugh. Deny it. Except he couldn’t. Because he knew it would be a lie even before he spoke.

Though when Sam mentioned how ‘she’ had ‘chosen’ him Dean couldn’t help but tense in his brother’s arms. Maybe his brother was right. He didn’t know. But he knew he didn’t want to fucking think about her. Not now. Not ever again, if he could help it.

“I’m so sorry, Sam…” He whispered, even as he threaded his fingers through his brother’s hair. Turning his head to brush his lips tenderly over the younger man’s. A part of him still praying that his brother would not say ‘yes’ to him. The other deathly afraid what he might do if Sam said ‘no’… If he would end up just like… her…

Oh God, the heat that went through him just at the brush of their lips. This wasn’t the time, this wasn’t the place, but every cell in his body cried out for just one kiss… just one before it all came to a screeching halt. His lips parted, but he felt Dean’s hesitation… read the fears in his eyes. Big brother still wasn’t convinced he could be trusted.

“No. I want this to stop.” He started to shove Dean away. “We can’t just… we really need to think about it, and until then, you can’t touch me.”

The completely feral look that flashed in Dean’s eyes would have scared anyone, but what blew Sammy away was watching the struggle for control and seeing Dean win the battle and start to pull away. “See what I mean,” he said softly, grabbing Dean’s shirt and pulling him right back and crushing their mouths together for a quick, messy kiss. He didn’t wait for Dean to react, but shoved his tongue inside his brother’s mouth, engaging his tongue in what he knew would be a battle for dominance… one Dean couldn’t resist.

No.

It was a really simple word. Its meaning quite clear. Yet when Sam said it, right at that moment, Dean could only stare at his brother as though he were speaking another language. The younger man shoving him away made the message more ‘clear’ and even as his brother’s refusal of him made his heart twist painfully the almost irrational anger it ignited in him scared him far more.

Just as he’d felt that night, when he’d seen the mark on his brother’s neck and thought that someone else had given it to Sam. That someone else had touched what was his. The same wild, possessiveness reared inside of him. As though Sam had absolutely no right to refuse him… If he’d had any doubts about Sam’s theory that he’d chosen his brother to be his ‘mate’ they vanished right then.

Just as he’d feared, a part of him wanted to yank Sam back to him, crush their mouths together, and take what was his even if it wasn’t offered. The instinct was so strong, to dominate, to prove to them both that his brother belonged to him, yet somehow he forced it back. Forced himself to let go of Sam and pull away, he had to get away now or…

But suddenly Sam wasn’t letting him. He barely registered his brother’s words before Sam was yanking him back close, sealing their mouths together in an almost brutal kiss, especially given how bruised and swollen both their lips were, but at the same time he didn’t give a damn. Clutching at his brother, growling low in his throat as he sucked on the younger man’s tongue before forcing it back and tasting every inch of his brother’s mouth with his own.

It was only hearing the sound of his father’s footsteps returning to their room that he managed to tear his mouth away from his brother’s. Too late to pull apart completely he pressed his face against his brother’s shoulder instead as he tried to regain control of his breathing and racing heart. Better to let Dad think they were having a ‘chick flick’ moment than making out…

He heard their father pause in the doorway briefly before clearing his throat and walking inside. Dumping his duffle bag on the floor but not saying anything for the moment. Giving his sons a few minutes to ‘compose’ themselves which Dean was eternally grateful for.

There was no gentleness in that kiss. Just Dean being feral and possessive, squeezing him so tight he could barely breath, driving every last coherent thought of out Sam’s head. He kissed his brother back, demanding more, always more, anything Dean wanted to dish out he could take… wanted to take.

Dean suddenly ripped his mouth away and Sam started to protest until his brain caught up with him. His heart stuttered at the sight of the back of father’s head. His arms slid away from Dean… Dean still pressing into him, still blowing hot breaths across the sensitive skin of his throat… still making him burn. He took a deep breath, and gave a cough as he untangled himself from Dean, their eyes meeting and holding each others’ gaze for a minute. Sam took it as a silent promise, that he wouldn’t be ignored. Nodding, he forced himself up off the floor.

“Dad,” he crossed in front of Dean, covering his brother from view. “Didn’t expect you back.” Now there was the understatement of the year. “Did you… did you find anything.” He felt Dean’s gaze drilling into his back, and hoped to God their dad brought some good news.

It was hard to let his brother go right now, but Dean did, because he knew he had to. Because he knew if he didn’t their dad would start to really wonder what the fuck was going on, and… Dean didn’t even want to think of those possible consequences. What they were dealing with now was bad enough.

Dean didn’t miss how Sam stood protectively in front of him, blocking him from their father’s view. Like maybe his brother thought that John would immediately grab him up and try to shake his head off of his shoulder again. It should have felt absurd, needing his brother’s protection from their dad, instead he was quite grateful to his brother for giving him a few extra moments to compose himself in front of the older man.

John didn’t miss it either as he finally turned to look at his two boys, but he said nothing about it. Not now at least. Not when he was still so on edge. It was actually probably a good thing. He’d barely managed to force down his anger and fear. The sight of finding Sam and Dean struggling over a gun burned in his memory forever. Knowing what Dean had tried to do…

He had to force down the memory before he completely lost his temper again, did or said something he would regret. Much like the night Sam had left for college, the argument that had pushed his younger son away, and led to them not speaking for two years. John didn’t want to risk something like that again. Didn’t want to risk losing both his sons this time…

So the older man took the way out that Sam was offering them all, giving his younger son a slight nod before turning back to unpacking some things from his duffel.

“The man I was looking dropped off the map almost five years ago. As far as anyone knows he’s still alive, but no one seems to know where he went. It sounded to me like he was running from something, whatever the reason he definitely doesn’t want to be found. I’m still waiting on some leads to get back to me. But from everything I’ve heard, he sounds legitimate. Rumors are he was once bitten by a werewolf himself, and was able to cure himself somehow.”

“Really?” He turned, “Dean, did you hear that?” No way his brother could have missed it, but did he understand? Sam had been running on hope before, but now... now there was a concrete reason to hope. His dad told things the way they were, he didn’t pretty them up... so if he said there was a good chance, there was.


Turning back to his dad, he gave him a determined look. “We’re gonna find him. I wanna help. Maybe you can give me all the details. No one disappears, everyone is traceable.”

Already, he was itching to his the lap top, though a yawn escaped him and he covered his mouth a bit too late. “Shall I get us some coffee? Dean, you wanna come with?” He didn’t want to leave his brother alone with their dad but couldn’t explain why since his dad seemed to have cooled off.

Dean nodded slightly when Sam turned to him, asking him if he’d heard. Yeah, he’d heard. He certainly wasn’t deaf, after all. He also wasn’t blind and he didn’t really see what there was to get so excited over.

Though he tried to keep his doubt to himself. Especially since Sam seemed suddenly so hopeful. False hope, in Dean’s opinion. But he supposed, given how fucked up things were at the moment, even false hope was better than none at all.

It seemed far too good to be true. Especially when his father’s news wasn’t all that great. It wasn’t like rumors proved shit, and not to mention that the guy they were looking for had been missing for years, and was probably dead…

Yeah, his dad wasn’t the kind of guy to normally sugar coat anything, but John had just walked in on his werewolf son attempting to kill himself. More or less. What if their dad just didn’t want to push him over the edge again? Trying to soften the blow? The man was only human after all.

Dean had barely opened his mouth to answer his brother, before John held up his hand, silencing him before he could speak.

“Yes, we’re going to find him. Like I said, I’m already waiting to hear back on some leads. And yes, I’ll need your help, Sam, but we can discuss the details later. Right now I think what we all need is a few hours of sleep.” The older man said and Dean’s eyes widened a little in shock, when had his father ever wanted to take ‘time off’ on a hunt for something trivial like sleep? Further cementing his belief that his father was handling him with kid’s gloves right now, and he shouldn’t take his ‘news’ too seriously.

“You boys are obviously exhausted and I’ve been driving for almost sixteen hours. We’ll be able to think more clearly if we get some rest rather than keep running off caffeine. I’m going to take a shower.” His father continued, grabbing some sleep clothes, and heading for the bathroom. Effectively ending the conversation.

“Dammit. I hate when he does that,” Sam groused, staring at the closed door. Yeah he was tired, he hadn’t gotten any sleep at all yet. But he wanted to know more, he wanted the leads, he wanted to find something that would make Dean smile again.

Dropping his hands to his sides, he turned to Dean. “So? You got that it’s good news, right?” He could tell Dean didn’t see it that way and he didn’t want him to feel like he had to pretend. “I know it’s early, but I have a good feeling about this. And if I’m right, you’re buying me beers for a week.”

He started to walk to the bed and his hands went the button of his jeans when the ramifications of going to sleep now hit him. His gaze shifted back to Dean, and he felt like his every move was being watched. Probably Dean had realized at the same moment.

He rubbed the back of his neck, kind of unsure about taking off his jeans, but equally sure his dad would have questions if he did a stupid thing like go to bed in them. “Ah... Dean, do you think maybe you should sleep with dad?” He cocked his head to the side, half serious. “Cause I don’t know how we’re supposed to get any sleep if we’re...”

Dean couldn’t help the slight twitch of his lips when Sam predictably complained about their father as soon as the bathroom door closed. Normally he’d have been rolling his eyes, or just tuning his brother out, but at the moment it was a little comforting. That some things would always stay the same no matter what else changed.

When the younger man turned back to him, the hope written all over his brother’s face made his heart twist a little more. He wished he could share Sam’s optimism, but he just couldn’t. Not now at least, with so little to go on. It would only make it worse when this lead fell through just like every other possible ‘cure’ they’d heard about so far.

“Deal.” He replied anyway, and started considering maybe he should get up off the floor now. But as he watched Sam move over to the bed, his brother’s hands going to the button on his jeans, his brain stuttered to a halt. Realizing they would now have to sleep together. Squeezed together in that damn small queen sized bed…

Though his desire had been momentarily forgotten with the appearance of their father, his body certainly remembered how it had been denied. Just the thought of lying together, wrapped around each other, even ‘innocently’ was making him flush with heat and his cock twitch with interest. How the hell were they supposed to… with their father in the same room…

He could tell just from the look on Sam’s face that his brother was thinking the exact same thing. They were so fucked…

“And you don’t think that’s going to make him a little suspicious?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow. After all, when was the last time either of them had slept with their father?

Dean glanced down at his crotch, realizing a boner would probably make his father even more suspicious, and he let out a strained laugh in spite of himself. Banging his head back against the wall, scrubbing his face with his hands, trying to ignore his traitorous dick.

“Maybe I’ll just stay here on the floor…”

His face dead serious, he'd been listening to Dean and then he saw him look down at his groin area and bang his head. Without wanting to, he let out a small laugh. "It's like freaking high school only its not Sally Mae's tight skirt that you wanna see un-- Right, probably best not to talk about this."

Clearing his throat, he wondered how dumb it would sound to ask Dean to turn around. Just knowing he was watching would probably have unwanted consequences and Sam didn't want to deal with a hard dick on top of lack of sleep. Right... like he was gonna be able to avoid it.

Biting his lip, he just went for it. Unzipping, pushing his jeans off and rolling into bed in almost a single fluid motion, and pulling the sheets up to his neck. "You could tell him I move too much. Or I stink... maybe a cold shower..." His gaze flicked to his brother. "Or maybe if you stay on the floor..."

It wasn’t funny. It really wasn’t. Then why couldn’t he stop the snort of absurd laughter that escaped him all of a sudden after watching Sam strip off his jeans quickly and jump into the bed, pulling the covers up all the way to his neck like a little kid trying to hide from the boogie man.

Oh god, he really was losing it. He had to be, or maybe a part of him had simply run up the white flag, because he was still snickering even as a look that was half predatory and half playful entered his eyes as he pushed himself up off the floor. Standing beside the bed, looking down at his brother ‘cowering’ beneath the sheets with a grin as he quickly stripped off his shirt, and then more slowly unbuttoned and pushed down his jeans.

Quickly climbing into the bed and bracing himself over his brother. His knees on either side of the younger man’s hips, his arms beside his brother’s head. Hovering not touching, but not letting Sam get away either, as he grinned down at the younger man.

“Or… we could be really quick right now…”

When Dean started to strip, Sam watched him warily. Something about the way he moved and the look he was giving him made Sam real nervous, which was ridiculous since dad was just in the other room... right?

He pulled his gaze away when Dean’s hands lingered too long on his jeans. That was exactly why he was startled when Dean climbed on top of him. The shock had him turning his face and jerking practically up off the bed, only to find he was trapped. Trapped under Dean, separated only by a few inches, and a sheet.

Heart banging against his chest, he looked wildly toward the bathroom door and pushed his hand up against his brother’s chest. “Dean, get off... he’s... Dean, I’m serious!” Even when they weren’t touching, he could feel the heat from Dean’s body seeping through the sheets and his body was clamoring to feel his weight pressing down.

“Dean!” This time, his voice came out breathy.

“So am I.” Dean replied. His eyes darkening with renewed lust as he looked down at the younger man’s flushed face. Licking his lips, his breath growing heavier, and his heart rate quickening just from the single touch of Sam’s hand against his chest.

His brother’s weak protest easily ignored as he let his body drop to press against the younger man’s with a low groan. The thin sheet separating them absolutely no barrier as he pressed his already hard cock firmly against his brother.

“You know Dad, he’ll be in there at least fifteen minutes, trust me, I won’t need that long…” He said only half joking, grinning a little as he started to rock his hips slowly against the younger man. Leaning in as though for a kiss but stopping when their lips were a breath apart.

“Please Sammy…”