Laying on his side, for a long time… long after Dean closed his eyes, Sam watched him. He'd left a little light on in case he needed to move fast to get something for Dean, and now, in the light, he started to notice even more how tired and sick his brother looked. His skin was pale and yellowish, and there were even dark shadows under his eyes. Weird how his injuries seemed to be stable but the rest of him seemed to be getting worse.

Rain. You made him go out in the rain, when he could barely walk. He went barefooted. No matter what Dean ordered, he couldn't help feeling bad about that and responsible for Dean's state. Reaching out, he put his palm close to Dean's nose… felt his breaths, and dropped his hand between them. He was too still, and yeah… maybe his imagination was getting the best of him.

As he closed his own eyes eventually, he hoped he wouldn't thrash around too much and disturb Dean. They hadn't slept in the same bed for a long time, but the last times they had, he remembered Dean's grumbling complaints about him hogging blankets and rolling over to his side. He'd do his best not to do that.

Sam bent his knees and felt his knee cap touch something humid. His eyes flew open and he pulled the sheet down to find Dean had never taken off the wet jeans. "Dean." His whisper seemed to fall on deaf ears and he sighed.

Whatever. He started to undo his brother's jeans. It might be his fault Dean had gotten all wet, but it would not be his fault that Dean had then slept in wet clothes. The fever had to be affecting his brain. The sound of the zipper broke the silence in the room, and then Sam was trying to pull the clinging material down Dean's hips.

The next morning Dean would have probably been surprised just how fast he had fallen asleep, practically as soon as he let his eyes drop closed. He would have sworn he would have lain awake the rest of the night feeling uncomfortable in his slightly damp jeans and lingering hard on. But either he really was pretty sick, still weakened from his injuries in the accident, or just plain mentally exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of the last couple of days (most likely all of the above) because he was literally out like a light within minutes. Too tired to even dream… considering his last few “dreams” and the situation that was probably a very good thing.

Normally he was very aware of Sam, to an obviously painful degree. Normally he could go from a dead sleep to fully alert in less than a second if he needed to, but the young man didn’t even stir when his brother whispered his name. He didn’t feel the sheet slide off his body or the younger boy shift closer to him.

Dean wasn’t so gone as to not notice the feel of his brother’s hands at the waistband of his jeans, however he didn’t wake up either. A soft groan escaped his throat as he rolled over onto his back in response to the insistent tugging, a slight frown pinching his forehead in complaint. One part of his body might be interested but the rest of him certainly was not. He was too fucking tired… too tired, Sammy…

“No more…” Dean mumbled in his sleep and tried to roll away from the younger boy as Sam started tugging the wet jeans down his hips.

“Dean, don’t move,” Sam hissed in frustration. As if Dean weren’t heavy enough, now he had to roll him back. Still his brother was motionless. Gritting his teeth, he worked the pants down some more, eyes widening when he found his brother had gone commando.

The wet material slipped from Sam’s fingers as he pulled away, trying not to look. Not that he hadn’t seen Dean in the nude often, like when he’d talked to him in the shower, but this was a bit… strange. He’d have to tease him about it later.

Once again leaning over to tug the damned pants off, he felt heat steal over his cheeks. He dragged his gaze away again, and tried to rush. Straddling Dean’s calves, he pulled harder until the jeans slipped past his knees and it got easier to get them off. “Just a little more. Almost there… almost,” he half chanted under his breath.

Dean didn't hear his brother's frustrated complaints. He simply rolled over onto his stomach, hugging the pillow and kicking half heartedly in response to the hands tugging at his pants. At least, he did until Sam sat on them to keep them still and Dean grumbled in his sleep but didn't move any longer.

Finally the damp clingy material slipped off from around his thighs, knees, and was finally tugged off his feet. If he appreciated the new freedom and comfort he didn't express it. He simply slipped deeper into his dreams now that the insistent annoying tugging was over and done with. He didn't even move except to snore softly when a light sheet was draped over his nude body.

He slept so heavily he didn't feel his brother finally getting himself settled into the bed next to him. He didn't hear it when the younger boy's soft rhythmic breathing began to match his soft snores. He didn't even feel it when his brother began to shift and roll around a little bit in the bed next to him, maybe from a nightmare or just general restlessness from the heat.

The younger boy finally settling only once he was practically plastered up against his back, a long arm thrown over him and a leg wound between his own. Dean didn't think he had slept so good in a long time.

That was how Dean woke. His brain feeling like it was wrapped up in warm cotton. His body wrapped up in heat. The sweat that had been generated between their bodies hot and making them practically stick together when he tried to move. Not that he wanted to move really. He was more comfortable than he would have imagined with an electric blanket draped over him in the middle of summer. He was just hard. Achingly so. His morning wood trapped beneath him, and all he could think about was rubbing his dick against that lean muscled thigh between his legs.

"Sammy..." Dean moaned softly.

The call brought Sam out of his heavy sleep. “Dean?” He lifted up slightly, and his chin resting on Dean’s shoulder. “You alright. Need another drink?” he asked, eyes still closed.

He listened to Dean’s even breathing, and wondered if he too was half asleep. Slowly, he started to realize he was practically on top of his brother. Like he used to sleep when he was a kid. It brought back lots of memories. How Dean used to sooth away his nightmares. Stroke his hair until he fell asleep again. Or assure him that he had a bullet with the name of anyone or anything that dared try to get to Sammy Winchester. God... he’d felt so safe, and so close to Dean then.

He took a breath, wondered if they would ever get there again. Or was it something you grew out of? It hurt to think so, and there had already been too many tears between them.

He laughed softly in Dean’s ear, tickling it with his finger. “Hey Dean, I’m all over your.” He laughed again, “aren’t you hot? You have to be sick if you haven’t kicked me away yet, hmm?” He ticked him again. “Dean... just like before, when we were kids.”

Yeah, his brother probably heard nothing or had no clue what he was babbling about. He started to move and found that his leg had gotten trapped between Dean’s. Laughing again, he started taking his leg back, a slight shock running through him when he suddenly realized and remembered he’d stripped his brother down to nothing.

The fog in his brain didn’t dissipate even when the soft voice in his ear and the tickle of warm breath across his cheek pushed him more towards being awake. Was he awake? Or was he dreaming? He didn’t know the difference anymore. He was still too much asleep to understand what his brother was whispering into his ear, but a content smile curved his lips anyway. All he knew was that the warm weight against his back felt good, despite how hot he already was. He felt good, despite… not feeling good… As long as Sam was with him he didn’t care how “not good” he felt.

So when he felt the younger boy’s heat begin to draw away, the leg tangled with his own withdrawing, Dean couldn’t stop the small moan of complaint that escaped his lips. Sammy… don’t leave… please don’t leave me. Love you… love you so much…

Dean rolled onto his side and then his back, trying to follow the younger boy’s withdrawing warmth. He managed to snake his arms around his brother’s slim waist and tug him close again. Their bodies flush. Skin to skin. His hard cock pressing insistently against the younger boy’s thigh.

His fingers trailed slowly up the length of the younger boy’s back, over his shoulder blade, up the back of his neck to thread into the soft fall of hair. His fingers pet through the soft silken mass lovingly before he cupped the back of Sam’s head and tugged his brother closer. His lips seeking out and finding Sam’s, warm and soft and just as sweet as he remembered.

Sam had thought Dean was complaining, like he always did when something threatened to wake him. He stilled, just so he could move away more carefully, when Dean's arm suddenly wound around his waist and dragged him up hard against his body. Sam's exclamation was swallowed the instant he realized there was absolutely no room between himself and Dean, and that Dean's morning wood was pricking his thigh.

A sense of fear and embarrassment swept through him, his cheeks burning. His heart slammed into his chest and he knew he had to get out of this predicament before his brother woke. "Ah..." He swallowed as his brother stroked his hair and held him just a little tighter, moving his hand behind his head and trapping him. Did he think...

And then their mouths were pressed together, and Sam was bombarded by feelings of confusion. His brother was kissing him, his tongue was inside his mouth. He should stop this, even if he had to wake Dean, he should. And then his tongue was playing tag with Dean's, and he hadn't even realized he was doing that, or how good it felt. His entire body was buzzing and thrumming, in a way he'd never experienced. No, that wasn't true. This was a bit like how he felt when he needed to go to the bathroom for privacy, and when he jerked off. Just the idea of jerking off, coupled with the heat Dean's mouth was generating inside him drew a deep groan from Sam.

Oh God...oh God, he was getting a stiffy. It wasn't just a morning stiffy, he was getting hard because of the way Dean was kissing him, and the way Dean's arousal felt against his bare leg. Oh God, Dean pressed against him, and the pressure against his dick had Sam wanting to rub against Dean, needing to find an outlet for the heat pooling in his groin.

Eyes widening at the thought of what he was about to do, he jerked out of Dean's hold and rolled to the side of the bed, one hand covering where his shorts tented. His breaths coming out much too fast, he stared at Dean's innocent face. So that's how he got all the girls!

Swinging his legs off the bed, and fighting not to wig out over this, Sam padded out of the room and went straight to the bathroom. He looked in the mirror at his flushed face, his lower lip reddened from biting on it, and then the real struggle began. He really shouldn't reach for the vaseline... really shouldn't. It would be wrong, so wrong, because right now all he could think about what how Dean felt, and how he made him feel. And God, if Dean ever found out he jacked off to that, he'd kick his ass.

Feeling Sam’s tongue playing against his own, feeling the younger boy’s stiffening flesh against his thigh, made Dean moan again in pleasure and need. His little brother was so damned sweet. So hesitant and shy even after everything they had already done. Quite frankly, Dean found it endearing and it made his protective instinct kick in to full gear even as it made him burn with desire.

God, he could just imagine what it would be like to finally fuck the younger boy. To open Sam up slowly with his fingers and tongue until his brother was begging for more. To slip inside that tight hot virgin passage and make love to Sam slowly.

He would go slow because he didn’t want to hurt Sam. Because he wanted his brother to love it, love Dean fucking him, as much as Dean would. He wanted Sam quivering and panting in his ear as he slowly filled him up over and over. He wanted his brother screaming his name as he came, his already tight muscles fluttering and clenching around him, making Dean spill his own seed inside…

Soon… when Sam was ready. He wouldn’t do anything to scare his brother. He’d go slow. As slow as Sam needed to. He wouldn’t rush this. He wanted to savor it…

But then suddenly his brother’s warmth was pulling away from him, and Dean whimpered at the loss. Sammy? Where was he going? Sam?

Dean struggled to wake, to see what was wrong, but by the time he opened his eyes his brother was gone… was Sam even there? Of course not, it was just a dream, just like all the others… Dean made a soft sound of despair in the back of his throat as he rolled onto his stomach. Ignoring the hard ache of his cock pressing into the mattress underneath him.

He was losing his fucking mind…

Twenty minutes later, a cleaned up Sam, dressed in shorts and tee shirt pushed the door to Dean’s bedroom open. He had a hard time making himself look at Dean and felt his color rising the moment he tried. “I ... ah... I got breakfast ready. And I called your boss and told her no way you’re coming in.”

He took a couple more steps into the room, dancing near the bed. “Seriously time to get up.” Dean’s face didn’t look flushed anymore, but he was still hella pale. “Dean?” Why was he afraid to touch him now? Dean was awake, he wasn’t going to pull him into his arms and...

Oh God, what if he remembered? No, no no, Dean had been dreaming. Taking a deep breath, Sam added, “but wait till I get out of the room. Dude... since when do you go commando?” His voice cracked slightly as he thought about how Dean had felt against him.

Dean knew he must have dozed off again… if he was even awake in the first place, he was never sure anymore… because Sam’s voice from the door woke him. What? Breakfast? Dean honestly wasn’t sure if he was even hungry, but he couldn’t remember when he last ate either.

Sam telling him that he’d called his boss and told her he wasn’t coming in, that woke him up though and Dean pushed himself up with a muttered curse as he looked at the clock. He was late. Or would have been late if Sam hadn’t already told them he wasn’t coming in. But he had to go in, damn it. Maybe the job and the pay was crap but they needed every extra dollar they could get right now.

“Why did you do that?” Dean demanded and started to get up from the bed before Sam’s next words, about him going commando, made him freeze and look down, and then wrap the sheets tightly around his waist. He had gone to bed last night in his jeans for a reason. And Sam had… What if he had… no it had just been a dream, just a dream…

“Since when do you undress me?” Dean asked, trying for annoyance but it was fear that was making his heart beat so fast it felt like it might explode. It had to be a dream. Sam wouldn’t be in here talking to him right now if… he’d done anything…

Dean sighed heavily and dry scrubbed his face. Fuck, he was so damned tired. He couldn’t deal with this right now, he had to get to work.

“Go eat breakfast, I need to get ready.”

Sam’s eyes widened as Dean started to get up but he let out a breath of relief as his brother just secured sheets around him. Not that he usually gave a rat’s ass about seeing Dean naked, but today... this morning... it was different. After the way he’d felt Dean’s arousal pressing into him as his brother kissed him, it had to be.

Dean’s gruff questions about work startled him out of his reverie. “Cause you don’t look so hot. I mean you were hot all night last night. You have a fever that keeps coming back, Dean. You need rest, or let’s go to the hospital... get you checked out.” He wished Dean would agree to that.

When he asked about his pants, Sam felt the heat rise to his cheeks. “Well you were all wet. Had to be delirious to go to bed in wet jeans, so I... and you’re freakin’ heavy, by the way,” he added.

“You... you’re gonna go to work?” He ignored that Dean told him to go eat. “Dean, you don’t have the car. You’re gonna have to take the bus, sit out there... and... you’re no in any shape for it.” He could see the stubborn tilt of that Winchester jaw. “She would have told me if it was a problem. I can go for you...”

Dean made a face when the younger boy suggested that he go back to the hospital to get “checked out”. Even though he had been almost wondering the same thing given the dreams… he didn’t want to call them hallucinations, but he swore he’d been awake… But he had already been to the hospital and they had checked out his head, said it was fine, was just a concussion.

Rest. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe that was all he needed. He felt sore and bruised, but mostly he was just tired. Maybe if he rested, just for one day without any kind of stress, maybe he would feel better and he would stop having the dreams.

When Sam suggested that he go to work in his place, saying quite bluntly that Dean was in no shape for it, the older boy scowled. His first instinct, of course, to argue with his brother, insist he was fine, but unfortunately Sam was right and pushing himself was only going to make things worse. Dean sighed heavily and shook his head, dry scrubbing his hand over his face.

“No, you’re right. It’s probably not a big deal.” He relented, dropping his hand and laying back down. “I was already checked out at the hospital, they said I was fine. But I’ll rest, ok?”

By the expressions crossing Dean’s face, Sam thought he might have a fight on his hands. Then again, he really doubted Dean would make it out the door, or too far out the door. But when he finally agreed to rest, a sense of relief ran through him. “Okay. I’ll bring your breakfast in here,” he said, leaving the door open and walking out.

It hovered invisibly over Dean. In his sleep, Dean had gotten a taste of his brother. He’d be primed and ready for more sex... just one touch would have him on his knees, crying for it. He was so pretty when he was needy, and even prettier when he tried to fight those needs, to control them for his brother.

Speaking of the brother... It sensed angst laced with lust coming from the boy. Interesting. Maybe later, once he finished the older Winchester, he’d give the younger one his brother back... until he wore Sam out too. Then both brothers would be together into eternity.

It dropped down, on its knees, straddling Dean’s hips, with just the sheets separating his naked body from Dean’s. He started to ride Dean, no preliminaries, nothing. “You kissed me. In your sleep, you kissed me. Why?” He licked his lips, placed both hands on Dean’s chest and leaned down over him. “Is this what you really wanted, Dean?”

Sam’s obvious relief when Dean agreed to rest made the older boy feel a little less guilty for staying home like this when he should be working. When he had already missed two days of work because he was stupid enough to get into the accident in the first place. Losing two days worth of pay. Money that was supposed to pay for taking care of Sam while their father was away.

Tomorrow. If he wasn’t on his death bed, he was definitely going to work tomorrow and working a double shift if his boss let him to help make up for it.

He rubbed his eyes again tiredly. Almost unable to believe he was still feeling so fucking drained after he’d just slept all night. The sudden weight landing on him was definitely not what he was expecting and the his yelp of surprise as his hand dropped and his eyes snapped open was cut off by a moan he simply couldn’t contain at the sudden pressure against his groin.

Heat. Pressure. Friction.

“Sam…” Dean all but squeaked his brother’s name as his hands scrambled for some kind of purchase, ending up on the younger boy’s bare thighs and he practically choked on his next breath at Sam’s words. Kissed him? In his… but it was just a… he’d been dreaming… then what was this? What the fuck was this?

“What…”

Lust and confusion, so delicious. Sam didn’t slow down, especially once he felt Dean’s hand squeeze his thighs, sending heat spiraling through him. He didn’t give Dean any personal space at all, still leaning over him, hand splayed across his chest.

He watched as Dean tried to get himself together, could see... feel the teen struggle. Dipping his head down, he licked across Dean’s mouth, felt the instantaneous reaction, so strong... so strong it made him dizzy.

“Feel good... need this,” he whispered, pulling up from Dean’s mouth before his brother could draw him into a kiss. “Ever since the last time. When you touched me... when your mouth was on me. Dean... I was imagining this... is... is that okay?” He asked like he was struggling with the question, like he needed reassurance. “I was imagining this, and you calling me ‘baby brother’... can you do that? Do that for me?”

Oh he was wicked, but this boy had so much to give him. He wanted to wring out every bit of emotion, and more.

“Oh god, Sammy…” Dean groaned, his lips parting almost against his will when his brother licked across them. Only it definitely wasn’t against his will, because he wanted this so fucking much it hurt. His lips ached to feel, to taste, the younger boy’s mouth. His hands burned to touch and caress every inch of soft warm skin. His cock was already hard and throbbing against Sam’s bare ass, the only thing separating their flesh a thin sheet, but even that was too much.

He wanted, needed, more.

But when he tried to kiss his brother, Sam pulled back, and Dean whined softly in protest. Panting. Begging silently with his eyes, even as the younger boy drove him crazy. He shouldn’t want this so much, damn it. He shouldn’t need this so much. He should tell Sam that they shouldn’t, it was wrong, that it had been a mistake. That he was sorry, he never should have laid a hand on his brother. He never should have kissed him. Never should have tasted him. Just because Dean was fucked up he shouldn’t fuck his baby brother up too…

But the way Sammy was touching him, talking to him like he needed this just as much as Dean did, asking him if it were all right. So unsure… so beautiful… Dean felt his resolve crumbling away like a sandcastle before a tsunami.

“It’s ok… it’s ok Sammy…” Dean reassured softly, the need inside of him burning him up from the inside out, and he didn’t give a damn. He slid his hands up the younger boy’s back, cupping the back of his neck, pulling him closer and not letting Sam pull away this time as he whispered, “Need this too, need you, baby brother, need you so much…”

Dean’s words, repeated over and over, crashed over him. He allowed Dean to pull him closer, but slowly, tantalizing him, making him wait for the contact between their mouths, making want it. The way Dean was lifting his hips, rubbing his arousal against his ass, seeking relief, he knew they were moments away from Dean rolling him over. That the need building inside the teen would blow out of control.

“Me too... me too, Dean...” he leaned down, letting his lips slide past Dean’s to his ear. “Want to try what we did before. But ...” he hesitated. “I want to lay down, and then you can fuck my mouth. Want to see you... want to hear you saying it again, calling me your baby brother. Is that sick?”

Oh God such delicious guilt laced lust lanced through it’s body, before it gave a silent snarl and dissipated into thin air, cheated out of its dessert.

Sam stood at the door, his cheeks a bit red. “Need what? And I’m not your ‘baby brother,’” he huffed, unsure why it felt like an intimate moment or something. He had Dean’s coffee, and he’d brought him some toast. His brother’s face looked flushed, like it had when they’d kissed. And the sheets... they weren’t hiding much, not from Sam’s sharp gaze.

He swallowed. Forced himself to walk over and set Dean’s breakfast down on the nightstand, then sit on the edge of the bed. “Is your fever back?” Without giving Dean a chance to answer, he leaned over him, touched his forehead, his cheek, and slid his hand down over his throat. “You’re just a little hot.”

Oh God!

Was it sick? Yes. It was sick, twisted, and wrong in every possible way, but Dean couldn’t deny that he wanted it. The mental image burned like a brand into his brain and his cock throbbed hot and ready to feel his little brother’s lips wrapped around it. His baby brother’s mouth open wide and taking his thick cock as deep as he could as Dean fucked his mouth…

God help him… He belonged in hell for wanting this, but he couldn’t make himself stop. Even if he dragged his brother down there with him?

Even that horrifying thought wasn’t enough to cool the need inside of him and Dean hated himself all the more for it. However when the image of his brother suddenly vanished from in front of his eyes, his hands grasping nothing but air where there had been warm flesh Dean’s mind was left reeling. What… not Sam… but… he’d been dreaming again? No, he was awake… What the fuck?

Sam’s soft voice from the door, laced with half annoyance half concern had Dean’s eyes snapping in that direction and he could really only hope the confused panic, the crushing guilt, he felt was not so visible on his face. Sam… his Sam, his brother, not his sick imaginings… had heard him. Oh god, how he must look. How much had Sam heard? What had he heard? Dean couldn’t even remember what he’d said anymore…

Dean didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know what to say. Sam didn’t look disgusted at him, just concerned. When Sam touched his forehead, his face, it was all Dean could do not to flinch away from his brother’s fingers. It was all he could do not to burst into hopeless tears and tell Sam everything, begging his brother’s forgiveness when he was done.

Maybe he should go back to the hospital… this... wasn’t normal. But what the hell was he supposed to tell them? That he was hallucinating about fucking his fifteen year old brother?

“I don’t know…” Dean finally managed to whisper.

Dean’s admission just got him more worried. If there was any chance in hell that Dean would agree, Sam would have called an ambulance or figured out some other way to get Dean to the hospital. But he could see how it would all go down. First Dean would tell the doctors that he was just fine. They’d think the low grade fever was nothing, and send him home. Then Dean would kill him. Hospital was pretty much out.

“Okay, we’ll watch the fever, and see what happens,” he reluctantly agreed. “But you gotta eat.” Ignoring the look of displeasure that crossed Dean’s face, he stuck a couple of the pillows up against the headboard and scooted a bit further away while Dean sat up. He really did look like hell.

Dragging his gaze away, Sam first had him drink some more water. Then he gave him the coffee, which Dean set on the other side of the bed. And then he watched him start eating the toast with jam. Only when Dean was half way done, was Sam satisfied that his brother would eat, or at least get something inside him. Neither of them had eaten the night before.

He rambled on a little, just making conversation about having wanted to go to summer school and didn’t Dean think it was dumb that only remedial students could go. It wasn’t so much that he couldn’t find stuff to do, but more that vacation was just too long. Especially with Dean working and dad gone. And he wasn’t even gonna bring up the fact that it wasn’t a ‘real’ vacation, if they didn’t do anything other than go on hunts. Looking at Dean from under his lashes, he figured he’d bored his brother enough. “I’m gonna bring the t.v. in here,” he said. “We can watch.”

It glared at the young teen walking out of the room. How was it to take Dean, wring all of his lust out of him, when the younger one planned on watching him? Landing on the bed, straddling Dean thighs again, pushing the plate out of the way, he licked the jam off Dean’s lips, putting a hand on his cheek. “Tell him no t.v., you’re tired. Tell him to stay out of the room, and you can dream of me… Please Dean, I need you… need you so bad…” he rubbed his mouth back and forth against Dean’s until the younger brother carrying the t.v. “Choose me…”

Sam sounded so fucking calm. Worried, sure, but calm. When Dean felt like he was close to panicking, losing his mind, or most likely both. Maybe Sam hadn’t heard too much? Didn’t suspect? Surely his brother wouldn’t be offering him food and helping him sit up so he could eat if Sam thought he was some kind of sicko.

Eat… Dean frowned slightly. He probably should, but at the same time food was really the last thing on his mind right now. Sam didn’t really give him a choice though, pushing a glass of water into his hands and practically giving him the evil eye until he drank. Dean was still feeling guilty enough about… everything… he put up with the pampering without much fuss. He drew the line however at letting Sam spoon feed him. He’d eat, but he’d feed himself, damn it.

He was a little surprised that once he got a little bit of toast into him his stomach began cramping in demand for more. The empty hollow feeling in his stomach he hadn’t even really been paying attention to before definitely making itself known. Damn, he hadn’t even realized how hungry he was. Dean made sure to pace himself slowly though, it wasn’t going to do him any good if he ate and then threw up right afterwards.

Sam talking about wanting to go to summer school had Dean rolling his eyes a little. He’d never understood how Sam could actually enjoy school so much. Dean couldn’t wait to graduate just so he didn’t have to go anymore and could go on more hunts with Dad. He would have quit school early, if Dad had let him, but that was one thing their father had insisted on, that he graduate high school, even if Dean barely graduated.

“You could always flunk a little, then they’d send you to summer school.” Dean suggested and Sam responded with his bitch face and the older boy grinned back. When Sam finally suggested bringing the TV in here so they could watch again, Dean almost protested, he could watch TV just fine on the couch but he didn’t get the chance.

Sam was barely out of the room when Dean suddenly found himself faced with a very naked version of his brother in his lap once more, grinding down on him and licking his lips, and Dean’s thoughts of not right, very wrong were pushed away by the thick blanket of lust that clouded his thoughts. Tell Sam to… ? Choose? Oh god… he needed this… needed Sam so much… but…

An image of his brother sitting curled up on the bus bench in the rain flashed before Dean’s eyes and it was enough to penetrate the fog just a little. This wasn’t Sam. It wasn’t his brother… he… loved Sam. He needed Sam, not this. He wasn’t going to push Sam away again. He was going to control this, damn it! It was all in his head and he could control it!

“No…” Dean finally managed to force out, shaking his head, trying to clear his mind. Not right. Something’s not right. Even as the hallucination vanished again, Dean put his hand to his forehead, groaning softly at the throbbing behind his eyes. He felt something warm and wet drip from his nose down to his lip, and when he tried to lick it away Dean wasn’t surprised by the thick taste of copper. Dean might have been stubborn, but he wasn’t stupid. He looked up at Sam as his brother came in with the television, waited at least until the younger boy put it down on the dresser before he spoke.

“I need to go back to the hospital.”

Sam repositioned the television. "No... what?" he asked, a smile on his face as he turned. Dean's words hit him at the same time as the sight of blood dripping from Dean's nose. It took him just about three seconds to get to Dean's side, lifting his face and sucking his breath in. He'd seen Dean bleed worse than this, a lot worse. But this was just confirmation of the bad feeling that kept coming and going. Nodding, he couldn't bring himself to say anything just yet.

He passed Dean a towel that had been hanging off the chest of drawers, and came back to sit down next to him as he called for an ambulance. "Ah... yes, that's my address. It's my brother, he's sick. Well, actually he has a nose bleed and--" Sam frowned as he was cut off by the voice on the other side telling him that due to the weather, they were having lots of nose bleeds. Then he was asked how much blood there was. "Well not much at the mom--"

He grit his teeth as he was advised on how to deal with nose bleeds, something he was very familiar with. "Hold on, listen to me," he insistent, eyes narrowing in frustration. "I'm not just calling about a fu... a nose bleed. He was in an accident, they said he might have a concussion. He's had headaches and he just..." Sam looked over at Dean. "He doesn't look right. Instead of getting better, it looks like he's getting worse. Fever? Last night yeah, now only a little... maybe."

He grit his teeth as the dispatcher talked to him about the flu and that Dean was probably experiencing multiple problems, rather than just one major issue. He took a couple breaths, deep ones, then he shouted, "Oh my God, his eyes are rolling back... oh my God, oh my God... get here... help me..." with that, he dropped the phone onto the table and crossed the room. Returning with shorts, sweats and a tee, he pulled the sheets off his brother's naked body. He wasn't kidding anymore, nor was he shy or did he give himself time to think about what had happened in that bed last night.

"Legs." He pulled the shorts up to Dean's knees, then followed with the jeans. "Can you stand?" Putting an arm under his brother's armpit, he started to haul his heavy ass up, tugging on his clothes at the same time.

Dean took the offered towel with a nod of thanks, even though he was internally kicking himself. He hated seeing that scared look in the younger boy’s eyes though Sam was doing a good job at masking it. This was all his fault… he should have listened to Sam, should have gone back to the hospital the first time he realized he wasn’t dreaming but actually seeing things when he was awake. Instead getting off on his fucking hallucinations, so fucking stupid. Now… what if he was bleeding in his brain? What was that called, an aneurism? What if he was fucking dying right now while he tried to stop a stupid bloody nose?

Though as he watched and listened to Sam on the phone, holding the towel to his nose that was slowly coloring crimson, he began to doubt again. Maybe he really didn’t need to go to the hospital? Maybe he was overreacting? Maybe it was nothing…

When Sam started shouting though Dean actually jumped in surprise and his eyes widened in shock. Sam was a damned good actor. It made him want to check in the mirror just to make sure his eyes weren’t rolling back, or that he wasn’t seizing or something.

Finally the ambulance on its way, fuck, their dad was going to kill him… their insurance cards were going to be worthless after this. Two hospital visits AND an ambulance? If they’d had a car he would have insisted that Sam drive him, but they didn’t, because he’d gotten stupid drunk, crashed it, and now he might be bleeding into his brain…

He wasn’t embarrassed in the least when Sam tugged away the sheets from him and started helping him get dressed. He had other shit to worry about right now.

“Yeah.” He confirmed with a slight nod, though when Sam proceeded to haul him up Dean was shocked by how unsteady he really was. He could stand, barely, but he had to hold onto his brother to keep himself steady when a wave of dizziness hit him. Dean was afraid he might just lose what little breakfast he’d had after all.

His brother was so fucking cooperative that it scared the crap out of Sam. He tried not to show it, tried to be strong and positive, getting him dressed and helping him back down onto the bed. It hadn't escaped his notice that his brother had put practically his entire weight on him. And he'd thought he could go in to work? He noticed the way Dean's brows furrowed, like he was worried.

"It's gonna be alright. You don't have to worry about... work and shit, not now Dean. I'll take care of it, alright?" If he had to, he would call their dad. But that would only be a last resort because it would be a heckofalot better if everything was normalized, car was fixed, and Dean was better before their dad got back. There might still be yelling, but it wouldn't be the kind that would blow the roof off the house.

The sound of sirens approached. "Lemme get the door," Sam said, swapping the towel Dean had been holding for a new one. "Hold your head up." Fear made him snap, then guilt flooded his insides. No time for apologies, Dean would understand.

It was the hardest thing, standing back, watching the paramedics take his brother's vitals, getting told to shut up when he tried to ask questions, find out results. Dean was a mess... but so was Sam. He felt lost, unable to help, and the lack of information killed him the most.

*

He made them take him along. All he grabbed was the lap top and Dean's wallet, and jumped into the ambulance. His eyes were always on his brother, encouraging, telling him it was fine. It wasn't as if Dean was going into cardiac arrest or having a stroke or... Oh my God, he had to stop thinking like that. He rand his hand though his hair, telling himself again, it would be fine. Dean had been injured a lot worse... this wouldn't... it couldn't... no, he didn't look that bad.

*

In the hospital, they took his brother away despite having words with him over it. He paced the halls, eyes swinging toward every doctor, every nurse that came out of the swinging doors through which they'd taken Dean. Eventually, a doctor came out to talk to him. Told him that though Dean had a low grade fever, and they weren't sure why he was suffering from the nose bleed, they couldn't see anything specifically wrong. Then he launched into an explanation of the MRI testing and what to expect from the results.

*

The white clad male nurse walked in behind the female and told her he'd take over. The instant she left, it turned to Dean in his brother's form. "You should have listened to me, chosen me. Now look where he brought you."

The confident air fell from Sam, and he approached the bed hesitantly. "You're sick. I'll make you feel better Dean. I will, promise," he said, biting his lower lip as he pulled the thin white sheet off his brother's body. He ran his hand down Dean's chest, then over the light blue hospital pants, cupping his groin. "Want it? Want me to make this all go away Dean? Want to come in my hand?"

Sammy reassuring him, telling him not to worry... Sammy taking care of him, helping him get dressed and giving him a fresh towel when the other one was all bloody… Sammy promising him everything was going to be all right… It was all so wrong, all so backwards. It should be him reassuring Sam, him taking care of Sam, him promising his brother everything would be all right. But it wasn’t as though Dean could do anything to change that right now. He wanted to make it right, he really did, but how could he?

His headache was getting worse and he could barely sit up on his own. He felt dizzy, weak, light headed, and all he could do was nod and sit there on the edge of the bed while Sam went to answer the door when the ambulance arrived. All he could do was sit there, holding his head back to keep most of the blood from getting everywhere as they shined lights in his eyes, took his pulse, and checked his breathing. He tried to answer their questions the best he could, but he was finding it hard to concentrate. His eyes shifting away from the paramedics and looking towards Sam again and again, as though seeking reassurance, maybe just to make sure Sam was still there, real. Wrong… but he couldn’t stop himself from doing it…

The paramedics taking him out of their house, the ambulance ride back to the hospital, being wheeled into the emergency room, all passed in a kind of blur. He started to put up a fuss when they wouldn’t let Sam come with him, he didn’t know why, but he knew that he needed Sam there, with him. He needed Sam. He needed him… he kept telling them that, but instead they had given him a sedative.

It made him feel groggy, tired, and it was hard to focus on what was going on. But it didn’t do anything for the pain in his head, and he wished they could have at least given him some pain killers too if they were going to drug him up.

He wasn’t asleep, at least he was pretty sure he wasn’t asleep, when he heard Sam’s voice. Soft and admonishing at first, but when he opened his eyes Sam looked only hesitant, unsure, and worried as he approached the bed. Dean tried to offer him a reassuring smile, but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care. All he cared was that Sam was there. Finally Sam was there…

Dean sighed softly as the sheet covering him was drawn away and a soft moan escaped his throat when his brother’s warm hand slid down his body. God, even that light touch felt so good. He knew this was wrong but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Even before Sam cupped him, squeezed him, and Dean’s hips bucked up into the touch in spite of himself. A groan escaping his parted lips.

“Sammy… yes… Sam…” Dean begged softly.

It knew how much Dean was resisting, wanting to escape, wanting his real brother to help stop these ‘dreams’ that went too far. At the same time, how could he resist when it wore Sam’s face? Was everything that Dean wanted and needed, especially now, once it had given him a taste of forbidden fruit?

“Don’t move,” Sam whispered, grinding the heel of his hand into Dean’s cock, smiling with satisfaction as it filled out and hardened under his hand. “I’ll take care of you, Dean. Like you take care of me,” he whispered. Eyes locked with his brother’s, he squeezed and pleasured him, but just enough to make him want more, need it,

He pushed his free hand under Dean’s powder blue top, moving it over his abs, digging his fingers in lightly, moving, and squeezing again, mapping his body out. “Used to watch you. When you did your push ups, I used to watch. Then I’d go to the bathroom… and I didn’t know why I had to… I had to…

Licking his lips, he tugged Dean’s pajama pants down, and closed his fist around his cock. “I’d go slow, real slow, just saying your name… over and over… Dean, Dean… Dean…”

Dean wasn’t sure he could have moved even if he wanted to when Sam’s hand started squeezing and rubbing him through the thin pants he was wearing. His cock was stiffening quickly to the stimulation despite how much like crap the rest of his body felt, however the haze of lust blanketing his thoughts was making him not care about that at all. Everywhere that Sam touched him, heat spread through him, making him forget about anything else but Sam’s touch.

“Sammy…” Dean moaned, his eyes rolling back a little, and his stomach muscles clenching beneath his brother’s hand. His hips bucking up against the younger boy’s hand, seeking more of Sam’s touch.

Yes, he wanted Sam to take care of him, he wanted Sam…

His brother telling him how he used to watch him, and then touch himself, made Dean gasp sharply. Looking up at Sam in wonderment. God, was that true? Or was it only his sick imaginings that wanted it to be true?

“Love you, Sammy… need you…” Dean gasped, begging as he thrust up into Sam’s fingers curled around his hard cock.

Sam stroked slowly, carefully, lovingly, sliding his fist up and down Dean’s hardening flesh. His gaze was fixed on the youth, weak and dizzy, the slave of lust pumping powerfully through his veins. So much hope, so much need, such absolute desire.

His nostrils started to flare, his heart beating faster as he feasted on Dean’s emotions, his desires. His own cock grew hard, so hard it took his breath away. “Want me to lick you?” Sam showed Dean his tongue, and instantly felt the youth’s lust spike up... saw it in his eyes, in the way his hips moved with more desperatio.

“Want me to take you in my mouth. Suck you hard? Swallow you?” He asked in a breathy tone, jacking Dean off just a little faster... still not enough to satisfy him... making sure he craved and wanted.

He moved his other hand over to Dean’s face, pushing his thumb into his brother’s mouth... watching as he wove it in and out. “Just like that? Like you’re sucking my thumb, want me to?”

Again and again, he asked whether Dean wanted him to do things... this he stirred Dean’s imagination and desires with, but cruelly withheld. It went on and on, until he could stand it no longer himself.

He unzipped, pulled his jeans down part way and climbed up onto the hospital bed over Dean. Straddling him would give too much satisfaction, so instead, he started to fuck up against him, pressing and rubbing his cock against Dean’s, letting out soft moans. “Love you... love you too Dean.”

A few seconds later, Sam came. Eyes wide, filling with tears, he started to apologize. “I’m sorry Dean... I couldn’t help myself, oh God...” Despite the fact Dean was bucking up under him, trying to find release, Sam hopped off the bed, tears running down his cheeks.

“Sammy…” Dean whimpered his brother’s name again and again, every gentle stroke of the younger boy’s hand up and down his hard cock making him tremble. It was just a hand job, but because it was Sam it was so much more. He couldn’t stop moaning and trying to fuck up into the younger boy’s fist. Every stroke made it harder and harder for him to think. He didn’t even want to think anymore. He just wanted to feel this. He just wanted Sam to keep touching him…

“Oh god…. Yes… Sam… yes…” He gasped, his fingers clenching in the sheets beneath him as though he was holding on for dear life. Just imagining his baby brother’s mouth on him again, licking him, sucking him. Dean was panting harder as Sam’s hand began to move faster along his flesh yet somehow still teasing him. Intensifying his arousal without bringing him to the edge, it was the sweetest torture that Dean had ever experienced.

“Please…” Dean whimpered and then moaned as Sam pushed his finger into his mouth. Dean’s eyes fluttered closed with a groan as he began to suck and swirl his tongue around the younger boy’s finger like it was Sam’s cock. He began to buck harder, moan louder, and he didn’t care that they were in the middle of a crowded hospital where any doctor or nurse could walk in and catch them at any time. All he cared about was Sam making him come, giving him release, god, he was so hard he hurt…

He forced his eyes back open when suddenly Sam was on him, the younger boy’s hard cock sliding against his own and Dean had to bite his lip to keep from shouting as his hands moved from gripping the bed sheets to gripping Sam’s hips. He choked on his own moans at Sam’s whispered words. Telling him he loved him.

“Sammy…” Dean breathed, watching in awe as his brother came undone, he was so close himself he felt like he was balancing on a razor’s edge as he continued to buck against the younger boy. But then suddenly everything changed, Sam looked like he was on the verge of tears as he scrambled away from him, apologizing. Leaving Dean unsatisfied, but he really didn’t care about that right now, despite his body’s needs. He managed to sit up, even though he was so dizzy, from lust or sickness he didn’t know, he nearly fell out of the bed as he reached out to catch the younger boy’s wrist.

“Sam, no, please… why are you sorry? You’ve don’t have anything to be sorry for. Please, Sammy… don’t cry… I love you.”

“No you don’t.” He met his brother’s eyes. “I wish you did... then you’d send him away.”

Just like that, it disappeared.

“Dean? What are you doing?” Sam asked, walking inside the hospital room and putting his arm around Dean who looked like he was trying to get out of bed. “You’re supposed to rest... what are you thinking?” He pushed him down, and repositioned the pillows.

Then he looked down the length of Dean’s body, swallowing at the sight of his brother’s erection. No he hadn’t been looking for it, but there was no way in hell he could miss it.

Trying to keep his eyes off Dean’s groin, he pulled the sheets up, all the way to Dean’s chest, his own cheeks now flushing. “Please don’t do anything to make yourself worse, please?”

He had half a mind to put the railings up, just to make sure Dean stayed put. But he could sit here and make sure he didn’t try anything.

“They.... so far they can’t find anything wrong. Some of the results will come tomorrow, but...” Sam shrugged. “They said maybe you have a flu and that the symptoms and you’re just feeling worse because of the accident.”

He didn’t believe it. Not in his gut. He touched Dean’s forehead again, then leaned over him. “Anything you haven’t told us? A pain somewhere else, maybe? Anything Dean, you gotta help us out, here.”

The words were like a knife to the gut and Dean found that he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even move as he stared into the space where his brother had been, no, the hallucination his mind had conjured up that had just reminded him what a sick fuck he really was. His arousal burned away in an instant, leaving a cold bitter hole in his chest and despite how hard and close to the edge he’d been, left unsatisfied, he began to wilt like he’d been dumped in a tub of ice.

Unfortunately not before Sam was there, his Sam, his real brother, who was helping him back into the bed. Fussing over him. But Dean was still far too shocked and numb to answer the younger boy’s questions or his concern. That was probably a good thing because otherwise Dean might have simply broken down into tears.

The worst part of it was, that the other Sam, the one he dreamed of, was right. Maybe not about sending his brother away because Dean could never do that, but because if he really loved Sam he Dean wouldn’t be… getting off… so easily on his own sick fantasies. Even if they were only in his mind. Even if they didn’t really “hurt” anyone, he still shouldn’t allow himself… it was his baby brother he was fantasizing about damn it!

His little brother, who wasn’t so little anymore, talking to him about the test results, that the doctors weren’t sure what was wrong with him. Looking at him so worried, and having absolutely no idea what a sick fuck his big brother really was. Dean couldn’t bring himself to look at Sam in the eyes as he slowly shook his head.

It’s not like he could tell his brother about the hallucinations. He could tell Sam he was seeing things, but then the younger boy would grill him endlessly on exactly what he was seeing and his brother could see through his lies more often than Dean liked. Maybe something would come back on the tests…

“Dean?” His brother looked so damned hopeless… Biting his lower lip, Sam let him go, but stood close to the bed for a while, never taking his eyes off him. Weird… he got the feeling his brother was avoiding his gaze, like he was trying to hide something. Then again, knowing Dean, he might just be hiding his pain.

He didn’t know what to do. He felt so damned helpless. Again, a voice in his head told him it might be time to call dad. Was it to that point yet? He had no clue. The docs said one thing… but Dean looked… he looked worse than he did when he came out of a hard hunt.

When his brother said nothing more, he flicked the t.v. on, if only to fill the room with some sound. Hours went by, neither of them talking. When lunch was brought to Dean, Sam had to talk him into having at least a little of it, and then he finished up the left overs. One think Sam wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer on was drinking, he made sure Dean got plenty of water.

The nose bleeds continued. They’d stop, then he could see Dean was getting dizzy or nauseous again, and then scarlet liquid would start dripping again. Frustrated by getting no answers from the doctors and staff, Sam plugged in his lap top. Thank God the hospital had a free network, because in his rush, he hadn’t packed their sim card for the lap top.

For hours, he tried to find answers, putting together everything he knew. Accident. Head injury. Nausea. Nose bleeds. Looking over at Dean, he decided to add to his list, ‘overemotional.’ He might not be going nuts, but Sam felt the undercurrent of emotions. He’d put it down to their issues, but nah, there was something more.

He looked up suddenly, and gripping Dean’s arm, asked. “Hey, you think you’ve come into contact with anything lately? Like… you know, not a disease but… What was that job you went on alone?” he asked. Neither his dad nor Dean had talked about it, other than in general terms that he’d guessed were meant to stop his questions. When that didn’t work, his dad had shut him up with a reminder that he didn’t seem all that interested when he’d first mentioned the job… yeah, cause he’d been keeping his head down and trying not to get dragged into it. “You know, the one you wouldn’t talk about. Just thinking what if… I know it’s crazy, but what if the doctors are right and this isn’t a physical thing?”

Dean didn’t answer his brother. Sam didn’t exactly ask him a question anyway, and Dean didn’t know what to say besides. Sam thankfully didn’t push him, instead turning on the television and giving them both an excuse not to talk anymore. Not that Dean really watched the TV either, but it was still better than the silence or talking. This way he could try to forget the last words his… not his brother but still… had said to him. Not that Dean thought he ever would forget. Not again. Just how sick he really was, and he didn’t mean the reason he was in this hospital bed.

He was still feeling nauseous and not in the least bit hungry when they brought him his “lunch” if you could even call it that. At first he refused to eat, but then Dean had made the mistake of actually looking his brother in the eye as Sam tried to get him to eat just a “little” bit of it. Dean stopped arguing immediately after that and reluctantly picked up his fork. Though each mouthful had to practically be choked down.

After he had eaten about a quarter of what was on the plate he knew he simply couldn’t stomach anything more without it coming right back up. Thankfully Sam didn’t insist again and simply finished off the remainder of his food. Of course that made him feel even more guilty, if that was even possible. He almost suggested that Sam go down to the cafeteria or something and get himself something to eat, but Dean was afraid that if Sam left then he would start to see things again… but what if he started to see things while his brother was here?

Again the words echoed in his head. If he really loved Sam he’d send him away… was that what it meant? But he couldn’t… he couldn’t send Sam away… he couldn’t hurt the younger boy like that again. Pushing him away like that… he’d promised Sam he wouldn’t… that he would try to make it better.

Yeah… he was doing a great job of that…

The nosebleeds were getting annoying and making him feel light headed. Still the doctors and nurses didn’t seem all that concerned about them, just kept bringing him fresh towels whenever the next one started. Maybe he should suggest to Sam they just leave, he could lie in bed and bleed at home just fine on his own.

Dean choked on his words though before they were even out of his mouth. It was like he didn’t have any right to even speak to Sam. But after a few hours of Dean pretending to watch TV and Sam working away at his laptop, when the younger boy suggested that maybe what was happening to him had something to do with the supernatural, Dean felt himself go cold.

He stared down at Sam’s hand gripping his arm even as his mind raced. Could it? Maybe it wasn’t all in his head? Why hadn’t he thought that before? Or had he? He wasn’t sure anymore, he always got so confused… distracted…

“No, I don’t think so.” Dean finally forced out. It was a bald faced lie, but it’s not like he could tell the younger boy the truth. He could never tell Sam what he was seeing. If it really was some kind of creature and not all in his head Dean had to deal with this… it… by himself. The older boy had more than enough anger and determination to do so. Taking his brother’s form… toying with him… He just had to figure out what the hell it was and he was going to kill the son of a bitch.

Noticing the way Dean looked at his hand, Sam immediately let go of Dean’s forearm. He didn’t want to let go of the subject, he wanted to explore it further, but he recognized the stubborn look Dean was wearing. And they said Sam was the stubborn one. “Maybe we should think about it. Explore it… possibilities, brainstorm…”

He trailed off when Dean’s reaction remained essentially unchanged. Yeah, Dean thought he was he was making up crap, or was grasping at straws. He was the expert, he and dad, and Sam knew nothing. Right.

He tried not to be hurt. Nah, he was angry, not hurt. This was just another example of not taking him seriously, wanting him to be part of ‘their team’ but yet never really treating him like he could add a lot of value. Not that he wanted them to think otherwise… hell, it would make leaving easier. When the time came.

His gaze slid to his brother, and he closed his eyes, not wanting to see him like this. Pale. Weak. Defeated.. He swore to himself that if Dean got any worse, he was calling dad. Bowing his head, he went back to work on the lap top.

Hours passed. Thirst had him looking up at the clock. Sure he’d had Dean’s juice, but it was midnight now. Pulling out of the chair, he set the lap top on it and stretched. “I’m gonna stretch my legs and get something from the soda machine. I’ll get you something too.”

He walked out the door, rubbing his eyes as he headed down the long hall. The caferia, with its vending machines was on the basement level. He’d take the stair, just for the exercise.