Dean tossed down his pencil in frustration on the table in front of him and leaned back in his chair rubbing his eyes. He turned his head slightly to check the time on the round clock on the wall and scowled when he realized he'd been staring at the same page of his book for about an hour and he still just didn't get it.

It was a Friday night and the library was practically empty. No real surprise. He and Sam had been here for hours already. Not that spending hours in a library was out of the ordinary for them, in fact, they'd often had to do it when researching for a hunt. But at least that had some kind of purpose and he didn't really mind it… too much… Ok, so Sam had done most of the research for hunts, sue him.

This though, Dean was pretty sure all the studying he was doing was actually making him dumber rather than smarter.

Chemistry… it was chemistry tonight and it was like fucking Greek to him. Thankfully Greek wasn't actually on the GED test or he'd be really screwed. Though some of the English books he'd had to read had also felt like Greek. Poetry… shudder. Geography, history, economics, physics, geometry, and fucking algebra! Not to mention he had to write a damned essay as well! What the hell was he supposed to fucking write about? The best way to behead a vampire?

Dean sighed heavily and leaned forward to rest his arms on the table, then dropped his head down on top of them. Sam was off somewhere in the library trying to find him an 'easier' book to study from. Chemistry for dummies. He was sure there had to be one out there somewhere. His brother, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at home and completely comfortable with all the subjects Dean was currently struggling to grasp even with Sam's help.

For not the first time Dean had begun to second guess his decision to try to get his GED when it was so obvious he was just going to flunk it. Sam had always been the brains of the outfit. Dean was good at shooting things. He wished he could shoot something right now. Like this damned chemistry book. It would make great target practice.

Sam was hovering in the Chemistry section, looking through the textbooks there, and trying to find one that explained orbital distribution of electrons a little better than the one they were currently using. Dean had been studying for his GED, and Sam had been trying to help him, but the fact of the matter was that even though he knew his own subjects very well, he was still only in 10th grade, while Dean was studying at a 12th grade level. A lot of the material that Sam was trying to learn right along with Dean was difficult for him as well.

He flicked through a book that promised 'Quantum Electronic Distribution... for Kids!' and Sam rolled his eyes. The 'for kids' seemed like such an afterthought. And flipping through it made him realize that it was actually worse than all the other books... only with cartoons talking jargon on the corners. Stashing it back, he grabbed an encyclopedia and a Chemistry reference book and dragged both of those monsters back to the table Dean and him were using.

"Here," Sam dumped the giant books on the table with an ominous bang. "Best I could find. Hopefully the fact that they're 'concise' will mean they'll get rid of the excess jargon." Sam sat down next to Dean, leaning over to see what Dean was reading. Ah... acids and bases. That Sam understood.

Dean had been trying really hard, and Sam loved him all the more for it. Studying was not Dean's thing. He was too active, too alive to be able to focus on something that didn't seem immediately important. And Sam knew that Dean would never find the ability to create a buffer from a salt and an acid ever important. If Sam could just figure out how to make Dean enjoy Chemistry, maybe this wouldn't be so painful.

Sam was still surprised though, at the speed at which Dean had grasped physics. He supposed it was because of its real world application. Mechanics and dynamics? Dean had it in a span of two days. One read through and he was putting numbers to answers he knew instinctively. Geography was easier just because they were very traveled. Geometry was amusing... Dean and Sam spent a ridiculous amount of time distracted when they started trying to apply geometry rules to the protection symbols and sigils they knew. As much time as they had killed on that, Sam wouldn't say it was entirely wasted. Algebra though... that had been a special kind of hell.

"Any luck?" Sam asked, noticing the way Dean looked ready to beat the shit out of the book. Sam chuckled lightly, reaching forward to put a hand on Dean's tense one. "You'll be fine," Sam said, grinning at Dean. "We'll have everything prepared before your exam, don't worry."

Dean sat up again at the loud bang the books made hitting the table and did a quick glance around them to make sure that the librarian hadn’t heard it as well. The old lady, who always seemed to be here no matter what time of day he and Sam arrived, kind of reminded him of the Crypt Keeper only a hell of a lot scarier.

She was sweet as pie to Sam of course, because Sammy had ‘library geek’ written all over him, while he, in his leather jacket and ripped jeans, had delinquent written all over him. Though it probably didn’t help that he’d threatened to put one of the algebra books they’d been using a couple days ago through the shredder when she’d been in earshot. She’d been giving him the evil eye ever since then and Dean had been really tempted to bring an anti-curse charm along with him to the library just in case.

He raised an eyebrow at Sam doubtfully as he eyed the ‘concise’ books that looked like they weighed a ton each. Still he was more than glad to get rid of the evil book he’d been struggling with all night anyway and slammed it shut and pushed it away from him before he grabbed one of the new books and flipped it open.

“If my brain explodes and leaks out of my ears, you’re cleaning up the mess.” Dean grumbled as he grabbed his pencil once more and his notes and started reading again. Luck… That’s what it was going to take for him to pass this damned test. If Sam wasn’t helping him study he knew he wouldn’t have a chance in hell of passing. Still, Sam had been nothing but supportive and confident he would pass and if that made this all bearable. Dean really, really, hoped he wouldn’t let Sam down again.

Dean looked over at his brother and gave the younger boy a brief smile at his encouraging words, wishing he had half as much confidence. Especially since he had only one more week to study before he was scheduled to take the exam. He and Sam had been coming to the library practically every day and staying most of the day trying to get him ready, sometimes he really did feel like his brain was going to explode with all the useless information they were trying to cram into it.

Studying with Dean felt like something out of an episode of Twilight Zone. Dean didn't like studying. Even when he had been going to school, he did just the bare minimum amount of work to get to pass, and he didn't put any more effort than that. Sam was actually surprised, now that he thought about it, that Dean hadn't ever failed anything. His grades never got much better than D or D-, except for that rare A he got in shop class which... figures... so anyway, but now that Sam thought about it, he was fairly certain that Dean was actually very, very smart. He had already noticed the quick way he grasped physics, and Geography, finding it fairly easy to put names and small details to information he already knew.

So yes, Sam had all the confidence in the world that as much trouble as they were having deciphering the concepts of some material, Dean was going to rock that test.

Sam helped Dean study as much as he was able, but unfortunately his knowledge was very basic when it came to higher level courses. More often than not he was learning right alongside Dean, putting their heads together and trying to figure out the mysteries of organic chemistry and Biology and trying to understand basic genetics. It felt too much like the way they would work on a hunt, with their notes laid out and heads together, looking for clues that would unravel the whole thing and make them go 'aah!'

It also made him want to kiss Dean a lot. His scent had never seemed as strong as it had lately, mostly because they didn't leave each other's side for more than a few moments. When they were done studying for the day, they'd drag themselves to their motel and fall into bed, exhausted. Sam hadn't slept by himself since Dean had been back either. He even tried once, opting to sleep in his bed rather than Dean's, figuring that Dean might get annoyed with him being so clingy, but halfway through the night he had given up on the pretense of sleeping and crawled under the covers of Dean's bed, wrapping himself around Dean in what Dean called his 'octopus imitation', and he was instantly deeply asleep.

Sam knew he was only falling harder and deeper for his brother, but he couldn't stop himself. As incapable as he was of controlling his infatuation towards Dean, he was just as incapable of pushing him away. He had tried that last time, and had nearly lost Dean. If his unrequited feelings hurt, then not having Dean at all had felt like dying. So he contented himself with putting his head on Dean's chest every night and falling asleep to the sound of Dean's heartbeats.

The GED test was coming up soon, and as nervous as Dean looked, Sam was getting just as anxious. He found himself making new notes over and over again, trying to make them as good and as concise for Dean as possible. He quizzed him all the time. At one memorable moment, he had fired a question at Dean just as he had walked out of the bathroom, still dripping water and wearing just sweatpants and Dean had answered it without even thinking about it. Sam had grinned so hard he felt his face would split.

Oh yeah, Dean would rock that test.

The test date had come and gone, much to Dean’s relief. Heading off to the testing center he’d been almost as nervous as the first time Sam had joined him and their dad on the hunt for the first time. Just a simple salt and burn, no real chance of anything bad happening, but still Dean hadn’t wanted to leave his brother’s side for an instant much to John Winchester’s annoyance.

Of course Sam wasn’t allowed into the testing center with him. The younger boy had to wait out in the car. Dean had told his brother he could wait back at the motel if he wanted, since the test was going to take several hours, but Sam had insisted on coming with him. For moral support, Dean supposed. It had been kind of weird. While he’d been taking the test it had been the longest they’d been separated for weeks now. Still, knowing that Sam was just outside, waiting for him, did make him feel better.

After he’d finished the test Dean had driven them both to the liquor store and picked up a couple of six packs and a pizza on the way back to the motel room. Not so much a celebration but stress relief and it had been nice.

Now, of course, he had to wait for the test results. They’d said it could take a couple of weeks to get the scores, and Dean’s stomach practically cramped with nervousness every time he went to check their P.O. Box they’d set up just for this purpose.

Dean had never cared about his education or scoring well on a test before, he’d thought he’d be a hunter all his life, never thought he’d need a ‘real’ job. Sure, having a GED didn’t guarantee him being able to get a decent job to support him and his brother, but it would certainly help. If he failed he wouldn’t be able to take the test again for several months. What the hell was he going to do if he failed? He didn’t want to disappoint his brother again.

So the day he went to the post office to check their mail and found the letter from the Board of Education among the junk mail the butterflies in Dean’s stomach morphed into a hornet’s nest. He stood there for a few minutes just staring at the letter before he decided he just couldn’t open it, at least not here. So he hid the letter in the middle of the rest of the mail before Dean returned to the car where Sam was waiting.

“Where do you want to go for lunch today?” Dean asked his brother casually as he got into the car, tossing the mail into the back seat.

Sam could see how nervous Dean was, how he looked through the mail with an air of anxiety about him. Sam was just as nervous, wondering when the test results would come in, when they would find out how Dean did. He knew that no matter what the results, Dean had gone far and beyond what Sam expected from him academically. The way he had worked so hard at something that his heart wasn't in, just so that he could make a better life for both of them... Sam wasn't blind to it, and he loved Dean even more for it.

When Dean came out of the post office with a blank expression, Sam figured the results still weren't here yet.

In response to Dean's question, Sam shrugged, glancing once at the pile of envelopes in the back seat.

"Wherever," Sam said, distracted as he reached for the pile. They were running low on credit cards, so he might as well see if any one of the letters were new cards. "Whatever you want to have. I'm not particularly hungry," Sam said, ripping open the first envelope and finding the new shiny credit card in there. He took it out, putting it on the dashboard for the moment. The next envelope was the same, as well as the next one... but the fourth one...

"Dean..." Sam whispered, eyes wide with excitement as well as nerves. The board of education insignia was stamped on the corner, and Dean's name was on the front. The results. He could see how nervous Dean was about them, so Sam didn't open the results. He reached over, putting the envelope in Dean's hands. "Open it!" He said, grinning widely. He knew Dean did fine. He was sure of it.

Damn it. Dean silently cursed when he saw Sam reach for the mail he’d thrown into the back seat of the car. Of course there was a slim chance that his brother might not notice the envelope, but he knew that was probably too much to hope for even as he started the car. Doing his best to pretend that he wasn’t staring at his brother from the corner of his eye as Sam opened one envelope after another. Slowly getting to the one marked Board of Education… His attempted distraction of food didn’t work either. Damn it…

Dean knew the exact moment Sam noticed the letter. The way Sam had frozen, much the same way Dean had in the post office when he’d seen it. Then his brother was thrusting the envelope into his hands, practically bouncing with excitement. Kind of like the time when they lived in Arizona that one summer when Sam was like five years old. He would get so damned excited every time Dean would walk them both down to the small town’s ice cream shop and let the younger boy get whatever he wanted. Of course getting most of it all over his face and shirt, thanking Dean afterwards with a sticky chocolaty kiss… ok, he was stalling…

He sighed and ripped open the envelope. Best to just get it over with, like ripping off a Band-Aid or something… Opening the letter Dean scanned it quickly and frowned. That had to be a mistake… He read it again… the scores next to each subject, the total average…

“87…” Dean read it aloud and it still didn’t seem any more real somehow.

"87..." Dean read out loud and Sam sat there, quiet for a moment.

87.

"Dean..." Sam whispered. "That's... wow... that's..." 87. Dean got an 87. Sam's face split into a grin so wide he felt his face instantly hurt, but he didn't care. "Oh my god, Dean!! B! You got a B!!" Sam bounced, reaching out in a moment of pure excitement and grabbing Dean's face with both hands, pulling closer. At the last second he realized what he was about to do and changed his trajectory, angling away from Dean's mouth and kissing the corner of his lips instead, because any further deviation was not possible, considering that his hands were spanning most of Dean's face.

"I told you you'll rock it! Didn't I? Didn't I?" Sam said gleefully. "I totally told you! I knew it!" Sam still had his hands on Dean's face and he was so close to him, so close that he could feel every puff of Dean's breath flutter against his own mouth. With control that Sam didn't think he had, he pulled away a few inches, just enough that Dean wouldn't look so larger than life to him, and shifted his grip on Dean's face to slip down and rest on the curves of his shoulders instead. "Told ya," Sam said, a little softer now, but no less happy.

Sam’s sudden squeal of excitement suddenly made it all real. He’d gotten a B, and a high B at that. He’d been sure he was going to flunk the fucking test, and he got a B! He’d gotten his GED. He’d really gotten it…

He was still sitting there frozen with shock when the younger boy suddenly grabbed his face and his brother shocked him all over again. When Sam leaned closer to him Dean was sure that the younger boy was going to kiss him. Well, his brother had kissed him. But he was certain that Sam was going to kiss him on the lips.

No, it couldn’t be disappointment he felt when the younger boy didn’t. No, his heart wasn’t beating faster from anticipation. No, his lips were not tingling with every soft breath the younger boy exhaled over them because they were still so close.

When Sam finally pulled back a little the moment was broken and relief filled Dean. Other emotions swamped him as well, but he clung to relief because he didn’t want to examine any others right now. So instead he grinned at the younger boy and laughed, reaching up to ruffle Sam’s over long hair like he used to when his brother was just a kid.

“Yeah, you told me. You rigged test didn’t you? Had my scores swapped out with someone else’s? Shame on you, Sammy. Right now some poor sap is crying over their test scores.” Dean teased, he knew it wasn’t true but he liked getting Sam all worked up.

Sam swatted Dean's hands away playfully when Dean ruffled his hair. Normally that annoyed him like nothing else, but right now he was too happy to get grouchy. So he just pushed Dean's hands away and attempted to fix the way his hair were standing up as Dean laughed.

Sam punched Dean's arm lightly when he teased him about the test switching. It annoyed him how Dean believed so little in himself. Sure, Dean had his weak points, but Sam knew that Dean's greatest quality was his unfailing determination. If Dean wanted, he could be a doctor, or a lawyer, or an engineer. Sam knew Dean could do anything in the world he put his mind to, only that Dean seemed to think he wasn't much good for anything outside of menial jobs or hunting, and it often grated on Sam's nerves. He won't bring it up now, not when they were happy and celebrating. Maybe soon, but right now he wanted to laugh and hug Dean and snark at him. "Dude, don't sell yourself short. You ever say that studying isn't your thing, I'm showing you this report!" Sam teased right back.

Sam sat back, pulling his hands away so that he wasn't holding onto Dean anymore. "So..." Sam grinned, "how are we going to celebrate your GED, oh great knowledgeable one?" He asked, mischief written in every line of his body as he teased Dean.

Dean grinned as he watched Sam trying to fix his messy hair. It was a bit in vain, he thought, since his brother’s hair always had that slightly tousled look to it. The younger boy was in desperate need of a haircut. Dad would have never let Sam grow his hair this long, where it could obscure his vision and get in the way during a hunt.

He made a face when Sam teased him about his studying habits.

“No more fucking studying for me, geek boy. You’ll have to put a gun to my head first.” Dean joked right back. Then when Sam asked him how they were going to celebrate his GED Dean’s grin turned practically wicked.

It only took him a moment of thinking before he answered.

“I think I’ve got an idea.” Dean said and started up the car. Lunch could wait. They were only a couple of hours out from the city. It had been a while since they’d celebrated anything and Dean was definitely in the mood.

When they got close to the city Dean found exactly what he was looking for and pulled into the parking lot of a bar and strip joint. Yeah, Sam was too young to pass for twenty one even with the best fake ID but he could still get in with the fake ID that said he was 18. Dean would just have to do all the drink ordering and make sure he gave the waitress a really good tip to look the other way when he gave them to Sam.

“Break out the fake ID, Sammy. Time to have some fun.” Dean said gleefully then reached over to ruffle Sam’s hair again. “Maybe we’ll even get you your first lap dance.”

Sam's eyes widened when they parked at a strip joint. He wanted to laugh, so hard, because this was wrong on so so many levels! Not only did Sam only have eyes on for his brother, he also had very little appreciation for a job he considered demeaning and objectifying to women. On top of that, he was just plain too young to be in there.

But hey, it was Dean's big day so he just made a face and went along with it.

"No thank you for the lap dance," Sam said, swatting Dean's hands away for a second time before trying to flatten his hair. They were getting too long, getting into his eyes and beginning to curl over his ears. If John had been here, he would have forcibly taken a scissor to his hair by now. But he wasn't here, so Sam ran his fingers through the brown mop, annoyed when it wouldn't settle down after Dean's ruffling earlier.

"But I'm curious, so let's go," Sam said, refusing to put a kink in Dean's plans as he opened the glove compartment and pulled out the little box with their IDs. He rifled through the many, rather outrageous ones, including the one that Dean made of him being a 'Bikini inspector', and found his own that had him listed as over eighteen. He thanked his height then, because no way was his face making anyone think he was over eighteen. The height seemed to throw people off.

The bouncer at the door looked bored as he checked out both Dean and Sam's ID, before he stamped Dean's hand, identifying him as 'of age' and not Sam's, which Sam was fine with. He was sure he was getting drunk regardless.

Even though it was day outside, the club inside was dark. It was quiet, mostly, because of the early hour, but a few scantily clad waitresses were walking back and forth, handing out drinks. A girl on the stage danced to the soft music, looking almost distracted as she ground against the pole. She was naked, only a thong and ridiculously high heels on, and Sam's face flushed. His eyes trailed over her, nearly out of his control because he hadn't really seen a real naked girl before. Sure, he had seen Dean's skin mags, he had found them on the internet when they had a computer at home for a few months, but in person? No. Not yet.

Sam and Dean had just chosen a table near the stage when a waitress came to them, red hair held up in a messy bun and pale body swaying to the beat. She was wearing a transparent bikini and Sam's face flushed a second time. She grinned when she saw his reaction and then winked at him, then her blue eyes landed on Dean and they distinctly got darker.

"Hi, I'm Starla," she said with a slow, sultry smile, undressing Dean with her eyes and not even being subtle about it. Sam felt a weight drop into his stomach. "What can I do for ya, hon?" She asked, shifting closer to Dean with each word, the double meaning behind them obvious. Sam struggled to keep a pout from showing on his face, and instead watched the girl swaying on the stage. She was prettier than Starla anyway, he thought viciously.

Dean rolled his eyes a little when Sam, way too politely, refused his offer to get him a lap dance. Making a face like Dean had just suggested they watch the Discovery Channel special or something. Actually, his geek of a brother would have probably been more excited to watch the Discovery Channel. Which of course just made Dean even more determined to get Sam that lap dance and make sure the younger boy enjoyed it. No way was any brother of his growing up to be a prude.

“Aww, come on, Sammy. Live a little.” Dean joyfully said as they got out of the car, throwing an arm around his brother’s shoulders as they headed inside the strip club together. Of course despite the younger boy’s protests once they were inside Dean noticed immediately how his little brother blushed and his eyes practically fell out of his head when he got his first good look at the girl up on stage.

Dean grinned even more. He wondered if this was the first time Sammy had seen real tits up close and personal. Oh yeah, this was going to be fun.

Yeah, his original plan was to get them a table in the corner where they could drink together without anyone noticing, but he changed his mind. Instead getting them a table right up next to the stage where Sam would have the best view possible. When their waitress, Starla, came to get their drink orders Dean knew there’d be no trouble getting drinks for Sam, hell, maybe even a few free drinks to boot.

Dean certainly wasn’t above flirting to get what he wanted.

“Hey there, Starla.” Dean replied in a low voice, giving her his most winning smile. “How about a couple of beers for me and my brother?”

Dean leaned a little closer and dropped is voice conspiratorially as he dropped a few bills onto her tray.

“Maybe even a bit of special treatment from the girls? It’s his first time.”

Sam could just see how classy this joint was. Starla didn't even spare a glance at the fact that Sam was clearly too young to be drinking. She just smiled, putting a hand on Sam and Dean's shoulders and trailing the fingers seductively.

"Sure thing, sugar," she said licking her lips and sashaying away, her thong riding up her ass and covering absolutely too little.

"Jesus, Dean!" Sam hissed, covering his face with his hands and looking out through the slits. He didn't care that he was acting like a child. His face was burning and the sensation was distinctly uncomfortable. "I don't want a lap dance!" He whispered, looking around agitatedly, but pretty much all the girls were nearly naked, and one of them was topless and grinding on a guy sitting in his chair. Sam looked away hurriedly.

"Here, sweetie," Starla was back, with two bottles of chilled beer and a girl trailing behind her. The girl had dark, jet black hair and tanned skin. She was topless, wearing only a string bikini and Sam hurriedly looked away from her dark nipples. "This is Candy, she'll take care of your brother," Starla said and Candy went to Sam's side.

"Hi, what's your name?" Candy asked and Sam looked down fiercely into his lap, trying not to look at her. Candy laughed a soft, tittering laugh. "He's a shy one, isn't he?"

"Deeaaaannn!" Sam whined, still refusing to look up. Candy trailed a finger under Sam's jaw, tilting his head so that Sam was looking at her. Sam immediately turned, looking at Dean and saw that Starla already had her hands all over him.

"Leave them be," Candy whispered, throwing a leg over Sam's thighs and straddling him. Suddenly Sam had a face full of breasts and Sam's face burned even more. "I'll take care of you," she said, undulating in front of him and Sam was really, really uncomfortable.

Sam laughed uncomfortably, but all Candy did was grab his hands and put them on her breasts. At that point, Sam gave up.

"Listen... Candy... whatever your real name is..." Sam said , turning away and pulling his hands down to rest them on her hips, trying to push her out of his personal space. "You're a really nice girl, really, really nice and really pretty..." Sam started, but all that did was get Candy to press closer.

"Oh aren't you a darling?" She said, dragging her hips over Sam's crotch and this time he squeaked, and he didn't care that he sounded like a girl.

"No! Look, I'm sorry but no thanks, no, no, just no, please," Sam said, pushing her away and this time she stepped back. "I'm sorry, I just... I don't want a lap dance," Sam said quietly, apologetic but also so, so relieved.

Candy suddenly looked pissed off. "Hey, no harm no foul. Could have just told me you were gay," she said before walking away and Sam choked on air. He coughed, before grabbing his beer and tried to calm down.

"I'm not..." he started saying, before he shrugged and took a long drink of his beer, resting the cool bottle against his crotch, because as unwanted as he advances had been, his cock had been more than happy at the attention.

It sucked being a teenager sometimes.

"Whatever..." he sighed, trying not to watch what Starla and Dean were up to. If it got too X-rated, Sam could always just walk out and wait for Dean outside. But he didn't know what to do about the ugly green monster rearing its head in his chest. He wanted to be in Starla's place, grinding down on Dean's crotch like that, and yeah that image was not helping his hard on at all. At least this time he had things to blame other than his brother for his apparent 'condition'.

Dean watched with great appreciation as Starla walk away towards the bar to get their drinks. Of course he wasn’t oblivious to his brother’s growing embarrassment, but he wasn’t all that sympathetic. In fact, watching the impressive shade of red the younger boy was turning was almost as fun as watching the girls. Dean only laughed and clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

“Don’t worry, Sammy. They don’t bite, trust me. Just relax.” He reassured in his best big brother voice.

It wasn’t long before Starla returned with their drinks and another girl that Dean definitely approved of. If he wasn’t worried about getting his ass kicked by a pissed off stripper he wouldn’t have minded a lap dance from her too.

“Thanks, Darlin.” Dean said to Candy, then gave Sam a wink and thumbs up before he turned all his attention to Starla. Well, all his attention to the beautiful breasts being shoved into his face while the pretty waitress ground on his lap, at least.

She was definitely a pro. That much was for certain. Though he had a feeling she definitely wouldn’t mind getting a little unprofessional with him later, which Dean definitely wouldn’t mind. With everything that had happened over the last several months, it had been a while since he’d been laid, and his dick was definitely sitting up and taking notice of Starla’s stellar attributes.

Though when he chanced a glance towards his brother, checking to see how the younger boy was doing, Dean was a bit startled to see Sam alone and looking pretty miserable. Dean sighed.

“Hey, sweetheart? Will you give me a minute? I gotta play big brother, but I definitely wouldn’t mind a more private lap dance. If you’re available, of course.” Dean whispered seductively.

Sam saw that he had attracted Dean's attention, and he couldn't help but feel like he was being a wet blanket for Dean. It was clear Dean wanted the lap dance, and it was even more clear that Sam didn't, and if he sat there drinking his beer like a sullen teenager, he was going to ruin Dean's celebration.

Sam took a long drink of his beer, finishing it off and putting it on the table. He felt the liquid fizzle in his stomach, warming him from the inside out and it helped minutely numb some of the embarrassment. He saw Starla let go of Dean for a moment and he caught the slightly worried look Dean was giving him.

"I'm fine," Sam said, getting up. "This isn't my thing, so just..." he flipped a hand in Starla's direction, implying that Dean can get back to doing what he was, "I saw an arcade on the way here. Come find me when you're done, okay?" Sam asked, pushing down the jealousy in his chest that was making breathing difficult. He knew what Dean wanted, and he knew that Starla wanted the same, if the way she was watching his brother was any indication... and Sam wanted to be nowhere nearby when some random stripper got something he could never.

Yeah, okay, he had ruined the day for himself. Good going.

Sam smiled, trying not to let his bitterness show through. "Enjoy yourself," he said to Dean.

Dean fairly gaped at the younger boy as though Sam had grown a second head.

"What the fuck, Sam?!" He couldn't help but blurt out as he stared at the younger boy.

Arcade?! Sam wasn't going to actually leave a strip club to go spend time alone at a fucking arcade?! But since the younger boy had already gotten up... apparently he was...

What the fuck was wrong with Sam? Any normal horny teenage boy would be kissing the ground Dean walked on bringing him to a place like this, but no, not his brother. Of course not. Christ. They hadn't even been here ten minutes! And judging by the semi hard on that his brother was sporting 'this' most certainly was his 'thing' so what was the fucking problem?!

They were supposed to be celebrating, together and Sam insisted on pouting and acting like a fucking prude. Fine, if he didn't want to have a fucking lap dance, he didn't have to have a fucking lap dance. But they could have at least spent time drinking and watching the girls and having a good time. Instead, Sam just wanted to leave.

So much for celebrating.

"Sorry, Sweetheart. Looks like the party is over." Dean told Starla. Not really bothering to hide the displeasure on his face nor the bitterness in his voice as he slipped a couple more bills into the waistband of the waitresses thong, for her trouble, then stood up as well. God damn it. He hadn't even had the chance to take a drink from his beer before Sam started acting like a little bitch.

"Lets go." Dean snapped, not looking at Sam as he headed for the door.

The moment Dean blurted out after Sam mentioned the arcade, Sam knew things had gone downhill. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Yet another day when he did something else wrong. He had thought he was not being bitchy when he had let Dean do his thing and instead chosen to wait for him, but apparently he had messed up again.

Dean's voice was bitter as he told Starla that it was not happening, and suddenly Sam was angry too. Fine, he got it. He got that he was supposed to be absolutely enamored by all the beautiful half naked women around him, that he should probably be begging for Candy to spread her legs for him. But what Sam should want is hardly the same thing as what Sam really wanted.

"Let's go," Dean said as he headed for the door, not looking at Sam.

Sam gritted his teeth and marched after him, grabbing his arm maybe a tad bit too hard and spinning him around. Sam gave him a wide, obviously fake smile. "I changed my mind. I want to sit right here until you have your fun," he said, letting go of Dean's arm to return to his seat, looking up at Starla who was looking rather confused. "Can I have another beer, ma'am?" He asked and she looked at Dean, not wanting to get caught in the middle of family drama.

His brother was well on his way to pissing Dean off but when Sam grabbed him and threw his latest little temper tantrum it pretty much pushed him over the edge. It was bad enough when the younger boy decided to act like a complete asshole when it was just the two of them alone, it was another for Sam to do it out in public.

He was half tempted to drag the pissy little brat out of the club by his ear. Since Sam wanted to act like a complete child, Dean had no problem with treating him like one. But frankly, Dean was in no mood to deal with it right now. Sam wanted to act like a complete bitch? So be it. Dean didn’t have to stand around to witness it.

So instead of answering the younger boy, or Starla’s questioning look, Dean merely reached into his pocket and took out the letter from the board of education. Making sure Sam was watching as he tore the letter into several pieces then threw them on the floor.

“Do whatever the hell you want.” Dean said before he turned again and walked out of the club.

Sam was shocked when Dean tore the GED letter to pieces. He sat there, staring at him with wide eyes as Dean walked out, leaving him behind and Sam was at a loss. He sat there for several minutes, angry and sad and confused. What had he done? Why was Dean so angry? Was it because he didn't want a lap dance? He didn't even know what he had done wrong! If he decided to leave, he was wrong, if he decided to stay, he pissed his brother off.

Sam stood up, grabbing the pieces of the letter and cradling them. They had worked hard to get that certificate, and Sam was just glad it wasn't the actual certificate that Dean tore. But... they had worked so hard for this, and studied long hours with their heads bent over books, trying to figure things out together...

It had been an accomplishment that had made Sam proud of himself, and of Dean at the same time. And Dean threw it away so easily, with such little provocation...

What was Sam supposed to do, anyway? What was he supposed to say? Apparently, not wanting to get cozy with a girl was grounds for punishment in Dean's book.

Sam looked up, seeing Candy in the corner of the room, looking his way. She looked to be in her early to mid twenties, and Sam was in his mid teens. As beautiful as Candy was, Sam just didn't want her... not like that. He wanted Dean like that, wanted him naked and warm and pressed against Sam. But he wasn't going to get that, and why was he holding onto his virginity anyway?

Sighing, Sam pocketed the shreds of paper before walking out of the club. He didn't look around for Dean, instead heading straight for the convenience store across from the club. There, he bought a roll of invisible adhesive tape and headed out, barely five minutes later. He wanted nothing more than to find a quiet corner and attach the torn letter back together. Dean might not care about that letter, but Sam did, and he wanted it whole.

Once he was done putting the adhesive roll in his pocket, Sam looked around for Dean, wondering if he had been left behind once more. The thought filled him with dread, but also anger.

If Dean left him this time... Sam didn't even know what he would do, but he won't take it lying down.

Dean went out to the impala, got in, and just sat there glaring out the windshield at nothing at all. Waiting. Either Sam would come out and join him, or not. Right now he was too pissed off to really care either way. But mostly he was just hurt.

He didn’t even know what had happened. They were supposed to be fucking celebrating. Hell, Sam was the one who’d even suggested it. Maybe not suggested going to a strip club, no, that had been Dean’s idea, but still. What the fuck? All he’d wanted was to show his brother a good time. It was just a fucking titty bar, not a Nazi party or something. Why the hell was his brother so fucking determined to have a miserable time, and thus ruin his fun as well?

Ten minutes. Sam hadn’t even tried it for ten fucking minutes. Yeah, maybe it wasn’t the kind of place the younger boy had ever been before, but he didn’t even bother to give it a chance. Just decided to up and leave. Fuck. If Dean had wanted to celebrate alone he would have gone out alone.

He just didn’t fucking get it. Dean knew his brother liked girls. He’d caught the younger boy looking at his skin mags enough that he knew Sam could at least appreciate a good T and A show. He also knew his brother wasn’t a complete prude when it came to sex, even if he was pretty sure the younger boy was still a virgin. Hell, hadn’t he caught the younger boy getting drunk and high and making out with those scumbag boys, practically giving them lap dances while Dean watched?

So if his brother liked chicks and he wasn’t a prude, then Dean could only conclude that the problem had been him. Sam just hadn’t wanted to be there with him… and what the hell had he done in those few ten minutes that had pissed his brother off so fucking much he’d wanted to leave? Flirting with the waitress, paying for Sam to have a lap dance… yeah, those were punishable offences.

Then of course when he tried to leave Sam got even more moody with him. ‘Humoring’ him, all the while giving him the bitch face from hell. Yeah, like Dean would have been able to have any kind of fun then.

They were supposed to be celebrating… something important… and Sam was ready to just walk out for no reason at all, and yeah, that hurt. So Dean had torn up the letter. The whole reason they were supposed to be ‘celebrating’. If Sam didn’t really care, then why should he care about it, after all? Dean suddenly wished he had flunked the god damned test. Then at least Sam could be disappointed with him for a reason that he actually understood.

Sam found Dean sulking in the Impala. He didn't know if he was glad or not that Dean hadn't left him, but he walked to the car anyway, opening the door and sliding in. He put his seatbelt on, the silence in the car almost oppressive. The weight of Dean's anger was making it difficult for Sam to breathe, and he was torn between being angry himself - He tore the letter we worked so hard to get! - and being miserable - He didn't even talk to me, he just walked out. He wondered what they were going to do, if this time too it will be up to him to try and fix things.

So Sam toyed with the roll of cellophane tape in his hands. "Dean... let's go back in, come on," Sam said quietly, not looking at Dean because he hated it when Dean was angry at him, and it was happening too much lately. Nothing Sam did was good enough, and it was starting to feel like Sam and John's relationship had superimposed itself on Sam and Dean's... only Sam cared what Dean thought of him. He didn't like Dean being angry at him. When John was angry at him, it had felt like a victory, but with Dean... Sam felt like he couldn't breathe when Dean was pissed off at him.

"Come on, Dean," Sam said, shifting on the seat, looking at him. "I want that lap dance, and I want another beer," Sam said, and he wasn't lying about the beer. "Please?"

Sam thought of the torn letter in his pocket, and thought of Starla waiting to get her hands on Dean, and then thought of how badly he wished he could hold Dean like that, to kiss him the way Dean gave out kisses to strangers... but more than that, he just wanted Dean to not be miserable with him.

For a brief moment, he saw himself in this exact seat, twenty years down the line, still wanting and needing his brother but putting up the charade of having no feelings for him beyond brotherly... Sam suddenly wanted nothing more to reach over and kiss Dean, to seal his fate. At least, if Dean knew then he would either tell Sam to get the fuck away from him, or at least be courteous enough to not parade his conquests in front of Sam...

And for a moment, it almost seemed like a good idea. But Sam couldn't...

"Please..." Sam said softly, for once not being bitchy about it.

Dean barely glanced over at the younger boy when he heard the passenger side door open, but he let out a breath he could only assume was relief all the same. It was a bit difficult to tell though considering he wasn’t exactly sure what he was feeling anymore. Anger mixed with relief, heartache with resentment and disappointment. Though he wasn’t even sure what feelings were directed at Sam and what at himself. Well… that wasn’t completely true. The hate he felt, he knew that was pretty much reserved only for himself.

Was it always going to be like this from now on? Considering they always seemed to come back to this…

And then Sam was, once again, trying to appease him and that just made Dean hate himself even more. Of course he knew his brother was lying out of his ass. Sam didn’t want the lap dance. If he had, then he wouldn’t have pitched a fit to begin with and tried to walk out on him. A beer… Yeah, maybe Dean could have used that. More likely something a lot harder at this point, but the simple fact was that he knew there was no way he could enjoy himself now here. Especially when he knew that Sam was only pretending to for his benefit and was really miserable.

So Dean just shook his head slightly as he put the keys in the ignition and started the car. At least the familiar rumbling of the impala’s engine covered up some of the oppressive silence in the car.

“Not really in the mood anymore, Sammy.” Dean said softly, giving a little shrug. That much was true. He was sure they could find a regular bar with a motel within walking distance, because he certainly did feel like getting trashed now. “Beer sounds good though.”

Sam felt like an ass, to put it simply. He had ruined the evening, only because he couldn't stand to see his brother get mauled at by whores. And because he, himself, shared no desire to be mauled by them either. He sighed and sat back, feeling the torn letter heavy in his pockets. His fingers itched to fix it, to smooth out the edges and so see the black print on white paper once more, stating how Dean had accomplished something they had both worked so hard on.

A pinprick of resentment forced its way in. The sight of Dean tearing the letter over something so simple as Sam not wanting a lap dance or wanting to go to an arcade instead of sit there and watch Dean slut around, will stay with him for a long time. This letter... it wasn't just Dean's accomplishment, it was Sam's too. They had both sat all night, trying to figure out material neither of them had studied yet. They had both downed coffee after coffee, pulling sixteen hour studying sessions and collapsing into a heap by the end of them.

It had been them both who had downed those tylenols to offset an oncoming headache.

And yet, Dean had torn it so easily, over such a tiny little problem.

"Alright," Sam answered, just as softly, eyes looking out of the window. "Let's find a bar then."

Twenty minutes later they had found a motel, 'Redwood Lodge', that had giant fake stuffed heads of animals stuck up on walls in the office. After they got themselves a 'two queens' room, and transferred their duffels from the car to the room, they set off down the road where the motel manager had said was a small underground bar, with the cheapest beer in town on tap.

Sam thought that sounded fantastic.

The bouncer at the door gave Sam a bit of trouble, but his ID showed him to be eighteen and he let them in, even if he gave him a sideways look that meant he knew Sam was going to get drunk. He let him in though, so Sam figured everything was good.

The bar was small, with a bunch of booths lining the walls, a couple of tables with chairs around them in the middle, and a bar set up along one wall with booze lining the shelves behind the bartender. A small TV was mounted on the wall to the side, with a football match going on. It was quiet because it was still early, and Sam headed for the barstools lining the bar.

The bartender was a middle aged man with graying hair and a potbelly. He had a wide smile and looked jovial enough. As soon as Sam was done plopping himself on the stool, he sauntered over to them, grinning at Dean and then Sam.

"What can I getcha, little man?" the bartender asked and Sam bristled at being called 'little man'. He was almost six feet tall.

"Whatever's on tap," Sam said quietly, eyes on the TV screen as he watched a man run after another player and tackle him hard. While Sam pretended to be engrossed in the TV screen, the bartender turned his attention to Dean, asking him what it was he wanted, and then getting to work.

Dean ordered a beer with a couple of shots to go with it, and a fifty laid on the bar ensured they would keep coming. Since their motel room was within stumbling distance he was looking forward to getting completely plastered. He knew his brother hated it when he got drunk, especially in the afternoon, but he didn’t really care whether or not Sam approved at the moment.

Not that he really thought Sam cared much about what he did right now.

Since Sam seemed utterly engrossed in the football game on the television above the bar, and they were still obviously not speaking to each other, Dean decided he might as well work if he wasn’t going to have any fun today. After downing his shots quickly one after another, Dean took his beer and got up from the bar, heading for the pool tables in the back.

It was still pretty early, and the bar was nearly empty, but he wasn’t put off by that fact. He had all night after all.

He started playing by himself, finishing off one beer and then another, and another. Losing track of how many shots he’d downed after about five or six. After about an hour he had a couple of marks ripe for the picking and he thought he might actually be starting to enjoy himself a little.

Sam could see that Dean was ignoring him, and he really had no choice but to go along with it. He wasn't going to call him out on it while they were in the bar, and he definitely wasn't going to say anything more and get Dean even more pissed at him. Chances are, if he said something like 'please don't get drunk in the afternoon' he'll get his head bitten off. So Sam bit his lip and finished his beer before getting another mug and moving to one of the booths. From here he could watch Dean play pool, watch as he hustled the men out of their money. In between watching his brother's confident stride and strategic play, he pulled out the letter and smoothed out the pieces on the table, getting to work at joining them back together.

He was meticulous, lining up each letter and each line along with its other half until the cut was nearly invisible, except for where the paper was frayed from the tear and smudged the letters anyway. He taped it all together before carefully, folding it and putting it in the envelope. Next chance he got at a library, he'll photocopy it and then the seams would disappear. And that letter was staying away from Dean, in case he got another brilliant idea to take his anger out on a piece of paper.

He looked up and saw that Dean was starting to look like he was enjoying himself. Sam resisted the urge to get up and go to him, to try and get things okay between them again. But at the same time, he had that stupid urge to just leave and wait for Dean back at the motel room. He knew if he did that, then Dean would twist it to make it like Sam was avoiding him or didn't want to spend time with him and then they'll end up fighting again.

So he opted for settling back in the booth, finishing off his beer and watching Dean play. The beer was finally getting to him, making the edges of his reality a little bit fuzzier, and his inhibitions were slowly being reduced. He knew better than to make a pass at his brother, but he wasn't feeling guilty or selfish or sick enough at the moment to not admire the way Dean moved, the way his body shifted under those clothes, the softness of Dean's skin, the glow of it, the way his eyes moved as they tracked the balls, the golden-brown spiked hair...

Geez, Sam had it bad, and he usually felt more pathetic than he was right now, but right now he felt like his thoughts were entirely realistic. After all, who wouldn't fall in love with Dean?

Dean was four hundred bucks richer and the night was still young. He was also pretty well shit faced by now and even though he’d started pacing himself on the beers a while ago, that didn’t really matter by this point. His brain was practically swimming in a warm alcoholic haze and he was loving every minute of it.

Still, the last thing he needed was to pass out on the floor of the bar and get ripped off of his hard earned cash, but he knew he wasn’t nearly at that point yet. It took a lot more than what he’d been drinking for him to pass out like that. He was talking too loud and slurring his words, and his reflexes slightly slowed, but he was still functional enough to know what he was doing.

He’d always enjoyed hustling, especially with his dad. John Winchester was a pro and they could really clean up when they worked the room together. Dean could clearly recall the look of pride on his father’s face when he took a room of bikers for almost a thousand bucks one of the first times he’d hustled pool… Dean took a long drink of beer to drown out the memory. He was in a relatively good mood right now and didn’t want to ruin it with sobering thoughts.

While he worked every once in a while he glanced over towards the booth that Sam had moved to earlier and was almost surprised to see that the younger boy was still there. He’d figured his brother would have bailed and gone back to the motel room by now, considering he’d been so ready to bail on him before.

He knew he should probably stop and go over to Sam, try to make up with the younger boy, try to make things right. The more he drank the stupider he felt for things always going wrong between them, and he knew it was his fault. Maybe after a couple more beers and after he finished this game. He’d been playing three guys for a good hour and a half now, taken two hundred bucks off them already and another three was on the table now. Despite his intoxication Dean had no doubts that he’d win this game as well.

As predicted Dean sunk the eight ball without trouble and grinned triumphantly at Sam as he gathered up the cash on the edge of the pool table. Finishing off the last of his beer he headed for the restroom so he could take a piss. All those beers were definitely catching up to him. He’d suggest to Sam they leave when he was finished, go back to the motel room, maybe order some pizza or some other take out back in the motel room and talk… or something. He didn’t want things like this between them anymore than Sam did.

Too bad in his distraction he didn’t notice how the men he’d taken the money watched him, talking among themselves as he walked away. Nor did he notice when they followed him.

Sam kept an eye on Dean through the entire game. As the game went on longer, Sam slowly started sobering up, the guilt at watching Dean like he was a piece of meat returning, and Sam averted his eyes every once in a while until he could focus and only look at Dean as a brother.

It didn't help that Dean had a healthy glow on his face from his enjoying the game, as well as the alcohol he was downing like water. Sam found himself grinning at him every time Dean turned to look at him, victory in his expression and Sam let him see just how cool he thought Dean was, and how amazing he thought of him. After his last beer, Sam hadn't had any, which was a good thing because then he saw Dean turn to head to the restroom... only that the men he had been playing turned to follow him.

Sure, Sam wasn't much of a hunter, and he'd only been in a handful of hunts in his life, but he had still been trained by John and as soon as he saw the men stare after Dean, the hair on the back of Sam's neck stood on end. Dean was drunk, as he could see from his slight sway. Sam knew that if Dean was swaying slightly as he walked, then he was pretty damn incapacitated. When Dean was still in control, he was as steady as when he was sober.

Sam's mind raced. Sam wasn't built heavily. He was still lanky from the growth spurt, little muscle on him even if he had the stamina to beat the best of them. He could run to avoid danger, but he wasn't built to go head to head with it. And these men? They looked like they could crush skulls with their hands. He had to think fast. He couldn't grab Dean and hightail it outta there, not with the way Dean was moving so slowly, and he knew he couldn't fight the men either...

That left little choice.

When the men started to follow Dean, that was when Sam felt fear strike him and he said 'to hell with it' and got out of the booth, reaching out to grab Dean's wrist. Dean could go to the bathroom back at the motel room. "Let's go, Dean," Sam said, trying to steer him away from the restroom and towards the door instead.

"Not likely, kiddo," said one of the men, tall as he was wide, as he came to stand in front of Sam and Dean. Sam shouldered Dean behind him, one hand still on his wrist as he covered Dean with his own lanky frame.

"My brother's really drunk," Sam said, pulling out the puppy eyes. "I need to get him home," Sam bit his lip, trying to look small and unthreatening. He knew it probably won't work, but maybe he could get a few punches in before they decided that he was a threat.

"And he stole from us," another man growled, he was behind them and Sam knew they were surrounded. "Think we didn't know he was hustling?!"

"We might be willing to make a concession though," another man said who stank something fierce and Sam whipped around to look at him. "Your brother, he's a fine piece of ass... I say we get our money's worth and we let you both walk out of here, unhurt."

"Kiddo here ain't bad lookin' either," the big guy blocking their way added, snickering, and Sam saw red. Up until now he had been in control of his thoughts and his actions, but as soon as they mentioned using Dean like that, specially when he remembered the sheer horror he had felt when Dean told him the things he'd had to do for money, Sam found the intelligent half of his body leaving.

Next thing he knew his fist was in Stinky's face, feeling the teeth break under his knuckles and blood splattering over his hand. He managed to get a kick to the crotch landed to the big guy blocking their way before all hell broke loose and the fight started.

The hand catching his wrist surprised Dean that much was for certain. As he turned to look at the younger boy his brain was definitely slow to register the look of worry on his brother’s face as Sam began tugging him away from the bathroom. But before Dean could even complain to the younger boy that he needed to take a mean piss and they could leave afterwards, a wall of flesh and muscle was blocking their path.

Dean looked up at the man blocking their path. Recognizing him as one of the men he’d been playing pool with for the last couple of hours. Also recognizing the decidedly unfriendly expression the man was wearing.

He couldn’t say he was all that surprised. It happened sometimes, even with his Dad. The bums he’d been hustling deciding to be poor losers and take their money back by force since they couldn’t win it back. Dean had dealt with these situations before. He had no doubt he could do so again now, even if he was a bit unsteady on his feet at the moment.

Before Dean could say anything though, like how if they didn’t want to lose their money they should learn how to play better in the first place, Sam was standing in front of him like some kind of human shield. Trying to use the puppy eyes of doom on the man that usually had Dean wrapped around his little finger in seconds. Too bad the scumbag wasn’t all that impressed.

“Sammy…” Dean started, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder, trying to let the younger boy know he would handle this, when another of the men made his bold ‘proposition’. Dean had heard similar plenty of times before. He had a nice face and a nice ass and plenty of schmucks had let him know it. This was definitely the first time Sam had been around to hear it though and Dean couldn’t help feeling embarrassed as well as angry. When the mother fucker went on to include his brother in that ‘proposition’ though, Dean’s eyes narrowed dangerously. It was one thing to talk about him like that, but to talk about Sam that way… to look at Sam that way…

Dean was still shocked as hell when it was Sam who threw the first punch. His little pacifist brother who was usually trying to talk him out of violence nearly breaking a man’s jaw and sending another behemoth to his knees with a well placed kick to the nuts. Dean might have been operating a little slower than normal but he was still faster than these dick heads on their best day, and when the guy behind them decided to get into the fight Dean turned and ducked the punch, aiming a punch of his own to the guy’s ribs then face that sent him sprawling over into another booth of drunk guys who decided to get into the fight as well.

Fuck.

In the ensuing chaos Dean got more than a couple punches to the face and ribs and a bottle broken over the back of his head that he probably could have avoided had he been more sober. Though he definitely gave a lot worse than he got. Dean knew they had to get out of here, like now. Not only were they sitting ducks in here pretty soon the cops were bound to show up and they needed to be gone when that happened.

Since the whole bar was pretty much involved in the brawl at this point and a lot of them didn’t seem to know who had started the fight… yet… Dean grabbed Sam and started heading for the door as fast as they could move and still avoid getting the shit kicked out of them.

Sam was blind and deaf to the chaos around him. He had just one target... the bastard who had looked at Dean like that, with his beady little eyes tracing over Dean's body, wanting him that way. Sam had tunnel vision. He couldn't see anything beyond the bastard's face, couldn't hear anything other than his words repeating themselves in Sam's ears.

A concession.

Trading Dean's body for money.

Using Dean like that.

In the chaos of the fight, Sam used his superior agility to dodge punches and kicks and managed to get another few punches in to Stinky's face. The bastard tried to fight back, of course, and he even caught Sam once when Sam got too caught up in rearranging the fucker's face. Sam felt half of his face go numb when he blocked the guy's fist with the right side of his face, and he knew it would hurt like hell later. In the scuffle, he ended up sitting on the fucker's chest while he was down, and he delivered blow after crushing blow to his face till the body below him went limp.

Sam was breathing heavily, and sweat was pouring into his eyes, making them sting. He looked down at his shirt that was splattered with blood, and his knuckles were bruised and bloody. Then Sam felt someone grab his arm and haul him off of Stinky, and Sam nearly punch his attacker until he realized that it was Dean and he was getting them out of there.

Once outside, Sam took in a deep breath, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and found it come away bloody. He must have bitten into his cheek when he caught that punch. Dean didn't look all that better. There was blood lining his hairline and his face looked bruised and beginning to swell. With the way Dean was moving, Sam suspected he had bruised ribs too. But Sam could only still hear Stinky's words, the way he had looked at Dean and he couldn't stand it. The urge to hold Dean close, to hug him tightly was so strong he nearly reached for him, but he knew now was not the right time and instead followed Dean as they crossed the parking lot and headed towards their motel.

They rounded the corner just as the cops pulled in.

It was barely a five minute walk that they made in about ten minutes. Halfway there, Sam's side started stinging horribly, but he kept his mouth shut and decided he'll whine about it once they got to their room. When he discreetly touched his hurting side, his hand came away bloody and he was guessing he may have been cut sometime while fighting. Luckily it wasn't bleeding too much, and even the pain wasn't so bad.

"You take first shower," Sam said because Dean looked much worse for wear and Sam was feeling a bit more protective towards him than usual today. Once Dean had showered, Sam would tend to his wounds and then they can see about his own.

The cool night air didn’t do much to sober him. Though maybe that was kind of a blessing in disguise because Dean knew he was going to be hurting a lot more once he was sober enough to actually feel all the punches he’d taken.

They made their way as fast as they could away from the bar. Just in time to avoid the cops that pulled into the parking lot Dean noticed when he glanced back over his shoulder before they rounded the corner. Damn, that was close. The last thing he needed was to get busted for a drunken disorderly or something and have to use what little funds they had to make bail or something.

Dean looked over at Sam and even in the dim moonlight he could tell that the younger boy didn’t look much better off than he did. He had never seen his brother go after someone like that, and while a part of him wanted to stop and check the other boy over to make sure Sam was ok the more rational (or less drunk) part of him knew that he’d be able to do a better job of that once they were back at the motel.

So he said nothing, merely concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other and trying not to limp so much since it was slowing them down. The walk back to their motel room took at least twice as long as it took getting to the bar in the first place. And when they reached finally their room Dean fumbled for a moment looking for the key before finally getting the door open.

He breathed a small sigh of relief that they’d gotten back to their room without being seen before he turned around and got a good look at Sam in the light. A spectacular bruise was blooming on the younger boy’s cheek and he had a bloody nose, but it was the blood staining Sam’s shirt down at his side that really worried him. Dean might be drunk, but he wasn’t blind, and Sam was standing there telling him to go take a shower?

Dean shook his head, regretting the motion a little, but he ignored his discomfort as he closed the distance between them.

“Let me see that. Take off your shirt.” He said, not even really giving Sam time to do it himself before Dean started tugging it up and pulling it off over his head for him.

Sam frowned at Dean as he told him to take his shirt off. Sam started to argue but Dean was already pulling his shirt over his head and he figured it would hurt more to resist the movement than to let Dean do it.

"Look, it's just a scratch," Sam said, poking the small cut on his right side. It was bleeding a lot, but Sam knew that it wasn't bad at all. It probably won't even need stitches. It stung when Sam's finger touched the raw skin, but it was a clean cut made from a broken bottle or a knife or something. Sam was more worried about Dean's head injury. "Let me take care of your head first. I'm not even bleeding anymore so no worries, okay?" Sam said, reaching forward to gently run his fingers through Dean's hair, looking for the cut with light probing fingertips. As he did that, his eyes caught Dean's and he couldn't look away from the green that seemed even brighter with leftover adrenalin. Sam could see what those assholes had seen in Dean, he could see the beauty that his brother possessed... and when once it had been a source of envy for Sam, that he wasn't as beautiful as Dean, now it had turned into attraction.

God, he was head over heels for his brother and Sam didn't know what to do about it.

His fingers found a bump on Dean's head, thick blood covering it and the need to protect Dean rose in Sam in a way it hadn't before. How could those bastards have looked at Dean like that? How could they have wanted that from him, like Dean was nothing more than a piece of meat, when he meant the world to Sam? How could they... ?

Without thinking, Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders and pulled him close, hugging him tightly the way he had been wanting since those men said those disgusting things. He held him tightly, his bare chest pressed against Dean's jacket and the soft t-shirt underneath. He pressed his nose into Dean's neck, breathing in his scent mixed with alcohol. "I hate it when they look at you like that," Sam whispered, eyes closed and just enjoying having Dean so close.

Sam was right. The cut wasn’t all that bad. His brother had gotten way worse just from training, not to mention on hunts, but Dean still hated seeing Sam hurt. Still it needed to be taken care of. Since they had no idea what had made the cut in the first place they definitely couldn’t afford for it to get infected. Thankfully, Sam had his tetanus shot, so they were fine in that regard. Dean wasn’t sure if the cut would need stitches or not, but since he didn’t really trust himself to stitch Sam up when he was as drunk as he was the butterfly bandages in the first aid kit would have to do.

Almost before Dean could contemplate going out to the car to get their first aid kit, Sam was running his fingers through his hair and Dean winced a little as the younger boy found the tender wound on his head. It was hard to tell at this point if his unsteadiness on his feet was more to do with how much liquor he’d had or the blow to the head he’d taken. Probably more of the former than the latter, but he knew Sam was right. He should let the younger boy check out the cut, if only to make sure there was no leftover glass in the wound from the broken bottle.

But then Sam was hugging him tightly and Dean only hesitated for a moment before his own arms came up to wrap around the younger boy. Of course he couldn’t help remembering the fight they’d had earlier today and now with the fight they’d gotten into at the bar… yeah… this definitely wasn’t the way he’d meant to spend the day.

“I’m sorry.” Dean replied softly into Sam’s hair. Meaning both the mess he’d gotten them into at the bar and what had happened at the strip joint. Christ, he really was such a fucking idiot sometimes. And now Sam was paying for it… again… Sam was hurt again because of him. “I’m an idiot. You deserve a better brother.”

Sam pulled back when Dean whispered that he deserved a better brother, because what the fuck? He looked at Dean, looking deep into his green eyes and letting him see just how much he thought of Dean. Dean was the best brother he could ever hope for. He had seen the way some of the older brothers treated their younger siblings. He had seen how they whined and cried and complained when they were asked to stay in for one night to babysit. And he had Dean, the brother who gave up on a million dates because Sam couldn't be left alone at home, and he never complained. When Dean had every reason to hate him, he still took care of him so much that Sam knew Dean was the one person he could go to everything for.

Well, almost everything anyway.

"Of course you're an idiot," Sam said, sticking his tongue out playfully, "And yeah, I do deserve a better brother because I'm just that awesome." Sam pulled Dean close again, hugging him lightly as he whispered the rest into Dean's ear. "Do you know anyone else who'd be willing to take care of a kid for his entire life, who would put up with my ego and my bitchiness without complaint, who would help me with homework, and stand between me and Dad when we fight? Do you know someone who would then offer giving up on the one thing they love just so I could have a home and an education?"

Sam pressed a small kiss to the shell of Dean's ear. "Yeah, you are an idiot, Dean." Dean was so much more to Sam than just a brother. Dean was his best friend too, and because of that Dean was the best brother anyone could hope for. How many people in the world could say that their four year old brother changed their diapers and made sure they were fed and happy and content while the older brother's world fell apart around him?

Sam loved Dean, too much as it was already, and he didn't care. Sure, he'll never have Dean like that, but he had Dean in a way none of those truckstop waitresses and whores in strip joints could.

Dean wasn’t exactly sure what the look Sam was giving him meant. Well, ok he did, Sam usually gave it to him when he’d said something really stupid. But considering the day he’d given Sam he kind of expected the younger boy to agree with him… but then when the younger boy went on to agree with him, he couldn’t help but snort in amusement. Especially when his brother went on to list all the reasons why he was an idiot.

“Bitch.” Dean muttered affectionately under his breath but he let the younger boy pull him back into a hug. As Sam went on to list all the things he did for him Dean couldn’t help the warm rush of affection in his heart. Though maybe now wasn’t the best time to point out to the younger boy Sam hadn’t needed his help with homework since he was in third grade or so.

Yeah… Sam really did deserve a better brother because he was that awesome, Dean thought. He wasn’t gonna say that out loud though. Quickly following that thought was another rush of warmth when he felt Sam kiss him, only this time much lower. Damn it. What a time to get a hard on over nothing and there wasn’t much of a way to hide it considering how close they were standing. With Sam pressed right up against him, all warm and practically cuddly…

With a sigh of regret Dean gently eased Sam away from him before it could get awkward, giving the younger boy an apologetic smile.

“Sorry… your idiot big brother seriously needs to get laid.” Dean said, laughing a little at himself, his words slurring together a little bit. Yup. Still drunk. Dean took a few swaying steps and sat down heavily on the edge of one of the beds. Resisting the strong urge to just flop back on the soft bedspread, close his eyes, and sleep till morning.

“We should get the first aid kit. Take care of your cut.” Dean pointed out.

Dean pushed Sam away, gently, but Sam didn't want to let go. He hated it when they fought, even if they seemed to do it much too easily lately. However, when things got better again and Sam was this close to Dean, he didn't want to move away again. He was all ready to start pouting and use his puppy dog eyes to get Dean to keep hugging him, but then Dean mentioned getting laid and oh... oh!

Right.

Sam stepped back, eyes falling to Dean's tenting crotch for a brief moment and had the all consuming thought, 'I did that. That's because of me' before his mind helpfully provided that it was highly unlikely that his proximity had anything to do with it. It was probably the adrenalin high wearing off, and then the alcohol that Dean had consumed on top of it, not to mention the unresolved sexual need from the whores that morning...

Yeah, it was hardly Sam's fault that Dean's cock was hard. But fuck if rationalizing it made it any easier to step back.

Sam nodded at Dean's suggestion, walking a little stiffly as his own cock responded to the sight of Dean's tenting crotch. He swallowed heavily and turned to his duffel bag, reaching for the kit stowed in the corner. Their bigger and better supplied one was in the car, but their injuries didn't require that one yet. The small one would do just fine. Sam picked it up and went to stand in front of Dean, stepping between his knees in a moment of sheer boldness he didn't spend too much time thinking on, and then turned his injured side towards Dean. It was a simple cut, just needed cleaning and disinfecting, and at most one of two butterfly bandages to keep the wound closed as it healed. Sam could do it himself... but he'd rather have Dean's hands on him.

In this position, Dean's head was right in front of Sam's cut, and Sam was just trying not to focus on the fact that his thigh was this close to Dean's crotch. He could feel the heat radiating off Dean's worn jeans, searing Sam's skin through his own denim, and if he moved even an inch, he would have his thigh pressed against Dean's hardness and fuck he shouldn't be thinking about this when Dean was this close and Sam already had an erection. He tried to will it away, but Dean's proximity wasn't helping.

He felt his will power breaking. He worried that if anything was to tip his fragile control, he was going to end up getting on his knees and putting his mouth on places on Dean's body that his brother will not appreciate, and that would be a tough thing to explain.

Dean gave his brother a slightly questioning look as Sam went over to his duffle bag, instead of grabbing the keys and going out to the car. But it all became clear when the younger boy fished out another first aid kit from his bag. Oh, he'd forgotten about the ones they carried in their bags. That was his Sammy, always thinking ahead.

He grinned a little goofily up at the younger boy as Sam came back over to stand in front of him, Dean having to look up… and up… to see his brother's face and… damn… when did his 'little' brother get so damned tall. The younger boy wasn't even sixteen years old yet and they were almost the same size standing up. There was just something wrong with that, in Dean's opinion. Oh well, at least this gave him a pretty good view of the cut on Sam's side.

Dean turned his attention away from the long expanse of Sam's chest down to the first aid kit on the bed. He opened it and riffled through it till he found an alcohol wipe and ripped it open with his teeth. He started cleaning away the blood around the cut, noting that it seemed to have mostly stopped bleeding which was good. It made Dean feel better. Maybe it wouldn't actually need stitches after all, but he'd use the butterfly bandages anyway to make sure Sam didn't reopen it while it was healing or anything. It was a bad place to get a cut for that.

Dean blew a little on the cut to help relieve some of the stinging after swiping the alcohol wipe directly over the wound a few times. Satisfied it was clean enough, Sam could wash of the rest of the blood in the shower, Dean grabbed the disinfecting ointment out of the kit and applied it generously. A couple of butterfly bandages followed and finally Dean taped over a larger bandage to keep the wound clean and dry.

Satisfied, Dean looked up at his brother with a grin, then leaned in to kiss the soft skin just a little bit above the bandages. As he'd often done for Sam when he was a little kid with a skinned knee, a hug and kiss from his big brother all the first aid he needed.

"There, all better." He said playfully.

Sam stayed as still as he could while Dean worked on his cut. He bit his lip as the alcohol wipe stung his still raw injury, and then stayed quiet as Dean wiped it clean and then blew on it. He nearly bit his lip bloody as he felt the warm air ghost over the stinging skin, soothing the burn and he had to close his eyes to keep from looking down and seeing Dean's lips so close to his skin. Sam managed to relax a little as Dean applied the butterfly bandages, then taping up the cut with a larger bandage.

Sam looked down at Dean, saw the way he was grinning and Sam answered his grin with one of his own... until Dean leaned in and kissed the skin above the bandage and Sam couldn't stop the gasp of surprise that left him. His skin tingled where Dean's soft lips had pressed against it. He could feel the gentle touch magnified on his hypersensitive skin even after Dean had pulled back and fuck this was not good.

"There, all better," Dean said playfully, and Sam was feeling anything but. He pulled back, trying to put distance between Dean and him because all he wanted to do right now was bend down and press his tongue into Dean's mouth and find out exactly what his brother tasted like.

"Yeah," Sam said, quieter, turning away and crossing his arms over his chest. "Let's look over your cut now," he said instead, trying to get his control back. He reached for his dirty shirt, not bothering with putting on a new shirt when he'll just dirty it again. He'll change after taking a shower, but right now he needed something between his naked skin and Dean's eyes. Sam felt too exposed otherwise. He grabbed the first aid kit before climbing on the bed and sitting down behind Dean. He parted Dean's hair, looking for the injury that he had found earlier with his fingertips. Head wounds bleed a lot, so Sam knew he had to clean it up before he could be sure it was not a serious injury.

He worked quickly, cleaning it off as best as he could and seeing that the injury wasn't bad. He'll have to make sure Dean didn't have a concussion though, but it looked like it wasn't serious. The cut didn't need stitches, so he put a clean gauze on it to protect it. Once he was done, he repacked the kit and moved away, feeling torn from wanting to be close to Dean but not wanting to ruin the tentative peace they had reached.

It was best he kept a bit of distance. He knew better than to back away too much like the last time, but he was just falling deeper in love with Dean and that was going down a road there was no coming back from.

He'd rather have his brother as his brother and nothing more than to not have his brother at all.

With a sigh, he got off the bed and headed to the bathroom. He needed that shower, but more than that he needed the locked door between them.

Dean looked at Sam curiously for a moment, then simply nodded when the younger boy suggested looking at his head. Not that Dean could look at it himself given it was on the back of his head and all. So he remained still as his brother moved to kneel on the bed behind him and started checking over the bump and cut on the back of his skull. The wound was quite tender and Dean couldn’t help but wince a few times while Sam cleaned it up.

Boy, he was going to have the mother of all fucking headaches tomorrow between the hangover and knock on the head.

He remained still as Sam wrapped a length of gauze around his head, even though he hated having his head bandaged that way. It made him feel like a mummy or something. But unless he wanted to leave blood all over the pillow while he slept he knew he needed it, at least until morning. Hopefully it would be scabbed over enough by morning he could take the gauze off.

Sam was done pretty quickly and Dean watched the younger boy with tired eyes as Sam put the first aid kit away and then headed for the bathroom. Dean knew he should probably take a shower too, if only to get the blood out of his hair, but at this point he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. So when the bathroom door clicked shut behind Sam Dean gave into his first impulse when he’d sat down on the bed and let himself flop back.

He knew he should move back to that his legs weren’t hanging off the end of the bed, but at this point the effort didn’t seem worth it. As Dean stared at the ceiling, listening to the sound of the shower, he thought about Sam. Wondering about all the trouble they’d been having lately and why things always seemed so strained between them. The idea that he was missing something… one little piece of the puzzle… floated around in his alcohol drowned brain. If he just had that one final piece everything would be better between them again…

Dean sighed. He really was drunk… and horny. He glanced down at his hard dick still tenting the front of his jeans, unfulfilled and aching a little by this point. When was the last time he’d been laid? Way too damned long his dick was telling him. Too bad it would have to be his right hand taking care of things again tonight…

Even as he reached down to unbutton his jeans and slid his hand down the front to grasp his aching cock he promised himself he’d make it a point to get laid as soon as possible. Dean moaned softly as he closed his eyes, letting his head fall back as he slid his hand up and down his length in long lazy strokes. His half hard dick getting firmer and harder with every movement of his hand.

Sam stood under the spray of the water, eyes squeezed shut and breathing heavy as he tried to reign in his emotions. He wanted Dean so fucking bad it was turning into a physical ache. It was like his chest was too small for his heart, the pressure overwhelming. His skin tingled all over, needing to be touched and his fingers twitched, wanting to touch Dean back, touch him in ways he was not allowed and not even supposed to want.

God... he wished he hadn't been Dean's brother. He wished he could have just walked up to Dean and offered himself like that. He wished he had been Dean's lover.

Sam leaned forward, his head hitting the cold shower wall with a soft 'thunk' and he just let himself stand there. Right now the need was too strong, the urge too powerful, and his control was too thin. His dick was harder than it had ever been, but somehow it was the least of his problems. Being horny was one thing, but Sam wasn't just horny, he was absolutely and unbelievably in love with his brother.

This was a recipe for disaster.

Sam took careful breaths, in and out like he had been taught, to control himself. When finally he had some semblance of control over himself, he shut the shower and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist because he had forgotten to pick up a change of clothes. He opened the door, letting the steam trapped inside the bathroom out...

And then he saw Dean.

Dean's hand was between his legs, his long hard cock jutting out from the circle of his fingers and Sam couldn't look away. It was the cruelest of things, seeing the object of his affections laid out in front of him like this and Sam was not allowed. Sam didn't even realize it when he was standing next to Dean, eyes flitting between Dean's expression of pleasure and the sight of Dean's cock slipping in and out of his fingers, the angry red head looking so fucking inviting that Sam knew he wasn't going to be able to say no this time.

It felt like coming home when Sam put cupped his hands over Dean's cheeks and pressed his lips against his brother's. It was like he had suddenly become whole, like his whole life had fallen into place, like this was exactly where he was meant to be, and even the terror of Dean now knowing about his sickness was enough to dampen it.

Dean let his mind drift in that warm place between sleeping and waking. Calling up some of his favorite fantasies as his hand slowly stripped his cock.

The first time he’d gotten a blow job when he’d been fifteen from the gorgeous twenty year old waitress behind the diner near the motel they’d been staying. Even his father’s angry shouting when he’d come home much later than he should have when he’d supposed to have been getting them food not enough to dampen the pleasured high he’d been on.

Then there was that time when he’d been sixteen and he’d gone with a girl to a party that had turned into a kind or orgy a few hours later. He’d fucked three girls that night. It was also the first time he’d been with a guy in any way. The girl’s brother had actually been prettier than she was and the boy had sucked his cock twice that night and Dean had loved every minute of it. So much in fact that he’d searched the boy out a few days later and they’d gone even further.

Junior prom… he and his date had never actually made it to the dance. God she’d been so damned beautiful, her tits hanging out of her dress that was pushed up around her waist as she rode his cock in the back seat of the Impala. She’d said she was a virgin, but Dean didn’t believe it, nor did he really care.

The stripper at the bar today… no, not Starla, the one who’d been taking care of his brother. He’d liked her better. He could just imagine her in his brother’s lap, body swaying to the music. Damn he would have loved going into the back with her… and Sam… watching her luscious lips wrapped around the younger boy’s cock as he fucked her from behind. Showing Sammy how to make love to a woman…

He could see it so clearly now he was sure he’d fallen over that threshold from fantasy to dreams so he wasn’t all that surprised when he felt soft hands framing his face and even softer lips pressing against his own. Dean groaned softly in pleasure as his lips parted. His tongue swiping across those plump soft lips seeking entry and pressing beyond into the warm wet cavern, twining their tongues together.

Sam had expected Dean to push him back and, if he was lucky, beat the shit out of him. But instead he felt Dean's lips part, and then his tongue snake out. Sam moaned from the surprise, his own mouth falling open and then fuck he had Dean's tongue in his mouth, slipping and sliding against his own and Sam knew he should pull back, knew that Dean was out of it and probably didn't even know he was kissing his brother... but Sam was weak and Dean tasted so damn good and it was beyond Sam's ability to refuse Dean now.

As Sam continued to suck on Dean's tongue, his hands moved from Dean's face to rest on Dean's chest, feeling his heart beating hard under that thin shirt. He kissed Dean deeply, giving as good as he got while his hands memorized the shape of Dean's body. Sam's chest felt like it was going to burst, his heart was beating so wildly and his breathing was getting so harsh. He climbed on top of Dean, knees on either side of Dean's hips and he threw his towel to the side, not caring because it wasn't like the flimsy thing was doing much good of a job keeping Sam's erection hidden. It was like a dream... Sam was naked and pressed against Dean while Dean's exposed cock was inches from his own. His lips on Dean's, his hands pushed up Dean's shirt to press against warm, smooth skin... god, Sam could hardly believe it... but then again, Sam wasn't doing much thinking at all.

Sam slid down Dean's body, his hands pushing Dean's shirt up till it was bunched under Dean's armpits, and then he finally did something he had been dreaming about for months... he sealed his lips around one dark nipple and sucked. God, Sam loved how the soft flesh hardened under his tongue, the salty taste washing away as Sam sucked until all he could taste was Dean, Dean, Dean.

Sam was beyond all control now, and he didn't even think twice before his hand slipped down Dean's hard abs to curl around Dean's cock. Sam's breath hitched when he touched Dean for the first time, his cock feeling so different from his own and then at the same time, not all that different at all.

Damn… he hadn’t felt this good in a long time.

Dean wasn’t sure if he’d ever been kissed so desperately, and the sucking on his tongue was sending even more blood rushing straight to his cock. He was so damned hard and only getting harder by the second but he refused to stroke himself any harder or faster. Practically teasing himself. It had been so damned long… He wanted to savor the building pleasure for as long as possible before release.

He couldn’t help but moan and arch beneath the hands that roamed over his body practically like they were worshiping him. Sliding up and down his chest they felt so good, warm and sure, not the least bit hesitant. Familiar… and not…

The weight that settled over him was definitely a welcome one as were the hands that slid up under his shirt. Touching bare skin now and feeling even better than before.

Even though he was practically panting for lack of air when the kiss was broken Dean couldn’t help but moan slightly in complaint. However the sound quickly changed to one of approval when he felt the body sliding down his own, and he spread his legs as much as he could to accommodate. Certainly not protesting at his shirt being shoved up further, and those sweet lips sealing over one of his nipples.

Dean gasped, his head falling back, and a long moan spilling from his lips at the insistent sucking that made his nipples peak and demand more attention. His free hand coming up to tangle in the soft hair at the base of the neck to hold those talented lips and tongue to his chest.

When he felt the hand sliding down lower, slightly calloused fingers curling around his hard length he let his own hand fall away letting it take over. Both hands now free he let his own hands explore over surprisingly firm muscles where he’d expected soft curves… but that was alright. It had been a while since he’d been with another man but he certainly wasn’t complaining now. Not when it felt so damned good and he needed this so badly.

Dean was touching him all over, hands sliding over his shower damp skin and Sam couldn't stop. He knew he should, he knew that Dean probably didn't know it was him, considering Dean had his eyes closed through the whole thing, and if he backed out now... if he stepped away now, no doubt Dean would attribute the whole thing to an alcohol induced dream...

But god help him, Sam couldn't stop.

The sounds Dean was making, the moans and groans and the way his fingers tangled in Sam's hair as his mouth and his hands did to him what Sam had only dreamed about... it was like Sam had died and gone to heaven, only he knew no heaven would take him, and no heaven would grant him this.

Dean's hand fell away from his cock and Sam found himself with the sole responsibility of bringing Dean off. He watched Dean's face, watched the way the movement of his hand, the way his twisted his wrist showed on Dean's face. He could see when Dean felt a wave of pleasure, when he felt the crest of it, and when it crashed. He watched as Dean's face flushed, his mouth falling open...

Sam kept his movements up, his own erection forgotten. His heart and his brain warred. His heart demanded that he take this, that he take all he could get because he was not going to get this again, but his mind told him that this was nothing better than taking advantage of Dean's incapacitation. Dean didn't want Sam. He wasn't thinking of Sam behind those closed eyes, he was not imagining his younger brother... he was probably with another lover, possibly faceless, possibly even female.

Sam's eyes stung even as his hand sped up. He watched Dean like his life depended on it, memorizing every line of his face, every sound, every gasp and every expression because he was not going to get this again. Dean would either look now and know it was Sam, and he would push Sam away from him forever, or he wouldn't look at all and think it was either a dream or he got laid or something.

Sam didn't know how he would handle having this memory, of knowing what Dean tastes like, and then have Dean just not know, or worse, have Dean push him away.

Pushing his thoughts away, he focused on leaning forward and stealing another long kiss from Dean as his hand worked on his big brother. When Dean came, he wanted to steal the moans from his brother's lips.

As the hand moving along his cock sped up Dean's hips began to thrust into the tight grip. His bruised ribs protested the movement a little but not enough to make him stop. He couldn't have stopped now even if he wanted to, and why would he want to? It felt so good. Almost too good, because it had been so long a part of him wanted to make it last, but he knew he wouldn't. He was going to come soon and he was going to come so damned hard...

"Oh god… yeah…" Dean gasped and then his breath was being stolen away once more with a fiery kiss but he certainly wasn't complaining. He moaned into his lover's mouth, his hands sliding up along the firmly muscled thighs and sides… his touch pausing for a second feeling the bandage on the other man's side. A memory tickling his brain past the pleasure and the alcohol before it was washed away like sandcastles against the incoming tide.

His hands slid around to the other man's back and then down, caressing over the soft downy cheeks of his ass and squeezing the firm muscles. Oh god, how he wanted to fuck that ass, feeling himself sliding deep into tight silken heat. To make his partner moan and cry out in pleasure with every deep thrust of his cock…

That final thought enough to push him over the edge and Dean was groaning deeply into the other man's mouth. Thrusting hard one finally time and spilling his seed hotly over his own stomach and chest. Coming so hard he nearly saw stars behind his eyes.

Sam let himself go once he felt Dean's hands on him, sliding up and down his sides, touching his thighs, squeezing his ass... god, Sam had never considered ever wanting someone inside him, but all of a sudden he felt empty, like he needed to be filled and he needed it to be Dean. It made his insides quiver with anxiety because Dean's cock was fucking big and Sam was wondering at the logistics of having it stretching his...

Yeah. It's not like it's ever going to happen, so Sam should stop thinking about it.

He swallowed Dean's moans as he swiped his thumb over Dean's cock, twisting his wrist the way he did to himself. Sam groaned, loving the feel of Dean's hands on him. He was so hard he hurt, and his cock hung hard and full, heavy with blood as he rutted shamelessly against the hard muscles of Dean's abdomen. When Sam felt Dean's body tense, his groans getting louder and Sam kissed him more fiercely, knowing that it was almost over. Then Dean came, spilling hot over Sam's fist and his chest, splattering some on Sam's own belly. Sam pulled back, looking at Dean's expression with wide eyes as he sped up his hand, jerking Dean off through his orgasm. The sensation of Dean coming apart under him, the sight of him, the scent of Dean's release was Sam's own undoing. It took him maybe two pulls of his own cock, his hand smeared with Dean's come acting as a lubricant and Sam added his own release to Dean's.

Shuddering with the aftershocks, Sam tried to control his breathing, knowing that he had to move. So far he suspected Dean had no idea it had been Sam, and suddenly Sam was terrified that Dean would open his eyes now and see that it was him. Sam rolled off of Dean, resisting the urge to lean down and kiss him again but he knew he couldn't. Not now. He quickly grabbed his towel and rushed towards the bathroom on weak legs, muscles still shivering from his orgasm. It had been the most intense, most amazing thing in his entire life, having Dean like that. It had been better than his hottest fantasies, and Dean had tasted and felt impossibly good.

Sam feared that knowing and leaving was going to be harder than never having known at all. Sam locked the bathroom door behind him, starting the shower in a sort of a daze. Just as he reached towards the shower curtain, he saw his come covered hand and had a sudden realization.

Dean trusted him, and Sam had taken advantage of him while he was drunk.

Sam didn't regret his actions enough to get sick about it, even though he felt like this would be the perfect time for him to run to the toilet and hurl in an overdramatic teen-angst way... but instead all he could do was stand silently under the warm water and cry while he washed his brother's come off his hands and stomach.

Dean could never know. If he ever found out...

Sam leaned forward and rested his forehead against the mildewy shower wall, bit his lip and simply cried.

He wasn't in the bathroom longer than five minutes, having already showered. He carefully avoided getting his bandage wet, because it would suck to have Dean fix it after what had just happened. Sam didn't know if he didn't want Dean to touch him right now, or if it was just because he was afraid of wanting Dean to touch him too much.

Oh, fuck, that was amazing.

The feeling of his lover’s hard cock rubbing against his stomach, the way his lover continued to jerk him off through his release, making him shudder and moan through his orgasm, drawing it out… And then feeling the second hot splash of semen across his stomach knowing that his lover had joined him in release… It was so good.

Then it was over. The dream… of course it had to have been a dream because when Dean opened his eyes, blinking blearily trying to get his vision to focus, he was alone. He heard the shower. Sam was still in the shower. He must have fallen asleep… and had a really fucking hot wet dream. Dean looked down at his chest and stomach and wrinkled his nose a little. Christ, he’d come like a fountain, he was covered. He was just glad that Sam hadn’t come out of the bathroom and seen that…

Christ, he needed to get laid.

With a heavy sigh Dean tugged his t-shirt off the rest of the way over his head and used it to clean himself off. It would do for now. He was too damned tired for a proper shower. Tossing his shirt somewhere in the direction of his duffel Dean tucked himself back away in his jeans but didn’t bother to button or zip up. He barely found the energy to kick off his boots and then drag himself up the bed so he wasn’t laying half off of it.

Yawning hugely Dean shifted around so he was laying on his stomach and let his head drop down onto the pillow. His eyes closing once more he was already snoring before he heard the shower shut off.

When Sam came out of the bathroom, Dean had cleaned himself up and curled up on the bed, asleep again. The room smelled heavily of sex and Sam had to force himself to not to think about what had just happened. A part of him wanted Dean to know, to hell with consequences. This part also hoped heavily for Dean to return his feelings, for Dean to be just as sick as him, but the other half of him wished that Dean would never be as sick as he was. His feelings for his brother weighed heavily on Sam's conscience, and now there was even more weight added to them. He had taken something that was never meant to be his. He had lost control and lost sight of what was truly important.

Dean.

Dean trusted him, and Sam had taken advantage of his incapacitation.

Sam dressed quickly, pushing his feelings down and opting to instead go back to being his logical, controlled self. He pulled his boxers on, then his sweatpants and t-shirt before he headed to Dean's bed. He carefully checked the bandage around Dean's head, making sure it was holding and there was no more bleeding, and then he leaned down and whispered 'I'm sorry' into Dean's ear. It was a breath and nothing more because he was terrified that Dean had heard him. He turned around and switched the lights off before slipped into his own bed and not his brother's like he had been doing for a while now. Right now, he didn't think he could get into the bed on which he pretty much molested Dean and be able to sleep.

Curling up on his side, he pulled the covers all the way to his chin and tried to sleep, but he was trapped in the memory of Dean's kisses burning against his lips and Dean's hands sliding all over his body before squeezing his ass... Sam was torn. He found the memory and the phantom sensations the best thing that had ever happened to him, but they also carried the biggest load of guilt he had ever felt and he wondered if he'll be able to bear it.

As sleep continued to elude him, he created a plan in his head titled 'How to get over Dean' and proceeded to outline bullet points.

He knew he couldn't completely cut off Dean. It had blown up spectacularly last time, and he also knew that he couldn't go and try to drown the desire by trying and getting with as many guys as he could. It didn't work. And he had known the entire time that he was just fooling himself.

But how could he stay so close to the person he wanted but couldn't have, and still move on? Was that even possible?

Sam sighed, curling into himself a little more.

"Just take it one day at a time, Sam," Sam whispered to himself, closing his eyes. "And today's already over."

It was a long time before he fell asleep, and if he dreamed about gentle calloused hands roaming over him and fiery hot kisses, then he didn't remember it the next morning.