As Dean and Sam drove the long journey to Illinois—the long, boring, seemingly endless, deathly quite journey—neither of them spoke and the only sound that either Winchester could hear, was the steady hum of the impala's engine. Dean opened his mouth as if he was going to speak, but, thinking better if it, closed it; his teeth clicking together audibly.
'He hates me.' Sam thought, angry at himself, and afraid of what his older brother might be thinking.
...Flashback...
"Sam?" Deans asked, looking up, relieved, from the bed. They had been in this particular hotel for about a week, slightly longer than usual, but this case was taking longer than usual as well. 'It would go a lot faster if Sammy was ever here to help' Dean growled to himself. Sam had been gone almost every night, and by the time he got back he was drunk off his ass.
'This isn't like Sammy. Something is buggin' him.' Dean frowned, worry and concern for his younger brother making his heart constrict.
Sam stumbled across the threshold and almost fell down, but he caught himself on the wall. Dean flinched and got up from the bed, setting down one of Bobby's books they borrowed. He forgot about his research, his focus and concern now focused on Sammy.
"Sammy?" Dean asked again, since Sam hadn't answered him.
"'S Sam not Sammy." Sam slurred, shaking his head and pointing a drunken finger at Dean. Sam's shaggy hair fell into his face, and he ran a hand through it to clear his line of sight, his action was fruitless, however, because no sooner than he pushed it back, it fell in his face again.
"Ok. Well, Sam, what's goin' on with you lately?" Dean asked, putting a solid, warm hand on either of Sammy's shoulders, steadying his younger brother.
Sam's hazel eyes stared down into Dean's emerald green ones, and Sam had to force himself not to do what he wanted to.
"Nothin'." Sam slurred, and shrugged out of Dean's grip. He lost his balance and fell backwards. Dean reached out to catch him but ended up falling as well. Sam plopped down on the too-springy hotel bed, and Dean landed on top of him, a knee on either side of Sammy's hips. Dean supported his weight above his brother with his arms; He began to push off of the bed, but Sammy grabbed his waist.
"Don't. Please." Sam begged. Dean looked down at his younger brother in surprise.
"Sammy, what are.." Dean was cut off by Sam pulling Dean's face to his. Their lips meeting softly, and only for a spilt second. Sam pulled away, and began to apologize.
"Dean I'm...I just... I'm so sorry...I didn't mean it." Sam scrambled out from under Dean, and leaned back against the headboard. Dean said nothing, but simply got up and went into the bathroom where the first-aid-kit was. Dean always kept aspirin handy but it's usually Sam who ended up giving it to Dean.
He pulled out two pills and filled up a large glass with cold water. When he walked over to Sam, he was curled up on the bed; softly snoring. He put the glass and pills on the bedside table, leaving them for when Sam woke up. Dean went to sleep in his own bed and tried to ignore what happened.
'Sammy is drunk, that's all. He couldn't possibly like me. He just hasn't been with someone in a while.' Dean tried to rationalize. He couldn't get his hopes up; he wouldn't. Dean drifted off to sleep and by the time he woke up, light was streaming through the window.
Dean got out of bed and walked to the restroom, wearing nothing but a pair of old jeans. He stood over the sink and splashes water on his face, a few drops falling on his chest. Then Sam came barreling into the bathroom and headed straight for the toilet. He was still in the clothes he was wearing last night, so Dean knew he didn't wake up last night. Sam wretched into the toilet and Dean just smirks.
"Do you know what the best cure for a hangover is?" Dean didn't wait for a reply because Sam wretched again. "A greasy pork sandwich served up in a dirty ashtray."
Dean chuckled and Sam lifted his head weakly.
"I hate you." Sam groaned.
"I know ya do." Dean laughed and it seemed to Sam that maybe he forgot about last night.
'Or he is just not talking about it.' Sam thought, but his thoughts were interrupted by another wave of nausea. A few minutes later, Sam had emptied the contents of his stomach, and Dean made him take the two pills. He did as he was told and Dean got ready to leave.
...flashback off...
'I can't believe I kissed him!' Sam thought to himself, frustrated and embarrassed. 'I mean, I have liked him for a while.' Sam's thoughts trailed off. Yes, Sam loved Jess, but he liked Dean since Dean was about 16. That's when he began to develop muscles and look more like a man than a boy. Sam had always liked him of course, but he started to become very 'attracted' to him by then. Sam mentally kicked himself for thinking of his brother that way.
'I'm a sick twisted pervert.' Sam chastised himself.
"No you're not." Dean said suddenly, seemingly out-of-the-blue.
"What?" Sam asks giving Dean a bemused look.
"You said you were a sick, twisted, pervert. I say you're not." Dean said simply, lifting his shoulders in a shrug.
'Shit! I said it out loud!' Sam realized and turned a bright crimson color. The color spread across his cheeks and down his neck.
"Sammy?" Dean asked, his voice tinted with nervousness.
"Yeah Dean?"
"Do you like me?" Dean's bright emerald eyes captured Sam's gaze.
"Of course I do. Your my brother Dean." Sam tried to dodge the question, afraid of what it would mean if he said yes.
"That's not what I mean." Dean scowled at Sam.
"Uh, well...yeah. I do." Sam answered, that same crimson color spreading across his cheeks again. Sam saw the corner of Dean's mouth twitch up in a small smile.
"Do you like me?" Sam asked, shocked and nervous.
"Yeah, I guess." Dean said, gruff.
Sam smiled and the entire journey back, both Winchesters were grinning like idiots.