Title: Tall, Dark And Handsome

Disclaimer: Don't own SPN

Notes: I don't know what this is, it kinda took it's own course halfway through. For FreekyDisaster18. Review if you like it or if you've got ideas to make it better.

'You'll meet your sexual partner. He'll be tall, dark, and handsome'

Honestly, Dean had never come so close to smacking a woman as he did right then. They were at a carnival because it was local, him and Sam were on a break, and Dean liked carnivals. He liked the stalls where you had to shoot tin cans or coconuts.

This – this was just stupid.

Growing up with the people they knew he avoided anyone who insisted they would read his palm unless they were young, bubbly, with a good rack and blonde hair – possibly redhead and sometimes a brunette but, oh right he was wondering off.

They ended up wandering around the green grass, Dean munching on candy floss, Sam sipping orangeade, it felt like they were kids again. Almost. Passing a tent with all its typical sparkly gold ribbons and deep reds and tassels and overall looking like a teepee, Dean hesitated and read the sign. Ms Cleo and a little queue – Dean just shook his head at the idiots.

'Why don't you try it?' Sam said next to him and he said it in the same way most parents would ask a child to try broccoli when the kid's adamant about green vegetables. Dean looked up – annoyingly – at his little brother who had an open, earnest, almost teasing look about him. Dean rolled his eyes and scoffed.

'Yeah sure Sammy, I'm gonna let some silly old bat stroke my hand for –' he read the sign next to the tent. 'Fifteen bucks. Na' and he stepped to walk on when Sam's hand pulled him back.

'What's wrong Dean, scared she'll reveal that you're secretly a fan of lace stockings or something?' Sam's smile went from teasing to a full-blown smirk. Dean reached up to smack Sam's cheek, pinching it like he did when his little brother was actually little.

'Sam, all you had to do was ask about my kinks if it bothers you' and Sam rolled his eyes, batting away Dean's hand giving a significant look. 'Why do you want me to do it? You go in – never know, maybe she has a thing for young looking ones' Dean smirked, picking out a bit of candy floss and jamming it in his mouth. Sam didn't budge.

'You say that you're open-minded Dean when it comes to some things. Hell, you introduced me to Missouri. Why can't you do it?'

'Nah, nah Missouri's awesome, she's a psychic it's totally different than this excuse to groom other people' Dean made a face, squinting away from the sun glare.

'You think Missouri's awesome?'

'You ever tell her that, I'll filet you, y'hear me?' Dean threatened and Sam held his hands out, surrendering.

'Okay, go in the tent, then. I'll pay for your reading if the money bothers you' and oh my god did they sound like a freakin' couple.

'The money's not the issue – it's the – just no'

Dean regretted looking up at Sam, seeing those stupid puppy dog eyes. Dean closed his own eyes, sighing, he'd never live this down.

'Fine! C'mon Sam' he growled, hating that he gave in. Chucking away the candy floss stick, now that he was finished, Sam seemed almost shocked that the puppy dog eyes worked, but followed.

Dean stood in line, and then hesitated when two glass-eyed girls came out, one blushing like crazy. Shooting a look at Sam, he stepped inside the flapping covers and into the stereotypically dark setting, with low lighting and crystal ball. Dean eyed the woman in front of him who sat at the tiny circular table.

The woman was dressed like she was stuck in the age of The Beatles, but she was not old enough to really know them unless she was a witch and was using an anti ageing spell, which made Dean even more suspicious. For an 'older' woman she was nice on the eye, but Dean hadn't moved from his position and Sam walked into him, grumbling.

'Hello there' she smiled, watching the pair with increasing interest.

'Hi' Sam replied and her smile widened.

'Hum. So, I've got the cute one who is generally accepting of what I do; and the Playgirl-model one who is so sceptical it's radiating off him'

Playgirl huh, Dean's never had that description before but he liked it.

'Playgirl, that one was for me, right?' and she winked, leaning forward.

'Okay, which one of you actually wants to have their palm read?' she asked and Dean was surprised she couldn't tell that it was Sam who obviously wanted to have this –

'Playgirl boy, sit your ass down' and Dean blinked.

'Ha. Yeah, I don't do crystal balls'

'Come on, sit – sit' the second 'sit' was more forceful and Dean was pretty certain that he couldn't leave without looking incredibly bitchy. He was not going to do that in front of his brother. So, Dean sat down opposite the mystic, looking blankly at her.

'Give me your hands'

'Demanding, chick, aren't you?' he mumbled, but he obliged, putting his hands, palms facing upwards, on the deep blood red table cloth. Ms Cleo took his hands in hers, thumbs resting in the middle of his palms.

'I find I get what I want that way. Now, Dean – ' and the said Winchester stupidly frowned at her, because they were going by the names Zach and Erin in this town, not –

'Winchester, right? Hmm… Both of you could make a good TV programme, but I'm not agency. So, anything in particular you wanna know?' and her eyes flicked to Sam who was stood resolutely behind him, like armed back up in a gangster movie.

'Ooh Ms Cleo please tell me about my love life' he said in a sarcastic voice, earning himself an indignant noise from Sam and pursed lips from the mystic.

'You sure? I suppose then you're absolutely fine with sleeping with girls in every town and state of America?' she asked, one plucked eyebrow raised. Dean set his jaw at her words, but he shrugged as if it didn't bother him.

'I'm super fine, sweetheart?' and she narrowed her eyes so fast Dean wanted to mutter christo to be sure.

'You do that a lot don't you? Glaze things over with empty affectionate terms. Sam's sick of it and I'm not even reading his palms' and Dean swivelled to glare at his brother who just stared back at him without any suggestion that the mystic could be wrong. Shit.

'No I don't' and really Dean didn't know why he bothered saying that.

'Ha. I can read it, you're more aware of Sam's thoughts and emotions than you let him think you are. You want to let him think you're the older brother who's the womanising bad boy -but you left that boy years ago. The older brother who won't really understand his brother's geekyness, but you spend more time thinking about him when you're at a bar, than you do about the cute blonde bar girl, am I right?'

Dean stiffened his shoulders, feeling the urge to smack her. However Dean Winchester had never hit a woman in his life – unless vampires or demons in a woman's vessel counted – so he cocked his head to the side, saying nothing.

'I care about my baby brother' he said simply, ignoring the defensive lilt in his voice.

'You do, don't you. I can feel it Dean and I can see it in your eyes' Dean scoffed at her words, but she carried on 'I can see the lust, just behind your eyes' she said and Dean could swear that Sam had stopped breathing – he had to make sure he was.

'You're lying' Dean replied on instinct, but her smile was open and patronising.

'Oh sweetie, I wish I was. I find no point in lying to people. They come through those curtains wanting to be told something wacky, new, and interesting. I tell them everything that is already there but what they can't see'

If Dean focused, he could hear the sound of kid's laughter outside, feel the afternoon heat and not the strange fiddling nonsense of Sam. Dean turned round, looking at Sam whose eyes snapped up to meet his. Dean just imitated one of Sam's bitch faces because this woman was nuts… right?

'You're scared he's going to leave you. But Dean-' and Dean almost reluctantly turned back to face the mystic. 'I wouldn't worry about it' flashing a warm smile.

Dean retracted his hands fast, getting up and out of the chair. Even faced away from the woman he heard her rise up and walk around the table. Oh yeah, she wanted her pay. Well that was tough –

Sam had frozen by him; it was only until Dean lowered his gaze to see Ms Cleo had taken hold of Sam's hand, earnestly looking into the green-hazel doe eyes.

'Sophocles or Greek tragedy would like you two. The younger brother with a hero complex for his older brother. Like an ' she stroked Sam's hand sweetly.

'Sam' Dean tried.

'You don't just have nightmares, do you Sam? You see your brother in a se –'

'This was a bad idea, let's go' Sam snapped out of it, clumsily pushing past Dean out of the tent.

As Dean said, he'd never wanted to hit a woman before like he did then. Dean took one last look at the mystic and wrenched the cloth away, stepping back out into the almost dream like state of the carnival. Dean had forgotten.

Looking about, Sam was nowhere to be seen. He began to panic, twisting around until –

'What are we doing, Dean?' and flailing he saw his brother away from the tent, on the grass, away from the carnival goers, all on his own. Hands in his pockets. Sam did that when he was nervous oh shit.

Dean walked over to his baby brother, keeping a fair distance though, but close enough for their conversation to private.

'Sam, like I said mystics are nuts-' Dean insisted, touching a hand to Sam's arm in the way he had done for years. Sam shied away, looking down at his boots.

'But she isn't, is she?' and when Sam looked up to Dean's face, Dean saw Sam was crying. 'She knew exactly what she was saying because she's reading it like it's easy'

Dean's blood ran cold. He stepped away from Sam, keeping his hands at his side.

'Sam. I'm going to admit it. I love you... I love you too much. To the point it's probably goin' to kill me someday' Dean admitted to the grass really, that's where he was looking. He hated these moments. 'You don't realise how far I'd go for you, do you? And to be fair it scares the shit outta me too so. But you know normal better than I do, so, if you wanna leave I get it and I won't come after you'

Oh god he didn't want Sam to leave and he sounded pathetic - begging. He didn't really know what he'd do without his baby brother and that made his heart squeeze. Sam again just panned out, not doing anything. Until –

He laughed. Sam laughed a dark, humourless laugh.

'I don't know why I suggested it, such a dumb idea. I never thought she'd you know – turn on me. There's me thinking I would get some good teasing material about you but no, no instead she tells me I dream about you'

'So I turn up in your dreams, Sam, that's bound to happen we're close. Did you not hear what I just said I-'

'I love you. Yeah I heard you. What do you think Dean, that you're in my dreams acting like a douchey older brother?' Sam asked, hands out of pockets and held wide like a didn't have space to reply, 'No. Shit…' Sam looked helplessly at Dean. 'Dean I can't want you to leave if I want you just as much. Man I sound like a girl' God Dean wanted to grin at that but his face just couldn't form that expression.

'So what do we do about this?'

Sam just looked at him, and shit every demon and mother effing shape shifter was right. Sam was his weakness.

Dean took the paces toward Sam, knocked the man's arms away and stepped into his space. Threading fingers into Sam's hair he pulled his head down for a biting kiss. He did it for justification. To see if it really wouldn't work; if fantasy was just a hot, sick, fantasy. That they would repel and see the mistake and horror because their bodies reminded them they were brothers.

Sam made a startled noise and for a moment his hands pressed against Dean's chest, trying to push him away, but it was futile. Dean knew that Sammy could shove harder than that. Sam let Dean open his mouth with a swipe of his tongue, though, and then those hands were sliding around Dean and pulling him in close, strong against the small of his back.

It was Dean who pulled away, remembering that although they were away from the general public, they could still be seen and, well, it was a white picket fence kinda town.

It didn't feel wrong as Dean supposed it should be. It left Dean wanting more, the lust and love spasaming. He'd never felt that before, not with Cassie. Not with anyone. Just Sam.

Reading Sam's expression, he thought the same.

Silence dubbed the happy noise of the carnival – like a tension ball.

Dean had an idea.

'Hey, Sammy, think you could take me in round of 'Shoot 'Em Up'?'

Yeah, he was hiding again, yeah he was doing the 'empty affectionate term' thing and he was glazing things over but -

'Sure. Just don't shoot the beaver this time, you freak' Sam smiled.

They did just that, only it wasn't one round it was four, but then once a little boy always a little boy.

They never discussed it out loud. Only when Sam came back from a late witness questioning a few states over and he pulled Dean into a hungry and angry kiss Dean was the last to complain.

It wasn't good, it wasn't healthy, but it had Winchester branded like an iron poker all over it.