The first time it happened, they were in a motel in northern California. Their dad had been out killing something and left Dean to look after Sam. Not that Sam needed looking after, he was sixteen, but John was paranoid. They had been watching an old spaghetti western on cable and Sam was falling asleep on Dean's shoulder. Dean had looked down at his brother's face, which looked so young and innocent in that half sleep state, and couldn't stop himself. He was only half aware of what he was doing. He took his hand and quickly tipped his brother's face up towards his, planting a gentle kiss on his mouth. Sam had jolted awake with a small cry, but then realized what was happening and pulled Dean closer. At some point in time, Dean had unzipped Sam's jeans and gotten down on his knees in front of him. Somehow, he ended up with Sam's cock in his mouth, taking it deep even though he had never done this before because the noises Sam made in return were worth it. And when Sam came, he swallowed it all, not sure he liked the taste, but it was Sam and he could never get enough of Sam, wanted to swallow him whole and keep him with him forever. And when they were done, Sam sitting with his head back and Dean resting his head on Sam's knee, both them panting, Sam had said, "We can't do this again. This is wrong."

And they agreed never to do it again, although neither of them were happy about it.

Six days later, John had left them alone again, this time in a motel in Nevada. Dean lay in his bed staring at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything but his brother, anything at all. He folded his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. He felt a pressure on the side of the bed, but chose to ignore it, hoping that Sam had sat down just for a moment to take of his shoes or something. But then he felt his brother's hands traveling up his chest and his legs bracketing his hips. He felt his brothers lips skim across his and then lean down to his ear and whisper, "I love you, Dean." And they had kissed, hot and sloppy, for what seemed like hours before Dean reached down for Sam's fly and Sam stopped him. "No. Not again. We shouldn't have even started. I'm sorry. Not again."

And Dean had stopped without protest and turned away from Sam, expecting him to go away.

Instead, Sam had leaned down again and whispered, "But I do love you, Dean," his breath tickling his ear.

And Dean had answered, "I know, Sammy, me too."

A week after the second time, Dean had just woken up and Sam was in the shower. He walked to the bathroom, pulled off his boxers and opened the shower door. Sam had yelled, "What the hell, Dean?" but Dean didn't care and he knew Sam didn't either. He knew the moment he closed the door, Sam would be all over him. And he was, kissing down Dean's neck, biting at his collarbone, leaving a hickie at his jaw line. And Sam had gotten down on his knees and taken Dean in his mouth, sucking and licking like it was the only thing he needed in the world. When Dean came, so did Sam without even touching himself. Then Sam had pulled off with an audible pop and stood back up, and Dean had kissed his own taste out of Sam's mouth. Then Sam shut off the water, looked at Dean and said, 'No more. We can't do this again."

But Dean could see in Sam's eyes that he didn't even believe himself this time. So he answered, "Right, Sammy, this is the last time." And Sam had hugged him there naked in the shower and said "I love you, Dean."

And Dean hugged back but said nothing because Sam already knew.

Two days later, their father was out at a bar for the night, as usual, and Sam was reading a book. Dean was lying on the bed listening to the motel room's radio, his eyes alternating between watching the ceiling and his brother.

I can't quit you, baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay-byyyyyyyyy, so I'm gonna put you down for a while. I said I can't quit you, baby, I guess I gotta put you down for a while.

Sam looked up from his book at the radio. His cheeks burned red and Dean smirked, turning up the volume a bit.

And Sam said, "Dean, turn it down, I'm reading."

And Dean had responded by turning it up again. Sam had set his book down and picked up a pillow off the couch at threw it at Dean. Dean threw it back, pegging Sam in the head. Sam got up and stormed over to the radio, but Dean caught him by the hips on the way over and pulled him down onto the bed. He turned over so he was on top of Sam and pressed his lips against his brother's.

Said you know I love you, baby. My love for you I could never hide.

Sam pulled away and looked at his brother. "I love you, Dean," he whispered.

Dean had laughed and whispered, "I love you, too, Sammy."

"Good."

"Don't say we can't do this again," Dean said, his voice catching a bit.

And Sam just smiled and pulled him down for another kiss.