This is going to be a 2 part story. It's done in a way that you can read Part 1 by itself if desired. Part 1 (this one) is pure fluff, but Part 2 will have angst. (but end fluffy).

Warnings: Fluffyness. And Sam is 14, Dean is 18. There is only kissing in this part, but Part 2 will have sex.

'it's not fair. i worked rlly hard to get a room by myself.'

'U scared ur last roommate off w/ ur smell. Not the same.'

Dean huffed. He should be cleaning his room and making half of it empty for his new roommate, but he purposefully left his stuff thrown everywhere. It was his room after all.

'Yea, w/e. But it's a freshman. Y not have him in the freshman dorms?'

Sure, Dean would be spiteful to any kid that transferred and took up the free bed in his room, but he was extra spiteful over the fact it was a freshman. The boarding school always put the same grade boys together. Dean was a senior, why did he get -

The door opened, and Dean looked away from the new text from Jimmy, already judging the lanky boy that came in after Professor Singer.

"Dean!" Yeah, he knew this was coming. "You were suppose to clean up! The hell, boy?"

Sam cautiously walked forward, eyeing the room. His eyes fell on Dean, and then to the other bed, covered in laundry. "Is this my bed?"

"Yup." Dean grinned and propped himself up onto his elbows. "Home sweet home."

Bobby rolled his eyes and shook his head. If he didn't know better, he'd think Dean trashed the room on purpose, but Dean was always this messy.

"This is the boy I told you about, Dean. Sam Campbell. Introduce yourself."

"Dean Singer."

The tone was too light and joking. Bobby dreaded whatever his son had planned.

"Sam, why don't you... try your best to get settled in. Dean! Clean up! I'll be back in about an hour." He didn't trust Dean to escort Sam to the food court.

Bobby gave Dean a look before leaving, not bothering to shut the door. He hoped the open door would prevent the boy from doing anything too drastic to the new boy.

"Gonna pick up your clothes?" Sam asked, placing his bags down by his bed.

"Nope."

Sam stared, and Dean didn't drop his smile. Sam gave up on the impromptu stare contest, scowling as he grabbed an armful of Dean's clothes. He pointedly ignored the underwear near his face, and stomped over, dropping it on top of his new roommate.

"Get your stuff out of my side of the room." Sam warned.

Dean kicked his clothes to the floor, refusing to acknowledge Sam. Sam began to throw the items on his bed and dresser to the other side of the room in retaliation.

"Hey! Careful!"

In an hour, Bobby came back to see Sam and Dean on the floor, panting, each holding an aching part of their body.

"Please tell me you wrestled as a bonding experiment."

"He fucking bit me!"

"Are you kidding me?"

Dean woke to the annoying voice that had been plaguing him for two weeks.

"Seriously, Dean? Are you kidding me?"

Dean cursed at the blow to his stomach, and rolled over protectively. He opened his eyes and immediately forgot about his pain, too busy laughing. His handiwork from last night was even better in the light.

"It won't come off!"

"Sharpies tend to take a few days to fade," Dean barely managed to say. Tears pricked at his eyes, his laughter still trailing on.

Sam stomped off, presumably back to the bathroom, ready to think of ways to one-up Dean. Didn't matter, Dean always thought of something better.

"Dad!" Dean whined. "You can't be serious!"

"Pranking is one thing, Dean, but you messed with a school report. Be glad all you have is weekend detention." Bobby said from behind his desk. He had hoped that the malicious attitudes the boys held toward each other would ease up after a month, but it only worsened.

"Can't you just place him in a freshman dorm already?"

"No, Dean!" Bobby said. "We've been over this! I think making new friends will be good for you. Sam is a smart kid, and so are you. You're athletic, and so is he! Why not give him a chance?"

"Why does it matter?" Dean said. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

"Because your anti-social behavior is getting out of hand." Bobby was suddenly solemn, tapping his fingers. "Dean, you're skipping too many classes, and even the ones you manage to show up to, you act out! Your grades are down, and you're not doing homework. Sam will be a positive influence."

"Straight A's, model student, yadda yadda, I know." Dean mocked.

"It wasn't me," Sam said the moment Dean entered the room.

Dean looked around disdainfully. Their room was utterly destroyed on both sides. Dean was messy, but this was an obvious ransack. He headed to his desk, checking for his expensive electronics. All there.

"What happened?"

Sam fidgeted with the books he was picking up before mumbling, "Victor?"

"Is that another question or an answer?"

Dean angrily snatched his clothes off the floor, throwing it into the laundry bin. He knew that Victor had been giving Sam trouble, but it hadn't been any of his business. Sure, it bothered him that the other senior gave Sam a black eye, but what was the harm of a little violence? Dean turned to get an answer, but Sam was hunched over, hiding his face.

"Oh my god, you're such a little bitch."

Sam didn't respond, only wiped his cheeks with the back of his hands. Dean sighed and went to close the door before kneeling by him.

"You know he's just pissed 'cause his daddy has to pay an absurd amount of tuition, and you got in here on scholarships alone, right?"

Sam looked up, catching Dean's eyes. He shrugged.

"You know what would help?"

"...What?"

"If you were in a freshman dorm."

Sam made an incredulous sound, but he was smiling.

"No, I'm serious! You're a little fish out here in a senior hall. That's so weird. You're already weird enough, you know?"

"You're such a jerk," Sam said, shoving at Dean's shoulder.

"Hey, just trying to help you out here, Sammy."

"Dude!" Sam said. "I've tried, okay? I begged to be transferred. Apparently you've had too many students transfer. They won't do it."

"...Oh."

They sat there, avoiding eye contact for a moment. Dean picked at his jeans, compromising, "So hey, if you stop being such a bitch, I'll be less of a jerk."

Sam gave him another look - a bitch face, Dean liked to say - but nodded. "Deal."

"Hey Dean, got a moment?"

Dean turned from his friends and nodded to his dad. He waved a goodbye to them and walked across the hall, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I don't know what Mrs. Harvelle said, but it's a lie."

"I'm not... even gracing that with a comment," Bobby said.

"Well, you kinda did."

"This holiday," Bobby said, "I was thinking you could invite a friend to stay with us."

"Yeah?" Dean was grinning, shifting with excitement. "Yeah, awesome! I'll ask-"

"I'm thinking Sam."

"Sam?" Dean's face dropped. "He's not a friend."

"Well, guess we could change that, hm?"

"Oh, come on!" Dean was sick of this. He and the geeky boy had a mutual understanding, but that didn't mean he wanted to be best buddies all of the sudden! "Doesn't he have his own home to go to?"

"No, Dean. He doesn't. Not really."

Dean froze. He refused to feel guilty, but he looked away from Bobby's gaze all the same. "Oh."

Dean was not thinking this. No way. It wasn't possible.

Except he totally was thinking about how cute Sam Campbell was. The second day into the break, Dean decided to give up and hang out with the boy. They lived out in the middle of the country; the closest neighbor lived two miles down.

So he took Sam out into the trees and a bit further - to where the creek ran. The twenty minute hike over was awkward and mostly quiet.

When they got to the creek and began to explore and climb trees, Sam began to open up. They were hurling jokes and funny stories at one another, seeing who could climb higher faster.

Sam laughed with his whole body. He threw his head back and clapped if Dean was especially funny, and Dean felt a swell of pride when he could make those dimples show.

They took off their shirts to wade into the water with Sam endlessly teasing him about his tan line.

He grabbed the boy, hurling him into the water. Sam yelled, but he was laughing again. Dean laughed too, jumping in after him. They tried to dunk one another, but it was mostly Dean. He had the height and weight advantage on Sam.

After they calmed down, Sam smiled to him and said, "You know, I'm really glad you invited me."

Dean's heart puttered some, and he laughed, floating away, "Glad you came. Surprised, though."

"I didn't wanna stay in that dorm room by myself for a week. You're insufferable, but... not mean."

"Oh, insufferable? That's a step up for me."

Dean smiled when Sam laughed.

"Why stay in the dorm?" Dean knew he shouldn't go there. "Why not go home?"

Sam looked away, and Dean felt sick. He moved to take back his words, but Sam said, "Just... I'm a burden. You know?"

"No," Dean argued, swimming closer, "I don't know."

Sam wouldn't look at him, and he wouldn't smile. It had only been a few hours, but Dean realized he didn't want to do without those two things.

"My grandpa," Sam said so quiet that Dean nearly missed it, "he's sick. He can't take care of me anymore. I'm... When I'm..."

Sam stopped talking, and Dean knew it was because he was trying not to cry. Dean came close, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder for comfort.

"I'm not trying to be a bitch-"

"You're not!" Dean said. "Not at all. I didn't know. I'm sorry."

Sam shrugged. Dean tried to catch his eyes, but he wouldn't look up. Suddenly, the first two weeks of Sam's school year crossed Dean's mind. He treated Sam as if he was a burden.

"I really am a jerk."

Sam looked at him, finally. He tilted his head, confused. Dean smiled and dunked him.

"Jerk!" He yelled after he came up for air.

The week off from school was amazing. Dean hoped that Sam would agree.

They visited the creek almost every day, and sat around playing video games. They left a mess where ever they went, but Bobby was letting them get away with it. Sam knocked into him playfully, and Dean felt his stomach twist every time.

"You're disgusting," Sam said, watching Dean eat.

Dean smiled, opening his mouth as he chewed.

"Gross!"

Dean threw another handful of chips into his mouth, chewing loudly and leaning over the couch into Sam's space. Sam scooted away, so Dean grabbed him and pushed his face into Sam's, a few crumbs falling from his mouth.

"Stop it! You're nasty!" Sam struggled to get Dean away. When it didn't work, he rolled off the couch, taking Dean off guard and taking him down too.

Sam landed on top of Dean, but Dean still had his arms wrapped tight around Sam. Sam started squirming, nearly freed himself, but Dean trapped him in his legs before it happened.

Dean started choking; he spat the chewed food out, much to Sam's dismay.

"See what you did? Made me waste perfectly good chips. And now I'm missing a perfectly good movie because of you."

"You're joking!"

Sam stared at him with an open mouth. Dean, the mature one, took one arm from around Sam and moved it so he could jam a finger in his mouth.

Sam yelped and wrenched his head away, once more trying to get free.

"You're cheating!"

"How!"

"You are!"

Dean laughed and turned them over - Sam using the opportunity to try and escape, but Dean had his wrists and planted them above his head, using his torso to put his weight on Sam.

"God, you're so fat! Be glad you spat out those chips!"

"What did you say to me?"

"You're a fat jerk!"

Dean darted his hands down to Sam's sides and began to tickle him. Sam half cried out with his laughter, trying to turn away, but Dean still had his lower body trapped.

"I can't - I can't -" Sam gasped, tears on his face.

Dean finally stopped. His grin began to hurt his face, but he didn't care. He reached up, brushing the tears from Sam's face.

Sam looked up to him smiling, and Dean fell in love.

Sam didn't want to claim he was a pessimist, but he was not expecting their friendship to exceed the holiday.

Dean didn't ignore him or pretend nothing happened, though. He invited Sam to sit with him and his friends at lunch, asked Sam to join his activity class, and they began to study and do homework together. Over the next few month, everyone got used to seeing them side by side constantly.

"Not to have a chick flick moment," Sam said, "but I'm glad we're friends."

He wanted to say best friends, but he was already going to get made fun of for saying anything in the first place.

Dean plopped down beside him on his bed after he set up his laptop and put in the movie. Sam was hyper aware of how their bodies were pressed together on the twin sized bed.

"That sounds awfully like the beginning of a chick flick moment, Sammy."

Oh, to hell with it. "You're my best friend."

Dean looked down to Sam and smiled, putting his arm round him so they could lay more comfortable on the bed. "I know."

Sam huffed at the silence that followed, and Dean laughed and pinched his arm.

"Oh, calm down! You're mine, too, you knew that."

Sam leaned into Dean's side, getting comfortable. He placed one arm over Dean's stomach, enjoying the warmth from him. The movie barely started before Dean said, "On me like you're my girlfriend or something, Sam."

Dean's voice was low, not his teasing tone, and Sam took it as Dean being uncomfortable. He sighed and rolled so his back was to Dean. He tried to squash his disappointment down; he just liked being close to the older boy. They had been in worse situations.

Dean liked wrestling. They always ended up in the most awkward positions, sometimes both with erections, because - they're teenagers and come on - but Dean never seemed to mind.

Before Sam's brain could go overboard, Dean man handled Sam back into facing him.

"Wasn't complaining," Dean held Sam tightly to him, "Just making a comment. Don't get your panties in a twist."

"You wear panties," Sam shot back lamely.

"Shut up."

Halfway through the movie, Dean began to play with Sam's hair. Sam found it impossible to pay attention between the comfort of Dean's body and his hand tangled in his hair; he fell asleep.

He woke up from the light streaming through the window, warm and oddly content. He smiled when he saw Dean, face pressed close to Sam's.

"Mornin'." Dean whispered.

"Hey," Sam said.

"Stop smiling."

Sam smiled even bigger, "Why?"

Dean didn't say anything. He leaned over and kissed Sam softly, one hand gentle against his face. As soon as he was there, he was gone - halfway across the room and picking up his shower pack.

"I-I'll be back later."

"Don't," Sam said. "Stay... it's Saturday. You can wait to take a shower."

Sam patted the bed. Dean sat at the edge, barely on the bed at all, and refused to make eye contact. Sam came closer, placing a hand over his.

"So, did you get confused and think I was Jo, or was that intentional?"

"Sam." Dean said, a heavy sigh on his lips. "It's not - just. Forget about it, okay?"

"I'd rather not."

Sam leaned forward, pressing his chapped lips to Dean's. Dean kissed back only to pull away a moment later.

"Sam, there's all kinds of shit that comes with this. Our age, for one. I'm going to college next year, and-"

"And I'll still love you then, too, even if my new roommate is really hot."

Dean barked out a laugh. He gripped Sam's face and kissed him again.