Dean gets back to the motel room, very late at night, lost behind the boxes he's carrying. He's obviously drunk, so Sam rushes to his side, helps him with the boxes and guides him to bed.
"Are you drunk, man? What are all these boxes? I… I was expecting you earlier. I had something special planned." says Sam, with desperation in his voice. He throws a quick glare at the candles. Then turns his attention to Dean, and places his head on the pillow of the king sized bed they were supposed to share tonight.
Dean's been like this ever since he made a pass at that hung young truck driver to make Dean jealous. It was supposed to be a joke… only a joke. But Dean took it very seriously and he was crazed with jealousy. And now acting out, coming back late every night, drunk as fuck and passing out fully clothed, not even trying to get in the bed and not saying a single word to Sam.
He regretted that joke… The moment he flirted with that guy, he regretted it.
"God damn it Dean… This is the fifth night in a row! Just talk to me. I said I was sorry, it was supposed to be a joke. I'd do anything, baby. Just tell me." He stroked Dean's cheek, trying to connect with him again, the way they used to be connected.
But Dean pushed his hand aside and mumbled, "I had something special planned too. But you may as well be on your way to fuck that son of a bitch you were so into! This was… only planned two fucking weeks ago!" trying to get his pants off, but only struggling and crumpling the sheets beneath him.
"I said I was sorry! I didn't mean to fuck up your plans… Dean, please. What did you have planned? Maybe… maybe we can still do it?" Sam replied, seeing the little opportunity falling right onto his lap.
With drunk and goofy gestures, Dean flailed his hands towards the boxes. Then he grunted with frustration and said "What a fucking waste…" Then buried his face in the pillows.
Sam stood up, walked towards the table, and took a suspicious look at the boxes. "These?" he asked, without really expecting an answer, and got his knife out to cut the tape on the first box. It was smaller and more square-like than the other. He opened the box and saw a brand new camera. Puzzled, he moved on to opening the second box and found the tripod.
"I… I'm not sure I'm following. You wanted us to film the hunts like those idiots from Ghostfacers? How was that a special plan? Dean—"
"It's not for hunting, you asshat. At least it wasn't. I was going to ask you something!" yelled Dean, without bothering to get his head up to look at Sam. Then he let out another frustrated grunt to emphasize his point.
"Then ask, Dean, damn it, don't torture me!" said Sam, taking giant steps towards the bed and sitting beside Dean.
"It doesn't matter anymore. You go back to your truck boy! I'm going to return them tomorrow." Dean said, finally lifting his head up to his side to look Sam in the eye, letting him see how hurt he was.
"I'm not going back to any truck boy. You are everything I've got. If I'm going back to anything, it's you. I don't think you realize how much… how much I love you Dean. I can never flirt with someone else, let alone go back to his place. Why do you think I'm here sitting beside you? It's because you're my drunk-ass jerkface brother and I love you. You hear me, hobo?" whispered Sam, getting closer to Dean and moving him aside to get inside the sheets. He held Dean; let his head rest against his chest. Dean was half asleep but it didn't matter, Sam was sure he heard everything and understood them.
Then Dean with his lowest and most naïve voice: "I was gonna ask if we could… you know; tape ourselves. For later. I get it… umm, if you don't want to do it. It's just that I've always wanted to do it. Yeah… Nevermind."
He went on to lift his head up and align his lips two inches away from Sam's. The air between them is electrified. But Dean holds on. Savoring that moment of suspense, recognizing and devouring every inch of eagerness Sam's body is showing, every muscle ready to act, charge forward into the depths of Dean's mouth, waiting for the start signal. And Dean finally gets it. He finally understands that it was only a stupid joke. Because Sam is all his. Every blood vessel, every muscle, every inch of his body is ready to be only Dean's.
"No… Don't just assume the answer I'm going to give. I think… It could be nice. But only one condition." Whispers Sam.
"What is it?" says Dean, still not moving away from Sam's face.
"You're gonna have to forgive me, Mr. Jelly Jealouspants. For good." Sam chuckles.
"Alright… But you don't get to pull that kind of crap on me, k? Never again. I swear, I will kill someone." Dean collapses onto his brother's lips, sucking the salty taste on them, licking at his lower lip. He asks for Sam to open his mouth by kissing deeper and deeper. Sam obeys his brother's hunger and clutches onto Dean's neck while he lets Dean take control. And he is pretty damn good, despite the fact that he is drunk, he still knows where to touch to get Sam going. He traces his hands along Sam's stomach and takes off Sam's shirt, lets his fingers touch upon his back, that smooth valley he so desperately wants to trace with his tongue.
They break apart for a breath and "You should go to sleep, Dean. I want you to remember this." Says Sam with a dark and a little disappointed voice, slightly panting and half hard.
"But- Alright li'l brother, I'll see ya tomorrow." Dean mumbles, and lets his upper body fall on the bed again. Sam takes his pants off, leaving only his boxers on, and then he takes Dean's off too. After that, they let sleep claim them, lost in each other's warmth.
The next morning, it's not really morning. Because Dean came back so late they overslept, still holding onto each other, even in their sleep, this whole time. Sam moves around in the bed a little, then tries to get up very slowly not to wake Dean up. He looks at the clock and it's almost noon.
"Fuck…" he whispers, making his way into the bathroom. He splashes some water onto his face, and presses the towel slovenly. He makes his way to the bathroom door but stops at the sight he's seen.
Dean's chest completely out in the open and relaxed, little rays of sunshine dancing on his biceps and stomach. Sheets tangled around his legs and that peaceful look on his face. That look he puts on only when Sam is hugging him, or when he's sleeping. Sam leans on the wall to enjoy the little piece of heaven they rarely get. Dean's all his. The one thing that he will have and get to savor forever. He counts Dean's eyelashes, and his chest freckles. He always loved the chest freckles, probably more than the ones he had on his face. People could say he was selfish, Sam didn't care. The freckles on his face were…public. But the ones on his chest, they were invisible to anyone but Sam. Nobody knew they existed, nobody got to kiss them, and watch them, and touch them. Yes, he wanted Dean all to himself. So what? He had every right to.
Then Dean shivered, and pulled the sheets on him, hiding the treasure from Sam's admiring gaze, noticing that the cold was not because of the sheets, it was because Sam's warmth was gone. He opened his eyes, to look at his little brother. Leaned against the wall, watching him, the muscles on his stomach all stretched out. His boxers just above the base of his cock, exposing Sam's deep Adonis all the way through. Just the way he loved it. He remembered last night. He remembered making up with Sam, and his lungs filled with relief. He didn't have to keep his distance. It was so fucking hard anyways. He was surprised he held on for more than a day. During that time, they never had sex; so Dean's drive was stronger than ever. But he didn't act on it. He still wasn't sure if Sam was okay with… the camera. He threw the sheets aside, opening his skin for Sam's eyes to grip.
Sam got the invitation. But first he had something to do, something Dean fantasized for a long time. He took the camera, and the tripod off their boxes, and went on to setting them up at the best position possible.
Dean's cock couldn't help but jump at Sam's gesture when he placed the camera on the tripod. He grabbed his boxers by the hem line, and pulled them under his ass, then pulled them off his legs, gripping his half hard cock by the base.
Sam grinned at Dean, he loved how he got so excited about it, he loved how he got so worked up over one little fantasy. It made him hard, quick. There was not enough room for his twelve inch cock, it was chafing and uncomfortable. But he waited, because Dean enjoyed taking it off of Sam. One more little kink of his…
The little red lamp on the camera turned on, and Sam walked towards the bed, letting Dean bite on the underwear. It was showtime…