Okay so I read a Wincest and decided to try it, don't shoot me. It's just a little bit of fun cause my brain was overloading on SVM.

***

Sam placed kisses on Deans face, wet and desperate. 'I could kill you' Sam growled taking deep breaths of the cheap female perfume clutching his brother. Dean pulled back and looked at his little brother, his ears began to ring and he couldn't breath, he went down barely feeling the pain in his knees as he hit the asphalt. He's lying on his back but he couldn't feel the water from the ground soak through his Jacket or the rain that pounds down on his skin, he couldn't hear Sam as he leans over shouting Dean's name with no response, he closed his eyes but he can still see the dark shapes moving even behind his lids and then they disappear and he is surrounded by a memory, a memory that is not a memory, a memory that never actually happened.

***

He is lying down on his bed when he hears the motel room door slam shut, he doesn't bother to open his eyes as Sam storms into their room. He rolls over onto his stomach and doesn't say a word not until Sam is standing next to him, he can feel his brother, heat radiating off his skin plus Sam is so tall his shadow blocks the light making Deans eyelids black on the inside were they used to be red. He still doesn't open his eyes, just reassures himself that Sam is safe and standing next to him and that is enough until he feels the sting across his cheek. His eyes shoot open and he stares at his brother in shock.

'What the hell Sammy?' He demands raising a hand to his face

'Where the hell have you been Dean?' Sam asks staring down at him barely contained rage obvious on his features

'Did you just slap me?' Dean glares avoiding Sam's questions

'Yeah I did, after the hell you put me through I could kill you Dean' Sam roars his eyes narrowed on his brother

'You wouldn't kill me Sammy, you love me too much' Dean smiles despite himself and sits up to face his brother

'I would kill you Dean, I'd wrap my hands around your throat the choke the life out of you, you always do this, you always disappear without a trace then come back and expect everything to be okay. I'm sick of worrying Dean, I'm sick of kissing it better when you stumble in at three in the morning blind drunk, smelling of booze and cheap women with grazes on your hands and blood in your clothes because you've been in some stupid bar room brawl' Sam spat, venom in his voice, a darkness that surprised Dean as he stalked backwards and forwards between the two double beds.

'What are you going to do Sammy?' Dean stood up, his arms stretched wide, 'You gonna kill me little brother?'

'If it'll make this pain go away, if it'll stop me wanting you then that's exactly what I'll do' Sam growled flying towards him, Dean was shocked by the force with which Sam pinned him to the floor and even more surprised when Sam clamped his large hands around Deans neck, a sick and evil laugh echoing around the room as spots of colour began to appear in Deans vision just before everything went black.

***

Deans eyes shot open and he looked up at Sam, leaning over him, one hand on his wrist holding it tight enough to feel Deans pulse thrumming reassuringly under his fingers, the other resting on Deans chest and Dean knows in his very soul that Sam, his Sam, could never hurt his big brother just like Dean could never hurt Sam and then he begins to wonder what that was all about but pushes it to the back of his mind when he realises he isn't breathing and Sam is giving him worried glances, still keeping track of his pulse.

'Sammy' Dean gasped and his brother looks down on him, relief filling his features.

'Dean?' Sam helped Dean sit up and patted his back when he began to cough violently.

'Sam' Dean laid his head on his brothers shoulder filling his lungs with fresh spring air reminding himself again and again that Sam would never lay a finger on him that was meant to do him harm, never hurt him, not on purpose anyway. He doesn't know how long he sits there with his head on Sam's shoulder, Sam's hand running up and down his spin reassuringly before the boy finally speaks

'Dean, it's raining and you stink of booze and-' Sam stops himself before he reminds Dean of the cheap perfume instead helping Dean to his feet

'Yeah let's go back to the motel' Dean replies grabbing the keys and sliding into the Impala before Sam can protest.

***

They barely make it into their room before Sam has Dean pinned against the wall his mouth covering Deans desperately. 'Missed you' Sam sighs when he pulls away.

'Good' Dean smirks and kicks off his wet boots before he pulls the wet jacket from his shoulders followed quickly by his rain soaked shirt, he unbuckles his jeans and drops them to the floor with a wet thud before turning to his brother. 'Little over dressed don't you think there Sammy' Dean asks gazing at his brother who is sitting on one of the beds watching him. 'Too many layers' Dean nods, Sam shrugs.

'Can't be bothered taking them off myself' Sam can't contain his smile but Dean pretends to remains serious as he replies earnestly.

'Need a little help do we Sammy?'

Sam sighed dramatically 'Suppose we do.'

'You just stand up then and I'll do the work, how bout that?' Dean suggest stepping closer to him. Sam nods stoically as Dean unbuttons his shirt making fast work of it and revealing the white t-shirt underneath, 'Too many layers Sam' Dean smiles hooking his fingers under the t-shirt and pulling it up over Sam's head, Sam runs his hands across Deans chest as Dean starts fiddling with his belt buckle, 'God damn belt' Dean growls his normal quick and nimble fingers were being clumsy and inept. Sam grabbed the buckle and fiddle with it for a second before it came undone.

'Slow and steady Dean slow and steady' Sam reminds his brother returning his hands to the exploration of Deans scars, he know them, all of them, the scars and the stories, he was with Dean when he got most of them and when he wasn't Dean told him what happened in so much detail Sam felt like he was there, like the bullet had shorn through his shoulder or the knife had ripped through his chest, he had flinched every time Dean had come to the blow as though the blow had been dealt to himself and not to his brother.

Dean slid his hands into Sam's boxer shorts and caressed the soft curve of Sam's butt cheek before squeezing slightly, Sam emits a groan 'You still smell like fucking perfume.' He growls. Dean lays kisses on Sam's shoulder over every scar his lips can reach, a shared history between the two of them, their scars, a map of how their lives have been so far.

He groans against Sam's skin before losing himself to the passion of the moment, he throws Sam backwards onto the bed and climbs up to meet him seconds later with a fiery kiss that burns him from the inside out, its only escape through the contact with Sam's skin not quite as warm as his own but warm enough not to be cold against the burning surface of his flesh. And then he is lost in Sam,

Sam's touch, his hands roving over Dean with a passionate fury.

Sam's smell, the sent of shampoo and aftershave mixed with Sam's natural musk.

Sam's taste, Salty skin under his tongue as he drops kisses on Sam's chest.

Sam's sounds, Groans of appreciation as Dean caresses in all the right place and

Sam, just Sam, his hair flopping into his deep brown eyes, the indent in his nose where he almost lost a fight with a vampire, the slight stubble on his chin which tells Dean he hasn't shaved in a week. It's overwhelming blocking out all of his other senses apart from the man beneath him, there is nothing else but him and Sam together in this moment that he prays will last forever and know deep in his heart can't possibly go on until the end of time but for now it is enough.

***

When it is over they are sated lying in each others arms breathing slowly returning to normal and Dean is happy for a little while and they can be together without feeling uncomfortable or unnerving each other with a simple look.

Until next time Dean decides he needs some affection and chooses to find it in the bottom of a beer glass instead of the comfort his brother will always give him.

Until the next time he's spoiling for some action and manages to get a good fist to some mans face which leaves a bruise on his knuckle and enough blood on his shirt to annoy his little brother before walking away without another scratch on him.

Until the next time he adds a little woman's perfume to his shirts to get Sam riled up, a jealous Sam is a creative Sam and Dean loves how creative Sam can be.

He can't wait to find out what Sam's got up his sleeve for next time.