A/N: So I'm usually not even that into anything containing Wincest but this idea wouldn't leave me alone. I blame Han again.

Chapter 1

Sam was lounging on one of the motel beds, watching Dean's fruitless attempts at research. It wasn't that he was bad at it, he had just gotten so used to his brother handling the boring parts of the hunts that he was a little out of practice. Sam meanwhile was bored out of his mind. Dean wasn't permitting him to leave the room because apparently he doesn't trust him out among the public. Dean had become such a little drama queen since he found out he was missing a soul.

Honestly, Sam didn't see what the big deal was. He was way more fun now than he thinks that angsty other guy ever was, and he doesn't have to sleep so there is more time to do important things. Like getting laid. Which he would be out doing if Dean would stop trying to pin him down with attempts to be his lost conscience. As Sam watched Dean brood and sulk the last few days, he really didn't think he was missing anything.

Still, it was fun to sit here and watch Dean's frustration. His face was screwed up in concentration, his plush lips pursed in thought. Sam could admit (now) that his brother was a damn attractive guy, which made sense seeing as how they shared the same sexy genes. He had a vague sense that this line of thought was something the other guy would have cringed at, but whatever. Guy was a prude.

Smirking inwardly, Sam's mind, unfettered with guilt or caring, began to form a devious plan. If he couldn't leave the motel room, fine. He'd just make his own fun from where he was. He lazily pulled his large frame off the bed and strode over to where Dean sat, stopping so he was looming over the other man.

"What do you want, Sam? Have you decided to maybe, oh I don't know, be of ANY use instead of lounging around while I do all the work?" Dean said, looking up at him with annoyance.

Sam smiled, bracing both hands on the chair near Dean's shoulders and leaning down so that when he spoke they were eye to eye, and a little close for comfort.

"I'm borrred, Dean." he drawled out, breath playing across Dean's lips, causing him to start slightly, but he recovered quickly.

"Whatever dude, I told you, I'm not letting you go out to some bar and do God knows what horrible things your soulless brain comes up with."

Sam moves his hand, deliberately and slowly from the back of the chair, down Dean's arm to settle on his thigh, resting his weight there as he leaned forward to speak in his ear.

"What if I don't wanna go out? What if I want to have some fun right here?"

Dean gave an almost undetectable shudder, and Sam didn't think it was one of disgust. But then he seemed to remember himself, pushing him away roughly as he stood up and crossed the room, almost running away.

"Jesus Christ Sam, just what the fuck do you think you're playing at?" He yelled.

Sam just shrugged. "I told you I'm bored. And horny. And you won't let me leave. Seemed like the best option."

"The best...son of a bitch Sam, I know you're not all there but even you have to see how that is just...so, so wrong man."

"Whatever Dean. Try to pretend you didn't like it. That you don't think about it sometimes, just few feet away in the middle of the night, think about what it'd be like if I came over to your bed, held you down and-"

"SHUT UP! Fuck, just...just shut the hell up, Sam." Dean interrupted, looking furious and disgusted and...embarrassed? Ashamed? How interesting.

Still, Sam really didn't feel like being punched in the face. Or tied up and gagged again. Although actually...no, not right now. So Dean refuses to play along, fine. He had other options. He turned his eyes to the ceiling as he spoke.

"Hey Castiel? Think you could come down here? I need you for something."