Sometimes Sam feels like he shouldn't love this. Nothing this right can ever be good. But then, he sees his brother's beautiful face or hears the laugh he thought was extinct and thinks, "How can this possibly be wrong?"
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The first time Sam Winchester falls in love with his brother was at two years old. Even now, years later, he remembers it crystal clear.
"De..Dean?" baby Sam says slowly, chubby face scrunching as he gets out his first word. Dean, six and already making his and Sam's dinner, drops the cereal he was pouring. Lucky Charms land everywhere, but Dean hardly notices. He races over to his little brother and the widest, brightest grin he would ever have appeared on his face. Sam was blinded.
"Sammy? Did you just say my name?" Dean asks, green eyes sparkling with pride. He feels like his heart is going to pull a Porky Pig and bust out of a hole in his chest.
"Dean!" Sam says again, tiny hands clapping together, "Dean Dean Dean Dean!" Sam proud of himself, not just for finally speaking, but for making his big brother smile bigger than he does at Aunt Ellen's apple pie.
"Sammy! You said my name! My name!" Dean yells, grabbing Sam under his armpits and lifting him into the air. Sam is laughing as Dean holds him up and spins him around. Dean is all smiles and laughter. When Dean finally puts Sam down, he pulls his brother into his lap. Sam leans in, wraps his arms around Dean, and his head falls into his brother's shoulder. Sam didn't know then(but he does now) why Dean was shaking.
"Love you Sammy." Dean whispers, almost like a secret, something just for them.
"Wuv you too Dean." Same gets out, and feels water dripping down his back.
Hour later, when John gets home from a particularly nasty fight with a vampire, he finds the boys fast asleep, Lucky Charms all over the floor, wrapped up in each other.
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The second time Sam falls for his brother, he is nine years old and Dean is his hero. Sam supposes it was always like that, but doesn't remember if he though Dean was just his hero, or a hero to everyone else. Same thinks it was probably both.
Dean is thirteen, and, while he helps Dad with hunts sometimes, his main job is to watch Sammy. Dean doesn't mind much. Sure, he'd like to hunt with Dad, but Saturday morning cartoons and leftover pizza with Sammy sounds a whole lot better in his book.
They're in Claremont, Virginia, when it happens. Sam is in the elementary school and Dean's in the middle school, but, while Dean has always been good at making fast, nonpermanent, friends, Sam is shy and lonely without his brother.
Kids tease Sam for having no friends, for being the new kid, for reading all the time. He doesn't take it to heart, not really, but it stings and burns when they talk about his dead mother or the fact that Dad is never home. He gets so angry he punches Cory Jordan in the face and splits his lip. Cory, in turn, gets his friends and paint Sam's face black and purple with their fists.
When Dean gets home from school, he gets the most angry Sam has ever seen him. He tosses his backpack on the floor of the dingy apartment where they're staying, and stomps out. Sam just watches with a melting bag of ice and a terrified expression on his face.
Dean comes home hours later after Sam has made mac and cheese with cut up hotdogs for dinner, and ran to the store to steal a bag of Peanut M&Ms to make Dean feel better. Dean walks in and sees Sam has haphazardly set the table and got him candy and breaks.
He runs over to his little brother, grabs him and holds him tight, squishing the candy was holding between them.
"I hope you didn't hurt them too badly." Sam mumbles into his brother's shoulder. Dean lets out a heavy sigh that vibrates through Sam's whole body.
"I wish I'd done more." Dean whispers into Sam's floppy, chestnut hair. They separate and Sam looks up at his brother. Dean's eyes are glassy and Sam knows not to say anything. Dean would hate that.
"You didn't have to. They're just stupid guys and we'll be outta here soon. I know you want to, but you're already my hero. You've got nothing to prove to me, Dean." Sam states, staring straight at Dean with the unwavering concentration a nine year old shouldn't possess. Dean's tongue heads backwards into his throat, and he's speechless. Sam's never said anything like that to him, and his head spins.
Sam doesn't say another word, just returns his body to Dean's waiting grasp, and the older holds him close. Sam will never say a word about the sobs wracking Dean's body.
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The third time Sam Winchester fell in love with his brother, he was eighteen and watching Dean get smaller through the window of a Greyhound as it drove away.
Sam was crying quietly, his now huge hand pressed against the glass. Dean just stood there until Sam couldn't even see him anymore.
Years later, Dean told him he stood in that spot until it was dark out. He was praying, for the first time in a long time, that Sam would come back, that Sam would change his mind. He never did. When Dean's legs finally gave out on him, he hopped in the Impala, drove the nearest bar, and drank until he couldn't remember his own name.
But no matter how much he drank, Sam's stuck. Dean guessed Sam's name was more important than his own. He figured that was probably right.
Sam cried in the Greyhound until a disgruntled passenger told him to quit the sniffling and be a man. Sam flipped him off and fell into sleep.
Sam didn't realize until much later, when Dean told him his own story, that that was the day he fell well and truly in love with his brother, when he realized Dean loved him enough to let him go.
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The first time Sam fell in love with Dean, and really knew it, he was twenty four, and his brother was standing at his motel room door, fresh and new and alive and out of Hell.
Sam grabbed him, Dean sliding into place, and Sam finally felt like a whole person, not just a bunch of broken pieces-desperate and playing pretend.
The girl behind him, the one he'd brought to his bed because her smile reminded him of Dean's, cleared her throat uncomfortably.
"So, are you guys, like, together?" she asks, either afraid she might have slept with some guy's, and this guy was scary looking right now, boyfriend, or that she was a rebound fuck. Neither sounded very good to her.
"Er, no, he's my brother." Sam got out, releasing Dean. This brother stands silently with Bobby while the girl gets her things and leaves, but Sam swears he saw Dean's eyes glow when he gets her name wrong.
Later, after Bobby is gone and its just the two of them, again and always, Sam wraps his arms around Dean again, tugging his brother into his chest and holding on like there's a demon waiting in the wings to snatch him away again. Dean settles in, albeit awkwardly, and let's Sam have this.
"I've missed you so much," Sam breathes, finally after what feels like hours but is only minutes, "I did everything I could to get you out. Everything short of a deal because I know you'd hate me for that but I couldn't save you and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry." Sam sobs. He feels tears that aren't his own bleeding through his shirt, skin, straight down into his soul. He hold them and their maker preciously.
"I know, Sammy," comes from the crook of his neck and he almost laughs, he feels so good at hearing his name after four months without it. Dean pulls back first, reluctantly, and stares up at Sam with those wide, dazed green eyes that are Sam's very first memory and play center stage in all the other ones.
Sam thinks he might be getting this wrong, brain too muddled with Dean and safe and love and mine, mine, mine, but he doesn't want to think too hard.
Sam leans in and kisses his brother for the first time and his mind blanks. Its just a slight, soft press, his brother's plush lips a brush against his own, but God, this is everything Sam has ever wanted. Dean doesn't press back and Sam is terrified before his brother finally gets with the program and kisses him back.
And then, then it is just amazing. They're kissing, Dean's fingers twining through Sam's hair, Sam's fingers cupping Dean's jaw and Jesus, nothing has ever felt this right before. Its so good neither of them think about how wrong it is, to be kissing each other, to be making love to their brother's mouth. They just let themselves have this.
When Sam pulls back for air, his hair is mussed and Dean's lips look even more ridiculously puffy than usual but they are both smiling wide and happy and, for the very first time in a very long time, no demon shows up at their door for payment.
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The very last time Sam Winchester falls in love with his brother, he is eighty years old and sitting in a hospital chair. Dean is laying in the bed, grasping his wrinkled hand with the equally wrinkled hand of his little brother. Dean's eyes are still bright but his breathing has slowed and Sam knows its almost time. For the both of them.
"Thanks for loving me for so long, Sammy. Didn't think you'd have to put up with me for this long." Dean rasps. Sam shakes his head, smiles tiredly, and kisses Dean's hand. Dean closes his eyes and gives a small smile.
"It wouldn't have been much of a life without you." Sam replies, honesty filling his voice. Cas promised, a long time ago, that when one of them passed, the other would be taken to their shared Heaven soon after. While both brothers figured it was to keep the other from almost destroying the world(again), they agreed it was all they had really wanted. Together, forever.
"I know. I provide all your excitement." Dean says, traces of himself coming to the surface. Sam chuckles and Dean grins before breaking into a coughing fit. Sam's eyes fill, but he knows they won't be apart for long. The heart monitor slows and Dean's eyes begin to close. Finally, without the help of demon, angel, or monster, the line goes flat and the world has lost those green eyes forever. Sam's chest seizes and he feels like he's dying, has enough times to know the feeling.
I'm coming, Dean, Sam thinks, and then both Winchester brothers, who are legendary for saving the world and for their love, rest in peace in a Heaven they will share together.