Warnings: Sam/Dean; Wincest

Sam had been eighteen when he had first met Dean, the other boy had been quiet and had mostly kept to himself. Dean had intrigued him. He was different from the rest.

Unlike all the others, Sam couldn't peg Dean, and it infuriated the young boy.

Each and every glance Dean sent Sam's way had a mischievous and knowing look, it had haunted Sam. Dean knew something about Sam and Sam was dying to know what it was.

It was near the end of the school year that Sam had approached Dean. Dean had been standing lazily by the door, ready to leave the second the bell sounded. His hands in his pockets, a smug smile on his lips.

"What is it with you?" Sam had ventured. His tone harsh, but contained. He brought a hand to pull a strand of brown hair behind his ear giving him a full view of the boy before him.

"What do you mean?" Had been the indifferent reply.

"I um, well, you know." Sam had mumbled halfheartedly. Perhaps out of pity, Dean had bowed his head in resignation and motioned Sam closer.

"You're my brother." The words had been barely audible, whispered directly into his ear. Sam's face had flushed at the proximity. His heart beating loud in his chest.

"I—what?" His face contorted in confusion and he took a step black to appraise Dean's words.

"Shocked me too." Something flashed in Dean's eyes, but it was quickly masked. "I just wished I could have known you better Sammy."

With those words, Dean turned on his heels and left, the bell signifying the end of the school day rung mere moments after Dean had departed.

Sam had been left to stare in his wake, mouth slightly ajar and his ears tinged a bright pink. A variation of different thoughts filling his now muddied mind.

The rest of the week dragged on with little interaction between the two boys. After all, they hardly knew each other and rarely spoke. That moment they had had in the threshold of the door had been one of the few occasions that they had spoken to each other.

Their interactions had been left mostly to strange glances and awkward, mumbled phrases. Hardly anything to constitute friendship.

It wouldn't be until a week later that they would speak again. Sam had spent the entire time contemplating what Dean had told him. Going back and forth between the SOB was playing mind games with him, or the idiot was telling the truth.

Either choice equally daunting.

Dean had been standing right outside the door to the back of the school. A leather jacket on, tinted sunglasses obscuring his line of sight. Sam had wandered out the back for a few moments of solace when he spotted Dean.

In a rare moment of courage, he had decided to approach the older boy. He went to stand a few feet from Dean and something seemed to change.

Dean took one confident stride forward, making the distance between the two mere inches. In a single movement Dean removed his sunglasses and his eyes lingered on Sam's face.

Sam stood stalk still, scared to ruin the moment. His heart raging inside his chest.

"Sammy." The single word had barely been uttered before Sam had closed the distance, their lips meeting.

Everything seemed to spin for a few moments, their tongues fighting for dominance. A strange dance between battling wills. Dean's hand came up to cup the side of Sam's face and Sam leaned into the touch.

Basking in the warmth. Before anything more could be done, Dean stepped back. A look of shame briefly worked its way onto his features before his features became stoic again.

"I am glad." Dean paused, but then the pause became more of the finishing of a sentence.

With a strange mixture of emotions Sam questioned, "Glad about what?"

A sad smile graced Dean's features, his eyes seemed to soften, "Glad you got this other life Sammy."

Dean bought his lips to softly brush against Sam's forehead before the boy turned and jumped into the passenger seat of a car a few meters away.