Set During: (Season 1)
Dean and Sam belong to some other people who do not seem to share my need for wincest. I am planning to campaign.
It would have been a very cold night in any room, but in this particular run-down motel it was like camping out in the arctic.
Sam shivered under the duvet in full length pants and a long sleeved t-shirt. He was fighting the urge to pull a hat on his head because he knew if Dean saw him he would choke himself laughing.
He rolled over to one side, curling his knees up to his chest and breathing into his hands; rubbing them together as if he was trying to start a fire. He glanced across at the other bed in front of him.
He watched as the small bundle breathed out into the air, leaving the ghost of his breath to hover for a second before fading into the dark.
"Can't sleep?" He asked Dean.
"No." Dean answered gruffly, his shivers evident through the single word.
Sam stepped out of his bed, wincing as his bare feet touched the cold floor, and pulled the thinning duvet from atop his mattress to throw it over Dean's shaking bed.
"Dude! Are you actually taking care of me?"
"Oh shut up." Murmured Sam as he slid beneath the sheets with Dean.
"What the f-? Sam, you cannot just crawl into my bed! Generous duvet sharing or not." He frowned in the dark, but Sam couldn't see him.
"I'm cold, you're cold, and more importantly you are the closest thing this crappy motel has got to a radiator."
"Dude you are so gay." Dean stated, turning over onto his back, but enjoying the heat of the extra blanket too much to kick his brother out.
"How many times do I have to tell you I don't swing that way?"
"There's no point in denying it Sammy; no straight man has hair like yours or wears your kinda shirts."
"What's wrong with my shirts?" Sam asked, screwing up his face; offended.
"They're gay."
"I am NOT gay! I have never kissed a guy or even thought about kissing a guy!" He sighed, "And I like my shirts." He ran his fingers through his hair suddenly very conscious of it.
"I have." Dean said, eyes not leaving the ceiling.
"You have what?"
"Kissed a guy."
"You bloody hypocrite!" Sam exclaimed, turning on his side to face his brother.
"What?" Dean asked under the watchful eyes of his brother. "I was sixteen, we were drunk and someone spun a bottle. Before I knew it I was tongue deep in random boy."
"And you just let him kiss you?"
"I was sixteen! I would have let anyone kiss me; Dude I was in a constant state of horny."
"You still are."
"True." Dean begrudgingly admitted.
"And you've never wanted to do it since."
"Once was enough, Sammy."
"..."
"Sam, get back in this bed! It's cold."
"I've been thinking, maybe I should do some research."
"Sam! You're my brother! I'm not going to suddenly jump your bones!"
"I know, I know that..." Sam slowly slipped back into the bed and tucked himself up in one corner.
Dean sighed. "I know," He teased, "Tomorrow we'll fix you up with a random guy."
"Yeah, 'cause that wouldn't be awkward at all!"
"Oh it would," Dean grinned, "But mostly it would be fricking hilarious."
"Next time you want to open up to me – don't. I am going to have nightmares."
"I'm guessing these are the kind of nightmares that aren't going to go away the same way they did when we were little?" Dean laughed, remembering how he used to climb in next to Sam and hold him until he stopped crying.
"Dude, if you are even touching me when I wake up, I am outing you to Bobby!"
"Fine," Dean rolled over and faced the wall, a grin spread across his face. Soon he heard Sam's gentle snoring and rolled over to look at the giant that was his brother.
"Bloody paranoid jerk." He mumbled under his breath, and then smirked as he tucked himself up against Sam.
"Explain your way out of this one in the morning, Gay Boy." He grinned, wrapping his brother's arms tightly around himself and falling asleep.
