"So, you fell in love with your brother because you igits cuddled?" Bobby took another swig of his vodka and stared at Sam.
"Well, it's a bit more complicated than that. For one, neither of us even mentioned it in the morning. It felt too good."
"So you managed not to fight, for once in your lives, and that's how it happened…"
"No, we…we started touching each other more often, and looking at each other differently." Sam fumbled with another bottle of booze and, upon discovering he was too drunk to even open it, abandoned it on the side table. "And then one day, when we were both drunk, he kissed me."
February
Dean slid up to the bar next to Sam after a rather successful round of hustling drunken idiots at pool.
"I managed to get 500 bucks this time around. Not my best take in the world, but if we can hit another bar on the way to Colorado, we should be able to splurge on a better room." He took a swig of the beer that was waiting for him.
"Yeah, that's nice." Sam was hunched over their father's journal, looking for any clues as to what they might be facing in Denver. Somehow it seemed that there might be more than one thing in town.
"Come on, Sammy. Loosen up and have some fun, for once! You can read in the car." He took the journal out of his brother's hands, hiding it in the back of his pants, where his gun should have been. However, he gave it to Sam to hold on to when he played pool, since the game required one to bend over. After someone saw his gun in nowhere, Missouri, it seemed like a good idea to not have one.
Sam openly scowled at the removal of his research material, but followed it with a deep swig of his beer.
"Damn it, Dean." The aforementioned man simply smiled.
"That's it, Sam." He turned to the barkeep, slapping on the counter, "Hey! Can we get some purple nurples down here?"
Two hours later, both men were slurring their words, and staggering back to the nondescript motel next door.
"So Dean," Sam giggled out, "can you even remember that chick's name?" A young woman at the bar took to throwing herself at the elder Winchester after he'd had a few, and she ended up sulking away after a few more.
"Nope." He grinned, taking amusement in the fact that he was so hammered.
"Well, she was pretty."
"That's just the booze talkin', dude." He fumbled with the keys, trying to figure out which of the four locks he saw was the real one.
"How would you know? You've had twice as much as me!" He pushed passed Dean in an attempt to get first shower.
"Yeah, but you're twice the lightweight as me." He flung himself onto the bed closest to the door, out of habit more than anything, and ripped off his boots.
"Whatever, jerk." He shut the door to the bathroom with a slight thud.
"Bitch." Dean snapped back, without knowing if his brother heard him.
A good ten minutes passed where he stared at the ceiling, contemplating the texture upon it, before Sam trudged out of the bathroom.
"Dean, are you alright?" Yeah, he was drunk, but never had he been as sorrowful in the aftermath of the evening as he seemed now.
"Yeah, Sammy. I'm just thinkin'." He sighed, letting his hands slide from his chest to the bed beside him.
"About what?" Sam was genuinely intrigued. It was so rare that Dean would show the full extent of his emotions, that no matter what, he had to ask about it.
"Well, you." He sat up, taking in the surprised look on his younger brother's face.
"Care to elaborate?" He placed his hands on his toweled waist, and awaited a reply. It was a bit frightening to think about what it could possibly be that would make him look so sad, especially if it had to do with Sam.
Dean staggered off the bed, and over to the other man, placing his hands on shoulders for support. Sam stood as still as he could, looking into his brother's beautifully green eyes.
"Sam," He started, wondering whether or not he should go on, "I have something to tell you."
Sam placed his hands around Dean's waist to help him stand, as he had began to sway.
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
"No, Sam. I love you." That made no sense to Sam, as told by the questioning look on his face, so Dean did what he could to make him understand. He lifted a heavy palm to Sam's cheek, and gently caressed it, before bringing fourth his lips to meet Sam's. To his surprise, he found them slightly parted, as if waiting for him. Dean slid his tongue in gently, intertwining it with his brother's.
Sam deepened the kiss, knowing how wrong it was, but also knowing how much he wanted it. He wondered absently if Dean would remember in the morning, and hoped that if he did, there would be no freak out moment. After all, Sam had waited for what felt like forever to do this. He found that it was everything he, wanted, expected, and so much more. The love that permeated that kiss was evident with every miniscule moment.
"So, I'm guessing that Dean didn't panic in the morning." Bobby reclaimed the bottle that Sam had given up on opening, and poured them each a shot from it.
"No, he did, but we talked it out." He took the beverage appreciatively, and downed it, ignoring the burn.
"And how'd that go?"