Watching the sun rise through road-dust covered windows, smelling a familiarly lingering odor of fast food, gas station coffee, and leather seats, Sam Winchester twisted his sore neck gingerly, trying to work out the kinks that can only be earned by spending over four hours asleep against a car door.

"Where are we?" he groaned, putting one hand to his shoulder as he rolled it experimentally; there was one muscle in particular that he could already tell would be giving him trouble for quite some time.

Dean blinked rather hard, as if trying to stave of sleep for at least another few miles. "Just out of Chicago," he said. He cleared his throat, the sound coming gruff and phlegmy. "Shit, man, I've gotta find us a hotel."

"Now? Dude, the sun just came up." Sam ran a hand over his face, yawning, and blinked hard against the fresh sunlight of the day. "Just pull over. I'll drive and you can sleep."

"Ha! Right. You're, uh, you're a funny guy, Sammy. Like I'm gonna sleep in the car." Dean's chortling was interrupted by one hell of a yawn. He made a quick left and pulled into the empty parking lot of a Travelodge. "Go on and get us a room."

Sam sighed - it was impossible reasoning with Dean sometimes. If the eldest Winchester brother wanted to sleep in a warm bed, then dammit, he iwould/i. "What are we? Vampires, now? When's the last time we saw the sun?" Sam muttered loudly enough for Dean to hear, but nevertheless grabbed his wallet and went inside to purchase a room for the night. Odds were that no one would even be awake to igive/i them a room, but after all, Princess Dean demanded it.

Dean remained in the Impala, using the thought of a real bed as motivation to stay awake. As he watched Sam in the motel office (waiting patiently for the innkeeper to pull on his robe and assist him), a small smile came onto Dean's face. It had been two days of nonstop driving since their tender exchange in the parking lot of a nameless bar back in Hicksville, and neither brother had said a word about it. Displays of such affection - typically going no further than hugs and brotherly "I love yous" - were not uncommon between the two. But that night, aided by Dean's tipsy state, neither he nor Sam could insist that their kiss, their touches, were purely innocent. There had been something strange about that night (be it the fact that Dean turned down a gorgeous woman for sex, or that Sam had allowed his older brother to rest his hands in his back pockets). Now they were locked in the Impala until they got to Detroit, and neither of them could forget about the elephant making itself comfortable between the two of them.

"Alright, come on, we've got Room Two," said Sam as he tapped on the windshield. There was a set of keys in his hand, and his bag was already slung around his arm. Maybe Dean had dozed off, after all; he hadn't even noticed Sam's return.

The motel room was typical. Beige carpet, two queen-sized beds, a little bathroom, a mini-fridge. The boys threw their bags against the wall and collapsed into bed without even changing their clothes.

"This drive's been a bitch," Dean said, voice muffled by the pillow he had landed in.

Sam chuckled and rolled onto his back, one arm slinging over his eyes. "Tell me about it. This job better be a good one - I think I'll go nuts if it's a hoax."

"Yeah but then we'll just have more time to spend having fun for once." Dean smirked as he sat up enough to remove his shirt, and then flopped back into bed, this time facing his brother.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Is that all you think about? Booze and girls?"

"Yeah, that and keeping your ass safe," Dean said, "which I think warrants me a little fun now and again."

"Yeah, whatever." Sam kicked off his shoes. "Just don't go getting all mushy next time you get hammered, ok?"

So there it was - finally, Sam had acknowledged it out loud. If only Dean knew how much Sam had struggled with trying to fit it into conversation, trying to find out Dean's thoughts on the matter, trying to decide if the fire that he had felt in the kiss had also touched his brother. Sam hid his anxiousness for Dean's reaction behind the removal of his button-up shirt.

"You're taking about the other night?" Dean chuckled dryly and bit at his fingernail. "I wouldn't say I got imushy/i."

Sam cocked an eyebrow. "Do you even remember that night?"

iCourse I do. I haven't stopped thinking about it, idiot,/i Dean thought.

"No," he said, "not all of it."

Sam laughed with much of the same humorless desperation that Dean had managed moments ago. "Well, do you remember the fact that you molested me? I swear, I never pegged you as a handsy drunk."

"Handsy!" Dean laughed. "I think you're being a little - what's the word? - hyperbolic, here, Sammy."

"Hyperbolic, eh? Wow, Dean, I'm impressed. Been reading something other than pornos lately, have you?"

The shoe that hit Sam in the stomach was thrown with just the right amount of force as to make the poor guy cough and curl in on himself.

"Little bitch," Dean said, grumbling. He tossed his other shoe against the wall and lay back down. "All I'm sayin' is that I iremember/i what happened, and I didn't get ihandsy/i."

"I won't even mention that kiss, then," Sam muttered. He turned on his side, away from Dean, and closed his eyes, ready for sleep.

That was it for Dean. Hearing the actual word and the implications behind it leave Sam's mouth, left no option than to get up out of bed and kick Sam so hard in the back that he fell out of bed and onto his face.

"The fuck! Dean, what the fuck, man!" Sam tried to right himself, attempting to clamber back onto the bed, but Dean's weight on his middle kept him pinned. Both of his arms were entrapped and forced above his head. Dean drew so close that Sam could feel his brother's heavy breathing against his cheek.

"You little shit," Dean said, barely loud enough to hear. "Why'd you have to go and say it?"

"Say iwhat/i! You're the one that kissed ime/i, remember?" Sam struggled against Dean's hold. He felt twelve years old, being pinned down in the mud and made to stay there until Dean had finished lecturing him about keeping himself safe. Only this time, Dean seemed more likely to hurt than to protect. The anger in the elder's eyes was startling; Sam typically only saw that kind of aggression from Dean on a hunt.

"I told you I love you," Dean said.

"Yeah, so what?"

Dean cocked an eyebrow suggestively, as if Sam were too dimwitted to catch the hint. "I thought that you'd get it by now. That wasn't exactly our first kiss, y'know."

Sam could only blink. "Yeah, but we're brothers. A-aren't brothers allowed to do that?" He knew that Dean could feel his pounding heart rate. It would be hard to miss, given that Dean was pressing his fingers tightly into his wrist. As much as Sam wanted to believe that this conversation was taking the turn that he suspected, he was wary to get so optimistic. Dean wasn't the type. He liked girls. A ilot/i. The countless condom wrappers found in the back seat of the Impala were enough to prove that. So why the determined look in Dean's eye? Why the talk of kisses and love?

"Sammy," Dean said, drawing close to Sam's ear, "listen up 'cause I don't really wanna say this again." His gaze grew distant for a moment. Sam could see him lingering on indecision. The subtle way which Dean bit his lip, trying to take the chance, made Sam want to smile. So he did.

"I already know, Dean."

"What?" Dean's eyes widened slightly. His grip grew slightly looser on Sam's wrists.

"I iknow/i what you're going to say." Sam smirked.

"So you…"

"Yeah."

"And you want to…?" Dean chuckled nervously.

"Yeah." Sam's smirk widened.

"Well holy shit."

"That's all you're going to say?"

"I think so."

That was all that needed to be said, in the end. There was no clumsy profession of deeper love than goes with brotherhood, no awkward discussion of taboo and moral righteousness. There was only two men who had never known how to love another person the way they loved each other, and that was enough.

Dean released Sam's hands as their kiss gathered momentum. Lips that were once careful and unsure grew confident in desire of dominance. Dean remained on top of Sam, hands diving under his brother's shirt and hips moving in an utterly tantalizing, unintentional rhythm that quickly caused both men to break the kiss and breathe large gulps of air for fear of blacking out. Their eyes met and locked as Dean's hands continued to roam his little brother's body - the rippling muscle and familiar skin that bore scars from shared, unforgettable experience caused Dean to feel the desire to see and feel it all. Sam's shirt was quickly thrown aside to leave a path for Dean's eager mouth.

"W-wait," Sam said. "We should get back on the bed. I-I don't want this to happen on the floor."

Dean groaned, annoyed to have to remove his lips from Sam's skin for even a moment. "Fine, have it your way." He got to his feet and offered his hand down to Sam, helping him up. "Damn," he muttered, looking up at Sam. "What kind of little brother are you when you're like the fucking Jolly Green Giant?"

Sam laughed and drew closer to Dean, kissing the man's forehead, nose, and finally his lips. "Guess that means I'm on top, right?" he said, still a breath away from Dean's lips.

"Fuck no, bitch." For the second time that night, Dean kicked Sam - only this time it was to the aim of getting him iinto/i bed rather than out of it. Sam fell heavily into Dean's bed, looking surprised. Dean pushed Sam back against the mattress, going immediately for the man' pants. "Like I'd ever let you top me," he muttered.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Always the macho man."

"Got that right, darlin'." Dean threw aside Sam's pants and moved to shed his own. "You're pretty damn hard, huh?" He put his hand to Sam's groin, where an impressive bulge was making itself known.

"So are you." Sam grinned and sat up to put his hands on either of Dean's hips. He could feel the strong muscles of Dean's legs and he shifted, suddenly nervous, from foot to foot. "Maybe I should take care of it for you?" Sam hooked his fingers into the waistband of Dean's boxer-briefs and began to tug them down.

Dean felt his face grow hot with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment. It was one thing to kiss your brother, to touch him, but somehow it was a different matter entirely to discuss the intense erections that one held for the other, and again another to suggest relieving those erections. How could they do this? After all that they had accomplished together, and in light of all the goals they still intended to see fulfilled, how could they be together like this and still manage those things? To carry out what they intended would change them, possibly destroy them. Dean didn't want that - he thought he had, but he didn't, after all.

"Stop, Sammy."

Sam paused. He was a fraction of an inch away from revealing all of Dean, and those last few bits of unseen skin were driving him mad with anticipation. "What is it?" he said impatiently.

"We can't do this." Dean gently pried Sam's hands from his hips and backed away, holding up his hands. "I love you, Sammy, I do, but I didn't think…"

"You didn't think it'd get this real," Sam said, voice low and unmistakably disappointed.

Dean sighed. "Right. How'd you know?"

Sam laughed once, the sound coming out a tad bitter. "Because I'm your brother, which is incidentally the same reason you're backing out."

"I'm sorry, Sammy." For a moment, Dean lingered on the spot, ready to add something else, but backed down. He grabbed his pants, his shirt, and his bag, and headed for the door.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Sam snapped, getting to his feet.

Dean pulled on his pants, still facing the door, unwilling to look his brother in the eye (or anywhere else, for that matter). "I'm gonna go sleep in the Impala. We'll keep heading for Detroit tomorrow as planned." Soon fully dressed, Dean slipped outside, leaving Sam alone.

It looked like Dean was going to sleep in the car, after all.