A/N: Well here it is! Took me long enough, huh? I found my blue notebook, sat down with my computer, and worked my butt off to get it done. I hope you like it!

Chapter Four

The tension in the room could have been cut with a knife. The air that hung between the three Winchesters was thick with unasked questions and unspoken was like sitting in a barrel of gun powder, just waiting for a spark to ignite. All that was missing was a catalyst, something to cause the spark that would ultimately lead to their destruction. A few harsh words, a couple of well- but low- aimed insults, and a violent outburst or two was all it would take to blow them all away.

One of them was pacing around the room- back and forth, back and forth. Another was biting his lip and glaring at his feet as though they were the source of all of the world's problems. But, of course, the last Winchester to be spoken of was just sitting there grinning at his little brother, seemingly completely oblivious to the dangerous atmosphere that surrounded him. But Dean knew perfectly well what was happening. He wasn't as stupid as he looked. He just didn't care at the time. All he could bring himself to care about in that moment was how adorable Sammy looked when he was freaking out about something.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from his baby brother's face. He was fascinated by the slight pucker of Sam's lips. Entranced by the little wrinkle between his eyebrows that continued to grow deeper as they drew closer and closer together. Awed by the barely-there tilt of his head as he looked up to watch their father wear holes in the carpet shaped like his feet with narrowed eyes. He had to stop and wonder why he'd never noticed any of it before. How could he have missed it?

Dean could still feel Sam's soft lips pressed against his own. He could still taste his brother on his tongue. He could still hear the little breathy sigh that Sam had let slip when Dean had run his tongue over his smooth lower lip, asking for entrance. He could still feel the warmth radiating from Sam's ever changing body. And that was when Dean's thoughts, fueled by the mere memory of that too soon interrpted kiss, took a turn for the dirty side; and even if Dean had wanted to think less filthy thoughts, chances are that he would have failed... miserably. So, he didn't attempt to fight them off, he embraced them with open arms and a smile on his face.

John finally stopped for a moment and looked at his boys. His boys. The boy's he'd raised like warriors. The boy's he'd come to think of as his own little army. The boy's he'd thought he'd known like the back of his own hand. The boys he'd loved. 'How could they keep this from me?' he thought. He was pissed that they hadn't at least had the guts to come to him and let him know. But at the same time, he wanted to know how in God's name he had missed it. And how long had it been going on? Weeks? Months? Were they even capable of keeping this big of a secret from him for that long? How many signs had he missed or ignored?

He looked to his oldest, and inwardly rolled his eyes at what he saw. Dean was staring at Sam. But staring wasn't really the right word, it was more like... leering. His lower lip was stuck between his teeth, the corners of his mouth turned up in a little smile that would make any teenage girl with half a brain swoon. His eyes were intense as they roamed the length of the quickly filling out body that sat not even two feet away. Every thought, from the slightly inappropriate to the down right dirty, was practically written on his face.

So he turned to Sam, his youngest. The brains of the operation. So fucused and driven in everything that he did. Sam was looking past John, lost in his own thoughts as usual. Although John was sure that his thoughts were centered on a far different subject from his brother's. He had to fight a laugh as that crossed his mind. He knew for a fact that his son's were thinking very different thoughts. If Sam had any idea what sick, twisted things were swimming around in Dean's head right then, his face would forever be tinted a bright shade of pink. John was sure of that. At least, he had been before. Now, he didn't know what to think. He felt like he was standing in front of strangers.

He knew that he had to say something. He needed to let them know how he really felt about their... whatever the Hell it was they had going on. But he had absolutely no idea where to start.

A/N: I would like to thank all of you that took the time to leave me a review. The positive feedback I received for this story was not only surprising, but also very exciting. It made me feel better about myself as a writer, and helped encourage me to do my best and push myself out of my comfort zone. And now that the Gods of fanfiction have smiled kindly upon me and returned unto me my beautiful blue notebook, updates will be longer and not so far between. You guys are AMAZING! Thanks so much for making me feel loved. :D

-Kari

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