Sam was freaking out. It was Monday morning and Sam was waiting in the small study room, waiting for Dean. He wondered if Dean would even show and if he did, whether he would beat the shit out of Sam.

He watched as Dean strode toward the room. The jock didn't look mad enough to kill, though Dean was walking slowly, stiffly like he had torn something.

Standing as Dean came into the room, Sam was practically blinded by the brightness of the other teen's smile. Before he had even wrapped his mind around that, though, Dean was moving towards him, gripping the back of Sam's head just as he had done that night and kissing the taller teen.

It didn't last nearly as long as Sam wanted it to. Then Dean pulled back, but stayed inside Sam's personal space. The confusion and want must have shown on Sam's face judging by Dean's next words.

"You said to kiss you again when I was sober. Well, I'm sober."

Dean kissed him again, but this time it was Sam who pulled back after a long moment.

"We still need to study." Sam thought it was adorable how Dean's face fell at those words and so he quickly continued. "Wanna come over to my house after practice?"

Dean smiled and stole one last kiss before they sat down at the table again. On opposite sides of the table for good measure.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Dean rang the doorbell of a pale yellow two-story house in a disturbingly Norman Rockwell-like neighborhood. He couldn't believe that he was doing this, but he was done, done giving up everything that he wanted. He did everything his father wanted and the man still was never happy. So Dean was going to have something that made him happy and that something was Sam.

And Sam really did make Dean happy. They didn't even know each other all that well, but Dean had never felt anything like their kiss that morning. And now he felt like butterflies were trying to climb up his throat as he waited what he thought was an inordinately long time, even for a house that size.

Finally the door opened, to reveal a cute blonde girl maybe two years younger than Sam.

"Hey, Dean. Come on in," the girl said smiling widely and obviously checking him out. Dean lifted an eyebrow in amusement before focusing on the shouting coming from somewhere further inside the house.

Sighing, the girl shut the door and led him towards the sound, which turned out to be coming from the kitchen. Dean was stunned at the sight before him. Sam was across the kitchen island from his father and they were both yelling.

Dean would never, ever yell at his father. Always trying to be a good son, Dean followed all of John's orders. Fascinated, he listened to what they were fighting about.

"Sam, all I said was maybe being part of a team would be good for you."

"Dad, I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I am not interested in sports. I do not want to go out for soccer or any other sport! Why can't you be happy that I'm interested in school?!"

"I am happy for you, but I just want you to be well-rounded, to get some exercise, make some friends…"

Suddenly they noticed that someone else was in the room. Dean smiled sheepishly and readjusted his backpack.

Sam took a deep breath before walking closer to Dean.

"Dad, this is Dean, the football quarterback I'm tutoring. I'm sure his dad is very proud of him." Sam spoke with venom dripping from his lips.

Dean felt distinctly out of place, but stepped forward to offer his hand to the older man. He was certain that his father was not, in fact, proud of him. After shaking hands, Sam led them up the stairs.

Upstairs, Sam was having difficulty calming down after his fight with his dad, but he didn't want to make Dean any more uncomfortable.

"Sorry about that."

"Nah, dads…what are you gonna do?"

Sam scoffed. "Yeah I'm sure your dad's real upset with you, life as a football star has gotta be tough. What with all the guys at school looking up to you and the girls fawning over you and the teachers letting you get away with everything…"

Dean's smile felt wrong on his face. "Yeah, well if teachers let me get away with everything, why do I need you?"

Sam smiled, a real smile then. "Well I'm glad that you do need me."

Dean smiled back, backing the taller teen into the wall. "You are, huh?" He questioned teasingly before claiming the other teen's lips in a kiss.

That kiss quickly became more passionate than any of the preceding. And then Sam was pushing Dean's jacket off and lifting the hem of his t-shirt.

Sam gasped at what was revealed beneath Dean's long-sleeved shirt. The blonde's entire chest was a sheet of black, one huge bruise. Sam hadn't thought that Dean had been hit during Friday's game.

Dean was supremely uncomfortable, holding his bunched up t-shirt against his chest as if that would hide the bruises. Frankly he had forgotten all about them in the heat of the moment, but now he felt self-conscious. With girls it had been different, they had thought of them as a kind of 'war wound', just signs that he was a great player.

But the way Sam was looking at him, like Dean was precious and fragile, unexpectedly caused tears to prick at the back of Dean's eyes. When Sam kissed him again, Dean lost himself in it, letting Sam take the lead and push him back toward the bed.

Sam kept his hands gentle as they roamed over Dean's back. He had been right, Dean was so much more than what he seemed. The shorter teen was hesitant, almost demure and Dean seemed in such need of comfort.

Dean's hands were removing Sam's own shirt as Sam reached for the tab on Dean's jeans. Dropping the blonde's pants and boxers to the floor only revealed more bruising and Sam carefully pressed Dean onto the bed. Sam was moving down Dean's body, toward Dean's erect sex when Dean stopped him with hands on Sam's shoulders.

"Wait. Undress, I want to see you."

Sam smiled as he stood up, dropping his own pants before covering Dean's naked body with his own. Dean's arms were pulling Sam close as they kissed again, but Sam must have pressed too hard on the bruises covering Dean's chest as the teen groaned and not in bliss, turning his head away.

"I'm so sorry, Dean."

Dean's smile was a little sad when he turned back, but his words were consoling. "Nothing to worry about, Sammy."

Sam decided he liked it when Dean called him that during sex. He began to head southward again, but again Dean stopped him.

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

Fortunately there weren't any bruises there and Sam gripped the base of Dean's cock and sucked lightly on the head. When Dean groaned, this time it was in pleasure.

Sam's tongue followed the vein down and then back up before swirling it around the tip. Dean bent his knees instinctually, allowing Sam to have more room as he started a relentless rhythm.

Dean bit his lower lip to stifle the noises that threatened to erupt from his throat and tried desperately not to thrust his hips into that inviting heat. Sam laid a light and hopefully soothing hand on Dean's belly to steady the other teen, his other hand jerking his own sex. Sam came moments before Dean was warning him of Dean's own impending climax.