The sounds that woke Dean the next morning was knuckles rapping against wood.

"Rise and shine princesses – breakfast is on the table and we got work to do today." Bobby's voice penetrated right through the haze of sleep that had been occupying Dean not a moment before.

He heard footsteps move away from the door and down the stairs. Dean tried to sit up, but he was held down. He tilted his head forward to see what was keeping him from moving. It was Sam, who had his head laying on Dean's chest and his torso laying across him like some sort of giant lapdog. His hair was fanned out all over the place, and Dean couldn't resist running his fingers through it. Sam murmured in his sleep at the contact and hugged Dean tighter.

"Sammy... Sammy..." Dean said in a sing-song voice. Sam made a small grunt and continued to lay there.

"Sammy, it's time to get up." He looked over to the bedside clock – it was just past eight. He managed to get an arm out from Sam's vise grip and shake Sam. Sam responded by rolling off of Dean and burying his head under the covers.

Dean turned on his side and brushed Sam's hair back, exposing his ear. He leaned down and stuck his tongue in Sam's ear.

That got his attention.

Sam sat up with a start, nearly knocking Dean with his head. "Christ Dean, that's evil." Dean fell back on the bed laughing. Sam took his pillow and hit him with it, causing Dean to laugh even louder. Sam's face was priceless – if the younger Winchester had ever pulled a better bitch face, Dean hadn't seen it.

"Yeah yeah laugh all you want." Sam rose from the bed, but nearly tripped as one of his legs got caught in the blankets. Sam made the best of fuck I'm going to die face that Dean had ever seen, and he laughed even harder. Sam stood at the edge of the bed, glaring at Dean. He picked up a pair of boxers from his bag and put them on, heading towards the bathroom.

By the time he got back, Dean had calmed down considerably, but he was still chuckling. Sam crawled up the bed to sit on Dean's chest and pin his arms down, while Dean tried to ineffectually slap Sam's hands away. "Sam get... get off me." He was trying not to laugh.

"Still funny?"

"Sammy any other time you'd be on top of me in a different way."

"Dude, sticking your tongue in my ear... don't. "

Dean looked at him with slight incredulity. "Seriously Sammy you got a problem with it."

Sam let Dean's arms go and he moved off of him. "Yeah." Sam really did look serious.

"Alright, why?"

Sam looked at him and sighed. "Nightmare I used to have as a kid. The devil would whisper in my ear and stick his tongue in, like he was trying to get inside me. Remember the times I would wake up all cold and clammy, like chilled to the bone?"

Dean reached out and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Yeah, I do Sam."

"That's how the dream ended. So when you did that – I thought it was real."

"Shit Sammy I'm sorry, really." Dean moved his hand up to rub the back of Sam's head.

"It's okay Dean. Just the next time you do something like that to wake me up... put your tongue somewhere else, alright?"

Dean's eyes moved down Sam's body to his crotch, and his other hand moved up Sam's thigh. "Like here?"

The look of slight sadness that was on Sam's face a few moments before was gone, and now a smile was parting his lips. "Like there." Sam leaned into Dean, and their lips met, parting as Dean's tongue slid into Sam's mouth. Dean's hand rubbed Sam's hardening cock through his underwear, making Sam moan, a sound that Dean never tired of hearing.

Dean laid Sam back on the bed, his other hand running through Sam's hair. Sam picked his lower half up and pushed his boxers off, freeing himself. Dean immediately put his hand around the base of Sam's cock, and stroked upward, a drop of precum collecting at the end of it. He took it and rubbed it all over the head, making Sam break the kiss and arch his head back.

"You like that Sammy?"

Sam, his eyes closed, smiled and said "Fuck yeah I do Dean."

"Well you're gonna like this better." Dean moved down and hovered over Sam's cock, licking his lips. "You said to use my tongue differently, so I'm going to do just that."

Dean was about to sink his mouth down on Sam's cock when the knocking returned. "Boys! Git your asses up! We got stuff to do today!"

Sam looked down at Dean, sighing.

"Raincheck?" Sam looked disappointed.

"Afraid so Sammy."

It didn't stop them from kissing each other quite a bit as they got dressed.

. . .

Later that afternoon, Sam and Dean were helping Bobby with business. Not supernatural business, but with what Bobby actually made his living by – towing and auto salvage. About ten miles outside of town, a van had broken down and Sam and Dean joined Bobby in his tow truck to go get it. Dean thought Sam looked incredibly hot getting down on his knees to make sure everything was secure, checking the chains one last time to make sure that they were in place. Sam threw himself into helping Bobby just like he did when he was researching, absorbing everything Bobby said, nodding his head in understanding. Dean had helped too, by manipulating the levers that raised the van upwards. He had figured that letting Sam actually go through the physical process of hooking the van up would do him good, letting him get his hands dirty.

Sam raised his arm to wipe his brow on the back of his sleeve, and Dean saw that the area underneath around Sam's armpit was stained with sweat, and he suddenly had an enormous urge to lick it.

He stood there and thought what that would be like, chewing his bottom lip. Where the hell had that come from? He was interrupted by Bobby asking him "Ready boy?"

Dean snapped out of his thoughts, suddenly conscious that he had an erection. Sam fixed him with a knowing look, and his lips curled upward ever so slightly. "Come on Dean – let's go." Sam walked by him and subtly brushed a hand across his ass, Dean having to stifle a groan as he did so. Was it really that easy for Sam to tell if he was turned on?

Dean thought about Sam and his sweaty armpits all the way back to Bobby's.

. . .

Not long before sundown, Bobby up in the bedroom sorting through the books and other items that he had recently come by, Sam and Dean had been charged with getting dinner. They piled into the Impala, and headed into town, passing by people on their way home from work, restaurants gearing up for the dinner hour.

They eventually decided on pizza, and arms full of it and other assorted sides such as breadsticks, they made their way back to Bobby's. Dean hadn't said much since the afternoon, and Sam's curiosity was getting the better of him.

"So Dean... when we were hooking up the van..." Sam looked over at Dean, who was doing his best to look like he was concentrating on the road.

"It can wait Sammy. Just... let me drive, alright?" Dean's head was a maelstrom of thoughts, most of them still centered around Sam and his body.

Sam knew better than to try and press Dean into talking when he was like this, so he respected Dean's wishes. Bobby's house came into sight, the only light on being the one upstairs where Bobby was still hard at work. They entered the house, arms full of food. Sam called up to the older hunter and let him know that dinner was on the table. A distant "mmm-hmmm" was his reply. Bobby must have been wrapped up in some old volume, the way his voice sounded. Part of Sam was curious to go see what had Bobby so engrossed, but he was more interested in what Dean was thinking.

"Sammy, why don't we go eat out back, alright? Guns need cleaning anyway." This was true. They had test fired all of their guns earlier that day, practicing target shooting. They were all still lying on a table under one of the sheds, save for the pistol Dean had tucked in his belt. Dean popped open a couple of beers, passing one to Sam. They ate in silence for a bit, the only sounds being chewing and the sound of metal being cleaned and polished. Dean's brow was furrowed in concentration, but every now and then his eyes would drift across the table to Sam, who was working meticulously at making sure the shotguns were in good order. Sam's head was pointed downwards, his long hair falling across his face, shaking as he scrubbed out the barrel of the sawed-off that he had fashioned for himself not so long ago.

Dean put down the pistol he was working on and said "Alright."

Without looking up, Sam said "Yeah Dean?"

"Sam can you look at me, please?" The younger Winchester tilted his face up and looked at Dean. Dean's eyes were full of serious intent, and his jaw was set.

"Sammy we need to talk. More specifically about us." Sam shifted slightly in his seat, not entirely sure of where this conversation was going.

"Have the last few days felt different to you at all Sam?"

Sam canted his head to one side. "Different how?"

"I don't know man, just different. Like... better." Dean reached out and held Sam's hands in his.

"I mean we haven't used a condom the last couple times we've had sex but I don't know if that necessarily makes things better."

"Not really what I'm talking about Sammy."

"Then what is it Dean?"

Dean sighed. "Sammy, ever since we left Atlanta, you've literally been ninety percent of my thoughts. I can't begin to tell you how many times over the last few days I've caught myself just staring at you, thinking about what you're doing."

"Dean we really haven't been out of each other's sight for the last four years, you know that right?"

"Has it really been four years Sam?"

Sam nodded. "And almost as many that we've been... you know..."

Dean smiled and said "A couple?"

Sam laughed, just once. "Yeah."

Dean got up from his side of the table and came to sit down next to Sam. "Sam what I've been trying to say is that what I said last night, right before we fell asleep... I was serious. That wasn't the sex and hormones talking."

Sam's face softened and Dean rested his head on Sam's shoulder. "I know you were Dean. I've been thinking about it. And the more I do , the more and more I realize that I would like nothing better than to be with you like that."

Dean picked his head up, a look of tentative happiness on his face. "Really?"

Sam nodded. "Yes."

Dean's head suddenly felt light. He cleared his throat, his voice not one hundred percent secure. "Do you want me to get down on one knee and... do it correctly?"

Sam laughed again, a beautiful sound that made Dean's heart happy. "You don't have to Dean, really." Sam reached up and ran a hand through Dean's hair. "I know your intentions are sincere. They always are."

Dean tilted his head to kiss Sam, slow and sweet.

They stayed like that for awhile, holding each other. Sam had never seen Dean so tender, so loving. It made his heart melt, the way Dean was kissing him.

Eventually, they broke apart, and Dean said to him "I'm gonna do it anyway." Sam couldn't help but smile as Dean got down onto the floor on one knee, and took Sam's hand. "Sammy... you're the best damn partner I could ever have, have ever had – in hunting, in life, and in bed. And I know that we're already bound by blood, by experience, and by God knows what else, but I want to make it permanent. What do you say Sammy?"

Tears of happiness streamed down Sam's face. "Dean, yes." Dean's smile lit up the room, and he came up off the floor and sat in Sam's lap, straddling him and showering him with kisses. They both wound up laughing, feeling the slightest bit ridiculous, but overwhelmingly happy. Soon Dean leaned back and put one hand on the side of Sam's face, rubbing it. "I don't have a ring but... Sam can you forgive me for that?"

Sam kissed him on the forehead. "I think I can Dean. I won't hold you to it though. A piece of metal doesn't mean nearly as much to me as you do anyway, alright?"

Dean nodded. "I feel like I've grown a vagina here lately."

Sam hugged him tight. "Dean, don't you dare worry about me thinking that you're a lesser man for doing all of this. Your masculinity is still very much intact. Dean, telling me all this, doing all this – that takes balls, big ones. I don't think of you as anything but a man, wonderful, terrific, man."

Dean smiled again. "Thanks Sammy. I won't even call you a bitch anymore – unless you really deserve it."

Sam's response was to dump Dean from his lap and wrestle him to the floor. They were tussling when they heard footsteps enter the shed and Bobby stood over them.

"Do I even want to know?" Sam had Dean in a headlock, and they looked up at Bobby, faces painted with newfound innocence.

They both started to explain at once why they were wrestling on the floor, just like a couple of children that had been caught red-handed invading the cookie jar, but Bobby just held up his hands and said "Enough. I'm locking up for the night, so if y'all are coming into the house, I'd do it now." They rose from the floor, dusting themselves off.

Bobby led the way out, Sam and Dean following behind far enough that the older hunter wouldn't hear them. Sam leaned his head to the side and whispered "Are you hard too?"

"Like you wouldn't believe." Dean turned his head and winked.

Sam kissed him on the cheek and put his hand in the back left pocket of Dean's jeans, appreciating the feel of Dean's tight ass. Dean drew closer and put his arm around Sam, hanging onto his body. They walked like that all the way back to the house, Bobby not suspecting a thing.

. . .

A few hours later, after some good conversation and more than a few glasses of bourbon, Sam and Dean both headed up to bed. They held onto each other as they made their way up the stairs, swaying from the alcohol in them, laughing every time one of them started to fall. It took awhile for them to finally get up the stairs, and they more or less fell into their room, giggling drunkenly.

Sam led Dean to the bed by the hand, and he fell across it, drawing Dean down on top of him. Dean was all smiles and kisses, and Sam was in a very accepting mood for both. The alcohol was making them both clumsy and sleepy, and Dean was fast approaching the latter.

"Hey.. hey Sammy... guess... fuck I don't even know..." He snorted with laughter, causing Sam's giggles to start up all over again. It took a bit for them to both calm down enough. Dean drew a deep breath and made a conscious effort to speak clearly.

"Sam... we're... we're engaged now. I'm just... super, super okay with this. Beyond okay actually. How about you?"

Sam moved to lay longways on the bed, kicking his boots off as he did so. Dean did the same, and lay with his head on Sam's shoulder. "You know that feeling you get when you first hear the note of your favorite song? The first warm bite of your favorite food or the first sip of a good cold beer? It's like all of those things combined into one, except a million times better."

Dean loved the vibrations that Sam's voice was causing in his chest. "Sammy you're a goddamn poet, you know that? But not like some old dude who can't see. One of those sexy poets, like Byron."

Sam picked his head up and looked at Dean. "You know Byron? Dude, he was my favorite in the poetry class I took at Stanford."

"Hell yeah Sammy. My twelfth grade English class – the only one I ever took any interest in, and we read Byron. I really liked him. I still remember a little bit, actually:

I want a hero: an uncommon want,

When every year and month sends forth a new one, I

Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant,

The age discovers he is not the true one;

Of such as these I should not care to vaunt,

I 'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan—

We all have seen him, in the pantomime,

Sent to the devil somewhat ere his time."

"Dean that was beautiful." Sam kissed the top of Dean's head, pulling him a little closer.

Dean looked up at Sam and smiled. "Those lines always kind of reminded me of you Sammy. For a long time, I thought Dad was my hero. But Sam, it turned out to be you. Really, it always has been. I look up to you Sammy boy, literally now but when you were growing up, I tried hard to make sure you would be the sort of person people looked up to. Dad sure as hell wasn't helping, so someone had to and well, Sammy you turned out great."

Sam had to run a hand over his face to hide the tears that were threatening to run down his face. "Dean..."

"You're a hero Sammy. My hero." Dean reached up and stroked the side of Sam's face, the feeling of stubble rough under his skin.

Sam took Dean's hand and kissed his fingers, closing his eyes as he did so. A tear rolled down his face, dropping to stain his shirt.

"Dean... you just don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that."

"I mean it Sam – every single word."

Sam turned so that he could wrap Dean in his arms, putting his face in the crook of Dean's neck, breathing in Dean's scent. He smelled like a mixture of gunpowder, beer, and strength. Sam found it to be incredibly comforting.

He heard Dean say "Hey Sammy?"

"Yeah Dean?"

"Is it okay if we save the sex for later?" Dean's voice sounded sleepy and content.

"That sounds wonderful Dean. For now, this is perfect."

They both sleepily undressed and after brushing teeth and a very long good night kiss, fell asleep in each other's arms, both dreaming of good things, the future, and what life would be like when they woke up in the morning.