DISCLAIMER: I do not own Supernatural, nor do I own the characters. They belong to Kripke and CW.

A/N: Guys, I apologize so much for my writing. It can all be blamed on my brain. It's just a strange place xP I attempted to read this chapter, and started cracking up. Really. I mean, just. Agh.

THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO: ChevyImpalla1967, kjdw, Velia Mineantea, mb64, and Subtlelife! You guys are like, my oxygen. Did that sound weird? Oops. I LIKE BUTTS. Sorry.

Oh, Sam gets a bit sassyfrassy (oh god I told you, I'm a weirdo)

ENJOY!

Sam had spent over an hour in the air conditioned diner, but he couldn't bring himself to focus on searching for any jobs. Every hit was either just an urban spook or a teenage prank, and it didn't help that his mind kept getting fuddled with thoughts of Dean.

After another hour of fruitless researching, Sam slapped his laptop shut, and buried his head in his arms, which were crossed on the table in front of him. He couldn't get visions of Dean out of his head, and his body kept acting of its own accord. Sometimes it felt as if his insides were burning with raw passion, and other times it felt as if he housed an icy mountain stream, trickling from the tip of his head, down a steep slope to the tips of his toes.

He stayed in that position for at least ten minutes, when his peaceful brooding was interrupted.

The diner door opened, with the ching-a-ling of a little bell, like the sort often heard use to call in the cows for round-up. Sam didn't even bother a glance up, but suddenly the hairs on his neck stood at attention.

Whoever had stepped in had at first been engaged in a joyful chatter but suddenly their voice hushed, and footfalls could be heard getting closer towards Sam's seat.

There was a gasp, and suddenly a cold palm pressed against his collar bone, whilst long fingers raked through the hairs on his neck.

He tensed up, like an irritated cat, his hair all but standing on end, when the sultry-sweet voice whispered in his ear, "Oh, sugar-bear."

It was none other than fake Uncle Bobby.

Sam couldn't dredge up the energy to push him/her away, "Look, can you just not? I'd rather be alone right now."

"Why are you so down hearted, honey-bun?" fake Uncle Bobby said, practically cooing like a pigeon, "It's not your Dean-o, is it?"

Sam said nothing, and fake Uncle Bobby let out a feminine sigh, "He's just afraid, honey. Don't let his idjit façade and his inability to make the first move cause you problems."

Sam's fingers clenched and unclenched, but he didn't say anything.

Fake Uncle Bobby continued stroking his hair, and eventually Sam called down enough to actually take in what he/she had said.

"But, wait… No, he's not like that. He's my brother…" he said, with a furrowed brow.

"So what? Love is love, sugar, that's all that matters."

For once, fake Uncle Bobby was actually making some sense.

"But, isn't it – wrong?" Sam said, unable to comprehend the fact that he was even having this conversation.

The hand on his neck stilled, and fake Uncle Bobby's voice sounded as if it were breaking, "Oh, no, you've got it all mixed up. Love is never wrong."

"I beg to differ," Sam huffed; these days he seemed to be a grade A pessimist.

Fake Uncle Bobby grabbed his left ear, between two sharp finger nails, and pulled hard.

"Ow, what is your problem?" Sam said, getting angry. Who the hell did this stranger think he/she was?

"Traveling on the road gets lonely… it's only natural that two strapping young lads, all by themselves, in a small car, would start getting ideas." Fake Uncle Bobby said trailing his/her fingers up Sam's arm, like a spider.

"And, if they perhaps decided to act on their urges, who's to blame them?" he/she finished, hand going back to stroke Sam's hair.

"…" Sam was lost in his thoughts – he'd felt strongly about Dean since his youngest memory. Dean had always been there, whilst there father was as inconsistent as the direction of a blowing wind.

Dean had spent two hours calming down, whilst he retrieved the gasoline.

He'd come to one conclusion: He'd have to come clean to Sammy, and let him either take it or leave it, because he was sick of beating around the bush. It was time for him to man-up.

With this in mind, he set the two full red-gas containers in the back seat of the Impala, and made his way over to the diner.

Stepping in, to the air-conditioned room was a relief. Finally, some things seemed to be going as planned. He scanned the diner, and spotted Sammy sitting at a table, with some unidentifiable gender feeling him up…

Dean's smile slipped off his face, and he felt as if someone had shoved a shank in his stomach and twisted it back and forth. So that's what Sammy liked, no… problem.

Dean stumbled backwards, feeling faint, and bumped into a table, knocking over a chair in the process.

"Sir, are you okay?" said a concerned waitress, stepping into his line of vision.

Dean tried to smile, and wave her away, but a wave of nausea roiled through his body, and he could only manage to choke out a small, "yes."

He scrambled out of the diner, keeping his eyes on Sammy the entire time – whatever, he'd suffered enough. Dean would just let him enjoy himself.

He couldn't go back to their room, there was too much of Sam's stuff – he needed to go someplace where he could breathe, that wouldn't remind him of Sam.

Tough luck, he managed to stumble onto a park bench, right beside a playground.

There was loud ruckus in the diner, and both Sam and fake Uncle Bobby paused, to look over. Sam's breath caught in his throat.

"Dean-" he started to say, but Dean had already left.

Sam turned around, and buried his face into his arms.

"What are you doing, boy?" fake Uncle Bobby sounded exasperated, "Go after him!"

"He doesn't want me. He made that very clear when he ran out of here like he'd seen a ghost – wait, that's wrong… Well, it doesn't matter. He ran away, and that's that." Sam mumbled into his arms.

"I think he saw us together and got the wrong impression, sugar. Go to him." Fake Uncle Bobby said, sympathetically, giving Sam's neck-hair one last caress.

"But-" Sam said, looking up.

"No buts, just go!" fake uncle Bobby commanded, standing at full height, propping one hand up on his/her hip.

Sam stood up reluctantly, but then he became more confident, solidifying his decision. He couldn't let it stay awkward between the two of them forever.

Dean couldn't have chosen a worse place to sit and forget Sammy – just in front of him, he had witnessed a younger brother being bullied, and an elder brother stepping in to protect him.

Screw it, he'd been there for Sammy for all of those years, and he deserved some type of reward. IT was time he put his feelings first. If Dean wanted Sam, then he wasn't going to give up. He was going to fight for him.

Dean stood up, and began his journey back to the motel.

He squeezed through the overly passionate cosplayers, and had to take a moment to appreciate how they picked up on Sam and Dean's sexual tension way better than the brother's themselves had.

He continued on into their motel room without any interruptions, but Sammy was nowhere to be seen. Briefly, anger boiled through Dean's veins – maybe Sam was still at the diner with that hussy – but it calmed down when he reassured himself that he'd always be Sammy's first choice.

Dean had just made it outside of the hotel when he spotted Sam, sitting on the hood of the Impala, that little shit.

Their eyes met, and Dean felt as if time had slowed down. He could do this. It was only a few feet. His body felt as if it were on fire, like he would spontaneously combust at any second, but he continued on, one step at a time.

It wasn't until he was four feet away that one of them spoke.

"You," Sam said, his voice flat, and Dean's skin prickled, and a litany of worries flew through his head - Sam knows, Sam knows and oh lord, he hates him – but then Sam's face broke out into a large smile.

Deans heart literally stopped, "Sammy," was all managed to say, in a breathless whisper.

Sam stood up, closing the gap between them until they were almost chest to chest. Dean's palms felt sweaty, and he was an experienced, grown man, for fuck's sake, he didn't need to be getting nervous!

"Sammy, I- There's something I need to tell you-" he wanted to look away, to break their eye contact, but he was entranced.

"Shh." Sam said, nuzzling his nose against Dean's, and his eyes crinkled up with mirth.

"You – I-"Dean's mouth dried up; his tongue felt like sandpaper.

"You're so dumb; why didn't you tell me before?"

"I- I didn't know." Dean managed to say, his body shaking uncontrollably. His legs felt weak. Oh lord; he was the girl in this relationship, of all things.

"You, you don't hate me?" Dean asked, wishing desperately to break their intimate eye contact.

"That would make me a hypocrite, Dean."

If possible, Sam's smile grew even wider, and Dean's chest constricted with sudden arousal.

Dean snaked one of his hands into Sam's hair and the other around his waist, pulling them flush together, "Say it."

"I love you," Sam said, sounding rather amused, and Dean's eyes fluttered shut.

They were so close, their hearts beating in unison, sharing the same air.

Before Sam could even take in his next breath, Dean's mouth had crashed upon his, like the waves breaking tide on the shore, and it felt as if something finally clicked into place deep within their souls.

Sam was responding before Dean could step away, wrapping his arms around Dean, and pressing his lips against Dean's – and everything was just so Dean, and Sam couldn't believe this was finally happening. For so long he'd been telling himself no, for so long he'd been calling himself disgusting, and finally, he knew better – he was in love, and it was pure, and intense, and as perfect as two dysfunctional hunters could ever hope to be.

Dean's tongue slipped into his mouth, but Sam would have none of that – his tongue tussled with Dean's, until they were breathless, and both burning with arousal hot as lava.

Dean had him pinned up against the Impala, and his erection was digging deep into Sam's right hip. Just as Dean's hand reached up under Sam's shirt, Sam pulled away, panting.

"Dean," he said, breathlessly, "I think we better take this someplace else."

Whatever confusion lingered in Dean's mind was wiped away, and he smiled brightly, like the sun, and Sam's heart melted. He gave Dean one last peck on the lips, and took Dean's left hand in his right.

Tonight, they'd get revenge on their motel neighbors. They'd show them who could moan the loudest.

TBC... oops

AHH DON'T HATE ME, THEY'LL DO THE NAUGHTY IN THE NEXT CHAPTER OKAY I'M SORRY MY PLOT GOT SWEPT UP IN A TORNADO AND WENT SOMEWHERE OVER THE RAINBOW. But I'm happy with how this turned out, and I hope it all flows. I got so excited that I kept jumping around.. ;) I LOVE YOU ALL! 3