Title: The Brothers Winchester Code (11/19)

Rating: Adult
Pairing/Characters: Eventual Dean/Sam
Notes/Disclaimers/Spoilers: Spoilers through 02x10, "Hunted." I don't own the characters of Sam and Dean Winchester; this is strictly a fan piece.

Summary: After the events of Hunted, Sam finally figures out what to tell Dean. But what he says puts the brothers on a road they never contemplated.

Author's Note: Thank you to those of you who reviewed in my absence. Even if you didn't give me a prompt I wrote you a drabble anyway. For those who did give me a prompt you got a double drabble as a thank you! Thanks as always for those who read this story…glad to have you following it.

"What Sam? What are you talking about?" Dean asked, distracted from asking Sam to tell him about the dream.

Sam stayed in his own head for another minute before sighing.

"You weren't all over me, or even trying to be all over me," he said with a blush. "When I was feeling really sick I told you I thought I should sleep and you agreed with me, which struck me as odd but I was so out of it I didn't catch on to why it was so odd. Well obviously I should have realized that you had an agenda. But I listened to you when you said I should just sleep next to you, that I would be closer to the bathroom and if something happened to you I would be right there in case you needed me."

"You were expecting an overtly sexual attack of some kind," Dean said with a nod.

"You'd tried it before, right when I got really sick so I guess you figured that if it didn't work then that you needed to change your strategy."

"I what?!" Dean asked in horror.

"No! No! You didn't attack me, Dean," Sam insisted, sending his brother an apologetic glance. "Sorry. I meant you were overtly sexual with me at first but I made it clear that wasn't going to work. I think the throwing up helped convince you of that more than anything else."

Dean snorted.

"So what did I do?"

"Once I fell asleep you woke me up and told me to scoot closer to you. I didn't want to fight so I did. Then you were radiating this chill, and I was so hot, it felt so nice, made me feel so much better. You told me to take advantage of it—"

"So my master plan was to snuggle with you?" Dean interrupted, and Sam laughed at the look of indignation on Dean's face. Clearly Dean thought he should have had something more devious up his sleeve.

"I guess so. Once we were touching you were able to come into my dream and you tried to convince me that I wanted to uh…" Sam broke off and looked away, hoping that he could gloss over this part and Dean would still understand, "But I realized I was dreaming and I woke up and broke away from you and then you got pissed and head butted me. End of story."

Dean closed the journal and put it back, and as he went into the kitchen Sam could hear him opening the refrigerator and some cupboards. Thankfully Dean seemed willing to just take Sam's statement at face value, although Sam had the feeling that once he was feeling 100 Dean would ask him more about the dream. When Dean came out with a shot glass, a bottle of Jack and a beer Sam sat up.

"Me too, Dean," he said and Dean shook his head.

"You're sick, Sammy. And with the pain pills I don't think alcohol is going to help."

"I feel much better today. Just one beer, Dean. Please?" Sam pleaded. "We always toast the end of a hunt."

And they did, even if it didn't happen immediately after the hunt was through they made a point of it. In fact it was when Dean had unexpectedly toasted the end of the hunt with Dr. Ellicott that Sam knew they were on the road to recovery. Dean rolled his eyes and went back into the kitchen and when he returned and handed Sam the beer he grinned.

"Don't blame me when you're feeling all nasty later, okay?"

Sam nodded and waited to drink until Dean had taken his shot and raised his beer bottle to Sam's.

"To the end of another successful hunt. Thanks to whatever deity kept us from getting killed this time."

"And may we never see another incubi as long as we live," Sam added.

As the alcohol poured down his throat Sam thought that everything would be all right as long as Dean never found out about the hickey. While he finished the beer he thought of all the clothes he could wear that would hide it and how he'd have to time getting dressed and the like.

He had chugged the beer without meaning to and he shook his head, knowing he was going to pay for it. The lack of quantity of food in his system paired with the pain pills were going to make him totally loopy. Once he started feeling the effects of the alcohol he handed Dean his empty bottle and scooted himself back into the pillows.

And whoa, now he was really feeling it. His head felt spinny and he closed his eyes. He felt Dean sit next to him as he arranged the blankets over Sam's form and he smiled. Dean was always taking care of him, even when Sam protested.

Although he didn't exactly take care of Sam in the dream, he mused and Sam snorted a laugh at his own humor. Being that frustrated was probably what should have clued Sam in to the fact that he was dreaming, he told himself but then decided that all that mattered was he had actually realized he was dreaming.

"You okay little brother?" Dean asked, smiling at how quickly Sam had fallen under the combination of too little food and controlled substances.

"Knew it was a dream," Sam mumbled and Dean decided to humor him. A half-baked Sam could potentially provide a goldmine of blackmail material.

"Oh yeah? How's that, Sammy?"

Sam snorted as if the answer was obvious.

"Lots of ways."

Dean waited for a moment but it appeared that Sam had succumbed to the pain pills again. Just as he stood up Sam opened his eyes and spoke again.

"You wouldn't kiss me," he said and Dean sat back down sharply, eyes wide.

Sam must be talking about the dream the incubus bite had given him. Dean had thought they were just going to pretend that it had never happened…at least that was the plan until Sam was feeling better. He was willing to let it go while Sam was sick but the interesting shade of red Sam had turned giving the brief details begged an explanation.

He had written in the journal that incubi bites caused the host to be able to connect to a potential victim through dreams if they were touching, but without an explanation of how they had come across that knowledge.

As it was the details of the dream were pretty fuzzy for Dean…it was more feelings than anything else. So maybe it was tamer than he had thought? After all, if he hadn't even kissed Sam in the dream…

His train of thought was broken by Sam's next mutterings.

"And you wouldn't let me come," he pouted and Dean had to bite back a grin at how annoyed Sam seemed, even as he struggled with whether or not to allow the conversation to continue. After all, once he was back to 100 Sam might not be all that happy with having shared this with Dean. But Sam spoke up again before Dean could say anything.

"You didn't call me Sammy," he told him, his eyes fever bright. "Not one time once you were under the bite." He nodded his head in exaggerated slowness. "That's a big one. Couldn't see you not calling me Sammy."

Dean nodded.

"That's pretty observant of you."

Sam smiled a toothy grin.

"Thanks, Dean."

Dean shook his head, amused at how happy the simple praise seemed to make his brother.

"Maybe I should just let you get some rest now, Sammy."

"Not yet, Dean. I'm not ready yet," Sam persisted, and Dean coughed to cover his laugh. It was the same thing Sammy always said when he was overly tired, had been since Dean could remember. He knew Sam would fall asleep within moments so he kept talking.

"So it was a bad dream, then?" he asked.

Sam shook his head and frowned up at him.

"I wanted it. I wanted everything…you kept telling me you wanted, too…but you don't really want it," Sam said with a sigh.

Dean decided that the drugs had really kicked in as Sam was making no kinds of sense.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," he told him, "I'm sorry I gave you a bad dream."

"Not bad," Sam insisted, his eyes falling shut for a moment. "Not bad, Dean. I liked the way your fingers felt. That part was good…really good."

Dean's brain helpfully supplied him with about a thousand things his fingers could have done to Sam that would hopefully make him feel good.

"You just kept teasing me," Sam said with a frown as he opened his eyes. "And I was open and ready but then you said I had to wake up and take it from you and I knew that it wasn't you for sure."

Dean blushed at the implications of what Sam was saying, even though only part of it made sense.

"I told you you had to wake up and take it from me?" he asked and Sam nodded.

"But you wouldn't do that, Dean. We talked about that and you wouldn't do that to me," Sam said through a yawn, his eyes falling shut again.

"What wouldn't I do?" Dean prodded.

"You wouldn't do it just because you thought I wanted it. You promised me," Sam said in a solemn tone, but then he scrunched up his face. "Wait. Did you promise me that, Dean?"

"If I didn't then I will now, Sammy. Do you want me to promise I won't do anything just because you want to do it?"

Sam peered up at him and Dean blinked as Sam's eyes filled with tears.

"You're making fun of me, aren't you?"

"No Sammy, I'm not. I swear."

But Sam shook his head and turned away from Dean.

"You're making fun of me because I liked it and you didn't and you think it's funny."

Dean gently tugged Sam back to face him. Sam kept his eyes averted as Dean spoke.

"Sammy I wasn't really there, remember? So I don't know what I did or didn't do in the dream. But as far as you liking it I'm not making fun of you for that."

Sam lifted hesitant eyes to Dean and he searched his brother's gaze, eventually nodding.

"Okay."

"Sammy…" Dean began and then he broke off, obviously struggling with what he wanted to say. "I didn't hurt you, did I? I mean…I didn't force you to do anything, did I?"

Sam giggled, sounding for all the world like a seven-year-old.

"Never, Dean. You'd rather cut off your arm than hurt me, right?" Sam announced as he looped his arm over Dean's legs and squeezed.

Dean nodded; more pleased than he cared to admit that at least on some level Sam recognized that unalterable fact. He was about to ask Sam for more details but as he looked down he saw that Sam had fallen asleep so he gently lifted Sam's arm off and took the stuff into the kitchen to rinse out.

End of Chapter Eleven