Title: The Brothers Winchester Code (12/19)

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: I do appreciate each and every person who reads this story. I hope that those of you who are following this enjoy the story, and thanks again to those of you who have written, be it a review or a PM. I always am grateful for the contact.

The next day when Sam woke up he rubbed his face and as he scratched his fingers through the scruff on his jaw he decided that he could do with a shave and a shower. He had a vague memory of talking to Dean while he was tipsy but he figured if it was anything he needed to know Dean would tell him. And since Dean decided that anything worth teasing Sam over was definitely something Sam needed to hear he knew he wouldn't get away without being embarrassed if at all possible.

"Dean?" he called out, pulling the covers up to his chin to hide the hickey. Dean wandered into the room, book in hand.

"What's up?"

"I'm going to take a quick shower. Do we need to go to the store or anything today? I think I could do with some fresh air."

Dean nodded.

"Sure thing. I'll just finish this chapter and we'll make a supply run, okay?"

Sam felt more human than he had in a couple of weeks as he scrubbed himself clean. Stepping out of the shower he knotted a towel around his waist and began to shave, looking less Grizzly Adams and more Sam Winchester with every swipe of the blade.

"Sam? Have you seen my jacket?" Dean's voice came through the door and Sam thought for a moment as he rinsed off the shaving cream.

"Back of the kitchen chair, maybe?" he yelled back and then remembered that Dean had left it in the Impala before they had gone into the incubi's lair and thus it was probably still there, assuming Dean hadn't driven anywhere since then. He opened the door to shout again but found Dean on his way into the bedroom, most likely to tell Sam that the jacket wasn't there.

"I think your jacket's still in the Impala," he told him but Dean wasn't listening. He wasn't even looking at Sam. Well technically he was…he just wasn't making eye contact.

He was staring at the hickey.

"What the hell happened, Sam?"

"Oh, uh," Sam stammered, unable to believe he'd been that stupid. Dean was never supposed to see it. Sam had spent all that time trying to figure out how to make sure Dean never saw it, and yet he had failed to come up with a plan in case Dean ever did, and now he was paying for it.

He turned around and went back into the bathroom, intending to close and lock the door and give himself some time to think while he put on his clothes.

"Sam, it looks like a really deep hickey. What is it?" Dean asked, following him into the bathroom as if Sam wasn't trying to shut the door in his face. "And don't try and tell me it's nothing because you don't pull a deer in headlights when it's nothing."

Well shit. Racking his brain provided no other answer aside from the truth so Sam decided to just let it fly. How bad could it be? They were currently thinking about starting a relationship, right? So maybe Dean's reaction would give Sam an unexpected clue as to Dean's feelings on that subject.

"Actually, Dean, it is a hickey."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Sure, Sam. Because we've been together 24/7 except for the time when you snuck out for an hour to get a hickey. Please. It's just been you and me and…" Dean trailed off and his eyes widened when Sam looked away. "Oh my god, Sam. Did I do that?"

Sam nodded and Dean lifted his hand and took a step towards Sam before he realized what he was doing. Sam caught the movements and looked at Dean, who froze when he felt Sam's gaze. As he studied his reactions he realized Dean's eyes were positively riveted to the mark, and it was as if he were completely enthralled, yet embarrassed that he let Sam see the fascination.

But he hadn't dropped his hand. Whether or not he consciously was aware of it he wanted to touch, to connect with what he'd done. He hadn't run away, or even backed away, so he wasn't overcome with disgust. Sam decided to take a chance. He turned his head so his cheek was resting against the tile and closed his eyes, offering the marked skin for Dean's inspection.

As soon as he recognized what Sam was doing Dean bit his lip and came up close. He reached his hand out again and lightly traced the surface of the mark. Sam's breath hitched for a moment and his cheeks infused with color but otherwise he gave no other recognition of Dean's movements on his skin.

Rarely did Dean take the time with his conquests to mark them, and never before like this. The people he was with weren't ones he ever thought about marking up as his own, and any bruises were completely incidental.

But this…

This was intent. This was wanting to leave a tangible sign that he was here, that he had been with Sam. The mark on Sam's skin would last for weeks still. It was so dark it was almost black, and it was one of the hottest fucking things Dean had ever seen. The time he had spent must have been…Dean's head snapped up.

"Jesus, Sammy," Dean breathed out. "How long was I doing this for?"

"I don't know," Sam whispered and sensing that Dean was freaking out he hurried to assure him. "But it's okay. It's not like you remember it or anything so just forget about it."

Dean was about to berate Sam for such an idiotic suggestion when he took in what Sam had actually said. Sam had said that Dean didn't remember…which meant that Sam did.

"You remember me doing this to you," he stated and after a moment Sam nodded.

"Tell me," Dean commanded and Sam hesitated but eventually started to speak.

"When I came out of the dream you were doing it so it must have been sometime during it or before it that you started."

Dean's gaze turned considering and Sam easily read the question in his eyes.

"Remember how I said we connected because we were touching? Well I think this is how you were able to be in my dreams that night."

Dean stared at the mark for what felt like an eternity while Sam had a faint memory of Dean kissing the back of his neck before he fell asleep. Did that really happen? He wasn't sure. His attention moved back to Dean when he saw that he'd dropped his head and was shaking it back and forth.

"Damn, Sammy. I—" he began but Sam hurried to cut him off, not wanting Dean to feel guilty, especially over something that Sam had enjoyed, even though that enjoyment was tempered by the knowledge that it wasn't really Dean doing it.

"You don't have to apologize or anything, Dean, really."

Sam sure was anxious for Dean to drop this, and Dean wondered if it was because he found the whole experience uncomfortable, if maybe this whole incubi thing had given Sam second thoughts about being with Dean.

Well one of them was going to have to say something that tested the waters sooner or later and Dean had already told Sam he was of the sooner school so he laughed a bit self-consciously and looked up at Sam, crossing his arms across his chest.

"I wasn't going to say that, Sammy."

"No?"

Dean shook his head.

"No. What I was going to say was that I wish I remembered, because I'm pretty sure that the memory of doing that would be enough to get me off for at least a month."

As his voice tapered off into a whisper at the end of sentence he reached up and pressed the pad of his thumb into the mark, almost too lightly to be felt but from the way Sam's whole body shuddered when he did it, he was well aware of it.

"God, Dean," Sam whispered as his eyes fell shut.

Dean lost himself for a few moments as he traced and re-traced the mark, ending each pass with a gentle press into the center. He rested his other hand on the wall by Sam's hip and stared at the spot until he was sure he had it memorized.

"God I just want to mark you up," Dean murmured and Sam could hear how amazed Dean was by that notion.

"Don't tease," Sam croaked out in a broken voice and Dean was snapped out of his daze.

"Tease?" he asked and Sam blushed scarlet.

But then Dean looked down and saw how very much Sam did not mind the idea of Dean marking him.

"Oh Sammy," he tsked softly. "You shouldn't have done that."

"Done what?" Sam asked, brow crinkling in confusion.

But Dean just kept speaking as if Sam had not interrupted.

"I mean it's one thing for me to really like the idea, but knowing that not only would you probably be okay with wearing my marks on your body but that you'd get off on it, too? That's dangerous, is what that is…" and he trailed off and looked away.

Sam thought that was probably as good an appellation as any for what was happening here. It was one thing to talk in hypotheticals and to bring up some vague notion of the two of them together. But to be standing here, barely more than a breath apart, turned on because of the other (and Sam's quick glance assured him he wasn't alone in that department) was quite altogether different.

Sam found himself feeling some of that desire for a connection that Dean had felt upon seeing the mark, but now he wanted to connect with Dean in this moment, in this realization that they had taken a step neither had consciously meant to. He knew if he could just feel like he wasn't alone, that Dean was with him in this, then everything would be okay.

Which he recognized as vaguely ridiculous, since Dean was sharing the same breathing space, but Dean had his head turned away and he was lost in his own thoughts. So Sam turned the hand that was lying next to Dean's over and gently inserted his thumb between Dean's and the wall.

Dean's gaze snapped back to Sam at the contact and for long moments all they did was look at each other. Sam watched the emotions swirl in Dean's gaze in fascination, knowing the same were mirrored in his own expression. Sam was hyper aware of Dean, of how close they stood, how his breathing was in sync with Sam's own, and suddenly he realized that their pulses were in sync as well. He could feel them beating through their joined thumbs.

He smiled at Dean and pressed his thumb up and Dean looked confused for a moment. Sam could see the moment the realization hit Dean and then Dean grinned at him and shook his head, saying 'Could you be more of a girl?' without words.

But then Dean's gaze fell on the hickey again and Sam's breath caught when he felt Dean's pulse kick up.

"Because I'm not supposed to want to do it again," Dean suddenly continued as if he hadn't stopped speaking. "I'm not supposed to want that. I'm not supposed to want to see that mark on you day after day after day. I—" he broke off and stepped away from Sam, turning his back and leaning forward onto the sink, letting his head drop.

Sam let him be for a moment before he took a tentative step toward his brother.

"What is it, Dean? What's wrong?"

End of Chapter Twelve