"I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love." Mother Teresa

"You don't want me anymore?" Sam was looking like someone had just kicked his puppy.

Dean's eyes widened. "No, you dimshit. I meant I don't want you just for sex," Dean explained and Sam tilted his head as if that didn't make sense.

So, yeah, okay, clearly they had to work on this whole communication thing. A lot.

But that could wait.

"C'mere," Dean asked, shifting to rest his back against the bedboard, as he spread his legs on the bed to create a space between them where he padded his hand gently.

"Why?" Sam hesitantly eliminated the distance that separated him from Dean's bed, carefully sitting at the edge of it.

"'Cause I wanna hold you, really close and tight," Dean said as he guided Sam furtherly onto the bed, wrapping both hands and legs around his brother, once he had settled Sam where he wanted him. "Kiss you until your lips will learn to only ever accept my mouth," he continued as Sam's stiff posture relaxed and he melted against his brother's tender embrace. "Let me have you, Sammy. Let me love you," he pleaded, breath ghosting against Sam's cheek when the younger man turned slightly on his side to snuggle deeper into Dean. "Let me take care of you like I've never wanted to do for anyone else. Let me forget all those people who weren't you. Let me show you that you're the only one who ever got into my heart. Let me make you mine."

Dean felt wetness, rolling down his chest as he finished his speech. Heart aching, he reached to wipe Sam's tears, fingers and palm caressing his little brother's heated skin. "Don't cry, sweetheart," he soothed, the endearment dropping out of his lips like a snowflake on dry ground.

"I am yours," Sam mouthed the words against Dean's flesh, sounding relieved. "From the moment Dad put me in your arms when I was a baby. I just didn't see it. I'm so sor-ry, Dean," a sob cracked his voice.

"I'm sorry too, baby boy." Dean brushed more tears away talking softly to the younger man, feeling relief as Sam's breathing became easier.

When Sam's crying had subsided, Dean pushed him gently and, holding him at arm's length, he looked at Sam's tear stained face. "This is it, okay? No more messin' around; just you and me."

"You and me," Sam whispered back as if in a trance.

"Dean?" he asked after a few heartbeats of silence.

"What is it, baby?" Dean inquired, hand steadily tracing circles up and down Sam's back.

"Will you kiss me now?" he asked hesitantly.

For a moment, Dean wanted to disappear. All he could think of was that he had done that to Sam; he had made him believe Dean would never give him anything that could classify as sentimental. He didn't know how to express how sorry he was for doing that; couldn't find the correct -enough- words for it.

So, instead, Dean leaned down and finally kissed his Sammy. A kiss slow and sweet and filled with years of a love Dean felt too small to explain. A kiss that seemed to explain all the things Dean couldn't. This is real. This is us. We belong to each other. I need you to understand that. All these words were transferred with a simple touch of skin against skin, passing through moist breath and flushed flesh.

And Sam just let himself melt into it. I know. Dean eased him down onto the bed. Sam winded his arms around him and... "I love you," he whispered faintly, like it was a secret; like he was afraid that saying it out loud was somehow disgracing Dean. His eyes had welled up again, but the tears didn't pour out this time.

"I love you more," Dean murmured back, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, as he looked down at Sam, marvelling at how beautiful he was. He slipped down on the bed, stretching beside his brother, and he pulled the bedspread to cover them both as he gathered Sam to him, wrapping his arms around his back and tangling their legs together. Dean dragged tiny, chaste kisses along Sam's collarbone and the side of his neck and quietly promised that he'd always love him, he'd always be there for him and that he'd never hurt him again.

Dean fell asleep with his arms full of Sam, his heart full of love, and his head full of ideas of how to become a man for whom Sam will be proud of.