Chapter 13

Sam opened the door without knocking. Dean knew that he was coming so it didn't seem necessary. Dean was laying down under the covers, reading. As soon as he entered, Dean looked up from the book he was reading and smiled. It wasn't a particularly blinding or special smile, just a simple rucking up of his lips, but the effect on him felt transcending. He could feel his own lips lifting up in response.

"Hey," he said as casually as he could, closing the door behind him. He didn't enter any further. It felt like a true eternity since he'd last seen his brother and he needed the brief moment to get used to everything that made up Dean again. Instead, he leaned casually against the door.

"Hey," Dean answered gruffly, before frowning at him a little. "Why're you hovering by the door?"

"I'm not hovering," he scoffed exaggeratedly, before walking as casual as he could to what was becoming his side of the bed. He climbed in, feeling the heavy weight of Dean's eyes on him the entire time.

Pulling himself up to a sitting position, back against the headboard, Dean lay the book down across his lap, with his thumb as a bookmark. Coming to a decision, he closed it instead and placed it on the nightstand before turning slightly towards Sam.

"You would tell me if something was wrong, right?" He asked gently, he didn't want to push.

"What do you mean?" He didn't think that he'd been acting any differently than normal so he couldn't imagine what Dean could be referring to.

"I don't know. You just seem off lately."

"I had a lot of questions about the case and it was bugging me you know? We're here in this museum and I feel like it's my responsibility to continue the Men of Letters' work." His hushed tones setting a quiet mood around them. "I was a little distracted working on it but I figured it out, which you would know if you hadn't run out the door." This he accused lightheartedly.

Dean chuckled a little. After a little while, he relaxed a bit and laid back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Sam copied him. "You got me there. I'm here now, so you can tell me what you figured out," he placated, folding his arms across his chest and getting a little more comfortable.

Sam told him everything he figured out in excited tones. He could tell that Dean was listening and he answered his questions as fully as he could.

"I knew you would figure it out," Dean praised when he was done.

Sam could feel the warm glow of satisfaction heat his skin. He enjoyed answering questions and solving riddles, but the sheer gratification and validation he got from a few words from his brother is what really kept him doing this.

"Thanks," he whispered tiredly, stifling a yawn around his smile. It was weird. He didn't feel any of the strangeness from this morning. All he felt was happy and content.

Reaching over to turn off the lights, Dean said. "Get some sleep," before settling under the covers with his back to Sam.

It was as if Dean's words cast a spell over him, Sam could feel his eyes starting to droop. Turning to mirror his brother. He lets himself get pulled under.

He stood under the hot downpour of the shower lost in thought. He could not get the buzzing under his skin to go away. It felt like he was on the verge of an epiphany – like there was something he should be noticing but it was just out of sight. This feeling had been around for a few days now, steadily increasing until he was so wired he felt ready to jump out of his skin.

Absently, he grabbed Dean's soap. He wasn't even pretending to look at his own bottle anymore. It was just way more satisfying using Dean's. Pouring a generous amount into his palm, he run his hands over his body. He got a thrill from knowing that he smelled a little like his brother all day.

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. The scent wasn't quite right. Not like it had been that morning when he woke up, again in Dean's arms. Dean had been holding him so close that with each of his deep inhales, Sam could feel the slow, torturous drag of his chest and stomach along the curve of his back. At one point he was so close that he'd nuzzled his nose and slightly stubbled chin and face against the back of Sam's neck; the slight abrasion sending a riot of goosebumps across his body. Dean's warm exhales ruffled his hair and raked over his nerves maddeningly, forcing tiny tremors and shivers.

He let his soapy hands wander leisurely over his taunt stomach, feeling the muscles quiver under his touch as he relived the memory. In the dark of the room, he'd tried testing to see if he could stealthily free himself from the iron grip his brother had on him, but it was like Dean did not want to let him, his arm tightening where it lay low on his waist and pulling him just slightly closer.

He shifted his head to the side, letting the warm water run over his closed eyes as both hands travelled up his soapy chest in an easy glide. He didn't know why being held down so securely made him quiver but as soon as he'd felt Dean's arm tightening, he'd had to fight off the shudder struggling to rock his body, and bite off the moan that wanted out. The sensation was so intense and sudden, not to mention confusing. He could have easily broken out of the hold but that was not the point. Besides to do that, he would have had to wake Dean and he very much enjoyed laying in that bed.

A ragged groan escaped his lips as his fingers brushed over a pebbled nipple on its way back down his chest. It echoed in the empty bathroom around him obscenely but he barely heard it. He was so focused on remembering as much detail as he could from that morning. He'd felt charged, on edge. Tiny bolts of electric feeling pulsing through his body, his muscles clenching on every pleasured wave. He was so conscious of Dean that the tiniest shift or motion felt loud and aggressive against his oversensitized skin.

Remembering the intensity of it all lit a fire in him and it kept growing, burning stronger and heating his blood. He felt amazing. Better than he could remember feeling in a long time. One hand travelled lower, wrapping around himself before giving an absent stroke.

His eyes flew open in surprise at the force of the arousal that shot through him, curling his toes and forcing a broken sob from his throat. He froze through the rush of several pounding heartbeats before looking around the bathroom, guiltily.

His hand was still clenching and releasing around his cock like it was reluctant to let go. He could feel how hard he was but he still kind of had to look down, to make sure. Almost helplessly, his hand started to move again and one knee buckled under him, it felt so good. Catching himself against the wall, he closed his eyes and licked the water off his lips, concentrating hard. Should he do this?

It had been a while since he'd taken matters into his own hands, so to speak. Now that he was there though, he really kinda wanted to keep going.

Yea, he thought as his hands clenched around his cock again, he definitely wanted to. But he would have to be quick. It would be humiliating if Dean caught him like this. His back arched on a shudder as he imagined it. Dean walking in on him, being exposed like that.

Fuck! Yea, he really wanted to do this. Grabbing the soap bottle he quickly smeared a tiny amount over his palm before gripping himself again. He was really getting off on the smell.

He closed his eyes, calling up a go to fantasy guaranteed to get him there. He wanted to make this as quick as he could.

Some nameless girl on her knees for him. She would look up at him through her eyelashes before trying to take him. Struggling, choking, she was so eager. It wasn't going to take him long he could tell. Focusing hard on the fantasy, he bit his lower lip as he imagined all the filthy things he could tell this fictional woman to do.

'Beg for it,' fantasy Sam demanded as he teased her, rubbing the head over her lips. 'You're so hungry for my cock.'

Unbidden, a memory superseded the image he was building. "How far can you take me." It didn't even seem strange when his hand unconsciously sped up as Dean's smoky voice floated in his memory. He was so far gone, so caught up in the moment, chasing the orgasm that was eluding him.

He didn't have a visual to go with the remembered words so he tried using his fantasy girl, but he couldn't get it quite right. He made a frustrated sound. The image wasn't strong enough.

He concentrated a little harder, hoping to build a more solid picture. "Good. Go slower and you'll take more."

Without warning, the tenuous mental image he was trying to build wobbled and in its place, he saw instead himself kneeling on the floor, choking as he greedily tried to take all of Dean. The fantasy lasted barely a few seconds before he was coming from the sheer shock of it. It was so visceral and raw. His big body quaking and shaking as guttural moans and breathless gasps rasped from his throat.

It took forever for the tremors raking his body to calm down and he could feel panic in the wings trying to take hold of him. Almost on autopilot, he rinsed off and in a daze, let his legs take him to his room.

He'd been sitting on the bed long enough for his body to dry off naturally. He felt stuck in a blank void trying to reach for denial but unable to.

'Well that just happened,' he thought defeatedly. He'd officially sunk to the lowest level.

He stared blankly at his hands, blaming them for the whole thing. If he'd just showered and gotten out, none of this would have happened.

He tried to rally his thoughts after a while. Maybe it wasn't a big deal. Sometimes the mind went to random places when fantasizing. It didn't have to mean anything. It was probably a heat of the moment thing anyway. That had to be the rational answer.

But he knew it wasn't because just cautiously remembering the brief image sent waves of interest spiking through him. Somehow, somewhere, his wires had gotten crossed.

He rucked up the towel as it slowly started to loosen around his waist.

He had never looked at Dean as anything other than a brother before. Sure, he admired him more than was probably healthy but to him Dean was big brother and nothing more. He'd never even considered the possibility of more because it just wasn't – like the idea didn't exist in reality.

But something must have changed.

Was it the room sharing? It was an intimate setting so that was a possibility but he'd shared rooms and beds with Dean practically all his life so it should not have been any issue. He couldn't, however, deny that maybe he wasn't really looking at the room sharing as platonically as he had in the past. If his reactions over the week was anything to go by. He'd been excited and thrilled at the idea of first sleeping in Dean's room, then his bed.

Resting his elbows on his knees, he steepled his hands and laid his chin on them staring at nothing in particular. How had it come to this?

Now that he was acknowledging his actions, so many things were becoming obvious. He couldn't understand how he'd missed the signs. He was supposed to be smart. Over the last week, he'd been doing and feeling some pretty questionable things. Like his reaction to being in Dean's room.

He'd also developed a habit of obsessing over his brother's scent. Dean hadn't even changed anything. It was the same scent it had always been. He knew this subconsciously but it had began to mean something different – something more significant.

A lot of the things he'd been doing started to make sense and he could see that it had been building unknowingly since they came home from the last case. He had clearly been fixating on Dean. Shivering in his bed like a virgin, getting jealous and depressed at the mention of a possible hookup, sniffing his dirty sheets.

How could he have been so blind?

He was attracted to his brother.

"Well shit," he said without humour.

His stomach was cramping from hunger but he hadn't left the room yet. It was almost past noon but he didn't think he had the courage to face Dean with the newness of this life altering fact hanging over him. He was sure that Dean would take one look at him and know. That it would be written on his face in big bold letters. "I want you to fuck me."

He just had to wait a while and Dean would go out like he always did. He started pacing the floor trying to come up with a solution in the mean time. For all he knew, this was temporary and would go away. Maybe observing his brother in that compromising situation and being forced to bear witness confused him and his brain was just trying to make sense of it all.

It could have happened because he hadn't really had an orgasm in a long time and in a moment of insanity from lack of blood to his brain, a crazy image popped up. Maybe if he thought about it again it wouldn't even do anything.

He stopped and sat on the bed. Are you really going to try and willingly fantasize about your brother? He didn't want to for fear that he might actually prove himself wrong and enjoy it but he needed to know. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, hoping nothing would happen.

Cautiously he built up an image in his mind of a similar scene. He bit his lips thoughtfully, his brows creased with his concentration.

Dean was sitting on the bed in his room, strong hands on his thighs. Sam sat on his hunches on the floor, between his legs looking at Dean's every move. Dean gave him the smile that was only reserved for him before fisting a hand in his long hair and pulling him up slightly to lock their lips in a heated kiss.

He let Sam go and not breaking eye contact, unzipped his jeans. He pulled out his cock, and gave himself a few lazy strokes. "Look at how eager you are to suck your brother's cock."

"Fuck," Sam moaned, stretching the word out. He opened his eyes slowly. That definitely did it for him. He stared at the growing bulge pushing at the abrasive towel. He definitely couldn't call this a fluke or an accident.

Letting his body drop back on the bed, he threw one hand over his eyes and untucked the towel with the other. He could feel guilt trying to over take him but he shut it out and instead palmed the heavy weight in his hand. He let the fantasy continue to play out.

He managed to avoid seeing Dean all day. No small feat as they were the only two people in the building. Now he was about to enter his brother's room with this massive thing hovering over him. Even knowing what he did, he wasn't willing to give up sleeping in Dean's bed.

Although the room was dark, he could tell that Dean was not asleep yet. Maybe they could pretend everything was fine and Sam could just sleep. It was unlikely to happen but he could hope.

He closed the door as quietly as he could and skulked over to the bed, climbing in. As he was starting to relax, Dean spoke. "Didn't see you all day." His deep rumble sent tingles across Sam's scalp. He couldn't do this. Clenching his eyes tight, he didn't say anything. Maybe Dean would think that he had already fallen asleep.

Dean didn't seem to buy his act because he said, "what's going on with you lately?" His voice was laced with slight concern like he wasn't sure yet it he needed to be worried but was getting there.

"What do you mean?" Did he know? Sam wondered fearfully.

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking. I've been getting this vibe from you for the last few days."

"It's nothing. I've just been working through some things. Can't seem to shut my mind down while I try to figure it out. You know?" He hoped that would be enough to get Dean to let it go.

"Can you tell me what it is? Maybe I can help. We did say we'd be more open with each other." Sam wished this was something he could share but it felt too big – like it had the potential to destroy their relationship kind of big.

"I'm not... keeping it a secret per say," he thought about it a little. "I'm not even sure what it is. I feel like it's something my mind's trying to wrap itself around. So I wouldn't even know how to explain," he shrugged.

"Alright. If you need to, you know where to find me." He didn't sound pleased but he wasn't going to push.

"Alright," and the discussion ended but Sam felt dissatisfied. H felt like he was disappointing Dean somehow. But what could he do? He couldn't tell him about this. He knew he was being a hypocrite. He'd been the one demanding that they be more open with each other yet he was lying to Dean. But what could he do?

It was hard to get to sleep. He could tell when Dean dropped off, his breathing evening out, but he just couldn't seem to relax. He was afraid of what might happen. Would he react to Dean? What if he groped him in his sleep or worse said something?

Worried thoughts raced through his mind until he too gave in and fell asleep.

He woke up when he felt Dean's arm loosened around him. Not again, he thought in frustration with his body. He could feel himself thickening just from knowing that Dean was holding him. If felt like Dean was just starting to wake up, his body moving lazily in the early throes of consciousness. Sam quickly pretended to be asleep, shutting his eyes and laying as still as he could. He heard Dean groan as he raised his head from the pillow, before yawning. His arm was still around Sam, forgotten or not noticed.

He'd expected Dean to quickly pull away but he was doing the exact opposite and taking his time. He had to know that he was still holding onto Sam.

Dean turned over and squeezed him briefly before finally letting go and ruffling his hair affectionately. Sam almost let out a whimper as he felt Dean's arms tighten around him for that moment. Luckily he was able to catch the sound before it could escape.

Sam felt the bed dip a little as Dean sat on the edge, gathering his bearings before getting up and leaving the room.

He was so confused. Shouldn't Dean have been doing everything in his power to get away from the situation? Why did it seem like he wouldn't have minded staying exactly where he was? Was he the only one making a big deal out of it?

Worst yet, now that he was acknowledging his attraction, he couldn't deny that what he was feeling was arousal. He was on fire with it. He looked down at the evidence. It surprised him every time he saw it. For a second he entertained the idea of taking care of it right there, in Dean's bed, surrounded by his scent but he knew that Dean would kill him if he ever found out, so getting up he snuck out of the room to find privacy.

His goal for the day was basically the same as yesterday. Avoid Dean as much as possible while he tried to get over this thing but Dean wasn't having it. He must have noticed Sam's absent more than he realized.

"Come on Sam. If you can't get your mind to chill then lets beat it into submission. Come on. Let's spar." He seemed to be in a good mood, joking and grinning as he forced his way into Sam's room. He'd thought he was safe hiding in the room but Dean had taken him by surprise.

All Sam could think of was that sparring involved a lot of physical contact and close touches and with the way his traitorous body was acting right now he didn't trust himself in that situation.

"It's not a good idea. I didn't get much sleep last night," he tried to hedge, coming up with any excuse he could.

"The monsters won't care about your sleep cycle. Come on." He goaded. Sam knew that tone. Dean wasn't going to take no for an answer. He could feel irritation bubbling under his skin. He really wasn't up to this. He just wanted to be alone for a little while to figure this out.

"Dean..." he began before Dean grabbed his biceps. In shocked reaction, he pulled away almost aggressively. He'd only been trying to get away from the touch and reacted instinctively but he could see the hurt on Dean's face.

"I'll leave you alone," Dean said subdued, before closing the door on a frozen Sam.

"Fuck!" he said after a while. He felt trapped and lonely all of a sudden. Why did he always have to mess things up. He crawled into his bed, feeling sorry for himself.

He'd been in his room for so long that it was starting to feel like a prison. It was more morning than night at this point and he had yet to sleep. Every time he tried, he ended up replaying that look on Dean's face again and it would cause this pain in his chest that robbed him of rest.

Eventually, he'd had enough. He just wanted to be near Dean. Why did he have to deny himself? This thing would work itself out eventually regardless of whether or not he was around his brother. It was just too exhausting trying to stay away and after two days of this, he was done.

He made his way to his brother's room and crawled into his bed. Dean had left his space for him instead of taking the entire bed. For some reason this gave him hope and within moments he was falling asleep. He would apologize in the morning.

He woke up alone in the bed. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed at not waking up to Dean spooning him but maybe this was for the best. He sighed. They needed to talk before things became too toxic between them but he didn't know what to say. He couldn't tell Dean the truth but he needed to tell him something.

He groaned in frustration, rolling on his back and shoving his fingers into his hair as far as it would go. He didn't know what he would say but he knew that he had to find Dean to at least apologize. Sitting up in the bed, he swung his legs over the edge only to freeze. Dean was siting on the couch looking at him.

"I spent all day yesterday trying to figure it out." He said gravely. "I kept telling myself that it wasn't possible. That I'd know but honestly I'm starting to not be so sure."

Sam was confused. What was he talking about? He asked as much.

"I'm starting to think you're not really my brother. Maybe I'm still stuck in that monster's dream." He sounded so sure that a chill of horror slithered over Sam.

"Dean-" he began, only to be cut off.

"This is exactly how the cycles worked. Fake Sam would rescue me. He'd seem like my brother for a little bit but slowly he'd start to grow distant then violent before trying to kill me." Dean looked like a husk of the man that Sam admired so much. He must have been thinking about this for a while, convincing himself that he was still stuck because Sam was shutting him out for no apparent reason.

He'd messed up so bad. He forgot that Dean's world revolved around him just as much as his revolved around his brother. Of course Dean would notice that he was avoiding him and yesterday he'd even pulled away from him. His hands were trembling as he struggled to find the right words.

"Dean," he pleaded. "You're out. I promise. I got you out. This is really me. Remember, you said he couldn't get me quite right so you'd know." He was getting off the bed slowly, cautiously, moving closer to his brother.

"Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I wanted to be out so desperately I was willing to believe anything." His eyes were so cold and distant, tracking Sam's movement as he said this.

Slowly, he sat next to Dean. A million nightmare scenarios played in his mind. What if Dean had tried killing himself to wake up while he was hiding in his room? "You aren't wrong. It's really me. Come on. You know me better than anyone. You would definitely know." He bumped their shoulders hoping Dean could feel his realness from the brief touch.

"Then why have you been acting so strange?"

AN: Please leave a comment or fav.