Dean ignored every phone call, text, Skype message - everything from Sam. He blocked him from social media - that earned an angry call from his dad - but it got the desired effect. Sam stopped trying to contact him.
The first break from school was awkward. He went home, and Sam was there. Neither of them said a word to one another.
Dean went home on a long weekend, apprehensive. Bobby told him that Sam was at his grandfather's - he didn't have much longer.
Dean was relieved.
Over the time, the weight in his chest lightened. He tried dating. Met a girl with beautiful long dark hair and hazel eyes, but after the second date, and he leaned in to kiss her, he felt hollow. He just needed more time he told himself.
It barely hurt anymore. Not talking to Sam, or seeing him... being with him. Time took that pain away, and time would take away the rest of it too. It was for the best.
It worked for him. Except when he really thought about it.
He'd remember a random night, or a conversation, and he wanted to cry with the sense of loss he felt.
None of that mattered though! Sam was his little brother; he couldn't feel this way.
He only recognized his relief at Sam's absence. Refused to acknowledge the pang of sorrow that hit his gut because this was the only time he got to glimpse at Sam (except when he looked at the pictures on his phone he swore to delete).
He went back to school. He didn't think about Sam.
He didn't imagine what Sam was doing, if he's making friends, and who's his roommate? He didn't think of Sam with another boy. It didn't matter. Brother, he reminded himself.
The day before Thanksgiving break he received a call from Bobby. Sam's - no, their - grandfather had passed. Bobby told him he needs to get the stick out his ass and show up to the funeral.
He knew he has been a jerk, been pushing everyone away, but he's not heartless. Just how Dean's only ever had Bobby, Sam's only had his grandfather.
Sam didn't seek him out at the funeral. He sat in a pew beside some strange dark head woman who looked uncomfortable. When it was time for the family to leave, Sam kept his head down, and Dean knew it was because he was crying. He hates how often he's seen Sam cry.
The entire drive to the cemetery Dean saw Sam's face. He realized he didn't see any friends with him.
"Sam doesn't have any friends here," He said.
"No," is all Bobby replied.
"Has he... has he made friends?"
Bobby casted him a look and sighed. "You could ask him yourself. Send him an email. But yeah, Dean. He's made a few. Don't think he's very close to any of them. He's been pretty withdrawn lately. Throws himself in books."
"And Dean," Bobby said, "If you can't be a brother, Sam could really use a friend right now."
They got to the cemetery, and Sam stood off by himself without expression as they lowered his grandfather in the grave. A few people stepped by him, but Sam was short with them, and they left soon after.
Dean didn't think when he walked up to Sam.
Sam took a shaky breath, a sound that resembled a chuckle left him. "What?" He asked simply.
"I'm sorry, Sam."
"For?" Sam looked at him. "You have quite a few things to apologize for, or are you ignoring them like you ignored me? Did you come to offer me your condolences with an 'I'm sorry'?"
"Sam," Dean said softly, "Please. I just want you to be okay. I know-"
"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Sam spat as he stared Dean down. "You want me okay? If you wanted me okay, you wouldn't have thrown me away."
"I didn't-"
"You did! Now you act like it's okay to just..." Sam made hand motions, unable to put his thoughts in words. He took a deep breath and turned, headed towards the cars.
Dean followed. He found Sam crouched beside a car, head between his knees. He heard him gasping for breath.
He slowly lowered himself to sit beside him.
"He's gone," Sam whispered.
"I know." Dean said. "I'm so sorry, Sam."
"He's gone. And all I can think of. Is now I'm all alone."
"That's not true."
"It is!" Sam yelled and banged his head on the car when he threw it back. "I just want him back. I want my grandpa. He's the only one who loves me and he's gone."
"Sam-"
"And don't," Sam's voice broke, "don't you dare fucking tell me you love me right now. You don't. You're disgusted by me."
Sam sobbed, and Dean felt helpless. He pulled Sam to him, surprised that he came, and held him as he cried. He knew his words would be meaningless right now.
At the reception, Sam sat far away from everyone. He was in the corner of the kitchen and ignored every comment or offer of food to him.
Dean waited as long as he could stand before he went to them.
"Sam," He started, "I need to. I need to explain a few things."
"Now?" Sam snorted. "What timing."
"You know me," Dean joked. He cleared his throat and stepped closer. "Sam. I. Let's start with this: I'm not disgusted by you, and I don't hate you. Nothing like that. It was easier to be away. I haven't been here, and you've needed me. I can't apologize enough for that."
"You can't." Sam agreed. He didn't look at Dean; he continued to stare out the window.
Dean licked his lips as his throat refused to work with him. "You have Bobby. You still have me-"
"Go away." Sam said with his voice strained.
"You do, Sam! I'm here-"
"No, you're not!" Sam didn't care about the attention he gathered. "You haven't been for half a year! Why do you think I suddenly need you? You weren't the only one hurt, you know. That was a bomb dropped on me too. That was kept from me too. That was my business, and you not only didn't bother to tell me, you blamed me!"
"I didn't!" Dean interjected. "Sam, it's not like that! It didn't... It was different."
"Different?" Sam was aghast. "You're something else, Dean."
"It didn't change the way I felt about you," Dean whispered, ashamed.
Sam looked at him like he was stupid, but Dean didn't see. He stared at the floor. "You're my little brother. I was shocked, and I should be disgusted. I should-" Dean took a quick look around, "-I should be disgusted at the thought of kissing you or holding you. I should get sick thinking about what we've done. But I'm not. God, I'm some kinds of fucked up, because even if you're my little brother I still want you in ways I shouldn't."
Dean looked up and caught Sam's eyes. Dean shook his head and wiped a tear from Sam, pushed his hair back.
"So, please. Don't think you're unloved or that you're disgusting. I'm sorry I can't be what I should be for you."
Dean pivoted away from him and left. Avoided Sam like the plague for the next few days while they packed up his stuff and prepared to move him to Bobby's.
"I finished my room." Sam said in the doorway to Dean's.
"Um. Okay." Dean said and laughed.
"I was wondering if we could talk?"
"We've spent all our chick flick moments, I'm afraid."
"No, that was you." Sam said as he came in. Dean shuffles on his bed uncomfortably. "You did the talking, remember?"
"You talked, too."
Sam sat beside him. He hesitated, but then grabbed Dean's hand. "I still love you, too."
"Sam," Dean warned as he took his hand back. He went to say something, but Sam did it first.
"My mathlete brain," Sam said a bit spitefully, but there was a smile, "can think of a few reasons why it's not such a bad thing."
"Sam, there's fifty reasons why this is wrong." Dean changed positions to face him. "One, illegal."
"We don't have the same last names, and even if we did," Sam took a deep breath. "You're my big brother. Fact. I don't care. Fact. You were... my best friend, my boyfriend. Now you're my brother too, and I don't care. I want you to be my everything."
Dean was quiet as he thought. It wouldn't be good. Sam should be with someone that wasn't his brother - but all he could think about was how much he wanted to be with him.
"You'd give me all that power to hurt you again?"
"Are you?" Sam countered sharply.
Dean smiled. For the first time since he was brought into his dad's office, he felt like he could breath without dying. "No."
He took Sam's face in his hands and caressed his cheeks with his thumbs. Sam smiled and placed his hands over Dean's.
"Then there's no reason to worry. We'll just take it one day at a time, like we always planned to."
Dean squeezed Sam's face, teased, "Look at you. All mature."
"Well, one of us has to be. Look at that major bitch fest you threw. For six months. You're not just the jerk; you're also the bitch."
Dean laughed. God, he couldn't do it again. He couldn't be without Sam a day longer.
He leaned forward and kissed him. His stomach flipped as he breathed through his noise. Sam laughed into the kiss, and Dean opened his eyes just to see those dimples.
"Fuck, I've missed you."
"Your fault."
Dean grabbed him and rolled so they were laying on their sides facing one another. They began to talk. Kissed between sentences of school and new friends and life.
Hours passed and they only stopped talking to press continues kisses at one another's lips.
"So, now we live happily ever after, right?"
"God, Sammy. I think you've overdosed me on chick flick moments."