Warning: Incest.

Dean didn't drink for two weeks after that. After the third day, Sam began to notice his big brother was turning down the casual beers he offered when they did research. After the sixth day, he began to notice the conspicuous absence of their "people skills-challenged" angel.

"Hey Dean, think we could use Cas on this one?"

Dean felt his heart skip a beat and he turned away as he answered, "Nah, we got this. Dude's busy."

"We've called him for less, Dean. And I don't know about you, but I've hit a roadblock."

"You want him, you call him," he replied, digging through his duffle and locating the bottle of Oxycodone. Sam bitch-faced his older brother, realizing he was having another one of his stubborn streaks.

He peered closely at the orange bottle in Dean's hand. "You're popping those like House lately… did you break a rib or something?"

Dean dry-swallowed the pill and replied, "Nah, but getting your ass kicked down a flight of stairs by a vengeful spirit really takes it out of a guy, you know?"

Sam nodded slowly, wondering what was up with his big brother.

Later that night, Sam prayed to Castiel. "Hey, uh, Cas? It's Sam. We've got a bitch of a case and were wondering if you might be able to help."

Sam waited, but Cas didn't wing down. He sighed and crawled into bed.

Meanwhile, Cas was in "perpetual Tuesday afternoon" heaven, and heard every word.

So Dean still hasn't told him.

Cas realized he probably wouldn't. Like the elder Winchester had done so many times, Cas would have to bury this. Devote himself to heaven's work.

It didn't happen; it doesn't matter.

After the eighth day, they'd wrapped up the case and had just gotten to the next hotel. Sam came back from the bathroom to find Dean reclined on his bed, using the "magic fingers."

"Are you sure you're okay? You're using those more than usual lately."

Dean opened his eyes a slit, and grinned back at him. "Yeah, they just feel good."

"Right. Well anyway, I'm going to see if I can find anything at the library. Uh… Have fun."

After the eleventh day, Sam and Dean were back in the hotel room. Dean had just popped Sam's shoulder back into its socket, and Dean made a comment about needing a bath. Sam's eyebrows rose – in addition to the prescription painkillers and the magic fingers, Dean had been taking a lot of baths lately. That is, when they had access to one. Dean pulled the bathrobe off the shower hook and said, "Knock in an hour so I don't fall asleep, okay?" Sam nodded and let Dean do his thing.

The next day, Sam closed his laptop and sighed. "Dean, we need Cas on this."

"You want him on every case lately. What's the matter – miss his pillowy lips?"

"What? No, wait… did you guys fight or something? I feel like our roles have been switched here."

Dean sighed. Maybe a partial truth would shut the big galoot up. "Yeah, okay? We got in a fight almost two weeks ago. I … I don't think it's a good idea to see him right now."

Sam started, not expecting his brother's answer. He thought Dean was just being his usual "I don't need anybody (even though I totally do)" self.

"What, ah, what did you guys fight about?" He wondered if Dean had finally nutted up and told the angel how he felt.

Maybe Cas didn't feel the same way?

"C'mon Sammy, don't ask me that. It's… it's personal." Fine, let Sam think he was gay for Cas. What harm could it do? He was already hopelessly, irrevocably gay for Sam.

Another few days went by, and this time Sam was the one popping Dean's shoulder back into place. Sam dipped into the small tub of styptic powder he'd bought earlier that day and dabbed it on the cut across his cheek. The slow trickle of blood stopped and he sat down on his bed, pulling a bottle of Jack out of his duffle. He took a long swig from the fifth and offered it to Dean.

Dean looked at the bottle in Sam's outstretched hand for entirely too long before he turned it down. Sam sighed. "You know, I'd never thought I'd be disappointed to see you taking care of yourself, but this isn't some health kick. Something's wrong, and I don't know what it is, but I wanna help."

"Nothing you can do, Sammy. Those… whatever the hell they were kicked our asses."

"No, not that. The monsters are tough, but we can't handle it on our own. I don't know what you said or did to Cas, but you gotta make up. We need him."

Dean bristled. "What is Bobby, chopped liver?"

Sam huffed out a sigh. "Dean, maybe if I pretend you're hurt or something –"

"He won't come," he assured. "With what happened…"

"What did happen? You still haven't told me."

Now or never, Winchester…

"I… we had sex," Dean mumbled, and chanced a glance at his not-so-little brother.

"Oh…" Dean was eyeing Sam warily, appraisingly. "So?"

"I, uh-" Dean faltered, and looked down at his hands. "I called him someone else's name."

"OH… Well, he probably knew it was an accident. I mean, as long as you didn't call him Anna, right?" He tried to chuckle, but the look on Dean's face made the sound die in his throat.

"It – it was really dark," Dean forced out, his voice starting to shake, "and I was completely hammered…"

"Dean, I'm sure he'll understand. I mean, how you could confuse Cas' body for a woman's is a little unclear, but-"

"IT WAS YOUR NAME!"

Sam started. His eyes widened and he stared at his brother. Dean was looking back at him jaw trembling, fighting to hold Sam's gaze. Sam said nothing for a long time, just gazed deeply into Dean's eyes, hazel meeting green.

"Why?"

"What do you mean, 'why'?" Dean looked at Sam like he'd been dropped on his head. "Because I'm in love with you, you asshole."

"But… What about Cas?"

"I've just admitted to you that I'm a goddamn pervert, and all you have to say is 'what about Cas'?" Dean shook his head, and now Dean was the one wondering if Sam was all right.

"Dean, I thought you loved him," Sam responded with complete sincerity.

"Cas is scary and amazing and handsome and I trust him, I really do. But Sammy, you're my everything. You always have been, and you always will be. I always knew I kept you too close growing up. I thought I was protecting you. But you got older and taller and by the time you turned 16, I knew I wasn't protecting you – I was trying to keep you. I wanted you for myself, and it felt like sawing off my own hand when you went to college." Dean took a breath, holding Sam's gaze.

"But Sammy, when I saw you again, all grown up and sure of yourself, with your dimples and shaggy hair and hipbones every time you stretched… I was fucking done for. Sammy, I've loved you for years and whenever I'm alone with you, all I want to do is touch you. Touch you like a brother should never touch another. Touch you and kiss you and lick you and make you make all the noises you try to stifle in the shower and I know I'm going to hell, but you know what? I don't care. I've already been there. And if it means I got to touch you, got to feel you up against me then I will gladly go, because it will have been worth it."

Dean sagged further down on the bed, his head in his hands. "I had to tell you, Sammy. I am so fucking sorry."

Sam looked back at Dean and finally replied, "Don't be sorry."

Dean looked up, his fingers raked through his hair as they rested on his temples. "What did you say?"

"I said 'don't be sorry'. Maybe we're fucked up, maybe this is wrong, but I don't care. I'm in love with you too, Dean."

Sam looked at Dean defiantly, daring him to disbelieve. Dean slowly straightened up and watched as Sam stood up and crossed the space over to him. Sam planted a hand on the back of Dean's neck and another on his shoulder. His heart sped up as he registered the feeling of Sam's large hands on him. Dean looked up at him, a shy smile warming Sam's face. Sam bent down, tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, and gently joined their lips.

Dean's eyes widened and his hands were on the larger man's flannel in seconds, pulling him down. Sam's body covered his, his thigh slotting in between Dean's leg.

Jesus, fuck…

And whether Dean said it or only thought it, he didn't know.

His eyes fluttered close as he kissed back, opening his mouth to Sam's prying tongue. Sam's kisses became insistent, greedy, and Dean could only take it, so focused on the pressure of Sam's lips and the caress of his tongue. When he pulled back to take a shuddering breath, his lips tingled. Dean's breath hitched as Sam pushed his thigh down and he gripped Sam's back tight, flipping them. He felt a shiver move through Sam, felt the hard beat of his heart against his chest.

Dean broke from the kiss to breathe and began to nibble down Sam's neck. Sam's breath huffed out and he reached up, pulling Dean's flannel off of him. Dean barely ceased in his worship of Sam's skin, his lips still ghosting over golden flesh as he tossed the flannel, and began to hitch up his own undershirt.

He regretfully tore away from the corded muscle of Sam's neck as he pulled the T-shirt off by the scruff and threw it across the room. He paused for a second, staring down at Sam's face flushed with arousal, his pupils blown wide. Sam reached up and ran a hand tentatively across Dean's chest, fingers splaying over the anti-possession tattoo. Dean closed his eyes, drinking in the feeling of a long-neglected need finally being satisfied.

In the next second, his eyes fluttered open and his hands were down at Sam's belt buckle, shaky hands undoing it.

Fuck, why was he so nervous?

Sam pushed himself up and shrugged off his own flannel, before his hands went to work on Dean's belt. His hands were more sure, his grin eager as he gently bit his bottom lip. Dean stared, transfixed.

So Goddamn sexy and he doesn't even know it…

Belts undone, they worked on each other's jeans, carefully tugging down zippers above the considerable swells. He moved down Sam's body, pulling the jeans down with him.

Dean, after pulling the offending garment off his feet, stared up at Sam. He ran his hands up Sam's legs, thumbs running along the inside of muscular thighs. His hands moved back out before he touched Sam's dick, closing over the sharp V of his hipbones instead. Sam squirmed in annoyance, but Dean held him down. He kissed up Sam's torso, rucking up his tank top but not removing it.

"Dean, just –" he started, trying to thrust up impatiently.

"Shhh, Sammy. Let me make you feel good."

When he got to Sam's chest, he ran his tongue over the the soft points just visible through the white material. They stiffened as his tongue laved each in turn, the hard pink nubs in stark relief against the thin fabric. "Jesus," Sam gasped out, his hands clenching the sheets.

Dean chuckled against his skin as he made his way back up Sam's neck, suddenly more confident as he sucked marks into the sensitive column of his throat. Sam just made a frantic sound that died halfway in his throat, thrusting up and just barely making contact with Dean's still-clothed erection. He let out a loud gasp at the friction and Dean moved his hands up, thumbs cresting over his nipples.

Sam shuddered out, "Dean, please…" but the rest was cut off by a groan as he rubbed himself against Dean.

Dean's hands skated down his torso, and he gestured for Sam to sit up. Impatiently, the elder Winchester yanked the shirt off, and gazed hungrily at the body he had revealed. Sam's hands went up and pulled at Dean's waistband, desperate for their skin to touch. When he'd wrestled Dean's pants down far enough, Dean rolled off of him and kicked them off. He pushed his boxers down next and crawled back in between Sam's legs, hands resting on the blue cotton waistband of his underwear. He tugged them off, mouth watering as he gazed down at Sam.

Sam's hard dick curved up against his body, the flushed pink head beading with precum and Dean was nearly overcome by the desire to put his mouth on it. He tore his eyes away and looked up at his brother, still finding it hard to believe that it was really Sam spread out below him like a gorgeous fucking feast.

"D'you have any lube?"

Sam stared down at the beautiful idiot crouched between his legs and gestured impatiently to his duffel. "Right pocket," he managed, his voice pitched lower by want.

Dean was so close. If he just brought a hand down and coaxed, Dean's pouty lips would be wrapped around him, his length dipping in and out of the warm hollow of his mouth…

Dean retrieved it, and positioned himself between the man's splayed legs as he popped the cap open. He hesitated, stroking the inside of Sam's thigh, and he was surprised by how much Sam seemed to respond to the simple touch. "Sure you're okay with this?"

Sam stared up at his brother, green eyes gone wide with concern, and replied, "Dean, if you don't get inside me, I'm getting inside you."

And Goddamn if that wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever heard.

Dean's dick twitched at the thought of Sam balls deep inside of him, but as he looked down at Sam's puckered entrance, he knew that Sam's offer had to wait. He wanted this. He wanted to open up his brother, ease his dick into him, and fuck him for everything he was worth. Dean lubed up a few of his fingers and pressed one against Sam's hole. "Relax, Sammy. I got you," Dean soothed, shifting to stroke his cheek with one hand while the other pushed inside him.

Sam let out a hiss of air from between clenched teeth, and Dean's hand trailed down, curling around his dick. He began to stroke Sam slowly and Sam bucked up into his fist, feeling a calloused thumb press into the spot right under the head. Dean moved the finger in and out, searching for the little bundle of nerves that would light him up. When he finally found it, a low, needy "Dean!" was pulled from his throat.

Dean wasted no time and pushed another finger into him. Sam just keened back against it accepting the burn and stretch, knowing it was a promise of things to come. "You want it so bad, don't you baby?"

A startled sound left Sam's lips, a drop of precum sliding down the head of his dick to Dean's thumb. "So that's what you like, huh Sammy?"

Sam nodded back, and Dean's grinned lasciviously. "Gonna fill you up with my dick, make you cum on it. Wanna be fucked senseless, don't you?"

"God, Dean," Sam responded, so far gone at this point he barely registered the feeling of a third finger breaching him. As the tips of his fingers brushed against Sam's prostate, Sam felt more precum leak out of him, his breath shallow. Dean smeared it around the head before he drew off with his hand. "Not yet, Sammy. If you cum now, you'll be too sensitive to take my dick." Sam swore up at the ceiling and Dean withdrew his fingers. He slicked up his dick and brushed Sam's stretched rim with the pad of his thumb.

"Turn over, and grab the headboard," Dean directed. Sam regretfully moved, strength returning to his limbs as he came back down from the edge. He kneeled down on the bed, legs wide and ass jutting as he grabbed ahold of the headboard. Large fingers gripped the top of it, and Dean lined himself up behind him, admiring Sam's ass as he slipped in between the cheeks.

The blunt head against Sam's hole, Dean took a shuddering breath to calm himself. Although he hadn't been teased like Sam had, he ached from lack of touch and already felt over-stimulated. With a push, Dean was inside: He felt the ring of muscle expand to let the head through, then constrict around him again. Sam let out a grunt as Dean entered him, his head snapping up. Dean grabbed onto his hips, those sinfully carved hips, and pushed again. A few inches pressed into Sam's hole, stretching him further. Dean wanted to be fully inside of Sam, fucking him, but knew that his size was hard for anyone to take. Especially Sammy, who was so tight it almost hurt.

He knew he hadn't taken the whole thing yet, but felt himself almost stretched to his limit. Sam's grip on the headboard tightened and he took a deep breath, his knees digging into the mattress.

Dean reached up, and grabbed his cheeks. He parted them, staring in wonder at where they joined, Sam's rim stretched around him obscenely. "Sammy, you're so good for me," he marveled, a hand running up to caress his back. Sam relaxed a bit into the touch and Dean continued, "Just wanna feel you clinging to the root of my dick. Come on Sammy, let me in."

Sam grew strangely warm from the praise, and concentrated on relaxing. Dean pushed forward again, breathing out "So fucking perfect…" as he bottomed out.

Dean stilled, reveling in the feeling of Sam's tight hole. He realized he was probably the only one Sam had let do this, and it send a surge of want through him. Sam waited for his passage to accommodate the intrusion, acutely aware of Dean's hands sliding over the bunched muscles of his back.

"That's it Sammy, feels so fucking good…" Dean breathed.

"Move," Sam answered, the burn lessening, only the impossibly-wide stretch remaining.

Dean moved slowly, shallow thrusts at first. When Sam started moving his hips back against him, his pace quickened. "Goddamn Sammy, so fucking tight," Dean moaned, his hand making its way up Sam's spine.

When his fingers brushed the hair at the nape of Sam's neck, he had an idea. He shifted forward, his fingers tightening near the roots as he pulled on Sam's hair. Sam gave an embarrassingly high-pitched moan, his hole clenching hard around him. Dean shifted angle again and Sam's vision went white.

Fuck, that feels so much better with a dick rubbing up against it.

Sam keened into him, and Dean rubbed against it again, gentler this time. Sam's arms trembled and his grip almost slipped when Dean hit his prostate. "Feel good, Sammy?"

Sam moaned a "God, yes," his body writhing under Dean's attention.

"That's it baby… Gonna make you cum so hard," Dean promised, releasing his hair. His hand travelled further down, wrapping around Sam's dick. He stroked it in time to his thrusts, and Sam was caught between pushing back against Dean's dick and forward into his fist. As his fingers ghosted over the spot under the head again, Sam tightened again.

"Yeah Sammy, fuck, take it all..."

As Dean glanced his prostate, Sam let out a rough groan. Dean's finger smeared the precum in his slit and Sam breathed out a "Fuck…"

"That's it Sammy, cum for me," Dean urged, and Sam's body stiffened, his hole clenching as he striped the sheets.

"Dean," he moaned desperately as Dean pressed against his prostate one last time. As he pulsed out over Dean's fingers he shook, his elbows bending. His grip on the headboard was uncertain, and as he clenched around Dean weakly, he heard Dean say, "Don't worry baby, I got you."

Dean pulled back on Sam's torso until he was upright and shifted him so he sat in Dean's lap. When Sam tried to squirm away, tried get his body into a more dignified position, he found all strength had left his muscles. Dean thrust gently inside his swollen hole and purred in his ear, "Gonna make me cum… Want me to cum inside you, Sammy?"

Sam felt a near-painful pulse of arousal at the question and breathed out, wrecked, "Please, Dean, do it…"

Dean's balls drew up tight and with a shuddered, "S – Sam," he came. Heat flooded Sam's insides and Dean shook underneath him, half-gasped breaths hot against his neck.

When Dean came down, neither wanted to move; Sam relaxed into Dean's lap, and Dean tightened his grip around Sam's waist. They waited for their breathing to return to normal before Sam finally shifted off of him. As he did, he felt a little cum leak from his hole. He ignored the uncomfortable feeling as he turned around to face Dean.

"Dean, that was…"

A mistake, a bad idea, awful, the elder Winchester finished fearfully.

Sam's face broke into a huge grin. "That was awesome."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief, and chuckled. "Scared me for a minute there, Sammy."

"Dean, I'll always love you… in every way I know how."

He stroked Sam's cheek with his clean hand and shifted them down onto the bed before he replied, "All right, I'm game. But I'm the big spoon."

END.

A/N: As always, please review or favorite if you liked this work.