Title: Crush
By: rainbowmind
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Dean can't sleep and finds that he needs to ask Sam an important question. Now.

***

It was a crazy idea. A completely ridiculous notion that no one in their right mind would have even considered. But maybe he wasn't in his 'right mind'. After all, it was the only way he could explain it. Surely it was abnormal and fucked up to fantasise about your own brother?! And it wasn't the usual I'll-enjoying-throttling-you-for-being-an-annoying-squirt fantasy either. This was proper I-wanna-fuck-you-until-you-have-nothing-left-in-you territory. And it was worrying.

Sighing quietly, Dean lifted the thin blankets from his legs and swung out to a seated position on the bed. He looked over at Sam. He looked a little restless and Dean was always prepared to shake him back into the land of the living if the dream world, the nightmare world, got too intense and frightening.

He would just crouch to his eye level and keep guard, he thought to himself, watch him sleep, take care of him. It's what big brothers did. As well as killing every evil entity they came across, it was also Dean's duty to take care of his younger brother. Four years was small and yet big enough. Sam probably knew things that Dean didn't and vice versa. Its why and how they worked well together as a team. Most of the time.

Bending his knees and squatting beside the bed that Sam lay in; Dean carefully reached out a hand and stroked dark strands of hair away from his sibling's smooth face. Age had been kind to him in the respect that he hadn't lost the look of youth yet. Dean's wiser, sharper angled features meant that it was taken for granted that he knew more about anything and everything, which just wasn't goddamn true. Sam had instant likeability factor on his side too. His smile, his bright shining eyes that sparkled every time he bared those teeth in a grin...lots made him great. Dean didn't mind sometimes not being liked by people, they didn't matter, but how did Sam feel about him? Sure, he probably loved him, but like him? That was a tough one.

Taking his gnawed thumbnail out of his mouth, Dean glanced at his brother to find his movements becoming more erratic and jerky. Dean had to remind himself that Sam wasn't writhing, and even if he was, it was through pain not pleasure. Sam's mouth suddenly opened wide and a split second later, he sat bolt upright. His breathing was laboured and he panted heavily to move the oxygen back to its rightful place in his lungs. His eyes blinked rapidly in the darkness of night.

Letting Sam recover by himself for a moment as he had woken without the aid of him, Dean reached up and placed his hand over his brother's. He sat still on the floor, gazing up towards the bed. Sam met his eyes.

"Hey" Dean said but didn't manage anything more as he was interrupted,

"I'm alright. I'm fine" Sam insisted weakly before his brother could even ask such a question.

"OK" he replied easily "If you're sure"

"Yeah, uh, I'm going back to sleep"

Sam lay flat again but Dean knew he wouldn't be sleeping again anytime soon, if at all, this side of the day. The images he saw in his sleep stayed with him definitely for more than he was allowing himself right now.

Oh well, he was on night watch then. Dean shifted so that his back was resting against the side of the bed. It had happened before but he didn't mind. And this time, he had a question he could ask.

"Sammy?"

He enquired using a whispering voice just in case Sam had defied all the odds and moved back into slumber.

"Its Sam" came the sleepy reply.

Dean chuckled softly and let his head fall back. He shut his eyes for a few moments then resolved that the only way to get some peace of mind was to speak up about what had been nagging him since he'd started to think tonight.

"Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

Dean caught his lower lip between his teeth and added pressure. Uncertainty crowded him like a room packed full of noisy people. He heard movement from somewhere above his head then felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Dean? What is it? What's wrong?"

Tilting his head, he almost, almost, allowed Sam's hand, his slender fingers, to touch his right cheek. His green gaze snapped open as he pulled himself out of his actions.

"Hey, watch it" he chastised quickly, needing to cover up his pause of vulnerable silence, "No girly stuff. Nothing's wrong, Sam"

"Well then why didn't you answer me?"

His jaw muscles clenched. Irritation and anger were the only ways Dean knew how to cope with situations that were moving beyond his control. His mind was conflicted. He wanted none of the sensitive crap that Sam always fell into and easily lent his personality to but he also wanted to put to his brother about whether he liked him or not. Things were always so confusing at the times when he really wished they wouldn't be.

"Dean?"

Sam's voice was soft, gentle but it riled him anyway. Couldn't he see that he was not in the mood to talk anymore? Why wasn't he going back to sleep like he said he was?

"It's nothing, Sammy" he responded quietly, looking down at his hands "Go back to sleep"

"I can't. And it's not because of the nightmare" Another shifting, this time a brushing of flesh against blanket "Dean, tell me"

He looked up to find Sam on his knees, sat back against his heels and peering attentively down at his older brother. He also had that intense, worried expression on his face. The moonlight passing through the thin material of the curtains cast slanting shadows on his cute face.

Dean watched, motionless, as Sam reached down and squeezed his shoulder affectionately and let a slight smile shine through. Dean shrugged him off unashamedly. Why did Sam try and back him into an emotional corner all the time? He wished he'd never said anything in the first place. He wished he'd kept his thoughts as his. It was much simpler that way. Now he had an entirely different dilemma on his hands. Did he lie or tell the truth?

He swallowed hard then threw himself into the lions den of feeling.

"I was just, uh, wondering, y'know, when I couldn't sleep...Sam...do you..."

He paused and searched Sam's face again. He hadn't moved from his spot on the bed and neither had his facial expression. Dean felt like the walls were closing in on him.

"...do you...like me?"

His younger brother's face relaxed. Dean guessed it was relief then felt a little hurt and confused when he heard Sam snicker lightly.

"Of course I like you, Dean. You're my brother"

"So?" he challenged, arching an eyebrow.

"So you can't choose your family. I've got you and I'll always need you"

"But do you like me?" he pressed on, unable to stop the words from falling from his mouth.

He must have been feeling ill. Healthy, well minded Dean would have just left it at that, would have used Sam's perfectly adequate answer as the scapegoat needed but no; he had to go and ruin it, didn't he?

"Dean, what's this really about?"

Sam pierced his soul with those soft eyes and Dean found himself continuing to entertain the thought of opening up. It was very unlike him but sleep deprivation, darkness and a brotherly bond meant that he was being propelled towards the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, whether he liked it or not. Lack of sleep was particularly one hell of a bitch.

"Everyone likes you, Sam" he began, dropping eye contact with his brother and choosing to stare at the brown, probably grimy, carpet instead "Even people who don't know you. You're always so...you" he scrunched up his nose and was glad that Sam couldn't see his face properly anymore, and then he hurried on, "I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't care if people don't like me, hate me even, but you...you...would you be friends with me if I wasn't your brother?"

Sam exhaled audibly, "Whoa. This is getting pretty deep for you, isn't it, Dean? I thought you held a crucifix up to feelings like slayers hold up garlic to vampires?"

His joke fell flat and disappeared through the moment, sunk without a trace.

Dean sighed heavily. It was time to change tack.

"OK Sammy, you're probably not gonna like this but I've gotta tell you anyway. I..." for a moment he lost his bottle "Oh man, this is hard"

And then he was rising to his feet and for once, Sam was shorter than him because of being seated. Dean sat beside him and turned his head to look into his eyes.

"You know you can tell me anything I won't judge you"

Not like me you mean if the situation was reversed, Dean thought that was the subtext. Well, he could hardly blame Sam if he did act badly. Especially now he'd thought of showing rather than telling.

"Goddammit Sammy" he breathed, reaching up to put his hand gently against his brother's face "You have no idea how much you mean to me"

"I think I have a fair idea"

No sooner had he said that then Sam's eyes widened dramatically. Dean's lips were uncomfortably crushing his and fingers had dropped from cheek to shoulder and were now holding him in a vice like, regretful grip. With his mouth tightly clamped shut from shock, Dean gave up after a few seconds and pulled away, head bowed and avoiding his brother's eyes at all costs.

"Jeez, I'm such a moron" he muttered cursedly to himself, his hand, now lighter, still on Sam's shoulder.

"No." Sam spoke into the air and the light, meaningful tone made Dean instantly look up, "You're not. But...but why, Dean?"

"I...I just want you to like me. Please Sam; this is the one time you'll see me beg...so make the most of it"

The tension evaporated as Sam began to smile. The emotion on his face spread all over his features, making his lips curl upright, showing his teeth and then sweet laughter flowed out. He nudged shoulders warmly with Dean. Then suddenly...

"By 'like me' do you mean...'kiss me'?"

Dean's surprise was evident. OK, so he had kissed his brother a moment ago but...still, he hadn't expected such a secondary reaction like that. Yes, he'd been thinking about doing exactly that consciously all night, unconsciously who knows? But...God, it was all so confusing. And so many buts, maybes, uncertainties.

"Dean" Sam whispered his lips hovering somewhere between his ear and neck "Do you want me? Do you want...this?"

He leaned in that extra inch and Dean shivered at the touch of Sam's lips pressed to the hollow of his neck. So gentle, so likeable, so...Sam. He wondered whether sleeping together, sleeping with his brother, however fucked up that sounded, would somehow give him the answer he craved. He knew there was only one way to find out...

Meanwhile, Sam was making all the right moves as far as Dean was concerned but he did feel it was a little unfair. He felt like he should be taking charge, as he had seniority in age. But he sat languid and swept up in all that had altered in the last few seconds. His mind was still trying to catch up with the fact that two brothers had just crossed the line of family and friendship and now everything was turning into incestuous blackness that they couldn't seem to fight anymore.

He sat still as Sam's mouth latched and disconnected many times over the skin covering his neck and throat. His whole body was pulled taut and yet he couldn't manage to power his limbs into action, even if it was a negative.

Eventually, he sucked in a breath just as Sam was reaching over to his opposite arm and succeeded in gently pushing his younger brother away from him slightly. He licked his lips slowly, needing his mouth to be bruised. By anything. A kiss or a punch. Anything so he knew that he could still feel.

So much of the Winchesters' daily lives had them living on autopilot that something out of the ordinary, something like contemplating your brother, your younger brother, as a sexual being, was frighteningly fresh. Addictive. Intoxicating, even.

"Sammy" he croaked "Are you sure you-..."

A finger to his lips halted speech and Dean's shoulders sagged with a sigh. Then his breath turned hot. Raising his eyes, he placed his hand on Sam's shoulder furthest away from him and pushed backwards, sending them horizontal onto the rumpled bed.

Dean gathered himself (but not his thoughts and mind) and held Sam down long enough so that he could replace hands with pelvis to pelvis. He looked down as he sat astride lean legs and jutting hipbones.

Sam levered himself up, never breaking eye contact with Dean. A flashing thought of recognition passed across Dean's face before he found that he'd guessed wrong and Sam continued his earlier postponed assault on his neck.

Closing his eyes, Dean knew why the air of awkwardness hadn't vanished from his every move. He wanted to be in control but something alien was crushing him. Something he only ever felt for split seconds at a time. Fear.

Tired of being patient and secretly scared, Dean placed his palms on either sides of Sam's face and bent his head to attack him with a rough, messy kiss. His breathing was already uneven inside his chest and as they broke apart, Sam could feel Dean's breath unsteadily breezing against his face.

Holding his thumb just at the corner of Sam's lips, his fingers stretching diagonally down past chin and onto neck to feel a thumping pulse, the intensity in Dean's gaze was matched by his brother pound for pound.

"This has gotta be quick" Dean mumbled, hands shaking with nerves.

His and Sam's fingers clashed and fumbled as they tried to get so close to each other they could almost feel throbbing heartbeats. Sam pushed up the hem of Dean's t-shirt and tenderly pressed his mouth to the skin covering his elder's abdominal muscles. Startled at the lips' caress, Dean's toughness and roughness built up and exploded.

Sam stopped short of vocalising his discomfort as a sizeable clump of his hair was grasped and pulled backward, exposing his throat to his brother, almost as if they were battling against each other in a fight.

But instead of brandishing a knife and slitting Sam's throat in a finale of victory, Dean made sure their eyes were locked once more.

"D'ya like me now Sammy?" he asked, everything ragged and tense with passion "Huh? Do you?"

Not worried about the response for the moment, Dean swooped down, like an eagle catching its defenceless prey, and kissed him hard and ungracefully before stripping his brother of the remainder of his clothes and modesty.

Sam lazily noted through half lidded eyes full of lust that Dean's grubby grey t-shirt still clung to his body and so did his boxers. The inequality of it all seemed strangely erotic.

Sam grabbed a fistful of said former garment and nearly yanked his brother off balance when he pulled forward.

"You want this?" he whispered harshly "You want me? Then have me"

His voice petered out almost ethereally and when Dean glanced at him again, his eyes were incredibly dilated and hardly any iris colour was visible.

Dean thought about his little brother no more. This was Sam. Brooding, intense, sexually confident Sam that he'd never got to see before but liked all the same. His body agreed vehemently.

Preparation is the name of the game with everything, with life, and this situation was no different. Dean focused on the prominent, straining vein in Sam's neck as his hands wandered across naked barrenness and down between depths not tread with brotherly fingers before.

A strange thought popped into his head as he touched and teased silken flesh. Jess had known this previous to him. She knew Sam (well, most of him), but in a different way to how Dean knew him. Until now. Jess had known what he liked, disliked and how his face altered and creased just before and during the times he came. Dean wanted to witness that glorious expression, knowing that this time he would be the cause of it all.

Thus his nimble hand movements increased in rapidity but he was quickly needing something else. He needed to be selfish.

Sam's back arched up from the bed and they touched chest to chest for a second or two. Seared by the contact, Dean knew what to do next.

"Sam" he commanded with desperate urgency in a husky voice "Last chance to stop me"

Sam lifted his head off the pillow and when he saw Dean kneeling between his thighs, he understood.

There was no time for proper removal so Dean's boxers were pushed to just at the backs of his knees, giving him enough clear access to free himself from heated confines. Crawling over Sam and already wet from hurried saliva slicked fingers, Dean shut his eyes tightly and held onto Sam for dear life as he pushed himself inside. The apologies that came out of his mouth were a slight shock (he rarely apologised or had regrets over anything) but understood too. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt or upset Sam intentionally.

Early stages of such an endeavour weren't exactly what could be labelled as pleasant, but pain gave in eventually and let euphoria take over the show.

Thrust after powerful thrust, Dean finally allowed himself the luxury of opening his eyes and peering at Sam. He looked thoroughly desirable in a sweat covered, unkempt, panting sort of way.

With Sam breathless and singing with groans, Dean felt him grasp and dig into his back followed by a lusty kneading of buttocks, which served to spur him on. Sam's feet partially hooked around Dean's waist, holding onto him for dear life because he knew not what else he could do.

It was then that Dean realised it. This wasn't just sex. This wasn't just incest. It was important that he was connecting with his brother like this and yet...not. Sam was brother, friend and damn good looking lover all rolled into one now. This was actually making love.

Suddenly feeling a wave of all consuming love rush over him, Dean closed the gap between them and kissed Sam softly for the first time. Their first loving kiss. And being brothers, that biological link, didn't seem to matter as much anymore. It was just a word.

Beginning to wonderfully ache, he heard Sam's breathing start to gasp and hitch inside his chest and his voice had never sounded so good.

"Oh God, Dean" an almost helpless tone "I need you so much"

"I'm here" he whispered back, brushing his roughly stubbled cheek against the contrasting smooth of his brother "Don't you worry, Sammy. I'm here"

And then they were coming within moments of each other, amidst feisty fondling and guttural moans. Stars danced behind eyelids, warmth spread through to the ends of limbs and cries spilled forth.

Calming to a halt, Dean smiled slightly and affectionately kissed the tip of Sam's nose before resting his head just above his shoulder, with his face nuzzled into the pillow.

"Wow" he breathed; his voice and words muffled "Awesome"

Sam sighed deeply. He hadn't realised until it was actually happening how much he had wanted it. Wanted Dean. He didn't care how wrong it sounded or looked. He just hoped that Dean knew how much he cared about him.

Cold air hit Sam's skin as Dean's body heat was suddenly taken away. Squashed in the single motel bed, Sam didn't know whether to snuggle or stretch an invite to be snuggled into. By the looks of things, Dean didn't know the answer either.

Then when Sam reached under the covers, he brushed against Dean's fingers. He immediately took hold and surprisingly his brother made no attempt to pull away from the tender, silent gesture. Their hands stayed locked and both only knew that their minds had been captured by dreamland when the sunshine woke them up the next morn.

FIN.

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