By twelve years old little Sammy had developed a small crush on his big brother, from the way Dean would smile, to how he would walk. The clothes he wore, the way he just handled himself. Sam couldn't take his eyes off of him, of course he looked up to Dean like he was famous.
By age fifteen Sam sitting in his room during the late nights jerking it to the thought of Dean, picturing how his brother would come out of the bathroom. Nothing but a towel around his waist, water running down his biceps, that familiar scent of motel shampoo coming off his messy hair. Oh god how he wanted that. How he needed that. It was wrong, so wrong.
By age eighteen Sam was on his breaking point with John, getting ready to leave town and go off in his own life. Dean was still there and just as 'attractive ' as Sam would put it. He realized a long time ago how wrong it was and how it would be classified as 'illegal'. Did he care? No, he didn't give a shit! He gathered up his bag throwing it over his shoulder, shifting uneasily on his feet as he headed to the door. A hand grasped at the loop in his bag tugging him back and in a 180 degree spin. "What? No good-byes or anything? Just gonna leave me like that?" Dean sort of joked, a frown plastered on his lips, Sam bit the inside of his cheek.
"Sorry...uhh...guess I'll see you whenever I see you. You know where to find me if you ever need me, Dean." He adjusted his bag once more turning on his feet, Dean jerked him back grabbing his brother by his shoulders. Seconds of silence passed and Dean crushed his lips into Sam's, it was a long silent kiss, almost painful because of the circumstances.
Dean pulled back, a pink color to his cheeks, lips slightly swollen, "Yeah. I know where you are." He grinned patting Sam's shoulder, "See you in the long run, Sammy. Take care of yourself."
