Wincest Fluff

“Sammyy…” Dean whines into the phone. He’s searching for a case in the newspaper, but he’s distracted, and misses his brother.

“Yeah, Dean?”

“When are you coming home?” By home, he meant their latest crappy hotel room. Or maybe he meant himself.

“I told you, it’ll probably be an hour. The police officer talked for ages, and traffic’s slow.”

“I should’ve gone with you.”

“Stop babying me, I handled it fine.”

“But I-I miss you. You and your stupid long hair, and your stupid brain that knows everything…”

“I thought you had a rule, no chick flick moments!”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Sam ended the call, wondering what had gotten into Dean. He had only gone a few towns to interview a couple witnesses and he got three phone calls from his brother. Three! Sam wasn’t sure what to consider their relationship. They  had established their feelings for each other, and shared kisses, and, well, sex, occasionally. Did that count as dating? Dean was (surprisingly) over the whole brother thing in an instant, but Sam couldn’t help but hear his dad’s- their dad’s -scolding voice everytime he leaned in for a kiss.

A knock at the door had Dean jumping to his feet. It had to be Sam. Just the thought of him sent shivers of excitement up his spine. He grabbed his gun, as usual, just to be safe. But there he was, holding a bag of takeout and wearing his cheap suit and a striped tie, which Dean desperately wanted to rip off of him.

“How did it go, Sammy?”

“Eh, fine. Boring really.” Dean really wished Sam would flash him one of those rare smiles, but he handed over the food expressionlessly.

“I hope burritos are okay. I couldn’t find a burger place.”

“No, it sounds great, don’t worry.” Dean dug in right away, but Sam went to change his clothes. He hesitated, unsure if he should go in the bathroom or stay in the bedroom. He decided to just stand in the corner.

Dean looked up from his burrito to Sam pulling off his shirt, reaching for a clean one on the bed. He looked vulnerable and small again, the baby brother he remembered. Dean couldn’t help himself, so he silently walked over the the taller man, placing his hands on those broad shoulders, causing Sam to flinch, and then tense as his hands traced over every muscle. Dean ignored the unfriendly response and wrapped his arms around his waist, turning him around slowly. He gave him a short kiss, waiting for Sam to take it further. When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see two shining tears sliding down his cheeks.

“Sammy, come here,” he said, pulling him down onto the bed. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

He leaned into his warm shoulder, letting out little crying noises, causing Dean to pull him closer.

"I-I’m a freak. This is i-incest, it’s w-wrong.” he said, stuttering every few words.

Dean rubbed his back soothingly. “You could never be a freak, not in my eyes. You’re all I’ve got. And hey, it’s okay if you’re not into this, we’ll stop. All I ask is for you to be my brother. My brother who’s too tall for his own good and eats weird salads and hates me all the time. That’s all I need.”

Sam’s crying ceased, and he whispered, “I don’t hate you, Dean. I love you.”

Now it’s Dean’s turn to hold back a sob and say, “I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.” He kisses Sam’s hair and his forehead between each one, until Sam faces him, inching forward until they’re kissing on the lips. It’s a soft, gentle tangle of tongues, much different from their usual heated locking of lips, followed by a restless night. No, this is strange and new, neverending and slightly hesitant. They take off their jeans and turn out the light, then climb under the covers and kiss for what feels like forever. After a while, Sam trails his lips to Dean’s collar bone and kisses a few fading hickies. Then, he settles down into the crook of his neck, feeling completely content for the first time in a long time.