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Sam knew what Dean's lingering looks mean.
He knew. Dean probably thought he was subtle, looking away before Sam caught his gaze, but Sam didn't need to look to feel Dean's stare at him. It wasn't even a pricking sensation. He didn't even know how to describe it, having it his entire life. It was like warmth but deeper, his entire body relaxing, recognizing that big brother had eyes on him and he was safe, and it was okay to relax.
Sam knew this was different. This look wasn't the same as a nine-year-old Dean watching, ever vigilant, as they played in a playground.
No, this one was more heated, much like how Dean ogled at D-cup breasts and too-tight jeans, mouth slightly open, eyes slightly glazed before he turned back to smirk at Sam's grossed-out face.
As he felt Dean's hot gaze on his thighs for the third time, Sam had half a mind to snap his fingers at his brother and said something like dude, my face is up here, but that would be too weird. He shuffled, peeling his sweaty legs off the sofa to pull the too-short boxers down to cover more of his thighs, but not really succeeding.
The fourth time, Sam locked himself in the bathroom, checking in the mirror that Dean didn't draw a dick pic on his leg with a pink sharpie or anything. And no, no other dick except his own.
The fifth, Sam caught Dean's eyes before he could look away.
Dean shrugged.
Sam raised an eyebrow.
"What?" Dean protested.
"Enjoying the view?" Sam asked, emphasizing the question by stretching his legs out.
Dean deliberately did not look at Sam's flexed calves, nor the pale slip of skin revealed from under the boxers.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Dean muttered, but the tips of his ears were bright red.
Sam smirked. He slowly trailed his hands over his own thighs.
It didn't take much after that for Sam to be absolutely sure his big brother had it bad for him. And wasn't it absurd? Dean, Dean who could walk into any bar and had anyone, wanting him.
Sam wasn't sure how he felt in return and wasn't too keen on exploring that part of himself. Why think about feelings when instead, he could make a questionable life choice?
After all, it wasn't always about what he wanted for himself. It was also about family and what Sam was willing to do for them, especially for Dean, who raised him, who was his big brother, his best friend. His everything.
The better question yet was what Sam wasn't willing to do for him. Sam trusted Dean with his life, with every cell in his body, and if he could lend it for a moment to pleasure Dean, Sam would be more than willing. Hell, it wasn't like Dean wouldn't do the same for him, hadn't put Sam's need above his own for all their lives.
If this situation was in reverse, Sam being the one wanting, Dean would not hesitate to offer it to him. Well, it was more likely that Dean would know what Sam wanted and give it to Sam even before he himself realized. Dean's big brother sixth sense was always so strong.
But it was much easier to not think about all that and how entangled they were in each other.
Sam focused back on Dean and the electric tension in the air. He took his brother's desire as his own, kissing his brother's lips, warm, soft and dreamy lips. He bit the lower one to share even more of their shared blood. He smeared copper taste with his tongue, painting the taste into Dean's mouth.
"Want you so much," Sam whispered. Want you to be happy.
Dean moaned, pressing Sam tighter into the sofa. He dived his tongue past Sam's open lips, returning the flavor of them intertwined.
Connected, their hearts beat as one, in a rhythm only known to them. At this moment, Sam knew what Dean wanted, because they were one, one body and one soul, craving to be joined together.
Dean had his hands down Sam's waistband, cupping his balls and slowly inching back to press a single finger against Sam's entrance. "Could I?"
Sam's breath hitched. "Yes. Sure. "He'd never welcomed anything as much his entire life.
Dean slowly made his way inside of Sam, gradually being swallowed up--first a finger, then multiple, and his hard cock. Each of them lost in the accommodating heat of Sam's inside, joining, fusing together.
They rocked together, connected and completed.
Afterward, with limbs still tangled together, warm and sweaty, Sam still didn't know whether it was what he wanted or not, but he knew he wanted Dean to be happy, and this was how he achieved it.
As Sam listened to Dean's soft snore, he was hit by the absolute certainty that he would be here with Dean, giving him what he wanted, as long as he still wanted it from Sam.