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An awareness of another in the room brought Dean out of his a reverie. He looked up from the laptop, his frown melting into soft fondness. Sam looked better, though he still carried himself gingerly as if protecting an injury. Dean's frown returned as he looked his brother over, taking note the loose pants, baggy shirt, and bare feet. Nothing tight. Nothing restrictive.
"So Mom's out I take it?"
"Yeah. Cas is with her. She wanted to get out for a bit and Cas offered to keep her company," Dean said with a small, secretive smile.
"What?" Sam caught onto the private joke but had no context. Dean shook his head. He wasn't really in the mood to explain Cas's awkward and pathetic attempt at keep Mom outside with him. Not that he had tried very hard.
"It's nothing. Hey, are you sure you're okay? Cas healed you up just fine?" He asked.
A small smile flit over Sam's lips while he walked closer into the library. Dean couldn't help noticed that Sam moved in a manner that ensured that distance was kept between them, though.
"Yeah, of course," Sam huffed a laugh. "After he almost crushed my ribs in, anyways."
"Yeah, guy's a hugger," Dean said, echoing Sam's soft laughter.
He didn't feel it though, too concerned with the way Sam was carrying himself around him. Tension slowly rose between them, first a static then a crackle. Sam licked his lips and Dean knew to brace himself.
"Yeah, um. So. She called Benny your mate," Sam said, looking down. His tone and wording caught Dean off guard.
"What? Oh come on, man, you know 'mate' is slang in Mary Poppins Land," Dean was quick to defend.
His breath caught in his throat when Sam looked up and ensnared Dean in his gaze. Hazel eyes were a muddy brown and it really hit Dean then just how affected Sam was and how much he must have put together. Dean's heart began to trip in his chest.
"You and I both know that she wasn't calling him your friend."
Just like that, the bomb was dropped. Dean inhaled deeply and gripped the back of his neck. He couldn't look Sam in the eyes, gaze instead sweeping over the opened laptop that was tracking the latest Brit mobile, over the books, the hard wood of the table. He barely registered any of that, more focused on trying word everything right in his head before he dug them into a deeper grave.
Sam though didn't seem to want to give Dean the time to collect his thoughts.
"Did you fuck him?"
Dean's eyes snapped to Sam's face, startled by Sam's bluntness in the way he would startle at a gun going off.
"Did he fuck you?"
Dean was up on his feet with a sudden burst of white hot agitation. The draw of his breaths were cagey, his position defensive. Sam tensed but he wasn't stopping. Stubborn bastard.
"Did you love him?"
"Sam," Dean warned.
Mentioning Benny had been a low blow, but he had expected such from a bitch that had burned Sam's fucking foot. But to get the third degree from his brother after it was all said an done was a sledge hammer right to the chest. Benny was a subject full of land mines and Sam had heeded the warning signs before. But now he disregarded them and walked right into the field.
"Just answer the question, Dean," Sam entreated.
He chose that moment to finally walk towards him. Dean heard the tell tale click of a wrong step in his head. Sam should have known that the only result could have been an explosion.
"What do you want me to say Sam? Huh? You knew that Benny and I were close. He was my best friend, alright? What more do you need?" Dean demanded.
He swore on his life that neither he or Sam had made a move and yet the space between them seemed too small. Sam was right there, filling in the gaps and Dean has finding it oppressive. He needed air. Space. Something. He didn't move an inch.
"Did you love him," Sam pressed, eyes boring into Dean.
Dean didn't say anything. He cut the tension by averting his gaze. He could practically heart Sam's heart breaking.
"Okay. That's what I thought," Sam said on a heavy breath.
Dean knew in his heart that his brother's expression would be as crestfallen as his tone. He knew that he need to say something but God help him, he didn't know what to say. His lips parted, but not a word came out. Sam took it upon himself to fill in the silence.
"And then you killed him, for me."
Hurt cracked Dean's chest wide opened as he looked up at his brother again. He could feel it spill out like a bleed, all that pain over losing Benny resurfacing. All that guilt.
"Sam. You can't just say..."
"But why? I don't understand. If you lo-"
"You know why!" Dean interrupted.
He had been reduced to pleading Sam with his eyes to stop. He was flaying Dean alive, couldn't he fucking see that? What did he want?
"No, Dean," Sam argued, shaking his head. "No, I don't. If he had mattered that much, then why would you."
"Because you matter more."
It wasn't yelled. There was no force behind the words. Just a whisper of a truth that was etched into Dean's very bones. Sam meant more than anything, anyone. That Sam still didn't see that...
"And if you haven't figured that out by now, you're a lot dumber than I thought you were. How many times do I have to say it to get through your thick skull; nothing comes before you, Sam. Not even Benny. Because yeah, I did, but what I felt for him doesn't have shit on how I feel about..."
Sam surged forward and crashed their mouths together. There had always been an unspoken thing between them. In the beginning it had snapped and lashed out at them, all around them. Relentless and uncaring who got caught in between but neither had had the balls to face it. Then things had gotten too messy and the energy had grown subdued. Too thick to cross. So Sam broke right through it as he always did.
And Dean? God, he was too fucking weak. Warning bells were going off but he melted under the touch of Sam's big hands grasping his face and whimpered under the sliding mesh of Sam's mouth against his. The kiss softened but there was still a desperate air about it, especially when Sam's tongue slid hotly over the seam of Dean's lips.
He gave into Sam as he always did, always would. His lips parted to a possessive tongue, groaning as Sam claimed Dean's mouth with a wicked curl of electric heat. Dean let him control the kiss, his own hands loose on Sam's hips. Sam, always one to take double when given an inch slid his hands down to Dean's shoulders and sucked on his tongue. If his intention was to make Dean's knees turn to jelly, he achieved that in spades.
It had also pulled a jarringly loud moan from Dean, to which Sam answered with a chesty groan of appreciation unlike anything Dean had heard from his brother before. It was enough to make him pull away and resist when Sam tried to chase after him as if Dean was his life line. Was the elusive surface the drowning man struggled to reach. It broke his heart a little but he planted his hands on Sam's chest to keep him from reclaiming Dean's lips with a perfect distraction from reality.
"Sam. Sam. What are we doing? Why now?"
"I know, I know. But..."
Sam's hot breath ghosted over kiss bruised lips. Dean was drawn closer, every fiber in his being plagued with a scratch he believed that only his brother could itch. Yet something still help him back.
"The timing is way off, baby boy. Things are just... Now that Mom's back."
Fuck, with Mom alive and in their lives again, now was the worst fucking time to cross that forbidden road. Even when things were finally good between them, everything felt natural for once. Asking for anything more, as proven many times in their lives, was asking for ruin.
"I know," Sam repeated with a sad little nod. Defeated but accepting.
"It would be..."
"Could risk ruining so much."
"And we don't want that. Not after everything," Dean finished quietly.
Then he made the mistake of looking up just as Sam looked down. Twelve plus god damn years just fell away between them and suddenly nothing else in the world mattered. Dean hand's slid up to clasp Sam's neck while Sam's hands skirted down to Dean's waist. He tugged as Dean pulled and they both met each other in the middle with a kiss that said everything and suddenly they were too close and not close enough.

The wall of his bedroom was unforgiving behind Dean's back. The body pressing him into said wall wasn't much better. Sam was relentless and forceful, surprising Dean by pinning his wrists above his head with only one large paw of a hand. He should have struggled against the hold but the heat that poured off of Sam's skin and wrapped around Dean was nothing like the cold, biting clamp of shackles. Sam smearing his hot mouth over Dean's exposed throat proved to be a pretty damn good distraction, too.
But fuck if Dean wasn't itching to touch. He couldn't get the image of Sam sliced up and shivering, his foot a mangled mess that had reeked of burnt flesh and infection before Cas had healed him. He needed to touch his brother, to feel for himself that he was okay, but Sam was having none of that.
"C'mon, Sam. Wanna touch you," he complained, giving his hands a light tug.
If he had really meant it, he knew that Sam would have let go in a heart beat. But his hand tightened around Dean's wrist and the wordless grunt Sam made as he gave a warning bite to Dean's clavicle threw up red flags in Dean's head. It might have been their first time together and while Dean didn't really know Sam in the bedroom, he knew his brother. Something was wrong.
"Sammy, talk to me."
Sam's hand tightened again and his other hand joined the mix. Dean tensed, expecting to really get held down, but Sam didn't grab for him with his free hand. As he sucked a bruise into Dean's throat, he reached for his own left hand. Dean looked up to watch Sam press his thumb right into the scar forever etched into Sam's palm and realization hit Dean like a ton of bricks dropping on his head.
Sam let him go when Dean twisted his wrists with a little more force. He looked skittish as he glanced up, lips red and shiny and Dean wanted nothing more than to claim them in a kiss, but knew that would be the wrong move. Instead he slowly reached for Sam's hand, telegraphing his every move.
"I'm real, Sam. I don't know what happened to make you doubt it, but I'm real."
Dean replaced Sam's right hand with his own and pushed down on the scar himself. He added a bite of his nail just to make sure that Sam felt it. Pain in the real world was different than what they had felt in Hell and while he knew that bitch had put Sam through a slice of it, Dean hadn't realized that she might have gotten a little too close to the mark until just then.
Jesus Sammy, what did she do to you?
"Hey, look at me. Feel this. I'm real. This, us, it's all real, Sam. I know that you know this."
Sam looked close to crumbling and it broke Dean's heart. It also stroked the fire of rage deep within his core. He swore then and there that not only would he take the bitch down, but he would kill every last member of the British Men of Letters for what they did to Sam. If just for making him doubt reality again.
"It's too good to be true," Sam said in a soft, careful whisper.
His fingers curled around Dean's hand, but it was tentative. Like he was afraid that Dean was going to disappear into smoke if he gripped too hard. Dean was going to make them all suffer just for that.
"Baby boy," Dean entreated as he cupped Sam's beard rough chin. Sam leaned into the touch, starving for something tender. Something that didn't hurt. "You'll see man, it's really not. I kick in my sleep, I'll hog all the pillows. I'm pretty bossy in bed and I like porn tracks, I'm not gonna lie. I also have it on good authority that I fart in my sleep. We do this, we make this work, you're gonna regret it, just wait."
Dean was relieved beyond measure when he got the little laugh he had been aiming for. He returned Sam's fragile smile and pressed down on the scar once before loosening his grip. Sam's mouth did a weird thing, it lifted up in an almost smile, tightened, then crumbled again. Before Dean could worry, Sam was reaching for his face and drawing him in.
That kiss was earth shattering. It was like everything Sam had ever felt was being poured into that kiss. Anger, heart ache, heart break, love and passion and pain, he gave it all to Dean. And Dean took every last bit of it, took Sam's hurt and swallowed it down. He gave back just as strong; his pride, his deep abiding love, his faith in Sam. All of it.
Sam made a high, wounded sound in the back of his throat. He tugged and Dean followed, both men stumbling away from the wall. Dean deepened the kiss to taste all the things he knew Sam wanted to say on his tongue while restless hands reached for buttons and buckles. They broke the kiss only when they had to remove clothes to get at bare skin and scars and more ways to ground themselves in each other.
Sam let himself be laid down and straddled on Dean's bed. He was plaint under Dean and it didn't escape the elder's attention just how much trust was being placed in him. He showed his gratitude by skimming reverent hands up a sun kissed body. By peppering kisses over every scar from the belly button up while Sam raked electric tingles of sensation over Dean's arms and back.
"Dean," Sam moaned.
Dean kissed over his heart where it fluttered like a trapped bird.
"I've got you, baby boy. Shh, let me take care of you."
Lifting his hips up long enough to remove his boxers and the last stitch of clothing between them, Dean then slotted their hips together. He was hard and Sam was half and well on his way to fully judging by the groan that shook from his chest. Big hands skirted down to Dean's hips and held on for dear life, gripping and pulling down as he shoved his hips up.
The drag of their cocks together blindsided Dean. He didn't expect it to feel so good. A little weird, a little foreign, but achingly intimate and hit all the right places. Dean's own hips stuttered forward and swiveled, smearing precum over Sam's shaft. The pleasure soaked look on Sam's face was going to be a memory Dean would never forget.
"Just like that. Yeah, that's good," Dean praised, rocking his hips until they found their rhythm.
It faltered when he leaned down to kiss at Sam's mouth again. Their cocks trapped against their bellies, chest to chest, there was little more they could do but rock back and forth and just feel. Sam lit up beneath Dean as if he had needed just that. Not some dirty bump and grind, no obscene smack of flesh against flesh.
There was an easy ebb and flow that they found so naturally between them in all aspects of life. Sam was a little pushy, liked to guide Dean's hips and control the motions, but he found no complaint from his brother. It was all good, perfect even, bodies coming together, chasing their pleasure, tongues curling hot and wet and slick.
It wasn't about coming, or really about pleasure. It was about getting to touch without impunity. It was about wiping everything from their minds except what existed between them right then. That undeniable, unbreakable charge between them. That knowledge that they were all they had, all they needed, deeply engraved in their bones.
Orgasm became an after thought. It shook through them, leaving them gasping against each other's kiss bruised lips. Sam shook beneath Dean with a full body shudder and a chesty rumble of a groan that had Dean's name wrapped around it. It set off Dean's own jump off that precipice, coming with a shocked little grunt, muscles tensing.
Dean found himself beneath Sam when lights stopped dancing behind his eyelids. Which was fine by him because his brain had melted out of his dick and he had lost his bones along the way. Sam held him tightly, ensuring that Dean didn't need his limbs for a while, and was mouthing something into the constellations of freckles that burst over his shoulder.
'Thank you," he was saying, over and over again, softly trembling.
Dean mustered enough strength to free his hand and slide his fingers in sweat damp hair. He cupped the back of Sam's neck. Kissed his temple and softly hummed to help sooth him.
"What about..."
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there, Sam. Right now? It's just us. Just you and me, little brother."
Sam kissed him then, soft and sweet and grateful. Dean returned the kiss, content to do just that until they had to return to the real world.