Archive of Our Own ^beta

Fuck the lore.

That's what Dean's been muttering under his nose the past twenty minutes, staring at his little brother burying his nose in a book, looking for information on whatever supernatural creature they had to deal with.

Dean gets it―he really does. It's what they do. Saving people, hunting things. The case can't wait. Hell, there isn't anyone on this planet who enjoys kicking monster ass more than Dean Winchester does.

But what he wants, what he needs right now, is his brother's―his lover's attention.

Then again, he is Dean, and he won't admit it. Not verbally, at least.

He'd been trying to get Sammy's attention the whole day, though. Resulting into pissing him off, Dean can tell. First by flirting with the hot waitress in the diner closest to the bunker, which had only earned him a brief bitch face that had "Seriously, Dean?" written all over it.

Then, flirting with a witness, who happened to have the hots for him. Who also happened to be male, and an attractive one. Allmost as tall as his younger brother.

He could tell, that got Sam's blood boiling, even more when Dean started getting touchy and even more giggly, complementing the other man's body.

All Sam could do was act nice and thank the man for the cooperation, pulling Dean towards the car, not saying a word because he's too focused. He's on a job after all, so he just lets it go.

That's when Dean thought he was in for it when they go back home but to his surprise, it didn't turn out the way he'd expected.

Now here Dean was, sitting across his beautiful, way too hot geeky brother, waiting for him to find something that could help the case so they can get it over with and he can finally have his Sammy all to himself.

He can't help admiring his little brother―his cute nose, his fluttering lashes, the way he kind of just pouts whenever he's concentrating, making Dean want to drop everything and just kiss the living lights out of him. His long hair framing his face, his chest―oh god, Sam's chest. Dean worries that the buttons on Sam's shirt are gonna burst whenever his chest rises.

It was amazing just how much influence he had on Dean, making him go all warm and fuzzy inside all of a sudden.

Sometimes all Dean wants is to lock himself and Sam up in his room and never let him go. Just pin him down on the bed and kiss him all over, and caress him, and compliment him, tell him how proud he is to have such a perfect partner and brother, make him feel good, make him shake and cry uncontrollably with the overwhelming feeling of love.

Because that's what he deserved. His Sammy, his everything. No one could ever replace him, that's for sure. Not any girl, not God, not anyone. Not even his father.

Sammy had already corrupted his heart.

Then again, there's never been anyone else. There's never been any time to have anyone else. Because the little bastard had Dean wrapped around his fat little baby finger since day one.

Now, thinking back to everything they've been through, Dean felt like crying. He felt like going over there, slamming this god damned book close and climbing onto Sam's lap and holding him close, just like Sam had done every time when they were younger.

And that's just what he did.

“De―”

“Pay attention to me, bitch.”

Sam couldn't help but go soft immediately, recognizing the tone in his big brother's voice. He wrapped his strong arms around the man's waist and caressed him lovingly.

“You missed me, jerk?”

“Shut up. 'S your fault. You're supposed to give me attention. You're failing as a lover, little brother. You should be thankful you're smoking hot. It's the genes.”

Sam chuckled, feeling Dean's warm breath on his neck.

“Coulda just told me, De, instead of pulling that shit earlier today.”

“You jealous, big boy?”

“Shut it. I still have some research to do so could you―”

“Nope.” Dean leaned into the hug even more.

“Fine. I'll do it with you on top of me, you big idiot.”

Sam continued reading The Men of Letters' crappy books over Dean's shoulder, even though it was causing him a slight backache. He'd do anything for him, besides he's been missing him quite a lot, too.

He couldn't ignore the small kisses that were being planted on his neck, giving him butterflies, making him feel like a teen all over again.

Small kisses slowly turned into wet, sloppy ones, then into sucking, then into biting, all softly. Sam couldn't concentrate for his life, not right now. He yearned to taste the older man's all too familiar lips.

Sam had memorized it all. Their shape. Their feeling, their warmth. Burnt into his memory, just like his bright green orbs, always looking over at him, so full of love and adoration and this sense of protection. Just like the lines that form on his forehead whenever he's distressed or confused. Just like the feeling of his rough palms against his own.

God, I love him.

It's that single thought floating around in Sam's mind forever. Ever since he remembered himself.

That's it, he thinks.

“Dean, give me my phone. It's in my back pocket.”

Dean did as he was told, getting kinda sad because he assumed they had to move their asses back on the road.

“Found something?”

“Yeah, plenty.”

“Oh. Okay, let's go then. You'll tell me in the car.”.

“Sit your ass down, big brother. Not today.”

“What?”

“I'm calling Bobby. I'll tell him we're busy or something. He can assign this one to someone else.”

“I really want to. But would that really be okay?”

“I'm sure he can think of something. Can't leave my baby hanging.”

“Let's not forget who's older, Sammy.”

“Yeah, you, old man. Come here.”

Sam captures his lips as Dean sighs, satisfied at last. They stand up from the chair with Dean wrapped around his Bigfoot of a brother, legs around his torso and arms around his neck, kissing his cheeks.

“I miss your chubby cheeks from when you were 12.”

“You pinched them so hard they were always red. People thought I was being hit.”

“Aw, poor Sammy. Always his brother's victim.”

...

Sam entered his room after calling Bobby. He dropped Dean gently on the bed and then he plopped on it himself, spooning him from behind and kissing every exposed area of his flesh.

“I missed you too, you know. And I love you. Sooo much. I could kill for you, Dean. Is that too much?”

“.. You dork. I love you, too. Fuckin' kill for you, die for you. I don't know what's gotten into me today but from now on you're not allowed to ignore me. Not for a hunt or anything at all. Capiche?”

“Yessir”

Dean turned around to face him and buried his face under his chin, his body all pressed up to Sam's.

As much as he loved getting messy and fooling around with his brother, this was heaven. Just being held close to him, so close they could hear and feel each other's fastened heart beats.

“God, I feel like a chick.”

“You've always secretly loved it. Chick flicks too.”

“Shut your damn mouth. Sonovabitch.”

“I love you too.”

...

“Yeah.”