Sam had just gotten out of school for the summer. He told his friends goodbye and to have a good summer before he headed to the front of the school, dodging crying circles of seniors and moving-away classmates. He watched as one of the senior girls pulled away a small group of friends and they headed to her car, making plans to hit the beach before sundown. Sam was quiet as he got out to the parking lot, scouting the place for his brother’s ‘67 Chevy Impala.
A smile broke out over his face as the Impala pulled up not too much later, Dean’s smirk visible behind the dusty windshield. His brother leaned over and popped the door open for him, calling out, “Heya, Sammy!" He rolled his eyes, still smiling, and walked over to the car; his black backpack was slung over his left shoulder and halfway open. "Hey, Dean," he said as he climbed into the car and pushed his backpack into the backseat.
"So you’re finally out for the summer, huh? Does that mean we can go sit out by the lake like old times?" Dean seemed like he was more excited about Sam being out of school than Sam really was, and he looked at his younger brother with a soft glint in his eyes. He backed the car up and finally got it out of the parking lot, racing out towards the house.
"I guess so," Sam replied, shrugging a bit. He was too overwhelmed by the heat to talk much, the black Impala radiating the heat waves through the car. They pulled up to a red light, and Dean’s gaze fell to Sam. He looked at the long, dark brunette hair contrasting against his light skin; Sam’s bright, questioning, and alive eyes which were a mix between blue and dark green at the moment.
They didn’t talk the rest of the way home, not until they got inside the little house. Sam leaped out of the car and ran straight into the house, pulling off his backpack and throwing it onto the farthest end of the couch. Dean ran in after him and managed to catch up to him, spinning him round and pinning him against the hallway wall. They were laughing and wrestling in the hallway for a minute, before they relaxed and listened; there was no sign of John being home, so Dean leaned in and pressed his lips gently to Sam’s.
Sam’s cheeks tinted a soft red, and he smiled against the kiss. He clumsily kissed back, but he did better than their first kiss which was sloppy and rough and rushed. "That’s the second kiss-and-foul, Sam," he heard Dean say against his neck as he kissed along Sam’s jaw, down to his collarbone. Sam let out a soft gasp as Dean bit into his neck playfully and hungrily, and he grinned happily.
"I-I know, I know," he managed, before catching Dean’s face gently in his hands and pressing his lips sweetly to his brother’s. "I’m doing better though, aren’t I?" Sam asked, resting his forehead to Dean’s. He heard him chuckle to himself before he nodded.
"You’re doing a bit better, Sammy," he responded as he kissed him again, his hands slipping up Sam’s shirt and fingertips grazing warm skin. Another gasp was pulled from him, and Dean smirked, knowing he was the cause. He loved hearing Sam’s needy sounds, seeing his cheeks flushed, and mainly just knowing Sam wanted him. Dean pulled Sam away from the hallway wall and led him backwards down the hall, to the couch, until he stumbled back and fell onto it with a little laugh.
"Y’know," Dean said, straddling Sam’s lap, “there’s a good thing to living way out here like we do." Sam rested his hands on Dean’s thighs and looked up at him, arching an eyebrow as he waited for him to continue. Dean leaned in and whispered into Sam’s ear, “No one can hear you moaning, no matter how loud you are." He pulled back enough to look at Sam’s face, and he smirked; his cheeks were bright red and he looked slightly embarassed.
"Shut up, Dean," he replied, punching him in the arm gently. Dean lifted Sam’s chin and kissed him passionately, and Sam slipped his hands up into his shirt, letting them wander over Dean’s torso. He winced a bit and let out a soft moan as Dean pulled his hair playfully, causing his head to lull back, breaking the kiss, and revealing more of his neck. Sam groaned lightly and squirmed as his neck was bitten and sucked on, knowing Dean was leaving hickeys.
"Hold still, Sammy," Dean said, then sucking a bit harder in the same place he’d been biting. Sam moaned and gripped Dean’s thighs, digging his nails into the denim blue jeans he found. Dean winced a bit, but smiled faintly against Sam’s neck. Once he was done, he pulled away and wiped off the bit of saliva that was left.
"Dean," Sam complained a bit, then breaking into a smile when Dean kissed his forehead. "That doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you," he mumbled after, and Dean climbed off his lap and the couch. "Where are you going," Sam called after him as he watched him walk down the hall. He sat there on the couch silently, listening for Dean’s reply.
After a few minutes, Sam didn’t even hear him moving around. Worriedly, he got up and carefully wandered down the hallway, towards Dean’s room. "Dean?" he called out quietly, unsure; after another minute without response, he continued, “Dean, I was just kidding. Please come out?"
Sam rapped his knuckles on the door to Dean’s room softly. Still nothing was heard. He slowly opened the door and stepped into the room, looking around. Sam jumped as he felt someone grab his butt, and he whipped around to find Dean was standing behind the door.
Before he could ask, Dean had closed the door and locked it, then pushed Sam onto the bed. He looked at Dean in confusion, and suddenly he knew as Dean held up a small, clear bottle. Sam swallowed hard and scooted back against the wall on the bed, uncertainty in his eyes. "Relax, Sammy," Dean said, rolling his eyes as he sat on the edge of the bed, “We won’t - not until you’re ready. Okay?"
Sam nodded and slowly moved next to Dean, kissing his shoulder lightly in a silent ‘thank you’. He smiled a bit and turned to Sam, pulling off his jacket to reveal a white tank top, and tossing it towards the closet. Dean then set the small bottle of lube inside the nearest dresser drawer behind him. Sam grinned when he saw Dean was wearing the Samulet around his neck.
Dean noticed his brother’s eyes were fixed on the Samulet, and he cocked an eyebrow up at him. Sam shook his head, still grinning as he spoke, “I didn’t think you’d kept it, Dean." At this, he scoffed and rolled his eyes. It had been a present from Sammy - on top of it, it looked kind of cool - why wouldn’t he keep it?
"Sammy," Dean said, looking at him with a mixture of confusion and amusement on his face. "Of course I kept it. You gave it to me. You’re the most important thing in the world to me - right up there with Baby."
Then Sam laughed a bit as Dean nudged his arm, grinning like the sun was shining through him. He punched him in the arm playfully, and then found himself pinned to the bed and showered with Dean’s faint musk and the barely-there bristles of his facial hair, feeling the light touch of soft lips all over his face. Just as quickly as their paradise had started, however, it was over the second the boys heard a car door shut out front; they shared a glance which read, “Oh, great - dad’s home." Dean leaned down and pressed his lips to Sam’s quickly before Sam sneaked out of his room, and into his own room, where he flopped down on his bed and fell asleep rather quickly.
Hours later, Dean had sneaked into Sam’s bedroom and slid in with him. He had woken up to the older Winchester’s presence and jumped a bit when Dean’s arms coiled around him from behind. Sam struggled, scared at first that it was a demon, terrified he’d be torn from his already small and broken down family, stolen from his bed in the middle of the night. That’s when he felt Dean’s warm breath right in his ear and on the nape of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine and causing goosebumps to raise along his skin.
"Sammy, relax, it’s just me," he murmured soothingly. "Dad finally headed to bed, so I figured it would be safe to come see you." Just like that, Sam practically melted into Dean’s arms and he turned to face him. He smiled faintly against the kisses that were shared between them, gasping and almost inaudibly moaning as he felt Dean run his fingertips lightly over his exposed torso and legs, occasionally slipping a couple fingers along the lining of his boxers and grazing his nipples.
"Dean?" Sam asked softly after a while, trying to figure out if he was still awake.
"Yeah, Sammy?" answered Dean’s husky, half-asleep voice.
"Uh," he stalled for a second, feeling his cheeks get a little warm. Sam pressed on, though, cuddling a bit closer to him as he spoke again, “I love you." A moment of silence passed, and Sam’s heart began to sink as his chest felt like it had been hit with a two-ton brick. Did Dean not feel the same for him, and if not, had he just left himself open for heart break and ruin what they had?
Sam started to pull away from Dean. "I’m sorry, I-I didn’t —" but he was cut off by Dean, who pulled him as close as he could and kissed him deeply. Sam was in shock for a second before he kissed him back, feeling Dean’s fingers tangle themselves in his hair. After a few minutes, Dean gently broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Sam’s.
"Goddamn it, Sammy," he said softly as he smiled, “I love you, too." There the boys drifted to sleep, limbs and bodies tangled up together, as they each dreamed of their secret love for one another. Their breathing slowed, and their smiles were still plastered to their faces as they fell asleep.