‘Come on, Sammy. It’s time to get your ass home.’
‘Don’t wanna,’ the younger Winchester said, his words slurred by the abundant whisky he’d downed.
But Dean was having none of it. His brother was usually a careful drinker. That’s not to say he didn’t overdo it now and again, but on the whole, Sam recognized his limit and didn’t overstep it.
Tonight, though, Sam had not only reached that limit, he'd breached it and kept on going. Whatever was eating at him had resulted in an excess of booze.
‘We’re going,’ Dean stated firmly, catching hold of Sam’s arm and guiding him towards the exit, or at least, trying to, for Sam dug in his heels and refused to move.
‘You don’t love me,’ Sam whined. ‘That’s why you wanna spoil my fun!’
‘Jeez, Sam. Whatever’s going on with you, it’s gone far enough,’ Dean hissed in his ear. ‘Unless you want to be the cabaret for the bar tonight.’
The sight of the shorter guy trying to hustle the taller man out of the locale, was already causing the clientele at the nearly tables to throw them curious glances.
‘Nobody loves me,’ Sam continued sadly, paying no attention whatsoever to Dean’s words.
With much hassle and use of physical force, Dean managed to bundle his sibling outside, hoping the encounter with the cold night air would sober him up.
But Sam kept up the same litany. ‘Why does nobody love me, Dean?’ he asked turning his head towards his sibling, giving hm the full force of his alcohol-laden breathed
‘Dude,’ Dean groaned. ‘Just what did you swallow down back there? You stink.’
‘’You’re my big brother, Dean. Do YOU love me?’
Dean rolled his eyes. He had to put a stop to this.
‘You know I do, I always have,’ the older sibling answered finally, cringing a little as he pronounced the words. Not because they weren’t true. They were. He loved Sam in a way foreign to his affection for anyone else, but to actually put his feelings for his brother into words, embarrassed him.
The only positive was that tomorrow his sloshed sibling wouldn’t remember a single thing.
Sam however still had the power to surprise him.
‘If you love me, then kiss me,’ Sam declared, his speech slurred and disjointed.
‘Uh…kiss you, Dude? I think you’re a little off the beaten track there, Sasquatch.’
‘Dean,’ Sam insisted, 'people who love each other kiss to show their affection. If you really mean what you say… if you truly love me, then you gotta kiss me.’
Pulling away from Dean’s grip, he put a finger to his mouth, swaying like an oak-tree about to fall.
‘I’m not kissing you on the lips, Sam. You know I don’t swing that way,’ Dean answered with a smile, trying to defuse the situation.
‘I wanna kiss,’ Sam insisted, ‘otherwise I’m not going home with you!’
Sam was staring at him, eyes befuddled with drink, but his lips were stubbornly set in pursed anticipation.
‘God, Sammy. The things I have to do for you!’ With that, Dean leaned forward and grazed Sam’s lips with his own.
A quick in and out. He had to get the moron back to the bunker. He swore this was the last time he played pool without keeping a beady eye on his idiot brother.
Sam though, had a mind of his own, and he clinched his arms around Dean like a vise, his whisky-flavored tongue seeking to enter where a brother’s tongue never should.
Dean was so surprised by Sam’s reaction that he automatically parted his lips to speak, so giving his brother the opening he needed to conclude his manoeuvre.
As Sam’s tongue took possession of his mouth, Dean remained frozen, his mind still trying to deal with what was happening, but when a traitorous warmth began to spread though his groin, slithering its way to his cock, he jumped away from his sibling as if Sam had suddenly turned into a cobra.
‘You do love me, Dean,’ Sam smiled happily, his hazel eyes misty with emotion. ‘I felt it in your kiss.’
‘Get in the car, Sam, otherwise I’ll kick your ass all the way home,’ Dean growled. He was shocked by what had just happened. He needed time to think about it.
As soon as Sam settled in his seat, his head fell against the window and his eyes fluttered closed.
Dean leaned forward and rested his forehead against the wheel,
His mind kept going over what had just occurred. It was one thing for a stoned Sam to want to kiss him; drunkenness made you act in weird ways and tomorrow morning he’d have forgotten all about it.
The problem was himself, instead of being grossed out by Sam’s kiss-attack, he’d ended up being aroused. If he hadn’t pushed Sam away, his cock would’ve came into play. The thought of there being any kind of sexual interplay with his blood brother was completely out of order.
No, he told himself, it was a one off thing, an anomaly.
Convinced, he lifted his head from the wheel and glanced over at Sam.
He frowned. How come he’d never noticed how soft and delicate Sam’s lips were, eminently kissable or how he wanted to lean over and push back the tousled locks of hair which had fallen onto Sam’s cheeks…. how he wanted to…. kiss…. him…
‘Fuck you, Dean Winchester,’ he growled, his baby’s engine roaring as he raced her towards home.