Suggested by: its_just_me_lucifer
It started out simple—random, even. Dean walked up to Sam and put his arms around him for a few seconds, multiple times a day. Sam didn't ever argue, he just hugged him back. There had to be a reason, Dean just wasn't telling Sam, at least not yet. At some point, he would tell Sam, there was no question about that, until then, Sam just had to be there for his brother, in any way he needed.
This behavior lasted for close to a week, until Sam heard Dean breath deeply during one of their hugs that day.
"Are you smelling me?" Sam asked, pushing Dean away ever so slightly, just an arms length away.
Dean scoffed, "No! Of course not! That'd be weird, Sam, and I'm not weird."
"You're rambling," Sam pointed out, knowing that was a sign that Dean was trying to cover something up.
"I'm not rambling, Sam. And I didn't smell you. It was sign of relief, okay?"
"But a sigh is when you breath out..." Sam explained.
"Shut up," Dean said in slight annoyance as he walked to one of the beds in their hotel room and flopped onto the mattress, burying his head in the pillow.
Knowing exactly what Dean needed, as always, Sam walked over to the bed and wrapped his arms around Dean, holding onto him tightly. "Just... let me know you're okay," Sam whispered.
"I'm okay," Dean replied. There was a pause, then Dean said, "Thank you, Sam."
"You don't have to thank me." Sam let Dean go, and went to get into his own bed. Pretty soon, Dean was lightly snoring in the darkness of the motel room. Sam looked over at the bed next to him. It was too dark to make out anything other than the lump Dean created on the bed. He wasn't sure what was going through his older brothers head, but he just hoped he was okay. Sam rolled over and finally let himself fall into a deep sleep.
The next day
Just before dark, Dean asked Sam if he could go out and get some food. Sam agreed, and Dean hugged him before he left.
When Sam arrived back an hour later, and gasped as he opened the door. Dean was laying on the bed, hand around his cock, moaning and smelling what looked like Sam's underwear.
Hearing Sam's gasp, Dean yelled, "Shit, Sammy, I—uh, I can explain!"
He quickly yanked his pants back on has Sam shut the motel door behind him. He gave Dean a look, saying he was waiting for the explanation.
"Well, um..." he tried to think of something to tell Sam that wasn't the truth. He couldn't tell Sam the truth. "Dammit," Dean said as tears came to his eyes.
"Dean?" Sam's voice suddenly got soft, "Please, tell me what's wrong."
"I—I can't," Dean said, crying harder. "Just, leave me along. It's better that way." He walked away, avoiding Sam's attempt to pull him back. Sam heard the bathroom door lock.
"Aw, Dean, please come out," Sam said, wiggling the doorknob of the bathroom door.
"No, just please, leave me alone, Sammy."
"You know that's not going to happen, Dean. I want you to talk to me. I hate seeing you this way, especially when I know I can help if you just let me in."
"Not this time. You're going to hate me for what I've been thinking about you. Hell, I hate myself over it, even more lately since I've been giving into these feelings I know are wrong."
"What are you talking about? You're an idiot if you think I'd hate you after everything we've been through all our lives."
Dean sighed, and Sam heard the sink turn on. Finally, Dean opened the door. His face was still a little damp from splashing it with water.
