Sam Winchester was gently awakened from his deep slumber by a hand that was lightly shaking his shoulder.
"Sammy, get up!" It was the unmistakable voice of Sam's older brother, Dean. What was he doing up?
Sam let out a groan and pulled his threadbare, flannel sheets over his head. "S'not time to go to school yet, Dean."
Dean was jiggling his brother with more force than before. "Ya don't have school today, Sammy."
"Wha?" Sam muttered, half interested, but half asleep.
"No school today," Dean repeated. "Now get up, Sasquatch."
"Why's there no school today?" Sam asked, slurring his words.
"Lemme show you," Dean smirked as he yanked off Sam's bedcovers and scooped Sam up and out of his warm, twin sized bed.
"Dean!" Sam began thrashing and kicking. "Lemme go!"
"Okay," Dean plopped Sam on the floor.
"OW!" Sam cried out as he landed on his behind. "That hurt, you prick!" Sam rubbed his aching rear end.
"Psh…baby," Dean snorted. "C'mon," He pulled Sam up to his feet and dragged him over to the other side of their shared bedroom and tugged Sam towards a rather dirty windowpane.
"Look out," Dean ordered Sam softly.
Sam rubbed his droopy, sleepy eyes and grudgingly peered out the window. A startled gasp escaped from Sam's lips. "Oh my…"
Everything outside was blanketed with cloud-like, shimmering white snow. Little white snowflakes danced around in the air, fluttering about like microscopic fairies. It was what Sam imagined heaven to look like.
"It's…beautiful," Sam remarked with astonishment.
"Well," Dean tousled Sam's dark, long hair. "Are ya just gonna stand there gogglin' at it, or are ya gonna come out and play in it with me?"
Sam looked at Dean incredulously. "Play in it?"
"You heard me,"
"Dude," Sam laughed. "You're nineteen!"
"You sayin' I'm too big to play in the snow, buddy boy?" Dean's eyes narrowed.
"Dean…honestly," Sam chuckled. "I'm too old to be playing in the snow."
"Fine, then," Dean huffed. "If ya don't wanna play in the snow with me, I'll go play by myself. I don't want it to go off and melt, so I'm gettin' to it now." Dean turned around and began shedding his clothes.
"You're actually serious?" Sam raised his eyebrows.
"Samantha, I'm dead serious." Dean informed him as he hopped into some grey sweatpants.
"A snowball fight might be kind of fun," Sam thought to himself.
"Dude, you're crazy," Sam said aloud.
"I may be crazy," Dean remarked as he zipped up his black snow pants. "But I'm gonna have fun while you mope around the house and study some worthless shit." Dean began digging in messy pile of clothes and pulled out a snug, black thermal sweater. "Aha!" Dean exclaimed as he threw the sweater over his head and pulled it down over his body, sticking his arms through the sleeves.
"Well, unlike you, I won't be making an ass of myself in front of all the neighbors." Sam retorted.
"What is that I hear?" Dean zipped up a black, leather jacket and started the process of putting on black, leather gloves. "I…I think it's…a clucking noise. Like…from a chicken!"
"Oh, what are you, seven?" Sam scoffed. "And what makes me a chicken?"
"You're too big of a chicken to make an ass of yourself in front of the neighbors," Dean had finished putting his gloves on and flung open Sam's closet, revealing neatly hung clothes and shoes all in a line at the bottom. "C'mon, let go of your dignity for once, Sam!" Dean yanked a large, navy coat from a hanger and tossed it at Sam.
"Dean…" Sam whined.
"Please, Sammy," Dean pouted slightly, trying his hand at Sam's puppy dog look. "I don't wanna mess around in the snow all by myself. Please…"
"Alright, goddamn it!" Sam shouted as he admitted defeat.
"I win," Dean smirked. "Now get some appropriate clothes on or you're gonna freeze your ass off…" Dean gave Sam a playful shove. "…before I can kick it in a snowball fight."
"You honestly have never built a snow fort?" Dean was incredulous. "Dude…have you never fuckin' played in the snow?"
"Umm…" Sam was digging his brown snow boots into the slightly hardened snow. "That one time when we were in Michigan…I made myself snow cream…"
"Snow cream!?" Dean began laughing like a lunatic. "What the fuck?!"
"Shut up," Sam pouted.
"You're such a girl, Samantha!" Dean was still cackling and wiping tears away from his olive colored eyes.
Sam's brow furrowed in frustration and he scooped up a handful of snow in his gloved hand. He molded the white, sparkling snow into a rather lumpy ball and lobbed it at Dean's forehead. It was a fabulous throw.
"DAMN!" Dean hollered as the icy mass slammed onto his forehead.
This time, it was Sam who was laughing like a psycho and pointing at the pink mark in the middle of Dean's forehead.
"YOU LITTLE COCKSUCKER!" Dean pounced on top of his little brother, knocking him down into the snow.
"Pussy!" Sam hissed as Dean pinned him down into the snow.
Dean and Sam began grappling with each other, rolling around in the snow. At first, the boys had to force every single one of their facial muscles to not slack off and let them smile. But, eventually, the Winchesters relaxed and started wrestling more playfully, laughing while they tumbled about on the chilly ground.
"Ready to give up, bitch?"Dean finally, after much struggle, had Sam underneath him with both of his little brother's wrists in his hands.
"No," Sam tried to head-butt Dean. But Dean moved his head backwards, narrowly avoiding the blow.
"Aww! Is itty-bitty wittle Sammy getting angwy?" Dean adopted a mocking, babyish voice just to irk Sam.
"Oh, you're askin' for it!" Sam laughed as he tried to break away from Dean's grip.
"No," Dean became deadweight on top of Sam's body. "You're askin' for it."
Sam's icy green eyes glinted with mischief. "So what if I am?"
"Oh-ho!" Dean exclaimed, pressing his chest onto Sam's and pushing Sam's captured hands into the snow. "Are ya actually lightening up a little bit? God, Sammy…you're usually such a stiff."
"Wanna bet?" Sam challenged him.
Dean felt his heart pounding like a sledgehammer against his chest as he fixed his eyes upon Sam's pale pink, gentle looking lips. Sam's cheeks were also ruby red from exertion and his dark, soft locks of hair had little snowflakes clinging onto them. His little brother looked almost picturesque, like a Michelangelo statuette in the flesh.
Dean couldn't help himself. His mind was racing, his mouth was going dry, his stomach was thrashing about, and his ears were pounding with the lustful screams emitting from his soul. So, without a second thought, Dean moved his face closer to his little brother's and pressed his lips on his. Sam's lips were velvety and cool…so irresistible that Dean became greedy for more.
But before Dean could do anything else, Sam thrust his head backwards as far as it would go. "Dude!" Sam's eyes were wide with astonishment. "What the hell are you doing?"
"I-…" Dean was crushed from disappointment. "I dunno."
"Get off of me, man!" Sam began squirming around under Dean, trying to break free. This didn't help matters. It only made Dean go hard in his pants.
"Shit! Would ya stop writhing around?" Dean was desperately trying to control himself.
"Why?" Sam wriggled around even harder, purposely rubbing his groin area against Dean's. "Is it turning you on?"
"You're sick," Dean spat. A bead of sweat trickled down his left temple, even though it was eighteen degrees outside.
"Well, excuse me, bub…but…I'm not the one who's on top of my little brother and having a boner in the process."
"You're a twisted little bitch, do you know that?" Dean snapped.
"Then how come you're in love with me?" was Sam's comeback.
"Are you drunk?" Dean circumvented Sam's inquiry with another question.
"No," Sam replied. "But I know how I'm making you feel, Dean."
Dean pressed harder onto Sam and felt that Sam's heart was slamming up and down as fast as a motorcycle. Dean could also feel Sam's member pulsing against his.
"You-…" Dean tried to say.
"Yeah," Sam's voice was no longer challenging and riddled with mockery. Now it was meek and demure. "Look…if you were just messing around with me…"
"Could we just forget about…?"
"Don't tell Dad or he'll…"
"SAMMY!" Dean clamped his hand over Sam's mouth. "Just…shut up." Dean moved in closer to Sam, still keeping his hand where it was. "Ever since you turned eleven...we were in Iowa…do you remember that?" Sam nodded slowly. "It was your birthday…and Dad and I forgot about it. Well, all day you pretended like nothin' had happened. You were takin' it like such a big man. And, I remembered lookin' at your calendar at about 9:30 at night and seeing "My Birthday" written in huge letters. Man…did I feel like shit or what? So…" Dean gently removed his hand from Sam's mouth.
"I remember," Sam was smiling slightly. "You went out to the 7-11 store and bought me a cupcake…"
"It was all I could afford, then," Dean chuckled weakly.
"And you got back at about 10:30," Sam's grin widened. "I had decided to go to bed early. God, I felt so miserable."
"And then I came in, with the cupcake, and I shook you awake and started singin' "Happy Birthday" at the top of my lungs."
"You were an awful singer, then," Sam laughed. "Your voice was maturing and it squeaked so much…"
"Knock it off!" Dean moaned. "Anyways…I remember how brave you were. You said "thank you, Dean" and ate the cupcake in bed…"
"But you knew I was upset," Sam's voice was hushed and breathy. "You know me too well…"
"So that's when I stayed with ya all night. We hardly said anything." Dean felt tears itching in his eyes. "When we finally went to sleep, you snuggled against me and I held ya. We slept the whole time like that. And that's…" Dean trailed off.
"That's when you…fell in love with me." Sam finished for him.
"It's been four years and I'm still crazy aboutcha." Dean rolled off of Sam and got on his back in the snow. Then he began stretching out his arms and legs, knocking Sam to the side, and moving his limbs in and out.
"What are you doing?" Sam rolled over on his side and watched his brother with fascination.
"Dude," Dean's head lolled over to the side to look at Sam. "You've never make a fuckin' snow angel?"
"A snow what?" Sam got up and walked over to his brother who was sprawled out on the snowy ground.
"Lord have mercy," Dean sat up at looked at Sam. "You serious?"
"Yeah," Sam shrugged.
Dean sprang up. The entire backside of his body was caked it snow. "Look," Dean pointed at the imprint he'd left in the snow. Sam could make out the crude, but obvious shape of an angel indented in the snow.
"That is about the stupidest thing I've ever seen," Sam commented dryly after a thorough study of Dean's snow art.
"Everybody's a critic," Dean mumbled, brushing the snow off of his back.
"Here," Sam chuckled. "Lemme' help," Sam began patting the snow off of the back of Dean's shoulder, his legs, and his thighs. He stopped there. "Erm…you can do the rest…"
"Oh?" Dean performed his signature "eyebrow thing". "You sure about that?"
There was a long, awkward dead silence between the two. It was so quiet that you could hear an ant's heartbeat. And the tension of the unease was heavy enough to crush Mt. Everest.
"Sammy," Dean tried to break the silence. "I…"
"Oh, Dean!" Without warning, Sam uncharacteristically flung himself onto his big brother and wrapped his arms around Dean's neck.
Dean gulped. "Slow down there, Sasquatch,"
"I've waited four years to tell you," Sam gazed up at Dean with his ingenuous, green eyes. "Isn't that slow enough for you?"
"Do you love me, Sammy?" Dean's lightly freckled cheeks were ruddy from discomfiture.
"More than anything," Sam murmured.
"God…me too, Sammy," Dean enfolded Sam in his arms, his fingers interlacing on the small of his little brother's back.
Sam thrust his body forward, slamming it against Dean's. "Say you love me again, Dean…I need to hear it. I need to know for sure."
"Needy today, are we?" Dean chuckled, earning himself a glare from Sam. "Alright...I love you, Sammy."
"Again…" Sam pleaded.
"I love you," Dean took his left hand away from Sam's back and began caressing Sam's satin-like, ivory cheek.
"I love you,"
"Again!" Sam whined.
"I love you, goddamn it!" Dean grabbed Sam by the back of the head and slammed his warm, pouty lips onto Sam's.
Sam passionately enclosed his mouth around Dean's lips and began sucking gently as his tongue explored the surface of Dean's unnaturally burning hot lips.
Eventually their tongues began to battle playfully with each other. Sam's was winning due to his gift of having a surprisingly flexible tongue. So, Sam's tongue wrapped around Dean's like a flour tortilla wraps up the contents of a taco.
As Dean was fisting Sam's dark, silken locks of hair, Sam gently pulled back.
"Dean…what if anyone else sees?" There was a genuine look of worry on Sam's face. "This is…illegal…taboo. If we're caught…"
"Alright," Dean reluctantly let go of his little brother and they stepped apart from each other. "So…you still up for that snowball fight?"
"Did you boys have fun?" John Winchester asked Sam and Dean with amusement as his sons sat at the kitchen table sipping hot chocolate.
"Oh yeah," Dean replied, giving Sam a discreet wink. "We had loads of fun, sir."
"Well, Dean-O, you seem a little old to be playin' in the snow," John raised his eyebrows. "But it was nice of you to play with your little brother."
"I was the one that had to play with their little brother," Sam snorted. "Though Dean looks nineteen, he has the brain of an eight year old. He was the one that effing woke me up and the crack of dawn and made me go outside."
"You could use more fresh air, Sam," John pointed out. "You spend too much time studying. It's good to get some exercise and mess around outside. It'll getcha a tan. And I think ya need a good healthy tan like Dean has."
"Well I'd rather go to college than have a tan," Sam retorted, slamming his nearly empty, hot chocolate mug on the table.
Dean, sensing conflict brewing, changed the subject,
"Sammy and I had a snowball fight…he's really kickass when it comes to aiming."
Sam gave Dean a grateful smile. "Well…Dean is really bad at making forts, so it wasn't that hard.
Dean picked a marshmallow from his cocoa and chucked it at Sam's head.
"Dean!" Sam exclaimed in annoyance…trying to untangle the mushy marshmallow out of his hair. "Jerk!"
"Bitch," Dean countered.
"You boys stop bein' asses and behave yourselves." John chided.
But, what the exchange between the two really translated into was,
"I love you."