Secrets in his Head
I don't even know what this is.
Kind of season 1 (cause that's all I've seen so far)
The beginning doesn't really fit, apologies
Of course, it was never that easy. When had it been?
To his brother (to his stupidly gorgeous, smart, puppy-dog little brother), though, it was always that easy. Everything came to him, everybody wanted to please him, even Dean couldn't refuse him.
Yes, all the girls came to him, but that was nothing.
They weren't what he wanted.
When Sam had gone to college, Dean thought that was that. He thought he could breathe, he could relax and find some other guy, that he could weed out those feelings in his head.
But every boy looked like Sam, and every kiss he closed his eyes and imagined, and it just hadn't worked.
So Dean had been resigned to a life of pining, a life of being that one weird guy who was in love with his brother.
He even tried to fall in love, with a girl who was the complete opposite of him.
But then Dad had disappeared, and Dean had to get Sam.
(Well, he didn't have to, he had been doing jobs by himself for about two years, but he was tired of pretending, of being lonely.)
So he picked up Sam, who, predictably, whined and didn't want to be there. But they fell back into their rhythm soon enough.
(And, though Dean still hated that demon that killed their mother, in a way, he was grateful for it as well. Because without it, he never would have been able to keep Sam.)
And now Dean was with Sam everyday, he shared rooms with him (and sometimes a bed, when the nightmares were bad). But that was all.
That was all he allowed himself. Because anything more, anything else, and Dean couldn't guess at the outcome.
Sam didn't even know he was gay, didn't know the depth of Dean's feeling for him. And he never would. Because Dean knew it was wrong, knew that he had more than brotherly love for his brother, and that was wrong in so many different ways.
Anyway, Dean wasn't that kind of guy. He wasn't that one who would proclaim his love on top of the Empire State building, he would never serenade the object of his affections.
(Funnily enough, he always felt that was more of a Sam thing to do.)
He was the kind of guy who enjoyed one-night stands, who didn't learn names, who was always gone with the dawn.
And he couldn't do that to his brother, couldn't imagine doing anything like that. (If there was even a chance that a situation like that would occur.)
And with Sam being there, so close, it was so much harder than it ever was. It was so much more difficult than Dean thought it would be. Sometimes he had to go out, relieve the pressure, find a warm body to substitute for his brother's.
Which was wrong. So very, very wrong.
But Dean didn't care.
He was used to it now. It was his secret, the one thing he would take to his grave. No matter how much Sam pouted, no matter how hard his dad glared, Dean wouldn't change. He wouldn't tell.
He would stick with his brother, and blame it all on the fact that they were brothers.
(Though he wanted more, so much more.)