A/N: I'm writting my first Destiel, with a side of Sam/OFC, but of course brother-bonding isn't missing from said story, and yesterday I finished a very emotional scene between Sam and Dean. So, this is my way of making amends for forcing them to cry their hearts out :|

It's just supposed to be a funny, easy read. No villains or angst or anything nasty.

Full Title: Of Twisted Games and Things Left Unsaid (But Not For Long...)

Story Details: Sam and Dean are angry with each other (what else is new?), and they take it out in a rather unexpected way (really, what else is new?). Basically it's PWP. Takes place end of 2nd season-beginning of 3rd season. Sort of AU.

FYI: Explain it any way you want in your head, but Ruby, for the shake of this story, doesn't exist (for all I care, she never did).

Rated: M

Warnings: the usual... slash, INCEST, suggestive themes, sexual encourter(s) and bad language.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural (much to my annoyance).

It started out as a punishment. Dean and Sam were always on edge lately; lots of pent up frustration restored and not any real way to release some of it, except for the vigor with which they had began to hunt down all of the demons that had escaped when Azazel opened a Hell's gate. But even that couldn't satisfy them.

They had just wrap up another gig (three escaped demons being sent back to the black hole they had crawled out of: check) and they were arguing about Dean's bargain with the Crossroads Demon -for like the nth time. Sam yelling how stupid it was and Dean hollowing it was either that or slitting his own damn wrists and follow his brother to death. It didn't help at all, that Dean, feeling guilty about Dad's death, was refusing to even think about saving himself, while Sam felt that he was desperately trying to find a loophole in the Crossroads demon's deal all on his own.

Things got ugly right away. Elbows thrown to ribcages, pushing, shoving and eventually an all out brawl. The two brothers wrestled with each other, eventually landing on the ground. They rolled, tossed and struggled to get the upper hand on the other until finally Dean was on top, pinning Sam's arms over his head and screaming at him to quit the struggle and admit defeat.

Sam glared defiantly up at him, demanding to be let go, as he tried to squirm out of Dean's strong hold. Thrusting up, hoping to knock the blond off of him, Sam's pelvis came in contact with Dean's. Both men felt the other's hardness. Dean pressed harder, sliding one leg between Sam's to hold him down and ground against him.

Sam pushed up against Dean, panting angrily when his older brother smirked and pressed down again.

"Get off me you pervert," Sam said through gritted teeth.

"Make me," Dean mocked, rolling his hips again and daring to hold his brother's arms in place above his head with one hand, "I think you like it," he teased.

"Fuck you," Sam spat, voice full of venom, his hips involuntarily bucking up against Dean's.

"Is that what you want; to fuck me?" Dean purred, as he undulated his hips again, noting that Sam never bothered to challenge Dean's one handed grip on his wrists. The blond took a chance and let his free hand glide down between them, feeling the younger man through his jeans. Sam pushed up and ground his groin against the hand feeling him up.

"You little slut, you really do like that," Dean repeated, startled at how pleased he was about the fact.

"Not as much as you do," Sam replied, surprised at how breathy his voice sounded.

"Shut up you sly bastard," Dean groaned.

"Make me," was the only answer Sam gave.

Dean did. He pressed his mouth hard against his brother's. In shock, Sam resisted at first but was soon distracted, as the hand assaulting him below the waist had magically found it's way inside his -now uncomfortably tight- jeans.

"No underwear," Dean groaned, breaking the kiss, "Were you expecting me?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He attacked Sam's lips again, forcing his tongue inside his mouth, his hand still working the hard flesh. He felt the moisture on the tip and gathered it on the tips of his fingers. Sliding his torso between Sam's legs, he released his grip on the brunet's wrists and yanked Sam's jeans down to mid thigh, button popping out, zipper cracking under the force. Switching hands, he continued to stroke Sam while pressing his pre-cum moistened digits around Sam's entrance before he cautiously pushed in. Surprised when the younger man didn't cry out in pain, Dean scoffed.

"You fucker. You've done this before," he accused.

Sam only moaned and attempted to spread his legs even wider. The garment around his thighs restricted him, but, finally realizing his hands were free, he forced his pants lower and then reached further to massage Dean's ass through the rough material of his jeans.

The sound of someone's voice approaching had both men scrambling off the ground, both realizing with a startle that they were outside, right in the middle of a street and on broad day-light.

It was official; they were insane.

"This isn't over," Dean threatened, as he hastily dived for the solace of the Impala, Sam struggling to get in beside him, both thinking they needed a cold shower as soon as possible.

Needless to say, the "what the fuck just happened" part hit them with some delay and the ride back to the motel was an extremely quiet one.

Awkwardly trying to ignore Sam's existence entirely, once they got into their motel, Dean headed straight for the bathroom, firmly banging the door closed. His nerves weren't up for the task of debating whom was going to shower first, so he graciously claimed the turn.

Hastily getting rid of his clothing, making a point of thinking every single move "hand up, now down, other hand up, now down, etc" in order to prevent stray flashbacks of Sam underneath him only a couple of minutes prior, Dean finally stepped into the tub with a huff.

Though he really needed a cold shower, after his tussle with Sam, Dean made the water warm instead, as he worked the bar of soap up and down his body. He tried desperately not to think of his brother but parts of his body weren't cooperating.

"Thinking about me?" Sam's voice broke his concentration, causing Dean to make an undignified noise at the back of his throat, much to his annoyance, and no, it wasn't a scream; it was a manly cry, which -just for the record- was completely justified. People should not sneak up on other people while these other people are trying to take a relaxing shower!

"Fuck, what do you want?" Dean panted -from anger; not that he was frightened by the sudden invasion or anything.

It wasn't until Sam stepped into the shower (the nerve!) that Dean's eyes focused and he realized his brother was completely, butt stark naked.

"Get the fuck away from me," Dean tried to sound threatening but the words actually came out in a kind of stuttering.

"I thought you said this wasn't over," Sam purred, "Had a change of heart?" Sam let his eyes roam freely over his brother's well-toned form.

"We're brothers you fucking nutcase," Dean reminded him ever so gently.

"We were brothers when you had your hand down my pants too," Sam shot back.

"You wanna play games?" Dean snarled, reaching to yank his brother closer. He used Sam's surpise as an advantage to whirl him around and pin him to the back wall, directly under the water's stream.

Dean pressed his knee between Sam's legs and spread them apart. He gripped Sam's hands and held them against the cool tile spread high over his head. His brother was breathing shakily. Dean ground his hips forward and when Sam's mouth formed a perfect little 'O' he leaned forward and fitted his mouth between his brother's lips and explored it with his tongue.

Sam's body jerked a few times and he could feel his brother's mouth twist into what he assumed was a smirk. It took him a while to realize Dean was no longer holding his wrists against the wall and that he was basically allowing this assault on his own free will. In fact, Dean's hands were clutching his hips and Sam hadn't even noticed his own hips swaying voluntarily against his older brother's.

The sound of Dean's cell-phone ringing interrupted their little interlude, thoughts that it was probably Bobby, with information on yet another escaped demon, soothing their urges instantly. "Rinse off, we've got work to do," Dean whispered, biting Sam's ear and squeezing his cock for emphasis.

Dean grabbed a towel and wrapped it loosely around his waist, as he made his way out in the main room, to accept the call. For a moment, Sam stared at the wall, stoically unmoving, while waiting for his erection to subside. He was tempted to give in and jerk off, but if Dean could hold up without being gratified, so could he.

It took a long time for either of them to stop pretending that their twisted little game was much more than that; that something had changed between them. It wasn't just about the sex, or more accurately the near sex, anymore.

There had been an unspoken rule in their little game; no completion, no penetration. That had worked fine for a while, because a lot of what they did were out of anger. They both had the bruises and bite marks to prove it.

Then, a month or so into it, they could barely make it onto a bed, or inside a shower.

It started with Dean telling Sam he had done a good job after a hunt. Sam'd been sitting on the hood of the Impala, all packed and ready to go, in front of their latest motel room, basically waiting for Dean to come down so they could get the hell out of Nowheresville, America. The remark had shocked Sam and all he could do was stare at Dean. Not once since he had joined in on the 'family business' had Dean ever complimented him. Yell at him, yeah. Bark orders and push him around, sure. But compliments from Dean were a foreign language Sam didn't understand being spoken to him. He wasn't sure what to make of it.

Then Dean started getting more touchy. Like he was desperate for some contact. It was clear to Sam during their... er... intimate fighting, as time went on. The kissing and the touching became softer, and there were no bruises and bite marks anymore. Whatever it was that had caused the change, Sam was grateful for it. Fighting with Dean was both mentally and physically exausting. So he returned the gesture, telling Dean they were a great team. And it wasn't hard for Sam to see the genuine smile on Dean's face, and that his eyes brightened with the comment. Right then and there, Sam knew something had changed between them, and he needed to find out how it had happened.

Sam was hoping Dean and him would figure this out together. He was fearful that bringing up the matter in question might eliminate what they now had between them; what they were doing together. If he was honest with himself, Sam really didn't want to stop. But, sometime between now and when this whole mess had started, things got more intimate, like they were... well, lovers. And Sam discovered that he was anticipating the next time they would get together for another sexual encounter; that he couldn't wait for his older brother to be pressed up against him.

"Sam?" Dean asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah?" Sam mumbled as if in a daze.

"Everything okay?" Dean inquired, and it suddenly dawned on Sam that he had been waiting for Dean to figure out what's going on (Sam wanting him desperately) and fix it; to take care of Sam. Because Dean's his big brother and that's what he'd always been doing. And then, Sam realized sometimes you have to be your own hero.

Sam sighed, "Uh, I- I was thinking... About- us," he started lamely.

"What's wrong with us? You mean our- um- spites? What's wrong with them? We're just having- uh- fun. We found a way to work out our frustration with each other, and you just wanna stop, now?" Dean stammered, confusing the phrases like a child who didn't know enough words to express what he wanted to say. The rush with which Dean's speech came out of his mouth, caught Sam momentarily off guard and he just stared at Dean dumbfounded.

"Dude-" Sam tried, but Dean continued, voice rising in a way that almost suggested he was panicking.

"-Sam, that's not fair!" he exclaimed, looking as his brother was bluntly trying to deceive him in the most traitorous of ways.

"Dean, chill-" Sam tried again, with the same lack of result.

"I mean it's like we're doing therapy together. In a twisted kind of way, but still-" Dean rambled on, until Sam felt a headache stirring behind his forehead.

"Dean!" he yelled, snapping his fingers to get the blond's attention.

"Huh? What? Stop behaving like a fucking girl, damn it! Spit it out! What is it?" Dean snarled, and all Sam could do was laugh, somewhat hysterically, because Dean was the one complaining about Sam behaving dramatically, when Dean was the one falling apart, without even knowing if there was any reason to.

"Stop assuming and hear me out, man. I never said I wanted to stop our... whatever it is we're doing!" Sam defended himself. And, damn, this was not going well. Dean was heading to the opposite side of where Sam was trying to direct him to. Sam just wanted them to be together; for real.

Sam wasn't conceited or selfish. Really. It was just that Dean was his. It was that simple. And he wanted to make sure that Dean knew this; that he was Sam's and no one else's. No one else's at all. Dean was only Sam's.

And Sam was tired; tired of chasing after the fleeting moments he was allowed to get what he really wanted; tired of pretending that what he wanted wasn't already tangled between his feet.

"Then what's the problem?" Dean asked, almost pleadingly, like he didn't want to talk about it -and of course he wouldn't but they needed to sort this trough.

"Somewhere along the line, the game changed. Haven't you noticed? It's like we no longer do it out of anger," sam explained. Sam had known he wouldn't be able to hide that kind of emotion forever, but he'd tried, pouring all these feelings about his older brother into constructing and maintaining the facade that would keep Dean in his life - hard as it was to want Dean so badly, it was nothing compared to the idea of losing him. It had always been a matter of time, though, and now that time had run out; there would be no taking this back or explaining it away.

Dean got a far off look in his eyes, and Sam knew what he was thinking. He's recounting every single time they had... been together. A few moments later, Sam could practically see realization dawn on him. And he was hoping Dean would comprehend why all of the sudden Sam was questioning it.

"I guess we've become more intimate lately," Dean admitted hesitantly.

"Yeah," Sam sighed relieved as Dean sat next to him onto the Chevy.

"So what now. What do we do? Do we stop?" Dean pressed on, closing his eyes as if he already knew the answer was going to be "yes" and he was expecting an affirmation from Sam.

"I don't wanna stop," Sam whispered.

"Really?" Dean's eyes opened and widened and then he blinked rapidly, several times, "but I thought you had a problem with it?" he questioned.

"I don't. It's just that... in the beginning I was just so mad at you. I- I wanted to punish you for making that stupid deal. But, now I- I think about you all the time. I can hardly wait until the next time we..." Sam trailed off, looking away, reasonably embarrassed.

Dean just looked at him, with those piercing green eyes that haunted Sam dreams (well, wet musings more like it) and Sam could only wait until Dean would snap and go all ape-shit on him. Yelling and beating him to the ground. So he waited.

And waited.

And nothing was happening.

The seconds dragged on as Sam tried to quell the shaking of his hands, waiting for the slam of the car's door, the dust that would make him cough his lungs out as Dean would drive away, or the impact of his brother's knuckles against his cheek.

Instead of the blow-up he anticipated -and God knew, he deserved- silence settled between them, punctuated by the soft rhythm of Dean's steady breathing.

Dean just kept looking at him, like he was trying to look into his very soul. Then Dean did something unexpected. He reached with his left palm and caressed Sam's cheek. Sam unintentionally rubbed his cheek against Dean's hand, his eyes drifting shut at the sensation, left hand sliding around Dean's waist, pulling him closer, "Dean, what are we doing?" he whispered, waiting for guidance, wishing for his big brother to have all the answers in the world, the trick as old as Sam himself was.

"I don't know, Sammy," Dean whispered back, kissing his way from Sam's jaw to his ear, and blowing hot breath inside when he got there. Sam felt his body stiffening, his muscles tightening with want.

"I think about you all the time too," Dean confessed, his hand slinding from around Sam's waist to inside the back of his shirt, "I think I have feelings for you that I shouldn't have, Sam," he revealed, as he tongued Sam's lobe and Sam could only moan ever so softly.

"I can't help it. It's like- I can't even begin to- You're everything, Sam. Everything that is good about me, are thanks to you. In our line of work, I would have become a monster if I didn't have you to keep me human; keep me sane. And I want you. I want you more than just some part in this weird game we've been playing. I want you as a lover," Dean brushed his lips over Sam's, a feather light touch, "I want an 'us'. I don't wanna play anymore, I just want the 'you and me' part of the equation," he said, eyes as clear as a forest after the rain.

Sam could feel Dean pour all his passion, all his love into the next kiss, tongue licking at his lips until Sam finally parted them. And oh God, Dean's hands were threading in his hair, fingers wounding tightly, deepening the kiss, Dean moaning into his mouth.

Then Sam began to push at him, muttering and Dean backed off, "Sorry, I know I got carried away, Sam, but I really want to-"

"I know, so do I, Dean, but are you sure? Are you really sure you want this? I mean we're still brothers. At first we were just trying to dominate one another, our game being about punishment and nothing more. Fuck buddies, without the actual fucking. Now, we're about to cross into a whole new territory. You really want us to be both brothers and lovers?" he whispered thickly.

"Boyfriends," Dean argued.

"What?" Sam asked, disoriented.

"Brothers and boyfriends. Lovers just sounds too girlie for me," Dean chuckled.

"Jerk," Sam sniggered, the urge to reprimand Dean too strong to be restrained.

"What's it gonna be, Sam? Are we ready to break our unspoken rule regarding our game?" Dean asked, not even bothering to retaliate with the infamous 'bitch'.

Sam had to think for a moment, partly to figure out what Dean was talking about, and, when he figured it was the "no completion, no penetration" rule, mostly just to make him squirm.

"Sam?" Dean pronded.

And just like that, the invisible dam between them the one they've never talked about, never even acknowledged, but been acutely aware of since they were old enough to stop taking baths together quietly and irrevocably burst.

"You do know that what we're about to do, is illegal right?" Sam smirked, as his brothers eyes lightened up.

"Sam," Dean whined, "C'mon! Half the stuff we do are illegal. It's like a triple taboo: Two hunters, two guys, two brothers... hitting it off," And Dean clearly hadn't thought about it like this before, because his eyes widened and then they glazed with arousal, "Ooh, man, we're so fucking hot!" he exclaimed, getting flustered by his own words.

"You always did think with your dick, Dean," Sam laughed.

"Can't really help it when I'm around you," Dean smiled.

Dean gazed up at him, eyes a little worried now and Sam smiled, throwing all precaution out of the window.

"I love you," he said and Dean's eyes filled with tears and overflowed. Sam had never seen him cry before when neither of them were on the threshold of death. But then again, growing up the way they did, both of them were sort of desperate for love; especially each other's. And, with a kitten soft touch, Sam's tongue darted out to collect the tears and drink them down, warm salt in his mouth.

Sam lifted his hand and cupped one smooth cheek, stroking the lingering dampness, "Tell me you love me," he pleaded, suddenly needing to hear it too.

"I love you," Dean said instantly, heart in his eyes.

"Tell me you'll always love me," Sam demanded.

Dean's hand lifted now and cupped his face and Sam found himself leaning into it's warmth and solid masculine strength once again.

"I will always love you," Dean said fiercely, and then his lips found Sam's and he was kissing him wildly, deeply, pushing him down onto the hood of their car.

And Sam was answering the kiss just as fiercely, as need exploded out of him. He gripped Dean's neck harshly, twisting under the bruising kiss, returning the sensual rasp of tongue against tongue, throwing his head back to take a breath, before he whispered wickedly agaisnt Dean's lips, "Tell me you forgot we're outside, again."

"Wha'?" Dean's brain caught the meaning of Sam's words, and then, "Oh, God," he jumped up ...and landed ungracefully on his butt, on the ground beside the Impala. Sam's 'younger brother' spirit, couldn't keep the laughter from escaping out of his mouth.

A/N: Now, now, settle down. I'm not trying to torture you. I've written an epiloge with what happens next, but it needs to be proofread. It'll probably be up by tonight.

In the meantime R&R.