So I'm late, yeah, I know. The chapter kept getting longer, couldn't be helped.

Okay, so Sam is having issues. I want to be clear about things, no matter what he does physically with Dean, it does not mean he "over" what happened to him. In a lot of ways he will never be "over" it, he can heal, he can move on but he's not "over" it. When it comes to Dean and a physical relationship, what happens between them is possible because of Sam's unwavering trust in his brother.

I do not own nor am I affiliated with Supernatural, WB, CW, Kripke Enterprises, actors, or other affiliates there of. No profit is being made from this.

Sam eyed himself critically in the motel bathroom mirror after his shower with a frown. He had gotten so . . . thin. The last time he was this thin was when he was a teenager and his body was growing faster than he could keep up with. Sam didn't like it then and he liked it even less now.

Once he'd gone to Stanford, he'd lost a little of the muscle tone he'd once had from all running, sparring and fighting he had done with his family. Since coming back to the life, over the past couple of years he'd managed to gain that back and a little more besides. Not enough though, Sam had been working on bulking up some more, hunters needed to be strong after all. Besides, it made him feel better and gave him more energy. Then there was the rape, the medications, the fatigue, the illness. He'd dropped so much weight so quickly, his muscles seemed to melt away. He looked like a scarecrow.

Sam wasn't vain or anything but, he wasn't oblivious to his own attractiveness. He might feel like a gawky, bumbling idiot around beautiful women but he knew that he was good looking. At least, he had been. He felt like it was compensation for his social inadequacies. Sam hadn't been the friendliest person when he got to Stanford, a lifetime of trying to keep obscure too ingrained in him. Sam had felt awkward and uncomfortable when talking with his peers. He'd acclimated quickly enough.

Sam didn't have to worry about not being able to talk to Dean. He didn't have a problem talking to him, not really. Even about things that were more personal. So maybe being a big brother he was also more likely to make fun of Sam for something but Dean always knew when to draw the line. Dean may not be comfortable talking about emotional problems but if Sam really needed something like that, Dean would do it.

It had been a week since they actually sat down and talked about their new relationship. It was a basic talk, just laying things out in the open, short and to the point. Sam thought it had been the best course, after all, this was going to be a long-term thing between them. Whatever problems or issues occurred, they could deal with them as they went. It was better that way, he didn't even know how many problems might crop up along the way. Sam already knew he had a ton of issues to work through, issues that had never been present before. Dean was patient, Sam had forgotten how patient Dean was. Growing up, Dean had always been more patient and tolerant then their father had been, always willing to help Sam, guide Sam, and work with Sam. Not much was different in their relationship, their current relationship that had changed with Sam's rape, anyway. Dean's touch seemed more intimate than it had been. A hand on his wrist, at the small of his back when they walked. The best part was that Dean was still, well, Dean. He was still Sam's annoying, superior, older brother. He still played his music too loud, he still made snide comments about Sam's hair, and he still did and said things just to bug Sam.

The biggest changes were most prevalent when they were alone together. Even in the Impala, while Dean was driving, occasionally, almost hesitantly, he would reach over and lace his fingers with Sam's. That always led to Sam staring stupidly at their intertwined fingers for a few minutes. He recovered quickly enough, it was just so new and Dean had never seemed much for wanting to hold hands with anyone he dated. Not that Sam thought they were "dating" exactly, he didn't know what to call it. Sometimes, when Sam was sitting close enough in the car, Dean would put his hand on Sam's thigh. It would be brief though, just a slight squeeze. Sam felt somewhat bad because he felt as though Dean pulled back quickly as if he didn't want to make Sam uncomfortable, which he wasn't. It was Dean, after all. He didn't say anything though. Sam never initiated these spontaneous actions either.

Sleeping in the same bed wasn't that different since they'd started doing that in the cabin. The beds were smaller and Sam sometimes wondered why they didn't just get a room with a single, king-sized bed.

The biggest difference was the kissing, of course. The two of them lay together every night, often making out like a couple of teens whose parents were away for the weekend.

That was it though. Since that first night, they hadn't done anything but kiss. Sam knew that was mostly on him. That first time happened mostly because of all the repressed emotion and attraction that came pouring out of the both of them. Sam enjoyed it but thinking about taking things further, or even doing the same thing again, it gave him an uncomfortable squirming in his gut. The thing was though, he wanted to do more, and he just couldn't bring himself to say anything. Additionally, Sam couldn't bring himself to do anything either and Dean wasn't a whole lot of help in that department.

Dean didn't want to push Sam and Sam wasn't inviting a whole lot of pushing. Dean would start kissing him and Sam would enthusiastically respond. Dean had found his sweet spot, well, his sweet spot above the waist anyway. Sam's neck was the most sensitive part of his body, besides the obvious. Dean found that out easily enough. A few well placed kisses and Sam was gripping Dean's shoulders, gasping and moaning. Apparently, Dean couldn't take that for very long, he always stopped as soon as Sam's hips started their involuntary motions.

It made Sam feel like a horrible tease most of the time.

He didn't want Dean to stop but he was too nervous to say so. Not to mention Sam didn't even know how to say it. Then there was the fact that at some point he would actually need Dean to stop. How was that fair? To get Dean going and then stopping him when things got to be too much for him.

Sam scowled deeply at himself at the mirror. He was contemplating how his body looked and feeling like a tease. Why did he have to be such a girl like Dean always said?

Sam dressed quickly, always layering his clothing. He still wasn't comfortable dressing in front of Dean, which was ludicrous. Dean had seen him already, Dean had seen the damage done by the people that attacked him (though the marks left behind were slowly fading), and he had seen how thin Sam had gotten after dragging him out of the shower. Sam didn't know why he still felt the need to hide himself from his brother.

Maybe he did know. There was still the underlying feeling of shame he had. It never went anywhere it just clung to him. It had lessened, like the feeling of filth, yet it lingered. It was shame that always made him feel the need to hide himself from Dean. Sam still felt ashamed of being raped, he felt ashamed of how he looked now. It made him nervous and made him second-guess this new relationship with Dean. How would he be able to begin a physical relationship with his brother if he kept feeling this way?

In addition, what if Dean always stopped himself from taking things too far was less about putting Sam at ease and more about Dean not . . . liking him. Liking his body. After all, Dean was used to girls, soft, curvy, pretty girls. Sam was all boney and skinny and definitely not pretty in any way. What if . . . what if Dean just didn't like how Sam looked?

A sharp knock on the door brought Sam out of his reverie.

"The hell, Sam." Dean's voice sounded from the other side. "Ya fall in? Let's go."

Sam sighed heavily and exited the bathroom. Just a week into this and he was already feeling insecure.

Why did he even bother?

A little while later he received his answer after he slid into the Impala. His brother reached out and squeezed the back of his neck gently before pulling out of the parking lot. Sam glanced over, Dean smiled at him with that same fond look he had, that look that was meant solely for Sam, and no one else got to see that except him.

Sam smiled back.

Yeah, this was why.


Dean stretched out on his stomach on the floor, a blanket between him and the old dirty motel carpet. He groaned in bliss as Sam's hands kneaded the flesh between his shoulder blades.

Dean hadn't been on the receiving end of one of his brother's massages for months. It was even more pleasurable than he remembered.

That could be because Sam was currently straddling him while using Dean's ass a seat as he gave him a rub down.

"Enjoying yourself?" Sam's voice had a distinct smirking tone to it.

"Less talking," Dean grunted. "More rubbing."

It wasn't until after the words left his mouth that Dean realized the suggestive nature of them. Sam paused in his ministrations.

"You know what I mean," Dean hastened to say.

Sam continued the massage, "I know, Dean."

After a few minutes, he paused again, "Dean . . . ?"

Dean stifled another groan, this one of frustration, he wanted this massage. "Yeah, Sam?"

He knew that after the talk in the diner, things were far from over. Life wasn't that simple.

Stupid complicated life.

Sam sighed and started kneading again, "Nothing."

"If you got somethin' to say," Dean muttered.

"It's nothing," Sam insisted. "Forget it."

Okay fine, Dean thought, guess we have to do this the hard way.

Without too much difficulty but a lot of annoyed protesting from Sam who was bounced around a lot, Dean rolled over, under his brother. Then he grabbed one of Sam's wrists as Sam tried to slip off him. Although they were both wearing jeans, Dean was aware of the sudden contact of their dicks through the denim, though he tried to ignore it for the time being.

"What?" Dean asked, hooking a finger in Sam's belt loop to keep him from standing.

Sam looked away, "Nothing . . . it was just-" he bit his lip.

Dean huffed, took his finger out of the belt loop and curled his hand around Sam's waist instead as he sat up, then let go of his wrist so he could hold his brother more securely. Sam blushed deeply, that worried Dean a little because Sam tended to do that much more often these days. He didn't know if it was because of embarrassment or because he was ashamed of what they were doing. He didn't think the latter was likely, what with Sam's insistence on this aspect of their relationship but it was always possible that once they'd begun this, once there really was no turning back, Sam could change his mind.

Any thoughts he had about Sam having doubts fled in the next moment as Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders and kissed him. Damn, but his little brother knew how to kiss. Sam wasn't above using that ability to distract Dean whenever he wanted. Dean was going to have to find a way to resist this talent of Sam's if he was ever going to be able to focus again.

Only . . . later, right now Sam 's tongue was sliding along Dean's. His body was warm and solid against him. It was a bit of an inconvenience that Dean's shirt was off since Sam's wasn't. He wanted to feel Sam's skin against his own.

Dean had learned something in the two weeks after they'd talked. Taking things slow sucked. Not that Dean couldn't control himself, he just really . . . wanted Sam. He couldn't remember wanting anyone as much as he wanted his brother. Not even Cassie.

That wasn't even the worst of it. He didn't want to fuck Sam. Dean wanted to . . . ugh . . . make love to Sam. He didn't recall ever having thought anything so girly and gay in all his life but it was true. Dean wanted to show Sam what it could be like, what sex between two people who cared for one another, who loved each other (and he did love Sam, even if it was hard for him to say in so many words) could be like. Which Dean knew was a strange way to think about it. Sam had loved Jessica after all so Sam had experienced sex and love.

However, had she loved him with the same level of devotion that Dean did? He doubted it. Mostly because Jess hadn't been the one to love and raise Sam since he was a baby. She wasn't there watching over him as he slept, to take care of him when he was sick and comfort him after a nightmare . . . talk about full circle. Dean had been there for Sam, always. Dean knew he was overly attached to his little brother and it bothered him a little. Not enough to want to change it. His happiness was connected to Sam's and whatever made Sam happy, made Dean happy.

Therefore, to make love to Sam, to show him how it could be between the two of them, to experience that level of intimacy and adoration, that's what he wanted.

He wouldn't push it though, not until Sam was ready. Now, he was learning how difficult it was. He pulled himself away from Sam a lot because once Sam started to moan, beg, and plead . . . Dean was just afraid he wouldn't want to stop. That he would take things too far before Sam was ready for it. Dean knew that if Sam told him to, he'd stop, he couldn't bring himself to push his brother beyond what he wanted, especially now. Knowing Sam though, he might not say anything, so determined to prove that he could handle things, that he was ready for things he really wasn't ready for. Dean couldn't let that happen, so he tried to keep himself in check as much as possible.

Right now, he was aware that he was getting hard as he kissed Sam. Before he could second-guess himself, Dean let his hands slip under Sam's shirt. Just as his hands met the smooth, warm skin of his brother, he felt Sam stiffen and pull away. Dean released him immediately.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered, sounding tearful and backing away, clambering onto the nearest bed.

"Sammy . . ." Dean sighed, he got up and tentatively sat next to Sam.

"I'm sorry," Sam repeated, drawing up his legs and wrapping his arms around them.

"Hey, it's okay," Dean reached out and put a hand on Sam's back. "There's nothing to be sorry for. If anything I'm sorry, I pushed you for too much -"

"No!" Sam looked at him, "You haven't done anything wrong, Dean. That's just it, I . . ."

"What?" Dean prompted him, "C'mon Sam, you've been trying to tell me somthin' all night, spit it out already, wouldya?"

Sam looked away, "Look, I . . . it's hard to explain." He lowered his legs and looked at Dean he seemed deep in thought.

"Sam, listen," Dean rubbed his back, "we both know that I don't like to talk about anything but I also know that, this thing between us, it's complicated as fuck. Whatever you need to talk about, whatever you have to say, you can talk to me, you know you can, right?"

Sam lowered his gaze and nodded, "I know, I'm just not sure how to talk about it."

"Yeah," Dean said quietly. "I know what you mean."

He placed a hand on Sam's thigh then almost immediately withdrew it.

Sam frowned slightly, "Dean, I want you to know, I didn't pull away just then because I didn't like what we were doing or because I was uncomfortable or anything."

"Okay," Dean nodded, a little confused.

"I trust you," Sam looked at him earnestly. "You know I trust you. I trust you with my life, you're the only person I've ever trusted completely. I . . ."

Sam suddenly blushed deeply and looked away.

Dean tried to catch his eye again, "What is it?"

"I like it when you touch me," Sam whispered, then took a deep breath, "I like it, I want you to touch me Dean but . . . I don't . . . look the same anymore."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, still partly stuck on, I want you to touch me.

"It sounds so stupid, even in my own head." Sam told him, frustrated. "I'm . . . I've just lost a lot of weight, y'know? I know I don't look good -"

"Wait, wait," Dean held up his hand, "you think, what? That I don't . . . find you attractive?"

Sam blushed again, looking everywhere but Dean. He would have laughed but that probably would have bothered, Sam. Dean had just never imagined that he'd have to reassure his little brother that Dean was attracted to him.

"Oh Sammy," Dean slid closer to him on the bed, close enough to run the tip of his nose along the side of Sam's neck. "Do you have any idea," he kissed the side of Sam jaw, "how hot you are?"

He would have liked to said beautiful but that was a little too saccharine. Besides, Sam might not like "beautiful" in context to his looks, maybe it was too close to "pretty". Dean didn't know what those bastards had said to him but Sam had mumbled the words "pretty" and "bitch" during some of his nightmares. As much as Dean hated Sam's dreams, he was at least grateful for knowing what words to avoid.

Sam's eyes fell closed at the contact but then looked at Dean uncertainly.

"Dean, I know the kind of person you're usually attracted to," Sam started to say.

"Girls, Sammy, girls." Dean said, "I might give you a hard time about it but you're not a girl, your -" He stopped before he said "my brother" it was just so surreal that they were even having this conversation. "You, you're you and it doesn't matter, you're hot, totally."

Sam looked down, "So why do you always stop touching me?

Dean blinked in surprise, "Stop?"

"Whenever we're . . ." Sam bit his lip, "y'know, doing anything, you always stop."

"Sam, I don't wanna push you," Dean explained. "I need for you to be okay with what we're doing. You've been through a lot, we need to take things slow, and you need to be comfortable."

"I'm comfortable," Sam looked at him. "With you I'm comfortable. I trust you, Dean. You could never hurt me I know that. I'm not saying that I'm ready to start having sex yet. I know I'm not but, how am I gonna know what I'm ready for, how am I gonna know what my boundaries are without pushing them a little?"

"Sam," Dean let out a sigh.

"God, this is so typical of you." Sam grumbled.

"What?" Dean looked at his brother, a little startled.

Sam huffed, "I know what you're doing. It's the same thing with the hunting. You think I'm trying too hard, you think I'm trying to do things I'm not ready for. Well, y'know what, Dean? I think I'm able to decide for myself what I'm ready to do and what I'm capable of."

Sam lay down and faced away from Dean who stared at his back. It was surprising, he hadn't thought that Sam would want to do anything more than what they were already doing. Considering what his brother had been through, Dean thought it would be a long time before Sam wanted to take things further. Though the waiting sucked, Dean had prepared himself to wait for as long as Sam needed him to.

"I know it wouldn't exactly be fair to you." Sam said softly, "I mean, I'm not sure how far I could go with things before it would be too much for me, so it's not fair. I still want to though, if you don't, just say so. Just be honest on why."

Dean slid down and curled himself around his brother.

"Sammy," He whispered. "I don't wanna rush things, I want you to be ready, I want it . . . I want it to be good for you."

Sam turned in Dean's arms, looking into his eyes, "I want it to be good for the both of us."

"Look Sam," Dean sighed. "I want to do whatever you want, whatever you're ready for. If you want more, I'll give you more, I want to, I just need to know that you'll tell me to stop when you need me to."

"It's not fair to you," Sam whispered.

Dean shook his head, "Its fine, Sammy."

It was fine, Dean was willing to do anything that Sam could allow. He would stop when Sam needed to him to. Sam was right Dean could never hurt him.

"Just promise me," Dean said, "promise that whatever we do, you'll tell me to stop when you need me to."

Sam looked at him searchingly for a moment. "I promise."

Then he kissed Dean, slow and sweet, "You don't need to stop right now." Sam whispered when he pulled back.

Dean nodded, "Yeah, okay," he said before kissing Sam again.