A/N: I'm so terribly sorry for making you wait so long for the last chapter. I've been so busy lately.

But, here it is, at last! Enjoy!

See that you'll read carefully the ratings, warnings and details on every chapter, for they'll vary.

For chapter 7:

Story Details: Rather random... You can place it anywhere you like. It's Dean and Sam eating breakfast in a diner... Except nothing is ever that simple about our boys...

Rated: M

Warnings: established relationship, INCEST, bad language, hints of sexual intercourse.

Disclaimer: I own... a craving for pie, after writing this :|

VII: Gula [Gluttony]

"Will you stop sulking? We'll be in the damn library in an hour!" Dean yelled irritated.

"We'd be there right now, if it wasn't for your damn pie-cravings!" Sam shouted back.

"Sam," Dean took a deep breath to calm himself "I love you to pieces, but, if you know what's good for you, Do. Not. Insult. Pie. in my presense!"

Sam's responce was incoherent, mostly composed by a series of curses, from which Dean made out the words 'pie', 'luck' and 'slut'. He frowned.

The waitress in the diner they were heading to was a curvy, black-haired, perky little bouncing thing. Who'd fit Dean's type rather well. Oh, who's he kidding? Dean doesn't have a type; mostly because his type has always been Sam, and since Sam was obviously off limits, anyone other than him would do.

Dean stared at his brother, whom was currently scowling at nothing in particular. Interesting.

Ten minutes later, when they were sitted on a table, waiting to be served, Dean mentally rubbed his hands together with glee.

The girl made her way towards them, her eyes widening as if she was trying to take Dean in from head to toe all at once. Dean glanced at Sam, whom was bitting on his lower lip rather harshly. Okay, if he rips Dean's favorite lip even a little bit with those stupidly sharp teeth of his, Sam's gonna find himself in major trouble.

"What can I get you today, sugar?" The waitress voice, broke Dean from his trance and he turned to look at her, leering at him with a smile on her face that was a little too much like an open invitation, even for Dean.

Testing his theory, Dean stole a glance at Sam's direction, whom was glaring daggers at the table in front of him, his jaw clenching so tight it had to hurt.

Dean frowned thoughtfully; pie was important, but there was no comparing it to Sam.

Internally smirking, somewhat eager to see his brother's and the girl's reactions, Dean casually stretched his arm across the table and gently cupped Sam's hand. "What do you say, baby?" he asked, tugging softly, to loosen the vice grip Sam had on the poor piece of wood, "Any particular flavor you'd like to try?"

Sam's eyes snapped up to meet his brother's gaze. Dean rarely used endearments out of bed. "Sweetheart?" Dean pressed him to give an answer, making a clear claim at the same time.

Sam's lips twiched in a fond smile, apparently figuring out what Dean was trying to do. "You know what?" Sam turned his gaze on the frozen girl by their table, "Bring him everything; Peach, apple, pear and whatever else you have," Sam ordered, offering the stunned girl his most charming, if not a little smug, smile.

Dean tried not to laugh, as she made her way back to the counter, her mouth opening and closing but no words coming out.

Sam turned to him, humor sparkling inside his eyes, and all the tention from their morning fight melted between them.

"Why is it that wherever we go, there's always someone to lust desperately after you?" He asked with a smirk.

Dean sighed. "Well, I can't help how devastatingly sexy I am. It gives me plenty of suitors to pick one with whom, one of these days, when I'll realize that you have no sense of ownership over me, I'll elope and we shall buy a cute house with a white picket fence, we'll have 2.4 children and a Coley dog named 'Buddy'. You know, the good, old American dream."

Dean watched in amusement as Sam's face twisted in mock sympathy. Sam reached over the table to pat Dean's arm. "There, there, Dean. One of these days you'll realize that if you did that, I'd kill whoever you eloped with, then I'd kidnap you and tie you to my bedpost to have my wicked way with you. Multiple times."

"Really?" Dean asked, his posture brightening. Sam laughed, and, this will sound terribly corny, but the sound was kinda like music to Dean's ears. Damn adorable incestous little brothers! Damn them all!

"So?" Sam inquired.

"So... What?"

"What was that all about? I thought PDA was a hell-no." Sam said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, well... There's this young/hot hunter I know, kind of a bitch but pretty damn useful ocasionally, and he told me once that if I care about what people think of me, I give them the power to judge me." Truth was, Dean was tired of pretending he wasn't with Sam.

"And I really, really hate it when people think they have the right to judge me." Cause every time Dean did something outrageous, like hold Sam's hand, the world was all "OMG! Look! Gay people!", like they were guinea pigs in a laboratory or something. Stupid fuckers, all of them.

"So, that was me making clear I don't give a shit, if being with you is acceptable or not." Plus Dean was sort of pissed off with all the leering sluts all over his brother -seriously, Sam was oblivious to how hot he was, and how much people (women and men alike) around him noticed that. Dean was not.

"I see," Sam looked like he was trying to smother a grin, "Your friend must be very smart," He said nodding his head knowingly.

"Oh, yeah, he thinks so." Dean nodded, chuckling as Sam automatically scowled.

"I mean," Dean followed up hastily, "I've waited for years, to have you with me, and I'm not giving that up for anything. Not now, not ever; you know that, Sammy." He explained awkwardly, hating that he sounded like a love-sick puppy and loving that it made Sammy smile again.

"I know," Sam says softly. "But a lot can change if we become more public, and I don't want you to feel like I'm trying to mess up your life again."

Dean sighed, understanding that Sam still felt guilty about the whole Stanford thing. Dean took a deep breath for courage, contemplating on how cheesy the next line was gonna sound, but deciding that if his honest-to-God feelings were cheesy then so be it. "My life is you -start to finish, inside and out. Everything else is just the journey."

For a moment, Sam remained silent and Dean thought 'Okay, that wasn't so bad'. Now, they could relax and eat breakfast together at peace.

Sam didn't look like he was going to do anything crazy. Except he was always doing crazy shit while acting like it was no big deal. He tilted his head a little to the side, and when Dean unconsiously did the same, Sam leaped forward, climbing on the table, knocking everything on the ground and landed stradling Dean's lap.

It was one of those kisses Dean had seen in movies, the kind in which two people's mouths open automatically and their tongues meet without awkward hesitation and disjointed movements and everything else around them fade to the background, unimportant and forgotten.

Sam kissed like he did everything else, generously, holding nothing back, with raw feeling and a reluctance to let go. And with something other, Dean didn't have a word for, but that made him believe that, in a way, he had always been able to reach Sam if he'd only taken the step.

"Sammy," Dean gasped when Sam's mouth released his and started a beeline down his neck whispering I love you's as he went, "let's get the fuck out of here." Dean demanded.

"I thought you wanted pie," Sam teased nibbling softly on the spot below Dean's ear.

Dean almost laughed, but it came out like a choked moan. Pie's got nothin' on Sammy. "I'd rather eat you," Dean rasped, his cock hardening more and more with every lick, suck and bite.

Leaving money on the table, rushing out of the diner, jumping into the car and even the route back to the motel room, were all a blur for Dean.

A/N: And... done! That was... yummy (I hope). Okay... You know what to do!