A/N: Ok, so this plot bunny is a result of the freak snow storm I found myself in once and I had to write it because it wouldn't release me until I did. The weather outside is frightful but the fire is still delightful…

Title of this fic stolen directly from Chris Daughtry, Over You. Powerful Man. Powerful voice.

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The snow is relentless, big flakes sifting down soft and gentle before the howl of wind steals them, swirls them into circles and gusts, pulls and pushes like a tug of war then twists them into needles that pick and sting the skin, making it hard to see through the thick white of it.

Sam's so cold he doesn't think he'll ever be warm again. His feet went numb about a half hour ago, his hands before that and he knows his core temperature has dropped dangerously low because his legs are dead weight, solid lead, barely clearing the drifts of snow. Whenever he slides on the ice below and has to catch himself, his bones and muscles scream at him for the sudden movement and the ache that settles back in, like ice in his veins, makes him want to puke his guts out. He's shivering so violently his teeth are rattling and he peers ahead into the white, hoping to find the dim outline of something that they can use as shelter until this freak storm passes.

They'd had to abandon the Impala further up the mountain because it was hood up in a ditch. When the sudden squall had hit, Dean was disoriented with the sheer white gusting wall blowing over them, unable to see and even with Sam sticking his head out the window, squinting for the fog lines painted on the road, they'd drifted off course, off pavement and they'd both felt the sickening backward slide as the rear wheels tried to bite and catch but failed, spinning helplessly in space. When they'd wrenched open the doors, the fall into the deep snow below had pissed Dean off even more, his swearing peppering the air and once they got a good look, they realized the Impala wasn't going anywhere without a winch to drag her out. They were gonna need help.

Bobby. But, not tonight. No point in Bobby getting stuck out here with them.

Nope, they'd just have to find somewhere to hole up for the night and deal with this in the cold light of day. Sam had climbed back up, retrieving their duffle bags and they'd layered as many clothes as possible but their shoes…

His sneaks were already wet and all Dean had was steel-toed boots on and those were gonna freeze up real good unless they found someplace quick. Socks on their hands gave them warmth for only a few minutes before the wind and snow ripped right through them, turning the cloth icy and stiff.

Sam thought he remembered a cabin in the woods a ways back so they started off in the general direction of the way they came. For the first half hour, Dean kept up a constant stream of worry that his Baby would get hit by another car or snow plow but Sam assured him they were the only stupid fucks out in this weather because people from around here probably knew enough to listen to the freaking weather reports.

Dean had stopped talking since then, and Sam assumed he was concentrating on staying warm and moving forward but when he threw a glance over his shoulder, Dean's eyes had changed from glittering fierce to vacant dull, plodding behind woodenly and barely responding when Sam said his name.

Dean was scaring the crap out of him.

He'd never been able to handle the cold as well as Sam, always more sensitive to it and now, Dean had progressed from severe shivering to barely moving, his face gone gray and frozen, finally coming to a dead stop, swaying with exhaustion, with hypothermia and Sam had started dragging him, propelling them both forward through sheer force of will, his only thought to get Dean warm and dry.

Near as Sam could figure, they'd been in the storm for a little over an hour when the shadow came up fast, took form quick and thank Christ, there was the house, deserted and dark but the door was whole, intact, the windows unbroken and a chimney sliding up the side. Sam's heart quickened, that meant a fireplace and he'd pulled Dean close, his brother almost unconscious, muttering in his ear that they'd be ok, they'd be warm soon.

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He slumps Dean against the wall and gives the door a heavy kick, because his fingers are useless, no way he could pick the lock but it buckles easy, hitting the inside wall with a thud. He shoves Dean in ahead of him and onto the couch, pulling off the socks on Dean's hands and blowing onto the cold white fingers.

"D-Dean, Dean, come on, y-you with me?" He rubs his hands over Dean's vigorously, trying to get friction going, his voice shaking as the cold shivers rack through his own body. He looks around in the dark, spies the huge stone fireplace and turns back to Dean "Listen, I'm gonna s-see if there's w-wood outside. Gotta get a f-fire going…be back in a m-minute."

Outside again, Sam can barely see through the wind and the snow, his face numb and stiff, lashes covered with frozen white and his cheeks feel burned raw, the gale lashing and ripping at his exposed flesh. He rounds the side of the cabin and sees a snow covered lump against the wall, a brush of his hand shows the cord of wood underneath and Sam digs in deep, wanting the driest wood he can get, filling his arms and making his way back to the door.

Four more trips and there's enough for the night and Sam finds some kindling on the hearth, piling it under the logs and lighting a match to it, throwing up a prayer that the wood's dry enough to catch. And yes, the old maple sputters and sparks, almost dies and then roars to life a second later, blessed heat on his face but something's wrong, there's smoke billowing out into the room and with a muttered, "Fuck!", Sam yanks open the flue.

The flickering light from the fire illuminates the small house and he looks around, doing a mental inventory of things they can use to survive. They're in a large room where overstuffed chairs and couches surround a thick, fur rug that lies in front of the stone hearth. A rickety ladder just off to the side leads to what looks like a loft, the door under it must be the bathroom and he spies the kitchen past the couch, the white metal and chrome cabinets catching and winking with the gleam of the fire. Sam quickly lights the oil lamps he sees scattered around the room, sending a glow from one end of the cabin to the other, the shadows dancing and twisting on the walls and over Dean's face.

Dean.

He hasn't moved from where Sam put him, his breathing shallow and slow and Sam jumps up, does a fast search for blankets and finds some under a window seat, thick down coverlets that look soft enough to die in. God, he's so fucking cold and all he wants is to sleep forever but he has to help Dean first and then he can rest.

He kneels in front of Dean, starts pulling off his frozen clothes and Dean's eyes are unfocused, staring over his head as Sam undresses him. Dean's skin is fish white, not even blushing when Sam presses fingertips into it and Sam tries to remember everything he knows about frostbite and hypothermia. Don't warm the person up too quick, make sure they're dry and use body heat to bring their temperature back to normal.

When he finally has Dean down to skivvies he realizes even those are wet and yanks them off, wrapping his brother's naked body in the thick blanket, picking him up gently and laying him down in front of the fire. He strips off his own clothes, hanging everything up to dry, shivering as the cold air bites at his skin and he pulls the other blanket snug around his shoulders. He takes up an oil lamp and makes his way to the kitchen to check on supplies and half-heartedly pulls up the tap, stunned when he hears the gurgle of air followed by a groan of pipes and yes, there is a God, the flowing liquid dark brown at first then running clear as it sputters and spits from the faucet.

A quick look in the cupboards shows cans of soup and ravioli, tuna and spam, dry cereals, rice, beans…shit, this is a fucking gold mine!

The propane tank under the stove is nearly full so he rattles in a drawer for a can opener, finds a pot and puts some chicken soup on to heat. He opens more cupboards, crackers and cookies, bottles of juice, dried milk, and then, holy shit, is that what he thinks it is? He blinks hard, reaching up, not believing their good luck…it's whiskey, homemade by the look of it but beggars can't be choosers and there's four, no, five bottles of the stuff so he tucks one under his arm, carrying it into the living room with the pot of soup and some spoons.

Dean's ice-cold, hasn't warmed up at all and hasn't moved an inch, laying as if in a trance, not even noticing Sam's presence and shit, Sam needs to get him heated up fast.

"Dean." Sam pulls him up so Dean's laying on his chest, "Have some soup, it's warm and good, it'll make you feel better." And tries to spoon some into his mouth but Dean doesn't swallow and the liquid dribbles down his chin.

"Dean!" Sam tries again, slapping at his brother's face to get a response but nothing. Lights are on but no one's home.

Sam puts down the soup and reaches for the whiskey bottle, grabbing Dean by the hair and tugging back his head, prying his mouth open with a finger. Sam pours in a good wallop, gets it mostly in before Dean's coughing and hacking it back up, wheezing to breathe and pushing weakly at Sam.

Well, at least he got Dean's attention.

"Take more." And Dean fights against him but Sam wrestles him back down, giving him another good swig and Dean swallows this one and the next, and his eyes are focusing, clearing and he's seeing Sam for the first time since they left the Impala.

"S-Sammy?" And his body is trembling violently, teeth chattering so hard Sam thinks they may break and Sam pulls Dean close, folding his arms around him to warm him but it's not helping, even though Dean's still wrapped up in the blanket, his shivering doesn't even slow down, not that Sam is that much warmer but still-

Sam takes a deep swig of whiskey himself and then another, feeling the burn of it make its way down his throat to his belly where it throws a layer of heat over him, warming him from the inside out and he's unwrapping Dean, laying him down on the rug so he can scoot up behind him, molding himself to Dean's back, cold ass in Sam's stomach, icy flesh against Sam's chest. He wraps them both up again so they're cocooned inside of two blankets, the soft rug under them and grabs a thick pillow to lay their heads on. He throws a leg over Dean's lower half, pulls him in close and tight against his chest, hugging him as hard as he can, willing his own heat into Dean's flesh.

"W-what're y-y-you-" Dean is gasping, hardly able to speak with the tremors racking through him and Sam hushes him.

"Body heat, Dean." He murmurs softly into Dean's neck, breathing onto the cold skin deliberately, trying to warm his brother every which way he can think of, "It's the best thing for hypothermia. Probably shouldn't have given you the scotch but it got you back here with me and now maybe I can get some soup into you."

"N-not hungry…just s-sleepy…so f-fucking tired…" And Dean's voice starts to fade.

Sam shakes him awake, "No you don't. No sleeping till I'm sure you're safe and warm. You could die in your sleep and I wouldn't even know so no way. You stay awake. First we warm you up, then we get some food into you and then you can sleep."

"Fucking b-bossy." Comes Dean's mutter and Sam smiles wide, hugging him in closer, huffing into Dean's hair with his warm breath and soon, Sam feels his own internal furnace finally kicking in, the blood flowing back into his veins, his fingers and toes picking and itching as the numbness fades and feeling comes back. He wraps himself around Dean, the warmth sliding and simmering between them, nothing breaking the silence in the room but their labored breathing and Dean's chattering teeth. Dean eventually quiets, his shivering lessoning with the warmth surrounding him, his jerking movements slowing and finally stopping and a deep sigh works up out of his chest as he curls his cold fingers into Sam's hands, his feet on one of Sam's legs to get the last bit of him warm.

"Look at me." Sam urges and when Dean turns his head, catches his gaze, Sam can see the color starting to bloom back in the white face and Dean's eyes drift closed and snap back open, struggling to stay awake now that he's warm, trying to do what Sam said but Sam feels himself slipping away, down into the heat, the pull of exhaustion almost too much for him and he starts, jerking himself back to awareness every few minutes.

"Sammy, can't stay 'wake…"

He struggles back to the surface, musta gone down for a few minutes and reaches up to slap himself lightly on the face, "Have to, Dean. Have to."

And Dean rolls over, burying his still cold nose into Sam's neck and Sam jolts back, "Jesus, Dean, your face is like ice."

"Thought that'd wake you up." Dean's got a laugh buried in his voice and when he cuddles the rest of him in nice and close, Sam is suddenly very aware that his brother is naked, pressing up against him, the half hardness of Dean laying against Sam's thigh and holy shit, this isn't good, not good at all-

He looks over Dean's head at the far wall, deer and antelope heads are staring back at him and Jesus, that's totally gross and weird and should be a total turn-off but just then, Dean shifts against him, moving himself to one side and Sam feels a sticky spot on the downy hairs of his thigh, pinching as it cools and when Dean's arms slide around his waist, Sam gives a moan of dismay because he feels his own dick twitch in response and what the fuck?

Dean rubs his nose against Sam's chest, back and forth to warm it and Sam knows it's an innocent act, but damn it, he's getting hotter by the second, his arousal is gonna be very apparent any minute now and he's gotta get this freaking thing under control because this is his brother he's getting a hard-on over and that's fucking wrong, seriously wrong-

He likes women, not dudes and it's just been a long time in between lays, that's all, hell, he hasn't been with a woman in months and of course he's horny and turned on-

Especially with Dean naked in his arms and snuggled in close, anybody would feel the same because let's face it, Dean's freaking handsome as all hell, with that gorgeous face and lean, hard body, especially when his voice gets all commanding and firm, mmm-

Sam jerks himself back so hard he almost whiplashes his neck. What in hell is he thinking about Dean's commanding voice for? He hates it when Dean gets all bossy on him and won't let him make decisions, it pisses him off to no end and since when does he think about Dean's looks or body? Come on, this is Dean-

The guy who put itching powder in Sam's shorts, who stuck a dirty spoon in his mouth and took pictures, who makes fun of him at every turn, calling him a girl and a dork-

The guy who went to hell for Sam, who loves him totally, completely, always taking care of Sam first before seeing to his own needs, always looking out for him-

When Dean hitches in his hips to get closer still, Sam's dick is right there between them, hard and solid and there's no way Dean doesn't know what that is and holy shit, now Dean's gonna fucking punch him or laugh at him and it's not like he planned this or anything, it just happened-

Dean goes completely still for a moment and Sam closes his eyes, waiting with dread because he knows this'll give Dean ammunition for the next year, at least, to torment Sam with and crap, this fucking sucks.

He waits for the cutting jibe that never comes, instead, Dean's mouth flutters across his own, jetting a sizzling jolt of electricity down Sam's spine, lips pressing in, soft and cautious and Sam jerks away, staring down at his brother like he's lost his mind, a thrill of something sharp and hungry flaring up into his chest.

Dean's eyes flick to his and away and he's shrugging an apology, "Sammy, I…God, I'm sorry…I shouldn't have done that."

"Dean-"

"Don't, Sam, ok, just don't. Let's just forget it, huh?"

Dean can't look at him, eyes lowered and face flushed, as if ashamed and he pushes away from Sam, sits up and shrugs off the blanket. Sam tries to haul him back but Dean's up and moving before Sam can catch him, "Dean, where-where are you going?"

"I'm warm enough now. I can have my own blanket."

"Dean, wait-"

"Where's that soup, dude?" And Dean keeps his back to Sam, scrambling to his feet, covering his nakedness with one of the quilts and taking the pot of soup up onto the couch, leaving Sam staring after him, an forlorn loneliness floating through him, his arms aching for Dean to come back again.

He stays where he is, turning back to stare into the fire, listening to Dean slurp the soup and thinking about Dean's lips, how soft they were on his and how the pressure of that mouth on his had flickered something deep and raw in his belly, stirred his dick to wakefulness and left him shaking again, but this trembling had nothing to do with the cold.

He licks a tongue across his own mouth, tasting his brother, familiar, like coming home and he'd always known Dean would taste like this. He rubs a thumb over his lips, the tingle of the kiss still there, in his memory, and God, he wants more of that taste, more of Dean-

He tries to turn his brain away, can't look at this too close because it'll be his undoing, change things forever and-

The emotions rush into him fast and furious, the floodgates open and he can't catch his breath, gasping over lungs that have drawn up tight in his chest and he can't cope with this, it's too much-

This is why. This is the reason he's always felt like a freak, even in his own skin.

He's in love with Dean.

Christ, with his own brother. What kind of a fucked up person does that, feels that way?

But there it is, clear and sharp, no arguing with it anymore now that it's shown its face and he knows in his gut, in his heart that he's always felt this way, always wanted Dean like this but couldn't admit it, even to himself because it's dirty and wrong.

So very, very wrong and yet-

It wasn't.

This is the one person in the world he trusts, the one person that's always been there for him no matter what. He's shared everything with Dean, every success, every failure and Dean's taken him in, taken him back even when he shouldn't have, given Sam a home no matter where they are, surrounding Sam with love

Dean's his hero.

He realizes that Dean must have finished the soup because there's only quiet above him and when he turns his head to check, Dean's staring at him intensely, green eyes catching the light of the fire and glittering down at him. He knows his heart is showing in his eyes because a flicker of surprise crosses Dean's face and he's stuttering over Sam's name, the whisper of it barely reaching Sam's ears before he's rolling over onto his knees in front of Dean.

They stare into each other, heat pulsing suddenly between them and when Sam reaches out a hand, stroking down Dean's cheek, Dean's eyes close and his lips quiver, so delicious looking that Sam lets the pad of his thumb stroke across and they part seductively, letting Sam in-

And sweet Christ, how in hell can he not?

Sam tries to hold back, he really tries but that mouth-

The next thing he knows, he's got Dean's lips under his, parting them and sliding his tongue in, the sweet wet of it stealing the rest of his breath and when he finds Dean's tongue, quivering meekly inside, he curls around it, a shot of electricity zinging through his body at the mere touch.

He moans deep, feeling Dean's hand on his chest, trying to push him away but it's not happening, he's not stopping now, not when they both want this and Dean can pretend all he fucking wants but Sam knows what he saw in Dean's eyes-

He pulls Dean in closer, spreading his mouth wider and taking him rough, possessing him, claiming him and he feels when Dean gives up, gives in and just lets him, opening up to let Sam take as much as he wants.

Sam's hips are between Dean's knees now, hands working their way inside Dean's blanket, sliding up the tense thighs slowly and circling back down to the knees, fingers spread wide and the next sweep up, he lets a thumb scrape along the underside of Dean's cock, now standing straight up against his stomach.

Dean jerks like something just stung his ass and tries to pull away but Sam pushes him backward and holds him there, plunging his tongue deep into Dean's mouth and Dean moans into him, rolling his hips suggestively.

When they break for breath, panting into the air between them, Dean's eyes are green coals of glowing fire, simmering up at him, begging for more, for everything and his voice cracks on the emotion, "Christ, Sammy, you-"

Sam swoops down, taking Dean's mouth with a fierce hunger, swallowing the rest of Dean's words down, sucking the soft lips into his own, swirling his tongue in, sliding over Dean's, the taste of his brother like a hot nectar, tickling his brain and whetting his appetite until he's shaking for more. He presses Dean back, peels open the blanket even more and lets his hands roam free, across the still cool chest while his mouth ravages and takes, parting the lips wide and diving in deep, wanting to be so close, wanting to own Dean-

And he pulls back, gasping in huffs of air, staring at Dean, at his mouth so bruised and swollen, at his eyes so steamy and full of lust, it's obscene, filthy and God, he wants.

Before he knows it, his lips are raking along the stubble on Dean's jaw, and he's nipping at the skin, working his way up to Dean's ear where he sucks and chews on the lobe, hot breath making Dean shiver against him and he licks along the shell, Dean's moans urging him along.

"Shit, Dean, so fucking hot…you don't even know…" And Dean's hands are in his hair, pulling his face up until his eyes are locked on Dean's and Dean leans forward, licks a hot trail along his bottom lip and down, sliding a path down his throat and suddenly pushing Sam back, down onto the rug, blanket falling away and Sam's hard on is there, straight up between them, making him blush and hide his face.

Dean's hands are tugging down his underwear, "Lift up, Sam." And when he does and he's free, the mouth that descends on him is pure fire, deliciously hot and wet, taking him in and releasing, mouthing at his balls until Sam's hips are jutting up into the air, thighs stretched taut, back arching into the sweet cavern holding him.

And he's come home, full circle, and Dean is taking care of him again, in total fucking control and for once, Sam doesn't fight against it. For once, Sam loves it, loves when Dean holds his hips down and pulls him in deep, flicking his tongue over and around the head of Sam's cock until Sam's crazy with desire, quivering with need and begging Dean for anything he wants to give Sam.

Dean's mumbling over his full mouth "Want you, Sammy, God, want you so bad-"

Sam needs to know and he stills Dean's head, one last moment of lucid thought before insanity takes him over, "How long, Dean?"

Dean lets Sam's dick pop out of his mouth and Sam doesn't think he'll answer because the quiet stretches out for infinity but then-

"For fucking always, Sam. For as long as I can remember."

And Sam smiles down at him and shakes his head in wonder, "Me, too, I think. Always had the want but I only now just realized what the fuck it was."

And Dean dives back down, licking and sucking until Sam is writhing underneath him, biting at his lower lip and running a shaking hand up through his hair, his other hand clenching the rug tight. Suddenly, Dean lets go of him and Sam gives a wail of distress because he's climbing up the wall, almost to the top and he's shaking with unfinished business-

Dean's mouth moves down, taking his balls into his mouth and Sam's legs are shoved up onto his chest and he helps, grabbing each under the knees and holding them up and the freaking heaven going on down below is sending him shooting to the moon, swooning and gasping and turning him into an idiotic puddle of goo, unable to make a coherent thought or even string two sensible words together.

"Dean, shit, fuck, Dean" and that becomes his chant as Dean's mouth moves lower, sucking over Sam's tight hole, circling around it with his tongue before using both hands to spread it wide, poking into it deep and it's so sweet, filling his belly with a rolling delicious wave of fucking desire so huge he wants Dean to swallow him whole, fuck into him until he screams with pleasure and not stop until he's shot his load deep into him.

"Jesus, Dean, please, need you…God, Dean-"

But Dean just moves in more, moaning low in his throat, tongue shoving in deep and pulling out and soon, pushing in a finger as deep as he can, crooking it so it scrapes along Sam's insides and making Sam jump and rock on his hips, whining into the air and begging Dean for more. Another finger joins the first when Sam feels Dean moving easily in and out and Christ, that burns like a fuck but good, so good too and he hears his voice, low and grunting as the fingertips scrape on this one spot that's just shoots waves of heat through his cock.

"Shit, Dean, so fucking good…ohhh, right there, right there, man, yeah-"

And Dean's tongue licks around where his fingers are buried deep, "Christ, Sam, you taste so fucking sweet-"

And he's up, spitting on his own cock and Sam feels the push, the spreading and Dean's going slow but he's fucking splitting him in two and shit, he can't take it, it hurts too fucking much, Dean has the biggest fucking dick in the whole world and it's inside him-

"Ow, Dean, stop, it fucking- you gotta stop man, I can't- Christ-" And Sam's breathing through the pain, trying to take it and he feels Dean sliding out and reaches down, catching at his hips, "Wait-"

"Sammy, I don't want to hurt you, let me go, I'll pull out-"

"No! No, just, give me a second…" And he's puffing out his breath, willing his muscles to relax because he wants Dean inside him, wants to be filled up with his brother and finally, fucking finally, he feels himself go soft inside, releasing the death grip his ass had on Dean's dick and Dean feels it, moving forward slightly before pulling back, inching his way in. With each thrust, Sam grunts and hangs on, moaning out a tight cry as he's plundered in a place that's fighting against it every step of the way.

When Dean is buried in him, balls smacking against his ass, they breathe together, Dean's lips on his, "So tight, Sammy, so fucking tight and hot, feels perfect, just right-"

And Sam agrees, even though his asshole is on fire, he still feels like he's just come home and it's more than he's ever deserved, the feeling of belonging, of being enveloped in the best love ever.

Dean pulls out slow and easy and slides back in, the friction between them making Sam squirm against the itch inside him and Dean does it again, pull and thrust and God damn, that feels fucking good! The burn is even good, bringing Sam back, making him feel alive and vibrant, totally there, in the moment, Dean's dick hard and solid, filling him up, stuffing him tight and oh, yeah…

This…this right here is about the best fucking thing in the world.

"Look at me, Sammy." Dean's voice penetrates his world and his eyes snap open, cling to Dean's like a life-rope, "You feel me inside you, man? You're just taking me all in, just opening up for me- Christ Sam, wanna shove inside you till you break and start screaming my name. Wanna be the only one you think about, the only one who ever gets to do this to you-"

And with each sentence, Dean shoves in hard and pulls out, rough and rolling in, spreading Sam wide and thrusting in deep and then reaching in, grabbing Sam's dick in his hand and tugging up, jerking hard until Sam is rock hard and throbbing.

"Touch yourself, Sam. Jerk yourself off for me so I can see you come while I'm inside you-"

And Sam reaches down, grips himself and drags his wrist up and down, pulling and yanking until he's climbing the wall again, making good headway, got blue sky and clouds right above and he's jerking and twitching against his palm, thumbing under the sensitive head and scraping down the underside, rolling his balls in between his fingers, climbing faster, faster and-

Dean starts thrusting in earnest, pounding into his ass, stroking against that frigging sweet spot inside him like he's got fucking radar, making Sam's hips buck and jerk into him, making Sam beg for Dean to shove into him harder, please God, harder-

And Dean gives another deep shove and Sam's cresting, falling over the edge, crying out his delight, his release, spurting all over his hand and stomach and Dean's rocking against his ass, swaying and bucking into him until he gives a gasp, another shove in and then he's rigid, muscles tense-

Sam hears his whispered, "Fuck, Sammy, fuck!" in his ear before he feels the liquid shooting into him, filling his insides with sweet, hot, come and Dean's still pumping, still shaking, the waves of it rolling over him until he comes back to himself and collapses on top of Sam, kissing his neck with passionate lips before sucking and nipping his skin.

They rest together, breathing heavy, coming down slow and easy and Sam hangs on tight, scared Dean's gonna fly away and leave, change his mind and pretend this was just a dream.

Dean opens his mouth and Sam cuts in, "Don't you say a fucking word, man."

Quizzically, Dean frowns and just looks at him, "What?"

"If you're gonna say you're sorry and that we shouldn't have done this, just shut the fuck up, Dean, 'cause I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear guilt or recriminations. I don't care if it's wrong or bad. I love you, ok? So just don't."

Dean smiles, a shit-eating grin if he ever saw one, "All I was gonna say is that was the best fucking orgasm I ever had and I'm finally warm!"

Sam blinks at him, has the grace to look ashamed and says, voice small and meek "Oh."

Dean laughs, "Yeah, oh."

And Dean leans down, kissing him hard and possessive, driving all stupid thoughts from Sam's head and yeah, with some soup in him, Sam can totally gear up for round two…

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