Craving

Twilight brought some peace to Dean, though he knew that when faced with Sam, it could all dissipate in a second. He'd parked his car in an obvious place, using it as a marker for Sam to see where he should walk into the forest. A part of him worried Sam wouldn't come. Another part of him was irritated that he'd dare put his life into danger like this, meeting a vampire in a lonely place.

Sam pulled the Impala up next to Dean's car and parked. He opened the driver side door without shutting the car off, Metallica's 'Enter Sandman' blaring from the speakers, Sam walked back to the trunk and popped it open. Reaching in, he grabbed his brown jacket slipping it on, and then reached for one of the large hunting knives, sheathing it on his hip. He pulled the machete out next, then grabbed the sawed off shotgun and his pistol, tucking it in the back waistband of his jeans. After loading the shotgun, Sam closed the trunk and picked up the machete. Walking back to the driver side door, he leaned in, turning off the car and blanketing the area in silence. Knocking the car door closed with his hip, Sam headed into the woods.

Dean pushed away from the tree he'd been leaning against and walked toward Sam. "You came. Like I said, death wish."

Sam cocked a brow, "Right back at ya."

Stopping a few feet in front of Sam, Dean looked him up and down. "That's it? That's your arsenal, son of John Winchester?"

Sam smiled, "It's all I need. You are only a vampire, right? Cause if you're something else too, I might need to go back to the car, get other stuff..." he answered, pointing the shotgun he held in one hand in the direction of the car.

Suddenly, Dean's eyes went gold with amusement. He knew this was serious, it really should be... yeah... he wasn't gonna smile, not even when Sam's own smile was so damned infectious. "You ever felt a vampire?" Okay, so he was smirking. It wasn't a smile though.

Sam's teasing smile fell as he looked at Dean, licked his lips nervously. "Have I ever what?" He did not just ask him if he had ever... surely he didn't mean where Sam's perverted mind suddenly dipped, with visions of his dream floating before his eyes.

"Felt. A. Vampire," Dean spoke slowly, as if to a child, struggling to hide his amusement.

Sam frowned at him, "I. Heard. You." Sam said the words slowly back to him, only slightly louder. He shook his head, "...but really, saying the same thing, only slower, is not going to explain to me what you mean by that." He quirked a brow, "Of course, I've felt a vampire, you gotta touch 'em when your wrestling them down to the floor so your Dad can hack their heads off, so yeah, I guess so." And if your mind is going somewhere else with this, then yeah, I've done that too... felt you. In a dream, but still...

"C'mere." Looking down, Dean pulled his tee shirt up. Ordinarily, he wore a light pullover to fit in, but it wasn't necessary to pretend right now. "Don't worry, I won't bite."

Sam looked from Dean's exposed skin to his face. "I wasn't afraid that you would." Slowly, Sam took a step forward, then another, and another until he stood directly before Dean. Sam looked up, hazel eyes locking on green/gold as he licked his lips. "Okay, now what?" He asked, his voice slightly husky.

"Touch me. Slowly." Reaching out, he waited until Sam rearranged his weapons, then took his hand and placed Sam's warm palm on his cool stomach, slowly pushing it up his chest. Heat spread from Sam's palm, sending flames licking up and down Dean’s sensitive skin. He carefully leaned away, holding his breath so he wouldn't breath in any more temptation.

Sam's eyes were wide as he watched his hand move up Dean's abs, his chest, felt his cold firm smooth skin. Taking in a shuddering breath, Sam exhaled slowly. Well, this was a new distraction technique, he wasn't so sure how it would work between most hunters and vampires, but it was sure working on him.

Sam licked his lips slowly, before looking up at Dean's face. "I - I've never done this before, no, he stammered, shaking his head.

"All those vampires you touched, I don't feel different to you?" Gripping Sam's wrist, but not too hard, he pulled it away and let his shirt drop. "When you wrestled them to the ground, is that how they felt?"

Sam shook his head, "No. They were...different, but..." Sam sighed, looking away. Looking back at Dean he nodded, "Okay, so you're different. Fine. Death is still death. You kill one like you kill another. Chop off the head. Maybe salt and burn the remains if you want to be extra cautious, but still," he shrugged.

Suddenly, Sam tossed his weapons to the ground. "Look, it's not like I want to fight you or hurt you or your family anyway. You have nothing to worry about from me. And believe me, I DO NOT plan on telling my Dad about the vampires I met in Forks."

"You think I'm afraid of you? Of your dad? I'm trying to show you that you need to be afraid." Dean gave a frustrated grown. "Pick up that machete. Do it." When Sam picked it up again, Dean put his arm out. "You think you can chop off my head with that... just you? Cut my arm. TRY."

Sam grit his teeth, looking from Dean's face to his arm and back. "I really," Sam shook his head. He so didn't want to do this. With a sigh, Sam nodded, steeled his expression and dragged the blade across Dean's arm. "Okay, there. Ya happy?" Sam asked him looking into his face, not paying attention to his arm.

"Yeah, I'm ecstatic. If this is how you kill a vampire, you're dead ten times over. Do it again, this time fucking cut me." He practically snarled, wondering why Sam trusted him so much.

Sam narrowed his eyes at him before turning his gaze back to Dean's arm. Not even a scratch. Yeah, well, he hadn't really tried very hard either, not wanting to do it at all.

Grabbing Dean's arm, Sam looked up into Dean's face as the blade lowered to his skin. "Just remember, I didn't want to do this," he said as he pressed the knife down hard, gritting his teeth, then drew it downward toward Dean's wrist before releasing his arm. "You know, it's a hell of a lot easier to do this when you don't have the fucking hots for the vampire in question!" he spat out, before grabbing Dean's arm again and looking down, expecting to see a mess he would need to clean up until Dean healed.

Dean practically swallowed his tongue at that. It was like a totally lame delayed reaction, when he finally echoed Sam, "you have the hots for..." He gave a bark of laughter, "you're trying to distract me... not bad, but notice... no damage." He took the machete from Sam and started to easily fold the steel back and forth, like an accordion, until it was reduced to a small rectangle, and he dropped it to the ground. "I'll buy you a new one."

He stared at Sam, taking in his shocked expression, but his mind was still locked on what Sam had said. "Was it? A distraction?"

Sam looked back up at Dean, shook his head. "No. It wasn't. A distraction usually doesn't involve investing yourself into it much," he shrugged, "I find those work the best. Like kissing the spirit while my Dad burned the remains." I wasn't into it, so, no investment of self. In what I just said, I invested a lot. Wasn't meaning to say that actually."

Dean accepted that and made a semi-admission. "I know what you mean. But I'm not going to make the mistake of letting it slip out." Pausing only for a minute, he jutted his chin toward the rifle. "Now shoot me."

Sam's eyes widened, "What!? No fucking way! Are you deaf!? I tell you I have the hots for you and you want me to shoot you with a sawed off shot gun!? Are you nuts!? Fuck me!" Sam started pacing as he ran a hand through his hair. He was insane. That was what was wrong with Dean Cullen. It wasn't that he was a jerk. Wasn't that he was an ass. Wasn't even that he was a vampire. It was that he was fucking fruit loops!

"No. Yes. No. And... I can't," he answered in seriatim, laughing out loud at Sam's reaction. "Alice is right, you've got a flair for drama. You were okay with cutting me to death but shooting is different?" In three strides, he was picking up the shotgun at Sam's feet. "Loaded? Don't freak out on me, now, all right? You're doing great."
Sam glared at him. "Cutting you I can stitch. And I told you then, it was still hard to do. But, I sure as hell can't dig out a round of buck shot!"

Turning the gun on himself, though it was awkward because it was much longer than a pistol, Dean aimed it at his heart and pulled the trigger. His body barely moved under the force. He dropped the gun to the ground, put his hand over his heart and dropped wordlessly to the ground, next to it.

Sam's eyes widened, "Fuck. no. no. no," he muttered softly hurrying to Dean's side and falling to his knees beside him.

"Dean? Oh fuck! Why the hell...?" Sam nodded, "Cause I'm a Cullen" he muttered, making his voice high-pitched and whiney as his hands tugged up the front of Dean's shirt, running over unflawed skin as he checked for the wound. Sam frowned, Where...?,

Chuckling, Dean sat up. "That's right, cause I'm a Cullen, and you can't hurt me. Not with anything you got." Seeing the look on Sam's chalk-white face, he launched into an apology. "Sorry, I really shouldn't have done that, scared you. But you did say you're a famous hunter and you've killed lots of vampires... sawed their heads clear off..." That had him laughing again. "No seriously... sorry."

Sam was glaring at him angrily, "No, I said my father was a famous hunter. I've just hunted with him and yeah, we have. Not your kind obviously, but still." He continued to glare at him as he thought about Dean's 'kind' of vampire,Sure, you might be stronger, faster... but so are demons. There is always a way. Brawn doesn't always win.

"Not that I know what that has anything to do with you playing possum. I also told you I had feelings for you," Sam said tightly as he pulled to his feet and walked back over to the shotgun and picking it up, leaned it back on one shoulder. "Well, if you've had your fun. I think I can still make it to La Push before Mike and Tom leave."

"I was just joking. I hardly ever do that, but you make me feel..." Dean shrugged. "There was more to this demonstration, but you're right. You should go to your friends. It's better that way." He rested his head on top of his knees for a moment, then started to get up.

"Superior." Sam said. "The word your looking for, that I make you feel. It's superior," he said, before turning around and walking back the way he had come. Sam paused for a moment, but didn't turn around, "And the dream I had was about you."

"'Happy', was the word but thank you, 'superior' is true too ... and you dreamt about what!? Me." Dean felt like he'd been sucker punched. All of the strange new sensations that had washed over him as he watched Sam dream resurfaced. Holy hell... "Go," he agreed, "go, quick."

Sam stopped walking with a sigh. "Or what? You'll show me how to dream correctly too?"

"No." Dean shook his head. "I'm having a vampire moment, you wouldn't understand. Go, Sam. Be safe." Dry scrubbing his face, he added, "now that's a contradiction in terms."

Sam turned around slowly, tilting his head to the side. "A vampire moment that I wouldn't understand... Oh, you mean cause I'm such a poor hunter, I get it." Sam nodded with a huff before narrowing his eyes at Dean. "You know, you really are a jerk. I dunno why I had a fucking sex dream about-..." Sam clamped his mouth shut, shook his head and turned back around. Nope, he'd already said too much, revealed too much of himself. He was not going to give anything else away.

Cautiously, Dean started to circle around, trying to get upwind of where Sam was so his scent wouldn't continue to draw him. "That's right. I'm a jerk, I'm an asshole... don't move Sam. He could see by the stubborn tilt of his jaw, Sam was going to do anything but listen. "I was there when you were dreaming. I had to leave, Goddamnit, because I was afraid I'd hurt you. It's the same now. Please don't move... please don't," he whispered in a soft, husky voice, still stepping away.

Sam turned around, eyes searching Dean out and finding him. "You were in my room? How did you get in there? You saw me dreaming? Then you saw..." Sam grit his teeth, "Son of a bitch! Fuck!" Sam nodded, eyes downcast. "Fine, you know what? I don't care. Whatever. Hope you enjoyed the damn show. Did you, Dean? Huh? Did you like watchin' little Sammy Winchester have a fucking wet dream about your ass!? Mother FUCK!"

Dean blanched. Now there was a joke in there somewhere, but he couldn't see it at the moment. He was so used to eavesdropping on people's thoughts that things like privacy didn't really concern him most of the time. But he'd upset Sam, embarrassed him, and for that he was sorry. "It's not like that."

Or was it? Had he acted like a pervert? The name he called half the people whose thoughts he picked up on? "I just wanted to be near you for a while. I didn't know... I didn't know you were going to dream, or what you were dreaming about, only that you looked so damned sexy. I swear I didn't even know it was a sex dream, not until the end."

His eyes were inky black. He fought the darkness, the craving... he fought it yet stayed because he knew this was a pivotal moment and that he shouldn't fuck it up. "I apologize. I really am sorry." He caught hold of an overhead branch and gripped it tight, his fingernails permanently marking it.

Sam nodded, as he tossed down the shotgun, reached up and unsheathed the hunting knife and tossed it down, then reached behind him and pulled out his pistol, adding it to the pile, his eyes never leaving Dean. He bent then, pulling up his pant leg and pulled out a small pistol from a holster there, tossing it aside, then the opposite ankle he pulled that pant leg up and pulled out a small blade. Pulling back up to his full height, Sam shrugged off his jacket then pulled his tee up and over his head, spreading his arms wide, he started walking toward Dean.

Weapons were something else he hardly ever thought about, but when Sam started to peel them off his body, finding them under his clothes and tossing them in a pile, a wave of heat engulfed Dean. Oh come on... guns and knives weren't sexy. It had to just be him... And what the hell was he up to?

"You know, most people, when they want to be around someone, they do it during the day when the other person is awake." Sam shook his head, "Well, here I am. Be near me. I'm unarmed, something I've only been two times in my life since the age of five. Right now and the day I went to your house. I trust you, you won't hurt me. So, you wanna be near me. Be near me," Sam told him, eyes narrowed. Slowly, he let his arms fall to his sides as he stopped walking, standing only a few steps away from Dean. "Well, mighty vampire? What's it gonna be?"

"Most people aren't monsters. They don't hear your blood rushing through your veins, they don't crave your blood, they don't fight all day long against needs that are always, ALWAYS just on the edge of overpowering them," Dean said through clenched teeth, taking a step back, afraid... so fucking afraid for Sam, so afraid he wasn't going to get him to see reality. "My family has given up human blood, that's true. The temptation is still there. And then you come along, and everything I fought for..." he shook his head. "Your scent... yours alone is like a drug to me. It's like putting fucking cocaine in front of a drug addict... Ninety percent of the time, you are THAT close to death when you're around me. I should leave, but I can't... because there are other feelings... I've never felt." He licked his suddenly dry lips. "I came to your room because I needed to be close, but also because exposure to you makes it easier on me the next day. Otherwise, it's like starting all over again... like the first day you sat next to me."

He swallowed. "You know what? This might be the second time ever you're without a weapon, but its also the first time I've fucking given a monologue. I can't explain it to you any clearer, I can't. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry you're angry, or embarrassed. That's... that's about it."

Sam was smirking as he reached up, leaning his wrists on the low hanging branch Dean had vacated when he had stepped back from him. He stood silently, listening. At the end, he gave a soft chuckle, looking down at the ground before he licked his lips and looked back up at Dean. "When was the last time you kissed a human?"

"The first time was probably in your dream, unless everyone is running around dreaming about me." He felt Sam's gaze travel to his mouth, almost felt the heat in his eyes, the request. "I can't. Maybe some other time," Dean croaked. "Get dressed and in your car. I'll see you at school."

Sam huffed softly as he pulled away from the tree branch, "Must not have been that sexy then," he muttered softly, as he turned and walked back over to his clothes, pulling his jacket on without his tee.

Crouching, Sam gathered the weapons in his tee and pulled to his full height, grabbing the shotgun as he did. "Don't worry about the machete, I have more. Night, Dean," Sam said as he walked toward the edge of the treeline toward his waiting car.

Dean didn't answer. He stood there for long after Sam's car roared away, fighting his demons... forcing himself not to go to Sam's room again. Other thoughts ate at him, tempted him, told him he could take a single taste, that he could fight it... that he could beat the need to drain and stop before he killed.

When he finally headed for his own car, Dean didn't know whether what took place tonight made things better or worse, but change was in the air.

* * *

Dean got to school early and timed it so he left his car just as Sam reached it. He cleared his throat and searched Sam's face. Seeing no signs that either Sam was going to run the hell away from him, or that he was still angry, he muttered a few words about the weather. Rubbing his neck, he looked over at Sam. "If you want to meet after class to work on the project, we can maybe go to the library."


Sam frowned and looked over at Dean. "Just my luck," he said with a sigh. "I can't meet with you tonight, sorry. I have a date."

"Stacy." The name came out like an accusation, before Dean got a hold of himself. "Some other time then," he gave a nod, and looked away. "See ya in class."

Sam frowned, reaching a hand out, he grabbed Dean's arm. "No! Not Stacy! What the hell is it with you and her!? You WANT me to go out with Stacy!? What, she pay you to annoy the hell outta me about it!? It's some girl from the Res. I went home last night to find half the damn Res in my fucking living room waiting for me! This girl, uh," Sam waved a hand trying to remember her name, "Kim, her three brothers, one of which was giving me the creeps, and her grandfather. It wasn't MY idea. My Great Aunt and her Grandfather cooked up this little plan, not me!"

"It's cool, you don't have to explain to me," Dean said, looking at Sam's hand on him. Gently, he pulled away. "When's the wedding. You know, when the whole family comes calling it means..." He gave another half shrug, covering the feelings stirring deep inside him. Telling himself it was for the best. Sam needed to do normal human things, like dating, and finding someone else to dream about. Someone who wasn't constantly on the verge of killing him.

Sam grit his teeth together, narrowing his eyes at Dean. "I'm not sure when the wedding is. YOU seem to be playing hard to get, so at this rate, probably sometime in my next life!" Sam spat back at him, deliberately making it about Dean and not about this Kim girl who he had half ignored last night.

He had only stayed in the living room out of manners and respect for his Great Aunt. Not because he wanted to be there, and definitely not because he was interested in the girl.

Dean gave him a pained look. "I'm not acting anything. Just trying to keep you safe, since you aren't interested in your own safety." He moved away to allow some students to pass between them and into the building.

Sam shook his head, "Nope. I'm interested in you. Safety is highly over rated," he answered, before continuing into the building., then turning around and walking backwards. "If you wanna get together after the date, meet me in my room. We can work there. I won't be out late." Sam rolled his eyes, "Trust me."

"You're inviting me to your room after..." Hell no, he wasn't bringing up that powder keg again. "Alright. If I'm feeling in control and you promise to behave." He smirked, but he was serious.

Sam grinned and stopped walking, his head falling forward for a brief moment, before he looked back up at Dean. "Yeah, I promise not to molest you in my room."

"Good, cause I was real worried." Dean felt his family walking up behind him. "Crap." They'd seen so there would be questions, and reports back to Esme and Carlisle, and more questions. "Vamps are gossips," he confided, leaving Sam to walk ahead, as he went to join his siblings without looking back.

* * *

Sam stood in his room, pulling on a long sleeve shirt over his tee when a knock sounded on his bedroom door. "Come in."

His Great-aunt Cathleen came flittering into the room like some deranged fairy Godmother, as if he was getting ready for the ball. She came to a stop behind him, wrinkling her nose at his reflection in front of the old-fashioned full length mirror in the room. "You're really going to wear that, Samuel?" she asked him, quirking a brow.

Sam's eyes met hers in the mirror. "Well, yeah, why not?" And what was with the 'Samuel'?

Great-aunt Cathleen shook her head, frowning. "A lady likes her man to dress up for her."

Sam sighed, "Well, it works then, because I'm not 'her man,'" he told his aunt, watching her in the mirror as she moved around his room.

"Watch your mouth, boy. Don't be fresh with me, you know what I mean."

Sam sighed, hung his head, "Yes, ma'am."

"Besides, when you take her home, her brothers and Grandfather will be there."

Sam's eyes widened, "I have to go in!?"

That question got him a dirty look focused his way in the mirror. "Are you not a gentleman?"

Sam sighed, "But, that brother of hers, the oldest one," Sam made a face, "He creeps me out."

His aunt swatted him in the back of the head, "Don't be such a racist! He's a fine young man!" Living near a reservation, she’d had her fill of people who made judgments about those from the res based on how much someone had left their old ways and looks behind and could fit in with the townsfolk. Kim’s brother had long black hair, fierce features and evoked images of a young man in warrior clothes.

Sam ducked and sighed, turning his head to look at his Great-aunt. "I'm not gonna be out long, I have...." Sam pressed his lips together, as he tried to think of what to tell his aunt. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, "I have another date. With someone of my choosing. We have a project for school to work on anyway, so..." he shrugged, having added the bit about school when he had seen his Great-aunt open her mouth to argue.

Instead she snapped her mouth closed and gave him a curt nod. "Do I know this girl?" she asked him.
Sam shifted his weight nervously, "Um, well, actually, it's not a girl..." his eyes slid over to her in the mirror to gauge her reaction. He watched as she pressed her lips together, turned and walked out of his room, closing the door softly behind her.

Sam hung his head with a sigh. Great. Now his Great-aunt thought he was gay. Would probably tell his Dad the next chance she got and then all hell would break loose... Wonderful. He turned away from the mirror and went to his dresser, grabbing his cologne. Not like he cared what they thought. Not really... and his Dad would understand, once Sam explained... he hoped.

Twenty minutes later, Cathleen followed Sam to the front door of the house as he made to leave. "It's alright, you know? I'm glad you were honest with me. If I'd known, I wouldn't have arranged this thing with Kim. Just be sensible and don't tinker with her affections, alright? I'll put out some feelers, see what young men might be interested. They're a bit harder to come by in a small town like this but, I'll find them," she said, closing the door behind him with a shake of her head. He certainly didn't seem gay to her, but she knew that was her small town mind at work... trying to fit him within a stereotype. She wondered how John felt about all this.

* * *

Dean paced outside the house, resolving to give Sam a few minutes to himself before he joined him. He'd arrived just in time to hear a little bit of conversation between Sam and his aunt and figured out that Sam hadn't been back for long. Now the light in his room was on, so he had to be waiting for him.

Three minutes later, he decided Sam had had enough time. With the lithe movements of a cat, he jumped up to the window ledge on the second story and looked inside. The room was empty, so Sam had to be in the bathroom. Giving two sharp knocks, he swung himself inside the open window, leaning back to make it through in a single motion.


Sam walked out of the bathroom, and stopped dead in his tracks. "Uh," hazel eyes slid from Dean to the tee and shorts on his bed and back to Dean. He was wearing only a towel slung low on his hips, hadn't planned on Dean being there so soon and had wanted to clean up a little and get comfortable before he showed up. "I didn't know you'd be here so soon." Sam licked his lips. "Thought you might knock."


He'd seen Sam semi-undressed twice now, but tonight it was different. Water droplets clung to his flushed skin and heat practically steamed off him in the cool air. Dean didn't even try to hide the fact he was looking, memorizing the sight. When his eyes finally rose to meet Sam's, he had trouble mustering up a smile. "I ... knocked."

Sam licked his lips, shifted his weight nervously as he nodded, jaw tense. "Oh." He looked again toward the bed and his clothes, then back to Dean. "I'll, uh, just get dressed." Sam told him, before walking the rest of the way to the bed, grabbing up his clothes in one hand.

"Okay." He waited a long moment, then managed to turn his back. It didn't mean his mind wasn't on how fucking good Sam looked. He wondered what he felt like, what it would be like to run his palms across his smooth skin the way Sam had touched him last night.

Sam looked over at Dean as he turned away and swallowed. The way Dean had looked at him had felt like a branding, as if Dean were touching him without using his hands. Exhaling slowly, Sam straightened, clothes in hand, and looked at Dean again before glancing toward the bathroom. Making a decision, Sam let the towel fall to the floor, before stepping into his boxers and pulling them up, his eyes never leaving Dean as he did. His basketball shorts were next, then Sam grabbed his tee. "I think it's safe now," Sam mumbled as he separated the material, bringing it up to pull over his head.

Turning back, Dean sat down on the chair near the window. "You know, it would help if you didn't look as good as you smell. Let me see your hand," grinning as Sam lifted it, he added. "Just checking to make sure I didn't miss the wedding. How was the date?"

Sam huffed and lowered his hand as he sat down on the bed. He shrugged. "Kim's nice. Shy, quiet," his eyes widening slightly as he added, "Thank God!" he was comparing her to Stacy and her big mouth and he was sure Dean knew it. "She knows I'm not interested though," he told Dean as he reached for his notebook and pencil.

Sitting down on his bed, back against the headboard, Sam frowned down at his notebook, "She's not the one who worries me though, it’s her brother." Sam looked up, "I could swear he was... smelling me," he said, wrinkling his nose.

"I probably should say something like 'give her a chance...'" but it wasn't very likely. He'd only just resisted following Sam, then the fact that Sam was going onto the reservation had been a big factor in his success at hanging back. "Maybe you should just stay away from both of them, if you're getting strange vibes." Dean let go of the window frame and got his own book.

Sam quirked a brow, and smiled softly but didn't say anything as he watched Dean get his book out. Returning his attention to their studies, Sam licked his lips, pressing the pencil eraser to his bottom lip as he looked down at the book. "So, have you gotten anything done on your own yet?" Sam asked. "I wrote Juliet's letter to Romeo, and NO, you can't hear it or read it."

"Why not?" Getting up, Dean dropped the ads he'd written and illustrated onto Sam's bed. Putting one knee on the bed, he put his hand out for Sam's papers. "Gonna see it sooner or later anyway."

Sam looked up, lips parted, eyes wide as he shook his head. "No! It's...embarrassing! And why do you have to see it at all? Mrs. Appleby is the only one who has to see it. Read it. " Sam tucked the paper under his legs, "No way. Forget it."

"How's it gonna be part of the magazine we're both writing? Besides, I need to check your spelling." Moving swiftly, Dean leaned in and grabbed the edge of the paper. That was when he realized how close his face was to Sam's. His heady scent filled his nostrils and for a moment, he couldn't pull back even if he'd wanted to. He heard Sam's heart kick up a notch, and wanted to reassure him, but there were no guarantees. Swallowing hard, he tried to pull the paper away without tearing it.

Sam's eyes widened even more if that were possible at Dean's words, his mouth opened as he was about to ask Dean what he was thinking, that Sam was five!? Check his spelling... But then, Dean was right there, his face near Sam's and Sam couldn't think of anything else but Dean as hazel eyes locked with green/gold. His heart started to race and he knew it, but it wasn't fear that was singing trough his body, making him tense and swallow hard as he continued to stare unwaveringly into Dean's eyes.

He felt Dean pull on the paper under him and Sam's hand moved, fingers curling around Dean's wrist. "Please." Sam whispered, still gazing into green/gold hued orbs. "If - if you have to know... I'll - I'll read it to you."

Nodding, Dean pulled his hand away, trying to process the sensations rippling through his body as his palm slipped over and past Sam's. He knew then that if he had a working heart, his would be thundering as loudly as Sam's... and knew exactly why. "Okay, read it to me," he agreed, moving back but still in Sam's space.

Clearing his throat as he tore his gaze away from Dean's. Sam looked down at the paper and licked his lips. "I can't believe I'm reading this to you," he muttered.

Taking a deep breath, Sam started to read, "My dearest Romeo,
Though I knowest our love is forbidden by thy father and mine, I doth not care for when thou look at me, I feel more love than I have ever known before. Cherished and adored. And when I gaze into the depths of thine eyes I see the love of my life, the beginning of all my tomorrows, my future and my eternity.
I doest not care what others think or sayeth for what we have is beyond words, beyond all that they could ever hope to understand or experience. The feel of thine lips on mine, soft and hard at once, ignites in me a flame I never knew there to be. When thou touchest me I feel complete in you.
Memories of the sweet and delicious ache that wracks my body under your skillfull hands warms me on nights when we cannot be together, my love." Sam cleared his throat, slowly looking up at Dean, "It, uh, goes on like that for a while." he shrugged and licked his lips.

Every word affected Dean in a way he hadn't thought possible. The heat that Juliet described coursed through his own body, filling his own head with similar thoughts about a seventeen year old boy who had no idea what he was doing to him.

"Shakespearean porn... we'll both know what the teacher is doing if she hides in the closet," he gave a small laugh. "No... I know it's not porn," Dean raised his hand to silence Sam, who’d opened his mouth to protest. "It's beautiful, and full of emotion, and dangerous..." Slowly, he brushed his mouth across Sam's cheek. "Don't move."

Hazel eyes followed Dean's movements, a small sigh escaping at the feel of Dean's lips on his cheek. Eyes closing, Sam licked his lips, was about to turn his head, make it a real kiss, when Dean told him not to move, his forehead creased in a frown, frustrated. "Dean..." Sam whispered his name, a plea for more, soft and tortured and full of desire.

Dean's entire body responded to the plea, his muscles tensing, his mind filling with images of himself pushing Sam down and kissing him, of tasting his mouth.... of tasting his sweet blood. He lightly kissed Sam's temple and then worked his way back, touching the corner of Sam's mouth with his before pulling away slightly so only a few millimeters separated their mouths.

"Is this what hell feels like? Wanting something you maybe can never have? Is this how she feels when it doesn't seem possible? Juliet?" he demanded.

Sam's eyes flickered open as Dean spoke and now he searched his face. Taking an unsteady breath Sam shook his head, "She was willing to die for love. Are you?" he whispered back, his voice now husky with desire. "Because I am." Slowly, Sam's hand moved, raising it to thread his finger's through the back of Dean's short soft hair. "What are you willing to do for something you want?"

Oh God, if felt good to be touched. To be so close, even when he had to struggle... to fight to maintain his control. Dean's mouth burned... it ached to touch Sam's. Just one taste, just one. But could he stop there? He blinked, trying to curb his dark side, force it down. Trying to fight the force of this attraction. "That's not the right question. Not the right question at all."

Dean’s tongue darted out to wet his suddenly dry lips. "You should be asking me if I'm willing to kill for it... not to die for it. And you already know you're not willing to do that... to kill for it, you came to me unarmed. Twice."

(A/N: A few people have asked for emails to advise of updates. Please look at my profile and join my yahoo groups update notices only list. Thank you for your comments, I'm really enjoying them. I'd stopped posting at AFF for a while because of lack of interest. Glad to find people are enjoying the mixed verses of Twilight and SPN)