Title: Watching You, Wanting You
Author: Jedi Princess Clarrisani
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean pre-slash
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 938
Warning: Wincest
Disclaimer: I do not own, or there would be more wincestry moments
Summary: Sam couldn't be sure when he'd fallen for Dean.... Companion fic to "Seeing You, Needing You".


Sam couldn't be sure when he'd fallen for Dean. He had a feeling it might have been sometime before his 13th birthday, when he'd been sitting beside a fire watching as a shirtless 17-year-old Dean sat with damp hair and a towel around his shoulders, gun across his lap as he went about putting the weapon back together. Dean had caught him watching and had glanced up, shooting him that damned breathtaking smile, all shining eyes and teeth. All Sam knew is that it had sent a shiver through him and had left him half hard and rather confused. God bless puberty.

All Sam knew was that the feeling of attraction had stuck with him right through puberty, growing stronger, and even now he still felt stirrings. He loved watching Dean sleep, just lying there in his bed gazing across to where Dean lay. It was impossible for Dean to look 'innocent' at any time, but when he was asleep he looked at peace, not caught up with the hell that was their life weighing down on his shoulders.

Sam knew that those feelings weren't one sided either. When he was 15 he had come home early from school. Walking past the bathroom he had heard his name, and pausing by the door he had been surprised to hear Dean jerking off, all the while gasping out 'Sammy'. If ever there was a book titled '101 Ways to Confuse Your Teenaged Younger Brother', Dean had to be the author.

Of course, Sam never told Dean he'd heard him. For all he knew Dean might have overheard Sam when Sam was in the shower, getting himself off while thinking of Dean. More than once he'd exited the bathroom to discover Dean home, usually in the kitchen stuffing his face, or idly flicking the channels of the TV with a bored expression on his face trying to mask the fact that before Sam had walked into the room he'd been watching porn.

Sam had a feeling that their father knew. He remembered when he was 16; the three of them had missed a weather warning and gotten themselves caught in the path of a tornado. They'd been huddled in a hotel bathroom, John having made Dean and Sam take the more secure position in the shower. Sam had found himself side-by-side with his brother, pressed against him shoulder to ankle.

As the wind had howled, Sam had shifted his hand and brushed his fingers against Dean's, Dean twisting his wrist and catching Sam's hand tightly in his. They hadn't let go as they waited out the storm, Sam spotting the knowing look on his father's face just before the lights went out.

Even now, years later, he and Dean were still uneasy during extremely bad storms. They usually pushed back their fear and got on with their work, but during quiet moments they allowed themselves to show their feelings. It was only last week, during an exceptionally bad electrical storm, Dean had awoken from a nightmare – he was having a lot of those these days – and excused himself to the bathroom.

Sam had watched as Dean returned and sat on the end of his bed, Sam's gaze exploring the naked torso of his brother and noting the tenseness in his posture. Sam had slid from his bed onto Dean's, carefully enfolding Dean in his arms, fully expecting Dean to push him away.

Rather, Dean had allowed the comfort, leaning back against Sam and half turned so he could tuck his forehead in under Sam's chin. Sam had splayed his fingers over Dean's abdomen, relishing the feel on Dean in his arms. Feeling mischievous, his fingers had slid slower, tip of his pinkie and ring finger slipping under the waistband of Dean's shorts.

Dean had tilted his head back, frowning at Sam in the half light, a hand coming up to rest of Sam's shoulder. The frown turned upward slightly, Dean shifting his hand so that his fingertips peeked under Sam's collar, sliding over his collarbone and causing Sam to let out a long breath as a shiver of pleasure shot through him.

Sitting like this, gazing down at his brother, Sam felt his stomach twist. Dean's eyes were half lidded, and were the most perfect example of bedroom eyes Sam had ever seen. It wasn't the first time he'd seen them directed toward him, but this close they were beautiful.

Dean's head was still resting against his shoulder, and Sam could feel Dean's breath playing across his face. They were so close Sam could feel the phantom touch of Dean's lips on his, and he was tempted to make that touch real. The look in Dean's eyes, the way that hand on his neck came up to gently caress his cheek, told Sam Dean wanted the same thing.

The moment was broken by an exceptionally loud clap of thunder, causing them both to jump and retreat, Sam heading back to his own bed as Dean dove beneath the covers. But even now, a week later, Sam could still feel that phantom touch. Earlier that day he'd seen Dean watching him, idly touching his lips, which let Sam know that Dean could feel it too.

Sam sighed, shifting out of his memories as Dean made a soft noise in his sleep, burying himself further into the pillows. Yes, Sam liked watching Dean sleep. Hell, he liked watching Dean in general. Deep down he knew Dean would never be his – it was impossible, so he'd just make to with watching and wanting.

And, deep down, he knew Dean watched and wanted back.