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When it happens, they don't even care about wrong or right. Jess has been dead for years. Madison died many moons ago and the last time Dean looked into Lisa's eyes seems like a life time ago.
It's one of those nights that make them feel like the world is collapsing around them. Dean didn't get laid in weeks and he's pretty sure it's been months since Sam had any action. They skip the beer and go straight for the hard stuff. The brothers sit on the floor of their motel room, talking about everything and nothing. But sometime around 1 am the mood darkens and Dean asks one of the questions they normally avoid.
"Do you think you'll find someone again? Someone who stays alive?"
Sam is quiet for a moment, while he studies the amber liquid in his glass.
"I don't even think I want to. Can't drag anybody else into this mess."
The silence which follows isn't as uncomfortable as it should be. It feels familiar.
"Sometimes I think I'm cursed. It feels like I put people in danger just by smiling at them."
Dean wishes he could say something to make it better, but it's hard when he thinks exactly the same.
"Well, at least you have me right?"
Sam raises an eyebrow as Dean raises his glass towards him with the worst fake smile he has ever seen.
"Dude, not that I don't appreciate it, but you're not exactly my type."
Dean actually laughs at that. Maybe not even because it is funny, but because Sam still has some humor left.
"So how do you plan on getting laid in the future without smiling at people?"
There's a smirk on Sam's face when he thinks about it.
"Well, I have you right?"
Apparently it is now Dean's turn to study the whiskey.
"That wouldn't even be the worst thing we ever did, right?"
Sam had imagined Dean to freak out. When he thinks about it though, he has to admit that Dean is right. Incest probably wouldn't even make it into the top 20 of their biggest sins.
"Did you ever try it? With a guy?"
For a second Sam thinks he's gone too far, but then Dean let's his head fall back and tells him about that one guy in Nevada. They made out, but Dean didn't dare to go all the way.
"It was pretty hot though. What about you?"
Sam didn't kiss a guy, but he danced with one at a party in his freshman year at college.
"Damn Sammy, I thought college was the place, where all the kids try this stuff."
They keep talking about how fucked up the world is, how fucked up people are and how fucked up their lives are. The longer they talk the more gravity seems to pull them towards each other. When the bottle is empty Dean's head is resting on Sam's shoulder.
"Seems like it always comes down to you and me, Sammy."
Sam can feel the warmth of Dean's breath against his throat and it feels strangely calming like it belongs there. The following silence is comfortable and stretches on for some time, while they empty their glasses.
After the last drop of whiskey is gone, Dean slurs "Well, fuck it." and removes his head from Sam's shoulder. For a second the younger Winchester wants to ask what happened, before a pair of soft lips is pressed against his own.
It's different from any other kisses each of them ever had. This is not the arousal of sexual attraction or the magic of falling in love. This is desperation mixed with family and need. It's a taste both intoxicating and revolting at the same time. Before Sam knows what he is doing, his hands settle on Dean's waist and pulls him into his lap. Dean's tongue traces the junction of his lips and Sam greedily welcomes it inside.
They both know it: This should feel wrong. But the forbiddenness of what they are doing only seems to add to the fire. The have already broken nearly every rule. Why should this one matter? Touch and closeness is something they both crave, yet constantly deny themselves for the safety of others.
It's only a matter of minutes before their shirts come off and Dean's hands dig into the naked skin of Sam's back. His brother is all muscle, where he is used to feminine softness. The older Winchester rocks his hips and even through the fabric of their jeans he feels the other man's cock. There is no going back now. They already stepped over the threshold. His hands wander towards Sam's fly and as soon as it is open, he drags his brother's pants and underwear of his legs. He does the same to his own jeans and when he sits down again, Sam's lips find his. They enjoy a few more heated kisses before Dean's hand closes around their erections. It takes him a few tries to get the movement right. It's different than masturbating. He adds some spit and finally with the right rhythm it's starting to build up. Sam is gasping underneath him, while his hands hold onto his waist. His brother's fingers fit onto his body like they were made to touch him.
Dean strokes soon turn faster. The body underneath him goes rigid and he lets go of his own cock to concentrate on his brother’s. When Sam comes, he moans and shudders. It's one of the most beautiful things Dean has ever seen. He slicks his dick with his brother's come and soon follows him over the edge. They allow themselves to stay a few more minutes huddled together on the floor before they rise to clean up.
The doubts make their way into Dean's head as soon as his body hits the mattress. He can hear the tab running as Sam brushes his teeth. Did he break something between them? Did they go too far? Before his mind has a chance to linger on these thoughts however, his brother leaves the bathroom. There is a smile on Sam's face as he heads straight for Dean's bed.
They don't talk about it, but they never get two beds again.