Based on Season 3, Episode 2 "The Kids Are Alright"

Prompt: "How many dying wishes are you going to get?" – Sam

"As many as I can squeeze out" - Dean

They were sitting in the Impala, driving nowhere in particular, and Dean was trying to ignore the fact Sam kept glancing over at him when he thought Dean wasn't looking.

Finally, having had enough, he pulled the car off the road and down a dirt tract, eventually stopping where the only visibility was granted by the headlights reflecting off the dust.

The brothers sat in shadow, silently daring the other to speak first. Dean knew Sam wanted to have a go at him for being so 'stupid' as to sell his soul. And Sam knew there was no way Dean was going to apologise for it – the one thing they both had no doubt about was that they would do anything for each other. The certainly didn't need to say it out loud.

Dean was the first to cave.

"I have another wish, Sammy"

"Go ask a crossroad's demon," Sam snapped; nasty but not unexpected.

"A dying wish Sammy – surely you can't begrudge your brother that?"

Sam snorted. In the last few days Dean had squeezed out enough dying wishes to last several lifetimes. Most recently he had attempted to eat his weight in waffles; there was still maple syrup on his chin.

No, Sam could begrudge him nothing.

"Go on then, what is it this time? Although bear in mind I'm short a DeLorean if you're wanting to look up Marilyn Monroe's skirt."

He was expecting a response of 'mmmm Marilyn...' and when none came he looked back across at Dean.

"Actually, she wasn't who I had in mind." Never being able to hide anything from Sam, Dean was looking him straight in the eyes.

"Come on dude, I thought you had gone off Paris Hilton," Sam quipped, although he had known as soon as Dean had looked at him that it was a battle he was going to lose.

"Sam"

All it took was his name and Sam was across the front seat, gathering Dean's mouth in his and burying his hands in his brother's hair.

Dean kissed him back hungrily, overwhelmingly relieved he hadn't had to spell it out. He'd been tiptoeing around it since Jess died: careful to keep touches to a minimum, eye contact short, and feelings to himself.

He owed Sam that.

Before Jess had been another matter – this very car had witnessed a similar scene the night Sam had left for College; the night Sam had one last wish and nothing to lose.

Really he was just repaying the favour: giving Dean that little ounce of the forbidden like Sam had begged for before – when he had been young but still should have known better.

Better than to ask his big brother to sleep with him – to taste the one he had relied on since childhood; the person that had raised him, the person that had loved him. Of all the things their childhood had denied them, this was what Sam had craved the most.

And he though Dean had just done it because Sam had asked him, and since when could Dean say no to Sammy? And afterwards Sam had run so Dean would never have the chance to apologise – the chance to take it back.

But here he was, tongue against Sam's teeth, and Sam knew Dean had never once forgotten, that the memory had lingered in his heart for all these years.

A dying wish.

Sam licked the maple syrup from Dean's chin, and Dean murmured about a motel and doing it properly this time, but Sam just smiled and pushed Dean further into the seat.

If anything was going to be a witness to this it would be the Impala – she had seen it coming all along.