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“Will you stop it with the fist bumps today already?” Sam questions as he looks at Dean's hand clasped into a fist in the air.
“Why?” Dean asks as he too looks at his fist, still expectantly waiting for Sam to put his own against it.
“I stopped counting at number six,” Sam utters with wide eyes.
“Oh, come on!” Dean urges as he shakes his fist, trying to will Sam to comply.
And Sam can't help it, he brings his own hand up, fingers already curled, and does as Dean requested.
That was a clear warning though.
Even so, Dean does it again half an hour later, and Sam glares.
“That is totally fist bump worthy,” Dean remarks about them winning a 7v2 fight against vampires.
Sam doesn't say anything nor do anything, instead leaves Dean hanging.
Three hours later when they find a motel in the middle of nowhere and it turns out to have an awesome shower Dean says, “That for sure is fist bump worthy.”
But all Sam does is grumble when Dean puts up his fist. “One more time and I'm gonna fist bump your ass,” he threatens.
Dean looks at his fist in the air and then his eyes slowly open wide in alarm as realization dawns on him. And he immediately opens his hand before he brings it down and out of sight behind his back.
Sam watches Dean's actions in confusion for a couple of seconds before it clicks and he realises exactly what he said.
“You know that's not how I meant it!” Sam squeaks with his arms by his sides in a defensive posture.
“I'm going to shower,” Dean replies in much the same tone as he avoids Sam's gaze.
Sam's heart thumps loudly in his ears and Dean scurries away with yet another unreturned fistbump.
With the threat looming over him, Dean stops himself from offering up his hand for a fist bump several times during the next week. Sometimes he just thinks it, sometimes the word is on his mouth, and sometimes his hand is already travelling upwards into the air before Dean has to abort the motion and comb his fingers through his hair or scratch his nose.
Sometimes Sam notices it but he averts his eyes before they can connect with his brother's gaze. That had not been how he'd meant it. Not at all.
And yet.
It's constantly on his mind now.
Now it's not just thinking about leaning over the front seat of the Impala when Dean's driving and stretching to touch his lips against Dean's in a soft quick peck. It's not just looking at his older brother from his own twin bed, wanting to join Dean on his twin bed, curl up around him and go to sleep with his nose against Dean's neck, Dean's scent all around him and Dean's heat on his body. It's not just wanting to lick the water droplets off of Dean's skin when Dean walks out of the toilet after having taken a shower only wrapped in a towel with water dripping from his hair down his body. It's not just wanting to join Dean on his bed when he thinks Sam is asleep and he beats one off quietly against his pillow– he didn't use to go past that, used to shake his head either mentally or physically depending on the privacy and get any further thoughts far away from his train of thought.
It's not like that anymore though.
Now it's vivid images. Not just simple thoughts like touching Dean in a more intimate way either, but straight up giving him his hand. As in, his whole hand.
He thinks about undressing Dean and getting him to bend over and put his ass in the air. About coating his fingers in lube and opening Dean up one finger at a time. Now he fantasises about feeling Dean loosening up around him, about the inside of his brother's heat and tightness. He thinks about every little noise that Dean would make as he became more aroused and sensitive as Sam filled him up further. Sam imagines his hand breaching Dean's asshole and worming his way inside until Dean is sloppy enough that he can finally push his whole hand into Dean and have Dean squeeze around his wrist and his hand as he squirms and whimpers at the sensation until it builds enough for him to come untouched.
His thoughts are so clear that they've gotten detailed enough that he can feel Dean tremble beneath him, can feel Dean's body soaked in sweat against his, can see his skin flushed red all over and feel the heat pouring off of him.
Sam used to push away the images of Dean while wanking so that he wouldn't be thinking about his brother in such an intimate manner while doing such an act.
But now Sam's taken to turning his face towards his left bicep and closing his teeth around skin so that the noises of pleasure –and Dean's name which has became an unavoidable reflex– don't slip out of his mouth while he orgasms and spills his spunk all over himself.
Dean best never ask for a fist bump again or Sam won't be responsible for his actions.