They'd been doing PT in the backyard, sun shining hot for mid-April. Dad had been gone for one week by then, with one more week 'till he'd promised to be back. Dean was making sure Sam did his training, knew if he didn't Sam would slack, stay cooped up in their shared bedroom with some book, nose buried deep.

He'd dragged Sammy out after a dinner of hot dogs and mac'n'cheese, too hot to cook anything else. Dean had stripped off his shirt after ten minutes, the white cotton already soaked through with sweat. He caught Sam eyeing him as he swiped an arm across his forehead, trying to stop the sweat from dripping in his eyes. He smirked at Sam and Sam pulled a face, practically threw himself down to start his push-ups.

Half-hour later, Dean called a stop to the work-out and they headed into the house. He dug out two bottles of water and threw one at Sam, watching with some pride as Sam caught it easily. He opened his bottle and drained about a third of it in one gulp. He turned, setting his bottle down on the counter as he started to wash the supper dishes.

Suddenly, two slick arms were wrapping around his bare waist. Nose nuzzling at the sweat-damp hairline at Dean's nape, tongue sneaking out to trace along the knob of Dean's spine. Dean bit his lip to keep the embarrassing noise bubbling up in his chest from escaping.

When Sam smiled against his skin and continued to torture Dean, Dean knew he hadn't been as successful as he thought. He covered Sam's hands on his stomach with his own and pushed back into Sam's touch, his sun-warm body.

Sam lapped at the sweat along Dean's neck and shoulders, tongue dancing along the freckles that dotted his skin, almost as if he were counting them, taking inventory. Dean let him go, let himself just enjoy being touched.

Sam pulled back a little, then started nipping at Dean's ear, his breath hot and moist. "Smell so good, Dean. Smell like the sun," he whispered and Dean shivered in Sam's arms.