At least one of them was thinking somewhat about how insane this whole idea was, though Dean was already beginning to realise how much he actually needed this. He wanted it so badly, as if he'd needed this for his entire life, but he didn't realise until now. It felt wrong, it made his stomach knot up, and he was torn between shoving Sam away and pulling him infinitely closer.
His hand tugged at Sam's hair and his shirt, as if he was trying to pry his little brother off him, but he kissed him back so hard that every move he made had mixed signals.
Turning his head away from the kiss, his breathing ragged, he needed to get a hold of the situation. "Get off'a me," he grunted, pushing at Sam. He swore he was getting too old for lying on wooden floors.