
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/234136.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Established_Relationship, Schmoop
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-08-03 Words: 5030
****** Steps ******
by paperstorm
Summary
     Sometimes he loves Dean so much he can’t even breathe; it sucks the
     air right out of his lungs like a vacuum. Other times he can’t
     believe how lucky he is that Dean actually loves him back.
Notes
     Warnings: Wincest, underage (Sam's 15, Dean's 19, but there's no
     actual sex), schmoooooooop
     Author's Notes: My first ever weecest! This was inspired by my
     friend 
     [[info]]
sakura_no_mi 's fic, Chase_The_Darkness. It’s not totally necessary that you
read her’s first but you should anyway cause it’s really good.
Sam’s orgasm hits him like a wrecking ball. It knocks the wind out of him and
for a few fantastic moments, he’s spinning and falling into blissful oblivion
where everything’s fuzzy and the lights are too bright and he can’t spare a
thought for any of it except how good it feels. It happens like that sometimes,
when he’s thinking about Dean. It’s only Sam’s right hand but in his head it’s
Dean’s hands, Dean’s mouth, Dean’s skin like fire against his own. There are
definitely worse ways to spend a Sunday night. He comes down slowly, languidly;
taking his time to let his breath even out and blinking the spots from behind
his eyes because it’s one of the few times when he actually has time. Dad and
Dean are gone – off on some hunt that was deemed too dangerous for Sammy, so
they rode off into the sunset and Sam’s here all alone, stuck in a fleabag
motel for the whole weekend with no one to talk to. He wouldn’t mind at all if
Dad were gone, truthfully, but he hates it, hates it, when Dad takes Dean away.
And not just because if Dad had taken this hunt on his own, Sam and Dean
would’ve spend the weekend in bed (although, that too) but because Sam never
really feels right when Dean’s not there.
The unmistakable rumble of the impala outside rouses Sam from the warm, gooey
stupor he’d let himself sink into, and when he scrambles to pull the sheets up
over his mostly naked body he catches sight of the little red numbers on the
alarm clock – he’d been asleep for almost an hour without even realizing it.
Shit shit shit.They’re not supposed to be home yet, Dad had predicted they’d be
gone at least until Tuesday. Sam frantically grabs a handful of tissues out of
the carton and wipes himself off as best he can, but it doesn’t really work;
come that’s had an hour to dry and solidify needs more than a Kleenex to get it
off but Sam doesn’t have time to dash to the bathroom so it’ll have to do.
Hopefully he can pretend to be asleep again and his Dad and brother will be
exhausted enough to just fall into the other bed, and Sam’ll be able to sneak
into the shower once they’ve passed out. He scrunches the used tissues into a
ball and shoves them under his pillow, and then settles against it just as he
hears the scratch of a key in the lock and the door creaks open slowly. Sam
shuts his eyes and lays as still as he can, trying to keep his breathing steady
even though his heart is firing a million rounds a second. Knowing his luck,
Dad will decide tonight he’s gonna share a bed with Sam (even though they never
do that), and then he’ll see what Sam was doing and Sam will be so dead meat.
But apparently the universe is actually smiling on him today, for the first
time ever, because there’s only one set of footsteps making their way quietly
into the room and they’re not heavy enough to be Dad’s.
“Sammy? You asleep?”
Sam squints one eye open, hopefully pulling off the illusion of just waking up.
“Hi Dean.”
Dean grins, one of those big, thousand-watt smiles he saves just for Sam, and
Sam’s heart skips a beat. “Hey kiddo. Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”
“S’okay.” Sam shakes his head. He opens both eyes, but keeps the sheets tucked
securely around his shoulders so Dean can’t tell he’s naked. “How’d it go?
Where’s Dad?”
“He’s – ” Dean begins, but he’s cut off by the roar of the impala’s engine and
the squealing of tires as Dad obviously speeds away. Dean rolls his eyes and
gestures out the window. “He’s gone again. For a few days, some contact in
Tulsa he needs to go talk to or something. I’m not sure.”
“Did something happen?” Sam’s not exactly upset that Dad’s leaving them alone
for a while, just the opposite actually, but he doesn’t want Dean to be in
trouble.
“Nah, he’s just … being Dad.” Dean shrugs. “Hunt went fine, far as I could
tell. Salted, burned, just the one casualty from before we got there. But you
know Dad, he can’t ever sit still for a minute. Always has to have a mission to
be on, right?”
Sam nods. “Guess so.”
Dean sighs a little and rubs at the back of his neck before he hauls the bags
through the door and heaves them onto the table. Sam gets the impression
there’s something Dean isn’t telling him, but he doesn’t push. Whatever it is,
it got Dad to take off again and leave Dean with Sam this time, so Sam
definitely isn’t gonna complain.
“So. What’d you get up to this weekend?” Dean asks, his back to Sam as he
unloads a couple guns from one of the bags and starts disassembling them.
“Nothin’ really,” Sam answers. He eyes Dean’s back warily, trying to gauge
whether or not he has time to slip out of bed and into some clothes before Dean
turns around. “Homework, mostly. Got that paper due tomorrow.”
“Mhm.” Dean glances over his shoulder and smiles knowingly.
“What?” Sam asks, immediately defensive.
“Smells like jizz in here, dude. You been jerkin’ off?”
Sam’s face explodes into a blush so hot it’s like the world’s worst sunburn.
“N-no!” he stutters, but Dean just raises an eyebrow and Sam knows he’s caught.
“Yes,” he mumbles, tugging the blankets up over his head so he doesn’t have to
look Dean in the eyes.
Dean chuckles fondly and moves toward the bed – Sam can see his shadow getting
closer through the thin material. Sam tries to shrink as much as he can into
the mattress but Dean’s too quick for him; grabbing the edge of the sheet and
pulling it down enough to expose Sam’s burning face.
“Miss me too much to wait?” Dean jokes and Sam groans. That’s really, really
not helpful.
“Dean …” he whines, unable to keep the pitiful waver out of his voice.
 “Oh c’mon, you big baby,” Dean chides affectionately. “S’not a big deal.”
Sam shrugs miserably. He knows it’s not a big deal but that doesn’t mean he
wants to sit here and talk about it; especially not while Dean’s still fully
clothed and Sam’s completely nude except for an undershirt and covered in his
own come like a horny kid. But Dean just sort of considers him for a moment, a
funny, unreadable expression on his face, and then he leans down and kisses Sam
softly, hands cupping either side of Sam’s face. He throws a leg over Sam’s and
gets up onto the bed, straddling Sam’s hips and settling down on top of Sam’s
body.
“Missed you too,” he murmurs into Sam’s lips.
“You did?” Sam asks, blinking up into the dark pools of Dean’s green eyes.
“’Course.” Dean winks and then moves down Sam’s jaw, sucking kisses into his
skin. “Every day. Thought about you, couldn’t wait to get your hands on me for
real.”
Sam’s heart beats a little faster at that, his body tingling all over at the
way Dean’s lips feel on his neck. Sometimes he’s pretty damn sure he could come
just from this – just Dean’s body against him and Dean’s tongue pressing into
the soft spot below his ear. It lights up all his senses like electricity; it
makes everything brighter and shinier and amazing. Then Dean rocks down into
him just so, Sam can feel his brother’s denim-covered crotch against his own
quickly growing erection and he moans into Dean’s mouth.
“Dean,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around Dean’s back and grabbing at any
bit of him he can reach.
“Hold on,” Dean says, pushing himself off Sam and standing up. “Too many
clothes,” he explains with a wry smile, grabbing the collar of his t-shirt and
pulling it over his head. Then he unbuttons his jeans and lets them fall down
his hips, simultaneously stepping out of his shoes so he can kick his pants off
where they’re pooled around his ankles. Sam watches raptly, getting harder by
the second and the sight of Dean stripping. His hand twitches with the urge to
touch himself, but he balls it into a fist by this thigh and holds it there.
“You naked under there, perv?” Dean asks, quirking an eyebrow again and yanking
the sheets back before Sam can stop him. The intense blush travels down his
neck as he tries in vain to hide himself – it’s not like Dean’s never seen him
without clothes before but Sam would be lying if he said he was totally
comfortable with it. Logically, he knows Dean loves him so it shouldn’t matter,
but Sam can never seem to get it out of his head how unfair it is that Dean’s
practically some kind of Greek god; all pale, unblemished skin and perfectly
sculpted muscle and Sam looks vaguely like a day-old colt; he’s way too tall
and skinny and awkward to be anything close to attractive enough to deserve
someone like Dean.
But Dean, apparently, doesn’t agree – his eyes go kind of fuzzy and his mouth
falls open a little like Sam’s sweat-and-come covered body is the sexiest thing
he’s ever seen.
“Shit, Sammy,” he breathes. “All messed up already, huh?”
Sam shrugs and looks away. It’s still a little embarrassing, being on display
like this, but it’s not like covering up now would stop Dean from already
having seen him, so he just closes his eyes and wills his flushed cheeks to
cool down. Maybe one day he’ll get the hang of being suave like Dean, but for
now he’s just a blushing, trembling mess and it’s kind of pathetic but it’s
pretty much the only game he’s got.
“So fuckin’ gorgeous,” Dean purrs, tugging Sam’s undershirt off and then
crawling back into the bed and landing mostly on top of Sam, propped up with
his elbows on either side of Sam’s head. “Hey, look at me. I mean it, you got
nothin’ to be self-conscious about.”
Sam takes a deep breath and nods, smiling up at his brother for half a second
before Dean swoops down and captures his lips again. His tongue pets gently
along Sam’s bottom lip and then he slips it into Sam’s mouth; soft and warm as
it rubs all those spots that drive Sam absolutely crazy. Dean is really,
reallygood at this – Sam sees the way girls stare at Dean’s mouth and their
eyes glaze over, and he can’t blame them. Dean has lips that were just made for
kissing; when they get going like this Sam never, ever wants it to stop. He
would quite happily just lie here until they both starve to death if it meant
he could die with Dean sucking at his tongue like he’s feeding from it. For
whatever reason, it unhinges something in Sam’s brain enough that he finally
works up the courage to tell Dean what he’s been trying to for a week now.
“Hey, I … um …” Sam starts, attempting to talk and keep licking into Dean’s
mouth at the same time.
Dean pulls back enough to look inquisitively down at Sam. “You, um,” he
repeats, drawing it out like a question.
“I … did something,” Sam continues, turning his eyes down again because there’s
no way he’s gonna get this out if he has to look at Dean while he does. “Today,
when I was … and … before. A few times.”
“Okay …” Dean shifts off of Sam and props himself up on one hand.
“I – when I was, um, touching … myself.” Sam sniffs and squirms a little. “I
used a … finger. Y’know, there.”
Dean is silent for a few moments, but Sam just stays still and waits for him to
get it. When he does, he draws in a quick gasp that turns into a moan, dropping
his head down onto Sam’s shoulder.
“Oh god,” he mumbles. “Seriously? That’s so fuckin’ hot.”
“Yeah?” Sam asks uncertainly. It’s not something they’ve talked about before,
doing that; they’ve only been in this undefined, whatever-it-is relationship
for a few months and at the beginning Sam appreciated how willing Dean was to
go slow with him. They graduated unhurriedly from just rubbing against each
other to actually touching, quick handjobs in the middle of the night to
longer, drawn out blowjobs whenever Dad wasn’t there; all of it at Sam’s pace
and he really liked it that way. It’s not like Sam had a whole lot of
experience before Dean – he didn’t have any, really. Not in the things that
matter, anyway. Lately, though, he’s been getting antsy for more, but he’s got
a sneaking suspicion it’s not going to be that easy to convince Dean he’s ready
for it.
“Oh yeah,” Dean answers, dragging the pad of his thumb slowly across Sam’s
bottom lip. “You’re gonna kill me one of these days.”
“So you think maybe  … you could? Try that, I mean?” Sam chews at the inside of
his cheek nervously; he’s not sure how Dean’s going to react and it’s a bit
unsettling.
Dean’s eyes widen almost comically, and then his face morphs into a strange
expression that Sam can’t read. “You – really? Are you sure? I don’t wanna …”
Sam grins and nods shyly. “I’m sure. It … I mean, I just used … one. But it
felt good.”
“It did, huh?” Dean smiles coyly and kisses Sam again. “Where’d you do it?”
“In the shower, once,” Sam answers, kissing back eagerly. “And once in bed. I
wanted to – try it, before I asked you.” He slips his tongue into Dean’s mouth
and licks over his teeth. “Didn’t want you to worry I might not like it.”
“You’re amazing,” Dean whispers, almost reverently, pressing barely-there
kisses to Sam’s eyelids.
Sam brushes his fingertips over Dean’s cheekbone, smiling softly up at him.
Sometimes he loves Dean so much he can’t even breathe; it sucks the air right
out of his lungs like a vacuum. Other times he can’t believe how lucky he is
that Dean actually loves him back, wants him like this. Dean kisses him again,
this time right on the mouth, gently but deeply. His tongue dips into Sam’s
mouth and licks him everywhere, across the roof of his mouth and over the
insides of his cheeks like he wants to taste every inch of Sam he can get to.
Sam’s halfway tempted to just lie there and let Dean ravish him, but he gives
back as good as he gets – sucking at Dean’s lips and massaging Dean’s probing
tongue with his own. They trade fevered kisses for long enough that Sam
completely looses track of time; everything in the world that matters to him is
right here anyway, right in this bed surrounded by a warm bubble of Dean.
Eventually Dean shifts, moving down Sam’s body a little so he can trail wet
pecks down his neck and collarbone, stopping to pay particular attention to the
hollow of Sam’s neck because he knows Sam loves that – Sam sighs happily and
arches up into Dean’s talented mouth. Blood rushes to every place Dean’s lips
touch, and when he bites down gently over Sam’s ribs, Sam can feel little
bursts of heat that probably mean there’ll be bruises there tomorrow. He
doesn’t care; he loves the idea of showering in the morning and pressing his
fingers into the tender, abused flesh; little pinpricks of pain spreading
through his nerves that’ll remind him of this moment and how perfect it is.
When Dean gets low enough, he plunges his tongue into Sam’s bellybutton and Sam
squirms; a tingly wave descending over his whole body that’s halfway between
ticklish and pure pleasure.
Dean takes his time, driving Sam slowly crazy with lips and teeth and the hot,
smooth flat of this tongue, and when he gets level with Sam’s weeping erection
he doesn’t speed up – he teases the head and the bottom of the shaft with
little kitten-licks and Sam twitches involuntarily. Usually he has the stamina
of a ten year old kid discovering his first boner when Dean’s mouth is on him,
but he already came once today so if he concentrates he should be better this
time. And besides, he wants this, wants to be more for Dean, so he bites his
lip and clenches his fists and tries with everything he has in him not to
explode before things’ve even gotten started.
“Relax,” Dean murmurs, noticing Sam’s tensed body and rubbing his palm in
soothing circles over Sam’s stomach. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Sam grinds out. “Just … wanna last.”
Dean chuckles, deep and rough and so damn sexy that Sam’s eyes roll back in his
head from the sound alone.
“Deep breaths,” he advises, mouthing up the underside of Sam’s cock. “But don’t
get light-headed and pass out, you’re gonna wanna be awake for this.”
Sam lifts his head a little to find Dean grinning wolfishly at him; this
strange, predatory gleam in his eyes that Sam’s never seen before – it’s a
little bit intimidating but it’s also totally hot. He pushes up to his elbows
so he can watch as Dean sucks the head of his cock into his mouth, those
perfect, plump lips wrapped around him and Sam moans so loudly he wouldn’t be
surprised if they get one of those awkward calls from the front desk telling
them to keep it down. Dean gives head like he does everything else when it
comes to Sam; he throws his whole self into it, licking and sucking and humming
around his mouthful like getting Sam off is the most important thing he’s ever
done. Sam’s always a little bit humbled by it; he’s not sure exactly what he
ever did to deserve such fierce devotion, but he’s certainly not complaining.
“Dean,” Sam whimpers when Dean cups his palm around Sam’s balls and rolls them
with his strong fingers.
Dean pulls off Sam’s dick with a wet pop that’s so filthy it has a generous
glob of precome blurting out of Sam’s slit, and Dean hums deep in his throat
like that’s the most erotic thing ever.
“So wet for me baby boy,” he whispers, stabbing his tongue into the sensitive
ridge just under the head. “Always want it so bad, don’t’cha?”
“Yeah,” Sam breathes, because it’s either that or loose his control completely
and start babbling like an idiot. “Please, Dean.”
Dean glances toward the night-table and laughs quietly. “Left the lotion right
out in the open? Not very stealthy.”
Sam blinks blearily and follows his brother’s gaze, and yep – he totally forgot
to stash the bottle in his haste to cover up when he’d heard the car outside.
“Damn it,” he mutters, rolling his eyes at himself.
“Good news for us, I guess,” Dean concedes, reaching out and pumping a blob of
it into his hands. “Gotta be more careful though, kiddo. If Dad had walked in
here he would’ve totally known what you were doing.”
Sam blushes again and turns his face into the pillow to hide it, but Dean
distracts him from his temporary embarrassment by pressing a lotion-slicked
fingertip up against his hole. Sam gasps in surprise, tossing his head back
toward his brother. God, it feels so much different when it’s not his own
finger, even though Dean isn’t pushing in yet; just rubbing in tiny circles
around the little puckered opening. Sam’s heart is threatening to beat right
out of his chest, an almost nauseating combination of nerves and excitement and
apprehension, which of course Dean notices right away because apparently Sam’s
so transparent that he can’t ever do anything without Dean picking up on it.
“You … we don’t have to do this,” he says quietly, a little wrinkle in between
his eyebrows and his eyes clouded over with worry.
“It’s okay,” Sam insists, shaking his head.
“I mean it.” Dean pulls his hand away and squeezes Sam’s thigh. “I won’t be mad
or something, I swear. It’s all up to you, okay? Whatever you want.”
“No, I …” Sam blows out a frustrated breath and turns his eyes downward again.
Mostly he loves Dean’s eyes, but sometimes he hates how easily they can see
right through him. “It’s a little bit scary,” he admits; hating how pathetic
he’s sure he sounds, but there’s no point lying to Dean. He can always tell.
“But I want to. Really.”
Dean nods thoughtfully, eyebrows still stitched together, and he crawls up
Sam’s body a few inches so he can lean in and kiss him tenderly. “I love you,”
he tells him, sincerity shining in the moss-colored pools of his eyes.
“I know,” Sam answers; and he really does. He knows that better than he knows
his own name. It’s the one thing in the world he’s never doubted, never even
for a second.
Dean shuffles back down and with a small, encouraging smile, he wiggles his
finger back in between the cheeks of Sam’s ass and resumes the gentle petting.
Sam takes a few deep breaths to calm himself, and then he nods at Dean to tell
him it’s okay to keep going. Dean dips his head down to mouth at Sam’s cock
again as his finger slips in, just to the first knuckle, and Sam totally
forgets what he was so nervous about. It feels incredible, and he groans and
rocks down into it.
“C’mon, more,” he moans, body lit up like a Christmas tree and totally confused
as to whether it should be pushing down onto Dean’s finger or up into his
mouth, so he sort of does both and neither at the same time.
“God damn,” Dean mutters. His voice sounds all raspy and fucked-out and Sam
smiles to himself. It’s a sparkly kind of thrill; knowing how turned on Dean is
by all this too. Then Dean pushes his finger in, fluidly all the way to the
base, and Sam looses all other thoughts on one long, indulgent moan. Dean’s
fingers are thicker than his own, and it’s just better when it’s someone else;
better by about a million percent.
“Son of a bitch, Sammy, I can’t even …” But whatever it is that Dean can’t do
gets lost in the moment, and he draws Sam’s dick back into his mouth and sucks
hard.
Sam’s dizzy and totally light-headed; Dean lets Sam’s erection slip into his
throat and he swallows around him at the same pace as his finger fucking in and
out of Sam’s hole; it’s way too much sensation for Sam’s already over-
stimulated brain to possibly process all at once. He’s close, too close, and he
clutches at Dean’s short hair to try to warn him off, but Dean stubbornly holds
his position and just sucks harder the more Sam tries to push him away.
“Dean … you gotta stop, man, m’gonna,” Sam babbles, heat building at the base
of his spine like a brushfire and spreading quickly out his extremities.
But Dean ignores him, crooking his finger to scratch along Sam’s inner walls,
and then he hits something that Sam never managed to reach with his own
fingers; something that makes fireworks explode behind Sam’s eyelids and his
whole body arch right off the mattress and he’s coming like a freight train
down Dean’s throat before he even realizes what’s happening. Dean swallows
everything Sam has to give, throat muscles fluttering around Sam’s spurting
cock and the tip of his blunt fingernail not letting up on that spot deep
inside Sam that makes him come so hard his vision silvers out around the edges.
When Sam’s softening dick gives a few final, feeble twitches, Dean leans back
and lets it fall out of his mouth, but he licks at it gently while Sam lies
there, boneless and sweaty and only a little disappointed that he came as
quickly as he did.
“Sammy, holy fuck,” Dean breathes raggedly, the words coming scratchy out of
his abused throat, and he slithers back up Sam’s useless body and kisses him;
swirls his tongue around in Sam’s mouth and lets Sam taste himself. Then he
lowers himself back on top of Sam and rocks into him frantically, rock-hard
dick slipping around in the sweat and spit all over Sam’s abdomen. Sam is
completely liquefied; he’s little more than a warm body to rub against but Dean
doesn’t seem to mind – he just rolls his hips in quick circles and whispers
obscenities into Sam’s ear that Sam barely understands but enjoys anyway. Dean
comes way faster than Sam did, painting Sam’s stomach with his own creamy heat,
and it’s probably stupid but that makes Sam feel just a little bit better about
not lasting long enough to get passed one finger.
Dean collapses onto Sam heavily enough to knock the wind out of him, but Sam
definitely doesn’t mind. It’s a little difficult to breathe with Dean’s chest
compressing his, but Sam sighs happily anyway and wraps his arms around Dean’s
sweaty back. Dean hums quietly and burrows his face into Sam’s neck. Sam’s not
sure how long they lay like that but eventually the drying sweat on his body
starts to prickle his skin and it must be doing the same to Dean, because he
lifts his head off Sam’s shoulder and rolls to the side, sliding onto the
mattress beside Sam and smiling blearily at him.
“You good?” Dean slurs, and Sam shrugs a little – shame creeping back up his
neck now that he’s come down from his orgasm.
“I guess,” he mumbles, wiping across his mouth with the back of his hand.
Dean’s face falls and he hoists himself back up to rest on his elbow. “What’s
wrong?”
Sam doesn’t answer; he can’t, not with the way his throat is tightening and his
eyes are burning. Dean cups Sam’s face with his free hand and makes Sam look at
him; face twisted into a mask of concern.
“Sammy, what’s wrong?” he asks again, thumb rubbing in a small arc over Sam’s
cheekbone.
“Just … m’sorry I couldn’t … I wanted us to … you know? I didn’t hold out.”
Dean cocks his head to one side; he looks genuinely confused. “You wanted us to
whatexactly?”
“Have … sex,” Sam mumbles miserably. He always tries so hard to be everything
Dean deserves, and when stuff like this happens it makes him feel like a
stupid, inadequate little kid.
Dean’s eyes widen so quickly Sam’s almost surprised they don’t pop right out of
his head. “You mean like sex sex? Like, all the way sex?”
“Yeah.”
“You … oh, Sammy,” Dean sighs, eyes going all fond and glittery-soft. “That’s
not – you don’t go all the way the same day as the very first time you have
someone’s fingers in you.”
“Don’t you want to?” Sam asks dejectedly, voice cracking painfully at the
thought that Dean might not want it like Sam does. That he might not want Sam
like Sam wants him.
 “God, of course I do, baby boy,” Dean assures, kissing Sam’s forehead. “But
that’s … it’s a really big deal, doing that. You’re only fifteen.”
Sam frowns. “You’d had sex when you were my age.”
“Yeah, with a girl,” Dean argues. “That’s different.”
“Why?” Sam knows Dean’s just being his usual, protective self, but he’s always
irritated when it feels like Dean’s patronizing him.
“I don’t know, it just is.” Dean studies Sam’s face closely, that little line
of worry back on his forehead. “Why’s this so important to you?”
“Cause …” Sam scrunches up his nose and blinks a few times until his eyes stop
stinging and threatening to give in to tears. “Cause you’ve been with lots of
people and … I dunno. I guess, maybe I was worried you might be getting bored
with me, with waiting for me to catch up. I wanted to do this for you, that’s
why I practiced when you were away. I wanted …” Sam trails off and rolls onto
his side so he can bury his face in the pillow again. He’s not gonna let Dean
see him acting like such a wuss. He’s not, he’s not, he’s not.
But Dean just huffs affectionately and worms his arm under Sam’s neck, pulling
Sam’s body into his own and wrapping his arms around him. Despite the
uncomfortable feeling eating through his stomach, Sam lets himself relax
against Dean’s solid chest.
“Don’t ever think that again, okay?” Dean says softly into Sam’s hair. “I could
never be bored with you. Everything we’ve done so far? It’s been the best ever,
Sam, and I’m not just saying that.”
Sam nods. Secretly, he suspects Dean actually is just saying that, but it’s
sort of nice to hear anyway. It soothes his insecurities, if only a little.
“We’ll get there, alright?” Dean continues. He hugs Sam a little tighter and
traces patterns with his fingers on Sam’s lower back. “But we don’t gotta
rush.”
“Okay,” Sam whispers, snuggling closer and taking a deep lungful of Dean’s
comforting scent. “You’re sure Dad’s not coming back tonight, right?”
“Positive,” Dean confirms, throwing a leg over Sam’s so they’re pressed
completely together, shoulders to ankles. “Just you and me tonight.”
“Good,” Sam slurs into Dean’s shoulder; his eyelids suddenly so heavy he can
barely keep them open.
Dean yawns and his breath tickles Sam’s ear, sending a dull, pleasant shiver
down his spine. Sam nuzzles into the warm space under Dean’s chin and then
tucks his head there; safe and warm and perfectly content. There’s a part of
him that almost hopes Dad never comes back, because Sam would be more than
happy to spend the rest of his life right here; peaceful and sated, cradled in
his big brother’s arms. He doesn’t say that out loud, but he doesn’t really
need to – he thinks Dean would probably agree with him if he did. Dean’s
fingers keep moving over Sam’s skin even as his body goes slack, and Sam’s
pretty sure he hears Dean whisper “my Sammy” right before he falls asleep.
 
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