
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2361587.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      ageswap_au, Older_Brother!Sam, Younger_Brother!Dean, bottom!Dean,
      Top!Sam, PWP, kind_of_considering_there_is_some_plot_but_the_rest_of_it
      is_porn, Angst, i_guess, deans_16_and_sams_20, Size_Kink
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-09-26 Words: 10705
****** We're Both a Little Screwed ******
by samalambis
Summary
     Dean was dirty. He was wrong and sick and something inside of him
     must be a little bent. It has to be, because why else would he be
     looking at his older brother like this?
Notes
     be warned this is not beta'd and its like 5 am i promise nothing
Dean didn’t know when it started, when he started… thinking of Sam like that. 
He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help it.  He’s tried not to,
tried to go out with the girls at whichever school he happened to be attending
at the time, but it never worked.  He didn’t feel that spark in his belly, his
heart didn’t jump when they looked at him or smiled his way.  He only felt
friendship, no matter how many times he told himself that he should feel more.
 
Only Sam made his head go funny and his heart forget what it was supposed to be
doing.  He felt bad about it, and it scared him to death sometimes that his big
brother noticed, so much so he would adamantly avoid Sam at all costs.  But
then Sam would look hurt and Dean would have to put a smile on because his
brother tries so hard for him, he wouldn’t dare hurt him because of his dirty
secret.  Each time it killed him a bit more, made his shoulders sag and his
breath stutter in his chest because there was nothing he could do.  Sam would
only ever see him as the little brother he tried so hard to raise in the
tyranny of their father’s mad goals.
 
This crush, or lust or whatever, he figured it had something to do with Sam
being the one constant in his life.  His earliest memory was of his brother
standing over him, smiling down and holding his hands steady so he could
stand.  From there all they held was his brother, somewhere, somehow, helping
him through the difficulties of their childhood.  He has scarce memories of
their father ever being there, because all he ever focused on was Sam.  His big
brother who taught him how to walk and talk, tied his shoes and always helped
him with his homework when the teachers didn’t explain it clear enough.  It was
always Sam and perhaps so much exposure to a person who resembled the very sun
screwed his brain a bit during puberty.
 
He always thought everyone got warm in the heart when they were with their
siblings.  That everyone’s words fumbled and hands got sweaty just from looking
at them.  He didn’t know it was wrong until sixth grade when he shared it with
Cassy Simons, who once he told her she immediately backed away from him, eyes
wide and mouth agape in horror.  He didn’t know what he did wrong, not until
the next day he was being shoved into walls and floors with scorn and people
whispering ‘sick freak’ and ‘faggot’ wherever he went.  Even then, he
understood nothing of the kids ire, moved around so often he had rarely the
time to learn what most of the names he was called meant.
 
When he asked Sam what those words meant he never saw his brother get so angry,
his face more ferocious than the times he fought with John.  Dean still didn’t
understand any of it, because Sam didn’t tell him anything, only said those
kids were assholes and had to be taught a few lessons.  What lessons were
needed hadn’t required explaining, the murderous look in Sam’s eyes said
enough.  Dean wondered if it made things worse that the sight of his older
brother glaring out the windows with balled fists and a tic flinching away in
his jaw made him feel warm and excited, heart beating too fast that he had to
hide away in the motels bathroom to avoid embarrassing himself.
 
The kids the next day didn’t bother him.  None of the kids looked at him and
even scurried off when he went forward to ask where Thompson and his friends
were today.  It wasn’t until later, with John yelling at Sam about minding his
own damn business while they frantically packed the car, that he learned Sam
had beat Tommy and his gang up for bullying Dean.  The kids were hospitalized
and they had to leave town before the police sniffed out the trail leading
directly to Room 208 at the Hillwood Motel where the Winchesters just so
happened to be staying at the time.
 
After that incident Dean learned to never tell anyone how Sam made him felt. 
He knew that what he was feeling must be wrong, had to be, because Cassy looked
at him like he was a monster and Thompson shoved him to the floor while his
friends threw food and yelled slurs and names.  By sixteen he had it set in
stone that what he felt really was wrong, taboo and dark and should always be
kept a secret.  He tried to shove it into the deep recesses of his mind where
he wouldn’t have to look at it and thus never think of it.
 
But it always resurfaced, always came to him in his dreams where large hands
slid unmercifully down his sides, marking him just as teeth and tongue did
while a voice honey sweet and just as thick whispered sweet nothings.  He would
always wake up with sticky shorts and bated breath, the dreams surreal caresses
lingering on the edge of his conscious before diving off, burying itself once
more as he ashamedly washed himself off before anyone else woke.  Sam’s worried
looks and attempts to ask what the matter was made everything worse, made Dean
want to shrink in on himself where no one would ever find him, especially Sam
with his gentle touches and soothing smiles.
 
He secluded himself so thoroughly since his dreams became all the more vivid he
hardly realized that John was nearly gone twenty-four-seven now and that he and
Sam hardly talked anymore.  His older brother left on the edges of his
periphery, shooting him hurt glances that he steadfastly ignored.  The less he
saw of Sam the better, because if Sam thought being ignored was bad, knowing
what his little brother hid beneath his conscious mind would be worse.  Dean
didn’t want to do that to Sam, didn’t want to be the one to hurt him as bad as
this knowledge would.
 
What Dean didn’t realize was by doing this he only worsened his problem, only
quickened the process of events which would lead to Sam’s inevitable discovery
of Dean’s nasty want for his older brother.  By the time winter vacation hit
Sam just stopped trying to talk to him, the cold shoulder now shared between
them and John simply ignored their behavior, focusing solely on his hunts.  It
soon became too difficult to ignore the brothers volatile actions toward one
another when it began to endanger their lives on hunts, so much so when the
next one came up John simply dumped them off at a cabin in the woods of
Colorado’s mountains with enough money for emergencies supplies and the short
order to simply ‘wait’.
 
Dean tried not to panic, he really did, but inevitably, the teen panicked. 
There was no way to avoid Sam now, not with them both trapped in this small
cabin that had only one bedroom, a small living room and kitchen, and a
bathroom hardly worth noting due to its spectacularly tiny size.  He would be
forced to face his feelings and Sam’s hurt glances and he didn’t want that,
didn’t want this corruption in his brain.  He wanted it gone and so after a
week of close courters accompanied with awkward stares and avoidance on both
parts he finally snapped and copied what he saw his father do often, turned to
alcohol.
 
Which, what a genius he was for conveniently forgetting what happened afterJohn
turned to drinking to avoid his problems.  How could he forget the screaming
and yelling and moans about his father’s misery that happened every single
time?  Of course he had enough brain cells to wait until Sam left off outside
to cool off steam because Dean tried bitching about something dumb so they
would have more reasons to avoid each other again while they were stuck
together.  It worked, Sam was gone, the liquor cabinet was easily picked open
and now Dean was on his third bottle and being someone who never drank before,
he found himself an effective term of drunk.
 
Now his mind was open and hazy and every single naughty thought he had locked
up spilled free and without much notice on his part he wound up on the bed that
Sam claimed (Dean vouched for the couch), half naked and rolling around
listlessly, enjoying far too much Sam’s smell that lingered on the blankets and
sheets.  He had dropped his third bottle empty on the floor boards by the bed
and was lying on his back, giggling nonsensically at the thought of Sam sharing
the bed with him, his body big and warm and Dean wouldn’t need a blanket with
his elder brother here taking up so much space.  But he was cold, alone here
with his thoughts and stumbled upwards, laughing because the world spun and his
feet tripled in amount but he still managed to get up, wobbling his way to the
pile of clothes on the desk in the far corner of the room.
 
He groped uselessly for a few moments, unsure of how his hands work anymore
until his fingers finally managed to grab hold of Sam’s shirt, one of his long
sleeved shirts with a few questionable stains but it was worn in and smelled
distinctly of his brother and Dean happily put it on.  His bare legs still
shivered in the cold air but his torso and arms were now okay because he had
Sam’s shirt on, Sam’s big, warm shirt, which swamped his frame and made him
shake with delight.  He was giddy with joy and this free feeling because Sam
wasn’t here and John was gone and thus he was okay to do whatever he wanted. 
No one was here to bother him, he was okay.
 
He stood there for a few more moments, body swaying and hands grabbing at the
cloth on his chest before deciding he was in need of another bottle.  Three
wasn’t enough, he saw John down way more, so as his son he could obviously do
the same.  Dean wasn’t too aware of how long it took him to manage his way to
the kitchen, but he was sure it took some time because when he finally had his
fourth bottle in hand and open the door to the cabin rattled open and Sam came
speeding through the door.   His clothes caked with snow and dropping ice
everywhere with his rough movement to slam the door shut.  The teen found it
funny, Sam’s panic, wondering why his brother was so cold if he had all of his
big big clothes on.  He should be really warm, right? 
 
Dean was going to ask Sam, because he really wanted to know but suddenly Sam
was in his face, disbelief clear as one of his large hand crunched the bones of
Dean’s right wrist together.  Sharp pain shot through his arm and his hand
opened, dropping the freshly opened bottle to the floor, it’s shatter
nondistinct to Dean’s ears as all he could focus on was Sam very near his face
and the stinging of his wrist.  Dean didn’t know why Sam was so upset, and he
tilted his to the side to help him figure it out, mouth opening in a slow grin
as he thought that maybe his brother was upset he didn’t share.  He could fix
that easily, of course bottle number four was unavailable to share but there
was two more left and they could both have one.  Well, Dean would have four and
Sam one but it sounded fair enough.
 
“Were you, were you drinking?”  Sam asked, his voice barely contained wrath and
Dean didn’t want to deal with anger, so he ignored it.  Logical choice.
 
“Nuh…”  He stopped halfway through his flimsy denial, much too distracted by an
icicle melting on Sam’s forehead and following its tantalizing path down his
brother’s cheek to chin to neck until it cascaded to the ground, plopping
noiselessly on the shards of glass and liquor staining the floor.  Sam made a
noise, something Dean didn’t quite understand and the grip on his wrist
loosened, the blood flow returning and Dean shed a sigh of relief, fingers
flexing as feeling tingled back into his palms.  He was still too giddy to
really understand much of anything currently.  He did understand his brother
looked hurt though, Sam’s eyes closing as his brow furrowed and mouth shaping a
fine line of anger so he slipped an arm around his brother’s neck, pulling him
closer and pushing his body fully into Sam’s.
 
Bad idea, because Sam’s clothes were wet from melted snow and very cold and it
made him shiver and his nipples perk but he stayed there in hopes his hug would
cheer Sam up.  Dean pressed his face into Sam’s neck, having to lean up on his
toes because his brother was really tall but he smelled nice and felt good to
hold despite the frost chilling Dean to the bone.  Sam tried to lean back, grip
slipping off of Dean’s wrist giving Dean the opportune to use both hands to
wrap around Sam.  It was easier to hug him this way and he was able to follow
his brothers leaning easy.  He dropped all of his weight, making an
appreciative sound when Sam easily took the added pressure, strong body holding
him up without effort.
 
“Dean, wait, what are you doing?  What are you wearing?”  Sam’s anger now
sounded gone, which meant Dean’s hug plan was working, now the young man just
sounded confused which was better than nothing.
 
“You smell nice.”  Dean slurred out, hands tightening their hold around Sam’s
neck and forcing his brother to curl around him more to avoid cramping.  “Like,
like uh, like a big, warm, library.  Filled with, with uhm, trees, everywhere. 
Yeah, everywhere.  But it’s all really old, like, really, really, old.”
 
“…What?”  Came Sam’s voice, quiet and lost and Dean laughed.  What was he so
confused about?  Dean thought he was pretty clear.
 
“I like…  Like how you smell.”  He said slowly, face nuzzling Sam’s neck and
then his older brother finally moved, setting hands on Dean’s shoulders, large
and assuring and Dean made a content sound because they felt really nice
there.  He thinks they would feel better on his ass, but he didn’t want to
say.  The gentle pushing back however, did not feel good, rather annoying and
Dean tried his best to stay where he was, clinging harder to Sam’s back.  He
wasn’t in a right state of mind however and he was pushed far away enough to
where Sam was able to look him in the eyes.  His brother had really pretty
eyes, Dean noted as he leaned against Sam’s hands, licking his dry lips as he
watched them shift with each emotion that Dean really didn’t have the capacity
to figure currently.
 
“You have pretty eyes.”  He blurted out, clumsily as he veered closer, only
held off by Sam’s hands a barrier on his shoulders.  Sam’s eyes hardened at
that, mouth grimacing and fingers clenching where they gripped Dean.
 
“How much did you drink?”  Sam said, voice low and carefully controlled.  He
was pissed, less at Dean, mostly at himself.  He should have seen this coming a
mile off, considering how much Dean had been acting out the past four months. 
From fighting about anything to avoiding Sam like the plague, Dean clearly
wasn’t okay.  Not to mention the subtle looks thrown the liquor cabinet’s way
the entire time they’ve been here.  Sam was an idiot for leaving just because
he got angry, instead should have sat Dean down and talk with him.  Didn’t work
the last few times he’s tried but complaining about something as pointless as
Dean did earlier perhaps he would have opened up then.
 
“Only like uh, three bottles.”  Dean said, face crunching in thought a moment
before he looked to the ground with a laugh, his hands coming up to grab at
Sam’s wrist loosely, more of hanging off of them.  Sam ignored the gentle
burning that came from the touch, he had to focus and try to help his little
brother the best he can and ignore all the things he shouldn’t be thinking of
right now.
 
“Four bottles.  But I didn’t drink four, you uh, heh, you made me drop four. 
You should say sorry.”  Dean made a strange sound, something like laughter as
he looked back up at Sam, eyes lidded and fingers dancing over Sam’s wrist.  He
had a mirthful grin on his face, tongue once more running over his lower lip as
he traced the shape and contours of his older brother’s face.  Sam twitched
under the scrutiny, uncomfortable and confused and trying to ignore the small
flame that was starting to fan out in his abdomen.
 
“Yeah, you need to, to apologize.”  Dean said softer, voice slurred and vowels
stretched and Sam’s grip on his shoulders weakened enough for Dean to lean
closer, until his face was right in front of Sam’s and they were both staring
at the other.  Somewhere in the recesses of Dean’s mind where he could still
think clearly, he was screaming at himself to stop, to hold his horses and quit
before he screws everything over royally.  But his body wasn’t responding,
clouded over in a haze of alcohol and want, his brother right here, big hands
warm as they began to nervously clench harder at his shoulders and Dean really
shouldn’t be expected to listen to reason now.
 
“Dean, stop, stop right now.”  Sam said, high and alarmed and yet he made no
move to stop his brother, allowing Dean to wrap his arms around his neck once
more, drag their faces closer until they were only centimeters apart.  His own
hands slid off of Dean’s shoulders, hovering nervously around his little
brother’s hips, unable to hold but refusing to drop.
 
“You should stop me.  But, but you won’t.  I know.  Because you won’t.”  Dean
muttered nonsensically, eyes now permanently glued to the shape of Sam’s mouth
as he spoke.  Sam watched, stupefied, as Dean dragged him the last inch down,
their lips colliding softly and his entire brain shut down.  Dean put his all
into the kiss, his grip near bruising as he tried his best to get Sam into
action, his older brother’s mouth clamped shut and not responding.  Why wasn’t
he responding?  Dean focused his best on ignoring the lack of reaction, instead
thinking only of how good this felt, his heart beating a mile a minute and his
body heating up as his head swam.
 
Sam couldn’t really think right now, and despite how much he dreamed of this
happening, he couldn’t feel anything but horror.  He shouldn’t like this,
shouldn’t have ever felt arousal at the sight of Dean wearing his shirt and
nothing but, Dean in his arms and kissing him and fuck his brother’s drunk.  He
needs to stop this now.  Without his notice he almost began to return the kiss,
his hands clamped firmly on Dean’s hips and this needs to end.  His brother
wasn’t in the right state of mind, his brother who is only sixteen doesn’t know
any better and he’s probably just lonely.  Sam was the adult here, he has to be
the beacon of reason here.
 
“Don’t.  Please.  Please don’t.”  Dean said, small and quiet, dropping the kiss
to press his face against Sam’s neck again.  He felt Sam’s hands on his hips
bunch in tension, prepping to push him away and Dean doesn’t think he could
handle that right now.  So maybe Sam didn’t kiss him back, Dean can ignore
that, pass it off at shock.  But Sam physically forcing him away?  That Dean
can’t ignore.  He didn’t want to deal with any of this, that was the whole
point of picking his away into the liquor cabinet, and Sam can’t just waltz in
spitting fire and crashing his whole party.
 
Nothing happened for some time, silent sans the wind howling outside and the
creaks of the cabin.  Dean stayed glued to Sam who refused to do much aside
from stare over his brother’s head and inspect every detail of the shattered
bottle on the floor.  Dean, mind muddled and hazed, and Sam, thinking a mile a
minute and panicking inwardly, both brothers were unsure of what to do next.
 
“I’m sorry.  I’m, I’m really sorry.  You weren’t, weren’t supposed.  It was. 
I’m.”  Dean stumbled his words, tears beginning to form as he clung tighter to
his older brother, the high of drunk crashing to the floor and being replaced
with a flood well of a emotions he tried his best to shove to the very back of
his mind.  The guilt and regret mixing into a horrible concoction and Dean
wanted to disappear.
 
“It’s…  It’s okay Dean.”  At the broken pitch of Dean’s voice Sam’s anger
dissipated, instead feeling tired and worn and wanting nothing more than to
comfort his brother.
 
“No it’s not.  I’m, I’m disgusting.  I shouldn’t even.”  Before Dean could
finish Sam cut him off, arms wrapping tight around him and hands rubbing his
back soothingly.
 
“Stop Dean.  You’re not disgusting.”
 
“I am.”  Dean croaked into Sam’s neck, fingers curling tight into his shirt and
delighting in Sam holding him close, surrounding him easy with his larger
frame.  Still, everything was finally tumbling down on his young mind and even
the comfort of Sam barely quelled him.
 
“You’re not.”  Sam said, right into Dean’s ears and Dean shivered, breath
hitching and body shivering.  “You’re not wrong.”  One hand sweeping to his
lower back, the other creeping up his side to cup Dean’s cheek, pulling him
just far away enough to look him in the eye.  “You’re not disgusting.”  Voice
gentle as he pressed their foreheads together, Dean averting his gaze to the
ground and mouth frowning deeply.  Sam shushed his quiet whines, thumb rubbing
softly.  “Nothing’s wrong with you Dean.  Nothing.”  He said finitely, a kiss
placed on Dean’s forehead as he waited his brother’s tears out.
 
Dean was unsure of how to feel, overwhelmed by Sam’s tender touches and warm
hold.  Sam was wrong, because Dean was dirty.  Somewhere in his brain he was a
bit dented and nothing could fix him and Sam was just lying to him.  Sam didn’t
know, Sam was just trying to make him feel better because that’s just what Sam
did.  Always looked out for him and along the way Dean misinterpreted it and
twisted it into something wrong and sick, depraved to the point of lusting
after his older brother in ways he shouldn’t be and Sam just didn’t seem to
understand how bad it was.  And yet Sam held him through his misery, a hand
rubbing circles into his back and a thumb catching the tears that fell.
 
“I dream of you fucking me.”  Dean said with a gasp, head bowed and voice
miserable.  “I want things I shouldn’t want.”  He sounded broken and lost and
Dean was, he had been harboring these feelings for years and he couldn’t handle
it anymore.  “I want you to kiss me, and I want you to touch me and Sam I’m
fucked up.”  Dean said with a final break in his words, tears flowing full
force because he was so fucked, screwed to Timbuktu and back and there was
nothing anyone could do to fix it.
 
“Fuck.”  Sam whispered harshly, and Dean had no time to wonder what that meant
before he was pulled into a kiss made purely of carnal want that left him
breathless because no matter how wild his fantasies got they never prepared him
for this.  The way Sam plundered his mouth, licking into every crevice and
corner as if he owned the place and making Dean’s knees weak and brain melt. 
The edge of the alcohol seemed to ebb away with each nip to his lips, Sam’s
kiss gentling as did the liquors effect.  All that was left was the scorching
heat his older brother’s hands seemed to leave on his body, points of jumbled
nerves that made Dean want to jump out of his skin because this was all so
much, so sudden.  His mind unable to follow the speed of which everything went
from wrongbad to wrongright.
 
“God you’re so fucking…”  Sam muttered, pulling away to examine every detail of
his brother’s face, both hands holding Dean in place as his thumbs rubbed
mindlessly against Dean’s cheeks.
 
“Sam?”  Dean asked, worried and small.  He wasn’t sure what was happening,
ability to think returning slower than a snail’s pace and Sam was
just staring at him, making him anxious and fidgety.
 
“You’re not fucked up.  I, damn it, I’m.”  Sam stumbled over his words, hands
slipping from Dean’s face to land on his hips, a small noise slipping from Dean
at the action.  The older brother seemed at a lost for something to say, nose
fuming as he breathed deeply, hand’s shaking and digging into Dean where they
held him.  Dean’s face burned at the sensation, flashes of hopeful bruises and
demanding hands bright in his mind, breath stuttering in his chest as warmth
flushed south.
 
“Can we both be fucked up?”  Dean asked quietly, looking up through his lashes
at Sam and resting his hands on his brother’s biceps.  His lips still burned
from the seething kiss Sam gave him earlier, body aching for more of that rough
attention.  Hips pressing forward against Sam, sly grin finding Dean’s face
upon finding his brother equally hard.  Perhaps it was the left over buzz
giving him the courage to put himself out like this, or maybe Sam’s return of
affection, or is it that he was still wearing nothing but Sam’s shirt and his
briefs.
 
“What?”  Sam answered, obviously not catching on to what Dean was saying.
 
“We.  We can both be a little screwed, right?”  Dean began to lean up on to the
tip of his toes, fingers bunching the cloth of Sam’s jacket.  Sam also started
to subconsciously lean closer, eyes now locked on Dean’s lips while Dean
carefully catalogued every emotion flickering in Sam’s eyes.  Nothing but want
and hunger burning in the hazel hues and Dean gained just enough balls to kiss
Sam again, eyes closing and relaxing into Sam’s body.
 
A few seconds and nothing except Dean’s heart racketing and blood pounding in
his ears, panic about to take over as thoughts of running as far away as
possible began to crop up.  He nearly did spring away, until Sam finally kick
started into action, pushing forward until Dean was curled back, the only thing
keeping him stable Sam’s hands.  Which, wow, Dean found pretty damn hot,
gasping into the kiss and pushing harder into Sam’s solid body.  Funny that as
horrified as Dean felt earlier it was becoming completely wiped from memory,
replaced by large hands and consuming need.  Everything a whirlwind of want
encased by the fact that he would actually be getting what he’s craved for so
long.
 
“Sam, Sammy, please— I don’t.”  Dean practically begged, because he may have
wanted this for as long as he could remember, getting it was vastly different
from what he had ever hoped and he needed guidance, direction.  He wanted Sam
to touch every part of him, reach into his deepest secrets and tell him it’s
all okay.  He wanted Sam to be rough with him, wanted to be bruised and
stretched but he didn’t know how to ask, didn’t know clearly what he wanted
aside from Sam and his teeth and tongue, marking him as Sam put him how he
wanted, taking him fast and hard and leaving nothing left to imagination.  It
was elating and ineffable as he realized he would get to have that, he could
have all of it and then some, that Sam felt it alongside him and would return
it all whole heartedly.
 
“I got you Dean, it’s okay, I got you.”  Sam spoke, low and rough and the
timber went straight to Dean’s dick.  He clung desperately to Sam’s shoulders,
shaking and clumsy with need, his head nodding along because Sam’s always had
him, always put his all when it came to Dean, it wouldn’t be any different now.
 
“Please.”  Dean repeated, over and over in a small voice, pleading.  He heard
Sam make some affirming noise, as if he understood finally and then his hands
shifted course from his back and head down low to his ass and thighs.  Dean
jumped, sensitive and moaning low, Sam’s hands on his bare legs electrifying
and his palms large almost covering half his entire ass.  They kneaded the
flesh a moment, getting a feel for them and making Dean shiver and fret where
he stood, breath heavy and hands clenching bruises into Sam.  The grip shifted
and suddenly he was lifted, legs being directed to wrap around Sam’s waist and
Dean complied quick and easy, grinding down as they moved, Sam walking them to
the bedroom and it’s large bed that smelled just like his older brother. 
Crunching glass could be heard as the mess was left behind in the kitchen,
forgotten as Sam rushed to get Dean down on his back so he could really show
him the works.
 
Dean bit at Sam’s neck, sucking and licking before he was torn away from the
forming bruise to be tossed on the bed, landing on his bed with a soft ‘ooph’. 
He looked up, ready to chastise Sam for the move but stopped short when he
caught sight of his brother in the midst of yanking his clothes off.  Jacket
already lost and shirt being pulled up and over his head in a neat little
move.  Jeans unbuttoned and Dean’s mouth went drier than a desert.  With every
lost article of clothing more and more of Sam’s body was revealed and as often
as he had seen it before, now he was truly allowed to look, to appreciate, and
he found he never wanted something so bad than he did now.  The jeans were
pulled down and off, kicked into some random direction, leaving Sam naked aside
from his briefs and judging by the mound forming in them, his big brother
really was a big boy.
 
“Jesus that’s…”  Dean muttered, leaning up on his elbows and nervously looking
between his brothers hard on and his own spread legs.  That wouldn’t, he
figured, that wouldn’t ever possibly fit, but he found in his current state he
didn’t care, that apparently, it only excited him more.  The idea of that
monster of a dick stretching him wide and full and leaving room for nothing
else.  Shivers ran through his frame when Sam finally got on the bed, crawling
to where Dean was and fitting himself between Dean’s legs, holding himself up
by his forearms and looking down at Dean with a mix of awe and dark hunger. 
One that spoke of devouring Dean’s whole being and Dean readily agreed with it,
arching his body towards Sam and hoping his own eyes conveyed his want, his
submission to whatever Sam chose to do with him.
 
Neither of them spoke, the moment far too large for anything that either of
them could have said to truly explain much of anything they felt so they just
went with it.  Both leaning in for a chaste kiss, a delicate press of the lips
that struck cords that this was really happening, Sam realizing perhaps this
was what had caused Dean’s foul behavior, and Dean, ecstatic and crazed with
joy that he could have this.  Could finally be allowed to feel Sam’s body with
his hands and taste his flesh, show his affections and drown in Sam’s.  It was
freeing, these thoughts, and Dean suddenly felt really excited for the main
course, pushing harder into the kiss and letting his hands wander up and down
Sam’s back, shaping out the map of scars and muscles.
 
Sam growled at that, kneeling up and away quick and fast to grab at Dean’s
wrist and slam them down by his head, fingers encircling their span easy with
room to spare and it made Dean groan, precome messing up his shorts as he
arched up, panting open mouthed while Sam leaned down to lay waste to his
neck.  With every sharp bite Dean felt himself drawing closer, legs shaking
where they held themselves at Sam’s midsection, hands clenching and pulling
against Sam’s hold weakly.  If his actions weren’t bad enough, Sam was talking,
praising Dean for how beautiful he looked in Sam’s shirt, his freckles and eyes
and lips and then moved on to say how much he loved him, how amazing he thought
he was and Dean came with a keening whimper.
 
Dean panted open mouthed up at the ceiling, body shaking with aftershocks and
briefs a sticky mess clumping to him.  Everywhere was fire and his brain putty
and it only took him a few minutes to notice Sam staring down at him with a
scrunched brow.  Which, what?  Dean just came harder than he’s ever had, the
real deal better than his wild imagination and definitely blowing to the wind
his own hand, so as he was still coming down from his high he had little to go
on as to why Sam looked like he was about to either laugh himself to death or
continue his actions with twice the amount of heat behind them.
 
“…What?”  Dean asked slowly, fingers flexing where they were held by his head
and neck a center of pain pleasure, littered with marks that seemed to be
leading down to his chest if the perpetrator hadn’t stopped to stare dumbly at
their target.
 
“You, I forgot, uhm, I.”  Sam stumbled his words, face somehow redder than what
Dean assumed his own was.  His older brother kneeled up, releasing his wrists
and scratching the back of his head while coughing awkwardly.  Seriously, he
knew Sam could be weird but Dean thought they were both on the same page here,
had no idea why Sam suddenly got nervous now when before he seemed the farthest
from it.
 
“What?”  Dean snapped, letting his legs fall back to the bed and leaning up on
his elbows, irritated and partially worried Sam was going to ditch and never
say anything to him again.
 
“I uhm.”  Sam chuckled hollowly, smiling sardonically and looking off to the
side a moment, obviously holding back amusement.
 
“Dude, what?”
 
“I didn’t even touch your dick.”  Sam said quietly, chest huffing out a weird
pattern and Dean knew he was holding in laughter, the bastard.  Dean squinted
his eyes, mouth hanging open before his face flushed in embarrassment, biting
his lower lip and suddenly feeling real self-conscious of what he was wearing. 
Did he really come that fast?  Recalling it felt like everything was going on
forever, every sensation new and encompassing and only made a thousand times
better by the fact it was Sam giving him these experiences he had never felt
before.  But now that he focused he saw it was only a few minutes of Sam
holding him down and giving some attention to his neck, which meant damn it all
Dean came real fast.
 
“That’s, that’s completely, I, but it was, you were, I.”  It was now Dean’s
turn to bumble about, moving to get up and go sit in a corner ashamed because
the moment finally came, the impossible moment where Dean was given something
he thought he would never have and bam, he blew it in five minutes or less,
figuratively and literately.  He only made it a few inches up before Sam was
chasing him back down, arms either side of his head and lower body pressing
Dean’s hard into the bed.  The weight made Dean’s dick perk up again, beginning
to fill because hello hot as sin older brother on top of him here, pressing him
down with a cock that must be a lie because no ones that big, not even those
porn stars in all of those videos Dean’s watched were that large.
 
“No, no it’s fine, it’s okay, I mean,” Sam paused to lean down and kiss at his
jaw line, nibbling a bit before continuing, “it’s perfectly normal.”  He
provided, and, as much as that may be true, it still was a jab at Dean’s
pride.  A major, sharp, stinging jab that made him want to hide under the
covers and never come out, ever.  This was where he cursed the age difference
between he and Sam, where Sam was an adult with experience on his hands, Dean
was only sixteen and was often so busy thinking of Sam was never able to chase
anyone else long enough to get any practice time in.  He was pretty much lost
in a swath of new feelings and it wasn’t really fair to find it funny at all. 
He wasn’t being defensive.
 
“You’re laughing.”  Dean stated miserably, turning his head away to look at the
pillows and Sam above him with the patient smile and supposedly comforting
gestures wasn’t doing anything but make his embarrassment worse.
 
“No I’m not.”  Sam said, hands now creeping up his sides, rumpling the shirt as
they caressed and stroked, making Dean’s muscles jump and twitch, body twisting
towards the touches for more despite his distress.
 
“You were.”
 
Sam sighed, hanging his head a moment before capturing Dean’s lips in a hungry
kiss, all licks and nips and making Dean forget momentarily where he was,
moaning into Sam’s mouth and hands gripping the sheets tightly.  Dean pulled
back with a gasp, letting his head thump back against the pillow, and for a
second Sam’s distraction plan almost worked, but then Dean was hard again and
that lead to realizing exactly why he had to be hard again.
 
“No, no, I, you’re not getting away with, just, no.”  Dean murmured, making to
get up again because Sam laughed and he was embarrassed and wanted to be
allowed the right to hide in a hole for a while.
 
“I think it’s kinda’ cute.”  Sam mumbled, almost imperceptible that Dean had to
do a take back to make sure he heard it right.
 
“Well I think it’s kind of not cute.”  Because, no, no it was the farthest
thing there was from cute, it was embarrassing and proof that Dean was an
inexperienced kid compared to Sam and just no, Sam would not get to call it
cute.
 
“No seriously it’s, well.”  Sam paused, giving Dean’s face a once over before
leaning in close, biting at his ear and delighting in the shiver that ran
through Dean.  “It would be fun to see how many times I can make you come
before you beg me to stop.”  And woah, hold on, take a step back.  Dean’s face
immediately flushed, brain stopping and heart deciding the circus was its new
aspiration in life because he has never heard Sam sound like that.  His body
readily agreed with his heart that fuck everything else nothing would be hotter
than the way Sam sounds when he speaks like that and Dean would drop to his
knees and beg if it meant he could get more of that.  Screw his embarrassment,
if him having absolutely no current ability to last longer than a few minutes
made Sam say that?  Dean was on board.  He’d be the first mate, cabin boy, and
captain all in one.
 
“Yeah.  Yeah that’s. Okay, that’s okay.”  Dean said numbly, eyes wide and
watching with fascination Sam scoot back, pupils swallowing his iris’s and
leaving nothing but a void of hunger and want and yeah, Dean was fine,
absolutely one hundred percent fine.  He let Sam pull his shorts off, his dick
popping out and slapping against his belly, precome already slicking the head
and he almost grimaced at the sick plop his briefs made when Sam tossed them to
the floor.  But then Sam leaned down and swallowed him down in one move with no
preamble and holy shit Dean was not ready for that.  His legs jumped up,
fitting themselves over Sam’s shoulders and his back snapped upwards, mouth
hanging open as he moaned high and long, hands clinging to Sam’s hair in
bundles.
 
Dean’s desperate tugging at Sam’s hair seemed to only make the older brother
more excited, low groans leaving him in rumbles which only made everything
better, the vibrations going right to his dick and if Dean thought everything
was vivid and too much before he was wrong, so very dead wrong because he
thinks blow jobs might possibly be his new favorite thing ever.  He didn’t want
to think about how Sam got so good, but he’s praising to the stars and back
whoever taught Sam because it seemed his brother knew just what to do to make
Dean’s brain melt through his ears.  Even though Dean thought he could hold out
a little longer there was no chance, no way in hell, that he would last any
longer, not with Sam licking and sucking and using just the right amount of
pressure to ignite nerves he didn’t know were even there.
 
He came a second time with a loud shout, expecting Sam to pull off, only to be
met with Sam swallowing that easy and quick also making his body shake with an
even larger aftershock, his mind deciding now would be a good time to leave
this plane because there was nothing else it would ever need again.  Dean
couldn’t get a hold on much, heart erratic in its pace and legs shaking, hands
sore from how hard they were balled, and to top it off his brother was just
making these happy little sounds as he slurped everything down.  Sam shouldn’t
ever do that, Dean decided, it wasn’t fair, it was too much and he should stop
before Dean’s body decides to just go AWOL.
 
Sam pulled off him with a quiet pop, large hands massaging Dean’s thighs where
he could reach and kissing the inner most sensitive parts.  Dean jerked with
each little kiss, unable to do much else aside from pant and look at Sam like
he was the single most important thing in the universe.  Which, to Dean, he
was.
 
“Liked that baby?”  Sam asked, low and confident and he already knew the answer
so why was he even bothering with asking?  Half expecting himself to get
annoyed with the pet name, Dean was pleasantly surprised to find it only made
his dick try to rev up and join the party again.  It was an overused cheesy one
yes, but at the same time it made his chest fill with warmth and well, he liked
it, plain and simple.
 
Sam seemed to expect some sort of answer, and Dean found that funny because he
thought his awe-filled look was enough of a response to make his older brother
happy.  Obviously not, because Sam didn’t seem like he would do anything more
unless he spoke up.  Hands warm and firm, but still and unmoving where they
were on his upper thighs.  Dean gave a small whining sound because he didn’t
want to say anything, afraid his voice would sound dumb and small and give away
everything he was feeling.  But if he wanted to get more of what he was feeling
he would have to speak, quite a wonderful catch-22 really.
 
“Yeh-,” a pause to clear his throat because he sounded hoarse and rough, “Yes. 
I, please.  Please Sammy.”  He didn’t like this begging bit, it made his heart
thump painfully and his face burn with arousal dipped shame.  It was confusing
and he wasn’t sure he could handle it, he wasn’t sure he could handle anything
Sam threw his way tonight but he would rather go to hell and back then stop now
because of some fringed nerves.
 
No response from Sam was given, he only smiled low and small before getting up
on his knees, letting Dean’s legs fall boneless around him and reaching over
with one huge hand to cup his little brother’s spent dick.  It hurt, kind of,
but at the same time it felt really freaking good —not as good as the blow job
but still—and it made Dean both arch towards and away from his touch, drawing
his knees up and wider so Sam would have more room to work.  And man did Sam
work, hand nearly encasing his entire cock because it was unrightfully big and
strong and knew just where to press and pull and even if it was almost dry, the
spit from earlier drying, the pressure and drag was amazing and Dean was hard
again in no time.  Breath catching in his throat and hands pulling at the
sheets hard enough Dean was positive he could hear some threads beginning to
rip.
 
Sam moved back over Dean, hand still going nice and slow over Dean’s dick, his
other planting itself by his brother’s head.  He veered in close, muscles
working in his arms and chest while he pressed a soft kiss to Dean’s forehead,
moving down to his nose and cheek until Dean who was previously burying his
head into his shoulder to muffle any sounds now faced him.  His eyes were
glazed over and lids heavy, eyelashes a dark smudge against his cheekbones and
lips swollen red and shining with spit.  Dean’s hair, often styled up, was
weighed down by sweat and sticking to his forehead and if Sam had the extra
hand he’d probably be running a hand through it.
 
“Look at you, so sensitive.  This is all new, isn’t it?”  Sam asked, voice
heavy with lust and pretty much everything Dean figured he’d be addicted to
now.  Dean’s pretty sure that now he got a taste of what Sam’s like here, what
having Sam is like, he wouldn’t be able to live without it.  He tried his best
to keep his eyes closed, because the picture of Sam leaning over him, miles of
muscle and tanned skin littered with scars, with his eyes trained solely on him
would probably be too much and he’d blow again and he really did mean it when
he said it was starting to hurt.
 
“Anyone else ever touch you?”  Questioned Sam, head tilting as if he was
inspecting Dean carefully, like there was more he could get if he looked hard
enough and the scrutiny only made Dean’s dick pulse, mouth hanging open on each
gasp for breath and hands laying limply by his head.  Dean could only manage a
weak shake, body zinging with pleasure and jerking with each stroke.  Sam was
the first person to ever get him like this, lost in carnal desires, dropping
all pretenses of dignity and letting everything go.  His older brother made it
real easy to forget the world, with his sure hands and strong body, confident
smile that made Dean’s knees lock and lungs empty themselves.
 
"No?"  Sam said softly, tone inquisitive and his strokes suddenly came to a
stop, thumb barely rubbing the head which only made Dean let out a long whine,
upset at the sudden halt.  Didn’t Sam have some sort of plan, overload Dean’s
senses, that sort of stuff?  What was with the pause?
 
"I asked you a question Dean."  Came the clarification and Dean groaned out his
annoyance, because why the hell does that stupid question even need an answer?
 Sam certainly knows he’s the first person to ever come this far with Dean, and
so Dean saw it an incredibly large waste of their very valuable time.  But then
Sam kept staring at him expectantly, hand just casually sitting there on his
little brothers dick like it had every right to not be moving and not be
showing Dean a whole new world of pleasure.
 
"Well?"
 
“Jesus, alright, fuck, yes, no one else has ever put their god damned hands on
my dick now will you please, just fucking continue?”  Dean snapped, voice too
breathless and strung out to really be as angry and demanding as he hoped but
he put an effort forth and figured he should get something for that at least.
 Sam seemed pleased enough with his answer, hand resuming now at a far quicker,
rougher pace, leaving Dean whiplashed in comparison to the slower way Sam was
playing him earlier.  Not fair, at all, that Sam was able to keep surprising
him with newer, better sensations each time.  Then again, this being his first
time, it probably wasn’t too hard to shock him at all.  Still.
 
Sam moved to press Dean’s left thigh against his chest, stretching his little
brother wide and giving a delicious view of his pretty little hole clenching
with each burst of pleasure.  Dean moaned at the stretch, embarrassment only a
momentary thought before being thrown out the window and trampled down by -is
that Sam’s hand where he thinks it is.  Just one fingertip barely brushing his
damp hole and Dean came for the third time, body arching and legs jerking,
almost landing a kick on Sam’s face because as much as it felt really, really
fucking amazing, it also burned and stung some.  His vision even grayed a
little at the edges, everything going out of focus and sequence as his come
striped his lower belly and Sam’s hand.
 
He clocked back in a few moments —or minutes, or maybe hours, he doesn’t know
or really care— later, licking his dry licks and trying to find something,
anything, he could possibly say.  This was more than he ever dreamed of
getting, and he thought right now would be a good place to stop and get some
resting time in, conveniently forgetting anything Sam’s said because he’s
exhausted and feels too loose to really fit in his own skin right now which
frankly was a terrifying feeling.  He was positive however that if he were to
go to bed right now and die in his sleep, he would be perfectly fine with it.
 
He thinks he would have fallen asleep a few seconds later if it wasn’t for the
suddenly very cold and slick fingers prodding at his entrance shocking him back
to some form of lucidity.  He immediately arched up and away, a confused noise
slipping from him and he really did try his best to scramble away, but then Sam
pressed one hand to his belly and held him there with his strength and weight
combined, the swift move causing Dean’s body to shake and shiver.  Not to
mention the ache that followed, considering that the show of size only made his
body try to get back in on the action, and taking into account he has just come
three times it stopped being happy fun times with a dash of pain and more of
‘okay maybe we should apply the brakes’.
 
"Hey sh, it’s okay."  Sam whispered into his cheek, kissing it softly when Dean
whined still at Sam’s numbing circles being rubbed over his hole, "come on
baby, know you can take it, just one more time and we’ll be done."  They were
supposed to be soothing, comforting, but the idea of one more time was as
exciting as it was terrifying.  Despite his objections his dick was already
half hard, jerking and twitching when Sam very slowly pushed one finger in, the
stretch new and exhilarating and momentarily distracting Dean.
 
The younger brother pushed into the hand unwillingly, gasping open mouthed and
staring wide eyed at the ceiling as the finger slid to the final knuckle.  Dean
realized right then how painfully and vastly different taking it up the ass
instead of fantasizing about it was.  It wasn’t a bad difference, more of a
hey-ho that’s new and strange and oh god Sam began moving about, face scrunched
in concentration and Dean hadn’t much time to figure what he was apparently
searching for in his ass of all things when suddenly everything seemed to
explode.  Sparks like fireworks going off behind his eyes and a loud, broken
off moan ripped through the air, and it took him a few moments to realize that
was him who had made that sound.
 
It was like Sam combined the blowjob, handjob, and a whole other mesh of things
together and crammed them into one small, tight little space that he only had
to brush his finger over to get Dean writhing and begging.  Which, oh, he was.
 
“Sam.  Sammy, whah… what was that, it was, again, please, please, please
again.”  He mumbled incoherently, deciding that even if his body was yelling
‘no more’ his dick was louder with it cries for ‘more please’ and with his
brain away on vacation he was far more tempted to listen to his nether regions
over his body any day.  Sam looked a bit surprised with his pleas, eye brows
raised as he began to slowly add a second finger while Dean was distracted.
 
“You’ve never played with yourself in here?”  Sam enunciated with a few more
hard jabs at his prostate, leaving Dean a quivering mess of moans and whines,
both legs pressed tight to his chest and spreading himself open.
 
“No.”  Dean kept repeating, the word useless and dumb and he wasn’t sure what
it meant anymore, just knew that Sam now had two fingers inside of him and they
were thick and long and getting up deep where he’s never had the balls to
explore before, sparking nerves and lighting fires along the way.
 
“Does it feel good?”  Sam asked, suddenly three fingers stretching wide and
fucking into him and Dean’s pretty sure his heart is going to give out on him.
 
“Yes.”  He carried on the antics of resaying the word until all of its meaning
was lost, barely scraping enough brain cells together to give Sam an answer so
he wouldn’t stop, would keep pushing into him and giving Dean more of these
addictive shocks that made his body twist and turn for more.
 
“Want big brother to fuck you?”
 
“Yes.”  Dean cried with a full body shudder, Sam’s question whispered dirty and
hot into his ear and that’s what he’s wanted for so long and Sam was offering
it and there was nothing that was going to stop Dean from getting this.  His
eyes drifted shut and one arm draped itself over his face, listening numbly to
Sam shift about, cloth falling to the floor and wet sounds that Dean guessed
was his brother prepping himself.  Dean was barely containing himself, mind a
hazy electrical current of Sam, throat working hard as he let himself be pulled
closer to Sam.  His legs were hooked onto Sam’s elbows, ass pointed up as
something large and blunt pressed at his slick entrance.
 
Dean thought a moment to beg Sam to hurry up, to perhaps just push backwards
and force Sam in, but then Sam started to move forward nice and slow, giving
Dean time to adjust and the burn that came with it rekindled Dean’s previous
idea.  It hurt, hurt worse than getting thrown about on a hunt, but at the same
time, there was an insatiable pleasure building, slowly filling in every
crevice and corner of Dean’s whole being and alerting him to the knowledge that
once this initial stretch was taken care of, things were going to be really
fucking good.
 
“You okay?”  Sam asked softly once he was fully in, nose nuzzling Dean’s, Dean
just now noticing he had shut his eyes tight, small hurt noises slipping from
him as he bit his lips hard enough for a small bead of blood to peak through. 
Dean couldn’t possibly answer Sam, because he was okay, more than okay, but his
voice would betray him and Sam would want to stop and that was not happening,
not in a million years.  So in response Dean made a desperate sort of sound,
leaning up to press a desperate kiss to Sam while being overwhelmed by the fact
that was Sam inside him, twitching and huge and stretching wide and it hurt but
it felt amazing and Dean needed Sam to move now.  He needed to be fucked hard
until he couldn’t remember his name or what state he was in or where he was
even born.
 
Sam seemed to get the memo, breaking away from Dean and pressing one gentle
kiss to his forehead, soft and assuring, before pulling out and shoving back in
with a rough jerk of his hips.  It felt more of a tester than the real deal,
making sure Dean was fully stretched and ready because Sam was a big boy, but
it still made Dean moan loud and clear, body snapping up and pushing back into
Sam’s thrust.  The rhythm was awkward at first, stuttering and offbeat, Sam
switching between hard, quick jab of his hips, then going slow and making sure
Dean felt every inch of his big cock inside of him.  The strange set was making
Dean grow impatient as it was turned on, and it only took a few more switch
offs of Sam fucking in for Dean to realize Sam was giving him a taste of the
two ways he could go about the main event, letting Dean set the tone.  The
gesture was nice, making Dean’s heart flutter out of its already irregular
beat, but he wasn’t angling for the soft hearted, tender love making –that
would be for later, no Dean was hoping for the rough play, and if Sam was
willing to deliver, hallelujah.
 
“Sammy, please, want it hard.”  Was what Dean managed, and even though he had
more words than that, his message carried across and in the next second Sam was
pounding him into the mattress, dick filling him up and leaving room for
nothing else but Sam.  Nearly every thrust landed the spot that made the world
blot of from existence, and if Dean had enough time to get in more than a
seconds worth of breath, he was positive he would be screaming.  Now that he
was finally here, stuffed full of Sam and lying helpless and boneless beneath
him, it was hard to believe, despite the way he very much felt every second,
his brain was having trouble differentiating this from a hyper realistic
dream.  He probably would think this was another dream, but then he would hear
a groan or grunt from Sam, feel the desperate way his older brother clung to
him, and realize that even in his fantasies he never played out Sam truly
wanting him back.  Never being this wanting of him, and he was kind of really
glad that this wasn’t like what he thought it would be, that it was far better
than he ever hoped.
 
Words, distant to Dean’s ears were being spoken low and rough, and once Dean
focused hard enough, he found they belonged to Sam, who was busy nipping and
sucking bites into the parts of his chest that weren’t covered by his shirt. 
They were similar praise to the ones Sam spoke previous, of how perfect Sam
thought he was, how beautiful and smart and funny and Dean could only cry out
weakly because it was all too much.  Sam was over him, holding him down with
his strength and size, fucking into him with fierce jabs and telling him how he
thought Dean was pretty and intelligent.  He was shocked he had already held
out this long, so when orgasm number four hit it wasn’t too surprising.  The
knowledge of it did nothing to dim it’s effects, the world simply leaving in a
field vision of white as pleasure as gratifying as it was encaging weighed down
to the bed, his limbs splaying easy for Sam who kept pounding into Dean, still
speaking a steady stream of words that Dean’s brain who was still too busy
melting and puddling about couldn’t be bothered ever again to make out.
 
Sam almost encroached on it becoming painful for him to keep fucking into Dean,
the younger brother ready to make some weak complaint with what little speaking
ability he had left before Sam finally came, seed spreading messy and wet
inside of Dean and leaking out in thick glops when he pulled out.  It would
have been disgusting, but Dean’s body was aching all over and his mind shut
down and already half way to la-la land now that Sam was finished, so he could
give a rat’s ass about personal hygiene at the moment.  Sam apparently did
however, care about personal hygiene enough to leave and come back with a rag
that was cold to the touch but after a few strokes on his skin became
comforting and soothing and Dean made an agreeing noise while flopping onto his
side, curling up and deciding all problems they would have to deal with later
can and would be dealt with later.
 
Dean didn’t care to listen to Sam move about the room, only began paying
attention when his brother slid up right behind him, body a furnace and Dean
was right earlier when he figured he wouldn’t need a blanket ever if he slept
with Sam.  He mumbled out a happy little sound when Sam wrapped his arms around
him, fitting his body to Dean’s and hooking his chin on the top of Dean’s head.
 
“Dean?”  Sam asked softly and Dean only barely managed a response.
 
“What?”
 
“You okay with what happened?”  Of course Sam would have to ask, because Dean
coming four times didn’t meant jack diddly squat apparently.  Dean didn’t
bother responding, giving a loud groan he hoped got across his annoyance.
 
“You know we’re going to have to talk about this tomorrow Dean.”
 
“Yeah.”  Dean said, and he would be surprised if Sam even heard it, his voice
soft as a whispers and might as well have just been his breath.
 
“You’re not getting out of drinking.” Dean didn’t care, couldn’t figure out how
Sam thought he could possibly care right now, so instead of responding Dean
turned over and shoved his face into Sam’s hard chest, giving a long sigh and
snuggling close before closing his eyes for what he hoped was the last time
tonight.
 
“You’re also going to have to clean up the broken glass.”
 
“And you’re also going to have to deal my foot up your ass.”  Dean snapped back
tiredly, knowing it was only the exhaustion and lack of brain power that fueled
the idea he could even threaten Sam with that.  His brother was twice his size
and definitely more skilled in combat, but he heard John use that phrase once
or twice and it seemed appropriate.  Sam seemed to shut up finally, hands
rubbing up and down Dean’s back as he hummed softly.  How the hell was he even
still awake?  Dean was too tired to even think clearly and yet here was Sam, in
older brother mode with the chastising and warnings, but at least had enough
sense to stop pestering him now.
 
"I love you.”  Sam said quietly, kissing the top of Dean’s head before closing
his eyes himself and Dean thanked all the gods his brother was finally going to
sleep.
 
 “Yeah, I love you too, now can we please sleep?”  Dean responded only out of
necessity, because it was rude to not respond when someone told you that, and
not because his heart gave a jump and somewhere where he was still partially
awake he was singing praise when Sam said that.  Seriously though, he was tired
as hell and everything would be dealt with later, once they both got their
sleep and could wake up brighter than they had in months.  For Dean, it would
be years, but he figured Sam probably had his own fair share of angst, maybe
even more, considering he was the one charged with raising Dean.  They would
have to have a lot of interesting conversations later.
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