Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11714391.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Sam_is_17, Weecest, First_Time_Blow_Jobs
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-08-05 Words: 3433
****** A way to keep busy ******
by soy_em
Summary
     For the prompt: Dean is feeling angsty, but Sam knows the perfect way
     to cheer him up
Notes
     Prompt from Glass-closet. Hope you like it!
     Note: Sam is 17 in this.
See the end of the work for more notes
Dean’s been acting like a dick all day. Sam got home from school hours ago to
find a moody, sullen brother sulking at the kitchen table, pulling apart the
empty cereal box left over from the morning. The local newspaper (Local man
gets lucky with giant marrow) is already shredded next to him.
“Hey,” he’d said, throwing his backpack down on the spare chair. Dean had just
grunted in response, not raising his eyes or otherwise acknowledging Sam. There
were none of the usual questions: how was your day? do you have much homework?
were people nice to you or do I need to beat anyone up?;just Dean staring at
the table in silence.
Sam had shrugged and headed towards their room to do their homework, used to
occasional moodiness from his brother. As he walked through their small rental
house, it had become blindingly obvious why Dean was in such a bad mood: their
Dad’s stuff was gone and Dean was not. Clearly, Dad had gone on a hunt that
hadn’t required Dean’s presence, which always left Dean feeling useless, and
therefore angry. Sam had dealt with this before and he knew it would pass.
But now, hours later, Dean is still sat at the same spot at the kitchen table.
Sam’s homework is finished and his reading done; but Dean doesn’t appear to
have moved.
“Hey Dean, wanna get something to eat?” he asks, cautious. Dean barely shakes
his head in response. Sam winces; it’s unusual for Dean not to be hungry, and
even less normal for him not to have cooked something for Sam.
“I was thinking maybe burgers?” Sam asked hesitantly. He wasn’t really in a
burger kind of a mood (he’d much rather have some grilled chicken, maybe some
peppers and salad), but nothing would pull Dean out of a funk faster than the
thought of sinking his teeth into disgusting, fatty meat.
“Maybe another day.”
“Come on, Dean, we could drive down to the diner in town and try theirs. You’ve
been wanting to do that for ages.”
Dean looks up at that, meeting Sam’s eyes for a second before dropping his head
onto the table. “Can’t drive, Sam.”
“Why the hell not?” Sam is starting to get legitimately worried now. Maybe Dean
was in some kind of an accident in the Impala?
“Dad took the car,” his brother replies, despondent.
“Oh.”
Sam is nonplussed. Dad had given Dean the Impala on his sixteenth birthday;
since then it’s been their home, their place to be together. They haven’t
driven in another car in the past five years and Dean is desperately attached
to his baby.
“Why the hell did he do that?”
“Got a case centering round a classic car show. Wanted my baby to show he’s
legit.”
“Oh.” Sam can’t really argue with that; it’s a sensible reason, if not very
fair to Dean. “I’m sure the car will be fine, Dean. Dad will look after it and
it’ll be back in no time.”
Dean just shoots him a look, and Sam shrivels a little. And then he realises -
“Hey, does that mean we don’t have any car at all?”
Their Dad always has his own car, but changes it up fairly regularly, both to
keep the police off their tails and because their Dad’s cars tend to get a bit
battered in hunts. He’d been on the lookout for a new one the last few days,
since they arrived in this town, and hadn’t sorted it out when Sam had left for
school that morning.
“Yup, no car til he’s back,” Dean confirms. Sam stares at his brother. He’s
been using a bike to get to school; but the high school is on the outskirts of
town nearest their crappy motel and it’s a lot further to get to the main
street. And there’s only one bike.
“What the hell are we going to do?”
“Give me a lift each day on your handlebars?”
Sam can’t quite tell if Dean is joking. Dean hasn’t ridden the bike yet, but
Sam’s riding it every day, and he knows full well that there’s no way the rusty
old hunk of metal that Dad picked up at cut price will hold the weight of two
hefty boys.
Dean drops his head to the table again and Sam has no idea how to console him.
“I’m gonna ride to town and get burgers,” he says, barely hopeful that this
will rouse Dean from his sadness at being without his most important
possession. “See you in a bit.”
***
The ride is a stark reminder of how fucked they are without the car. It’s
around twenty minutes ride to the diner, far too long for them to walk easily
into town. Sam has no idea what Dean is going to do each day, or how they are
going to get groceries. He’s not looking forward to carrying their shopping
home from the town supermarket.
He makes the ride back in slightly less time, desperate to get back to the
motel with even vaguely warm burgers (although he supposes that they could heat
them back up in their little kitchenette).
Dean’s still sitting right where Sam left him, despondent. It takes Sam a while
to jolly Dean onto the couch, enticing Dean with the smell of meat; and
ultimately, with the threat that Sam is going to drink all their beers. It’s
hard work, but it pays off when Dean is settled next to Sam, both with a beer
popped open and dinner on trays on their laps.
Sam flicks the tv on, flicking through the channels until he finds a horror
film he knows Dean will love. The blood and screaming is so fake it’s
laughable, but Dean seems to enjoy this kind of movie; perhaps appreciating the
humour in how different it is from their lives. But tonight, he’s clearly not
paying attention. He picks at his dinner, fiddling with the burger patty until
it too is shredded into little pieces; and he’s eaten less than half.
Eventually Sam loses his patience and takes the meal away, throwing the grisly
leftovers in the bin.
On the other hand, Dean’s not having any trouble finishing off his beer. He’s
gone through two by the time the burger is removed, and another a few minutes
after that. Sam frowns; not only is his brother drinking fast, but they now
have no way of replenishing their beer supply. He sips from his own more
conservatively, aware that he’s a lightweight compared to Dean.
The silence stretches on, the weight of Dean’s misery bearing them both down,
and Sam finds himself resorting to his beer more and more frequently to kill
the tension. Dean sighs loudly at regular intervals, and every time he does,
Sam takes a drink. He soon feels light headed, but instead of feeling more
relaxed, he’s becoming more and more laser focused on how miserable his brother
is feeling.
Rolling his head on his shoulders, he shifts to look at his brother. Dean’s
profile is highlighted by the glow of the television, his perfect nose and
plush lips in full relief, eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. Sam’s
unable to hold back his own sigh at the sight, because Dean is stunningly
beautiful. He squirms awkwardly in his seat; he’s had this reaction to Dean
more times than he can count but they rarely, so rarely act upon it. There have
been a couple of times, usually late at night under shared covers, when they’ve
helped each other out; and that one time after a hunt in Pennsylvania, when,
overcome with adrenalin, Dean had let Sam rock against him until they both came
in their pants.
But they’ve never acted on it consciously, no matter how often Sam’s wanted to.
And oh, does he want to.
He continues to stare at Dean, watching the light flicker across his face.
Sam’s not drunk, not like that time a year ago when he’d gone to his first high
school party and Dean had to come and fetch him and he’d been sick everywhere.
But he is tipsy, enough that he’s able to disregard the embarrassment he’d
normally feel at the way his pants are getting tighter by the second. It’s not
like Dean’s never seen it before.
“Quit staring at me,” Dean mutters suddenly, and Sam flushes. He turns away
ostentatiously.
“Wasn’t staring.”
Dean just snorts.
But it only takes a few moments for Sam’s attention to be drawn back towards
his brother, not least because at least half of Sam’s being is always focused
on Dean. His brother is still upset, his body language reeking of discontent
from his arms crossed firmly on his chest to his foot tapping impatiently on
the floor.
Sam thinks back to those times under the covers, and how good it had felt. He’s
not exactly experienced; apart from Dean’s, he’s had exactly two other people’s
hands on his cock and neither had felt anywhere near as good. He’s not
narcissistic enough to think that Dean had found it nearly as life changing as
Sam had, given the number of girls his brother has been with. But Dean had
still seemed to enjoy it, had seemed happier afterwards, and Sam can’t help but
think that maybe that tactic might cheer Dean up now.
Once the thought is in his head he finds it impossible to let go. His mind
swims with visions of kissing Dean, straddling his lap and rocking down against
his brother. He’s aching to be with Dean, if not exactly in the daylight, at
least at a time when they’ll be forced to acknowledge it in the morning.
“Quit it, Sam,” Dean says irritably, not even turning his head; and Sam’s had
enough.
Moving across the couch, he swings his leg across Dean’s lap and settles down
before his brother has a chance to react.
“What the hell are you doing?” Dean demands, but his harsh tone is offset by
the fact that his hands have automatically found Sam’s hips.
“This,” Sam replies, and dips his head before he has the chance to chicken out.
Their lips meet, slightly awkward and off-centre as Sam’s beer-filled mind
misses the target, but he corrects quickly and swipes his tongue across Dean’s
lower lip.
Dean groans, mouth opening just enough for Sam to dip inside, before Dean’s
hands tighten on his waist and Sam is pushed back. Sam keens, moving his head
forward again, addicted to kissing his brother.
“What are you doing?” Dean repeats, voice hoarse; and Sam can feel the tremble
in his fingertips.
“Kissing you.” He drops his head again, just managing to brush his lips across
Dean’s before he’s moved again.
“Sam,” Dean starts, warningly.
“Dean,” Sam parrots back. “Don’t pretend you don’t want this.”
He kisses Dean again, aggressively this time, not willing to take no for an
answer. There’s an aching minute when Dean doesn’t respond. Sam is just about
ready to pull back, humiliation lighting his body on fire, when Dean gives in.
Suddenly, Sam is no longer in control of the kiss. Dean’s tongue sweeps into
his mouth, owning him and forcing Sam’s mouth open wider. Dean’s tasting him,
and then pulling back, nipping and biting at his lips before diving back in.
Sam’s shifted forwards until their hips are flush together, and Dean guides him
to start rocking down into glorious friction.
Sam’s mind is blown. This is so far beyond their surreptitious, under-the-
covers handjobs; and it’s way better than anything he’s done with his peers at
school. He’s only barely aware that he’s making little hitching, whining noises
in the back of his throat; but he realises immediately when Dean’s hands slip
under his t-shirt and find skin.
Dean’s hand moves to his neck, thumb pressing tight under Sam’s chin. His
brother breaks the kiss, forcing Sam’s head back until they can look into each
other’s eyes. Sam’s panting, and his tongue sweeps out without his consent to
gather the taste of Dean left on his lips.
Dean groans, eyes searching Sam’s. He must like what he finds, because he
grins, canines showing razor-sharp; before Sam finds himself flipped onto the
sofa, Dean pushing his legs apart so that he can stand in between them. There’s
something about looking up at Dean, when his brother is standing between his
legs, that sends Sam absolutely wild; he doesn’t know what it is, whether it’s
the size difference or the implied power differential, but it causes him to
slam his head back against the couch, and Dean chuckles.
There’s a bite at his lips before Dean pulls Sam’s t-shirt over his head. When
Sam opens his eyes again, he’s faced with the vision of Dean on his knees in
between Sam’s spread legs, hands warm on Sam’s knees and wicked grin in place.
“Anyone ever done this for you, little brother?” Dean asks, voice dripping with
sex.
It takes Sam far longer than it should to understand what Dean is suggesting,
but when he finally does, he can barely get the words out.
“No,” he answers, voice shaking.
“Good.” Dean’s viciously pleased. He gets Sam’s zipper undone without further
ado and pulls his jeans and boxers quickly down his thighs. Sam’s cock is
straining hard against his belly, already leaking a little, and it takes every
tiny bit of concentration Sam has left not to instinctively cover himself. “Not
so little brother,” Dean adds, appraising. “When’d you get so big?”
Sam’s spared having to answer when Dean grips the base of his cock. Dean’s
rough, calloused hand runs up and down his shaft for a couple of seconds,
spreading precome along Sam’s length, and Sam’s hips slam up. “Uh uh,” Dean
says warningly, his other hand pressing down on the top of Sam’s thighs. “Stay
still for me.” Dimly, Sam thinks he’d do anything Dean asked as long as Dean
used that tone of voice.
His life-altering revelations are put on hold as he watches Dean lower his
head, teasing, his eyes on Sam’s the whole time. Dean stops just above the head
of Sam’s cock, so close that Sam can feel warm air brushing across him.
“Dean,” he whines, and his brother laughs.
“Ok, Sammy.”
Finally, Dean swipes his tongue across Sam’s cock, and Sam can’t help himself;
his hips slam up again.
“No, Sam.” Dean says firmly, and slaps the inside of his thigh. It’s not a hard
slap, barely stings, but the idea is enough to make Sam groan loudly.
“Interesting,” Dean muses, before he lowers his head again.
This time, Sam manages to keep still. Dean licks gently for a couple of
minutes, almost driving Sam mad, before the warm heat of his mouth closes fully
over Sam’s cock. Sam’s never felt anything like it; Dean’s mouth is so, so much
better than a hand, whether his, or Dean’s, or anyone else’s. He can tell
already that this is going to be over embarrassingly soon, but he can’t bring
himself to care.
Dean slides his mouth further down Sam’s cock before he starts to bob his head,
always keeping eye contact with Sam; and it’s glaringly apparent that it’s not
his first time doing this. Sam is blindingly jealous of the men who’ve come
before him, who have had his brother first, and he twists his hands in Dean’s
hair, tugging to express his frustration. It makes Dean grunt around his cock,
vibrations shooting up Sam’s spine, and to his everlasting shame, the feeling
is enough to make him come in a sticky rush down Dean’s throat.
Dean pulls back, choking, as Sam’s hands tremble and the muscles in his thighs
jump with the aftermath of orgasm. Sam’s chest is heaving, toes curling and
uncurling as his brain tries to process a feeling that’s way beyond anything
he’s experienced before.
“Mrhhrm,” he murmurs at Dean, waving his hands and trying to get them back onto
his brother’s skin, but Dean has pulled back to wipe his mouth clean. As his
brain comes back online, Sam becomes aware that Dean’s still fully dressed
while he himself is sprawled out naked; and if he didn’t feel so thoroughly
wrung out, the thought would be enough to get him hard again. Through the fog
in his brain, Sam suspects he’s going to have a couple of new kinks to work
through after tonight.
Finally, his brain starts to function well enough that he can actually get his
grabby hands on Dean, pulling his brother towards him. He wants to taste Dean’s
mouth now, and he cups his hand around the back of Dean’s neck, pulling his
brother in for a kiss. Dean seems to balk at first, perhaps embarrassed about
sharing the taste, but Sam is insistent, and finally he crushes their lips
together. Dean tastes odd, no longer like the beer he’d been knocking back
earlier, but Sam is instantly addicted.
“I think you’re gonna be a bit filthy, little brother,” Dean says, pulling back
and grinning. Sam smiles his agreement. Aware that Dean hasn’t come yet, he
tugs and pulls until Dean is sat on his thighs, and fumbles at his brother’s
zip.
“Think I broke your brain,” Dean mocks, helping him. A moment later, Dean is
shoving his pants down and pulling out his cock. It’s not as big as Sam’s, but
it’s still nicely sized, and Sam feels his mouth water a little. Now is not the
time for that, however; Sam can barely coordinate his hands, let alone think
about giving his first blowjob. He settles for getting his fist wrapped around
Dean, starting up a steady rhythm that has Dean gasping above him, keeping
balance with his hand braced on the couch behind Sam’s head. Dean starts to
roll his hips fluidly, and Sam is fascinated by the way Dean’s fair skin
flushes, down his neck and to the tip of his ears.
“You’re gorgeous,” he mutters, and Dean’s eyelashes flutter. “Come on,” he
coaxes.
It doesn’t take Dean long either, hips speeding up until he’s fucking Sam’s
hand, and he makes a little choked off cry as he comes that Sam’s going to be
jacking off to until the day he dies. Dean slumps forwards afterwards, his
mouth immediately seeking Sam’s. They kiss fast and hard, and slow down
gradually until they’re trading soft, barely there kisses as Sam drifts towards
sleep.
“Oh, no,” Dean says briskly. “Wakey wakey.” He shakes Sam’s shoulder roughly.
“Come on, bedtime. We can’t sleep here.”
He tugs Sam up, despite Sam’s protests; and once he’s standing, Sam is once
again uncomfortably aware of his own nudity compared to Dean, who is still
wearing his t-shirt with his jeans loose around his hips. Flushing, he tries to
bend to pick up his boxers.
“Oh,no,” Dean repeats, with a totally different tone this time. “I like you
like this.” If possible, Sam turns even redder, crossing his arms in front of
his skinny chest. “Oh, no,” Dean repeats for a third time, soft and tender this
time. Gently, he pulls Sam’s arms away. “I like you naked, Sam.”
Sam dips his head so that his hair falls in front of his face, thrilled with
the praise, and Dean chuckles.
“Come on.” Dean takes his wrist and tugs Sam towards their bedroom. They’re in
twin beds for once, and as they reach the doorway, Sam hangs back, unsure. He
knows what he wants but he has no idea how Dean will feel about it.
Luckily, Dean seems to be on the same page. Pulling back the cover on his bed,
he looks around at Sam. “What are you waiting for?”
Sam feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest, but he tries not
to let it show as he speeds across the room towards Dean. Flinging himself into
the bed, he smiles at Dean settles next to him.
“So how about tomorrow,” Sam starts, “I bunk off school and we spend the day
right here?”
Dean laughs loudly. “I really have broken your brain,” he chuckles. “I never
thought I’d hear the day when my little bookworm suggested playing truant.”
“Well, it would be a good way to keep us both occupied until the Impala is
back, right?”
“Very true. I’m sure we can think of plenty of things to keep us busy. And then
as soon as we get the car back, we can find ways to keep busy there too.”
Dean’s voice is dripping with promise.
“I can’t wait.”
End Notes
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