Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4395548.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Weecest, Wincest_-_Freeform, Big_Brother_Dean_(17), Little_Sammy_(13),
      Dean_is_In_Over_His_Head, first_time_masturbation, Wet_Dream, No_Sex, PWP
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-07-22 Words: 3739
****** My Remedy ******
by Moons_of_Avalon
Summary
     Dean wakes up to find his baby brother in a compromising situation.
     He really should just let it go and forget it ever happened, but when
     Sam starts giving him those puppy dog eyes, really what choice does
     he have but to help out?
Notes
     Title taken from the song "Clarity" by Zedd (though I highly
     recommend the cover by Sam Tsui) because it is a perfect Wincest song
     and I cry
      
     Also friendly reminder that reviews are love!
See the end of the work for more notes
Dean’s usually the kind of guy to sleep through anything. He’s stayed asleep
through trains, screaming arguments, an all out gang fight in the motel parking
lot…a tornado could tear through the building next door and and he probably
wouldn’t even turn over in bed.
But for every rule there is of course an exception.
And Sam is Dean's exception.
Sam needing his help is the sort of thing Dean can just sense, no matter how
exhausted or out of it he might be. The tiniest whimper from his baby brother
having a nightmare and Dean’s wide awake, ready to protect. He’d been a lot
more attentive when Sam was younger, actually getting out of bed to check on
the smaller boy and calm him down so he could sleep again. But once Sam had
gotten to about eight, and Dean had gotten to about puberty, he dialed it back
to merely grumbling from across the room that it was going to be ok and that
they needed to sleep. But never had he lost the ability to wake up when Sam
needed him, even if under normal circumstances he could sleep through a nuclear
holocaust.
That’s what makes it especially odd when he wakes up in the middle of the night
for no apparent reason. It’s quiet, but not unsettlingly so, and Sam doesn’t
seem to be awake. Dean should be sleeping like a log, but he’s not. 
“Sammy?” It’s just a precaution really and he isn’t surprised when he doesn’t
get a verbal response, just soft muttering and the sound of his brother
shifting in his bed. Nevertheless, Dean’s never woken up in the middle of the
night for no reason before, so, begrudgingly, he rolls onto his side and
fumbles for the switch to turn on the bedside lamp. 
Sure enough, Sam’s in bed on his stomach, with the covers half kicked off, and
facing the opposite wall. Nothing unusual. Dean’s about to shrug the whole
thing off and go back to sleep, until he notices that Sam’s pillow isn’t under
the boy’s head.
It’s wedged between his legs…
Underneath his steadily rocking hips.
Dean freezes, hand still on the switch for the lamp as he watches his baby
brother, his little Sammy, deep in in the throes of what appears to be a very
exciting wet dream. Faint gasps and moans seem to become louder and louder in
the otherwise silent room as Dean recognizes them for what they are and feels
his stomach drop.
He supposes that he shouldn’t be all that surprised. After all, Sam’s thirteen,
about the same age that Dean was when he started having those sorts of dreams…
But fuck if he knows how to handle this. It’s not exactly the sort of thing
life prepares you for. No one pulls you aside in school and tells you what to
do if you wake up to see the little sibling you basically raised getting off in
the bed next to yours.
This needs to not be happening.
He needs to turn off the light and pretend this isn’t happening.
He needs to repress this entire memory so deep into his psyche that it might as
well have never happened.
And he’s about to do just that, when Sam suddenly turns and the light from the
lamp falls onto his face. On the sweaty bangs sticking to his forehead, his
cheeks flushing bright red, and his lips hanging open as he whines low and
long. It’s enough of a shock to make Dean go still again, and, within a spilt
second, the light shining on Sam’s eyes is enough to make him open them.
And the they’re both frozen. Frozen and staring at each other and if Dean
thought that watching his little brother get off was bad, then watching his
little brother realize that he’s been watching him get off is nothing short of
world-ending.
“Oh my god…” Sam whimpers, his face somehow managing to turn an even brighter
shade of red than it had already been. Dean opens his mouth to say something,
anything to make Sammy feel even a little bit ok about all this, but before he
can even get a word out, Sam is tearing out of bed and into the bathroom, where
he slams the door shut and locks it with a resolute snap.
Dean sighs heavily, flopping back down on the bed and muttering “Fuck.”  That’s
really the only word for this. He shakes his head and considers resuming his
plan of letting Sam take care of himself while he tries to forget that this
ever happened…that is until he hears a soft sob from behind the bathroom door. 
Sam is crying.
Fuck.
Fuck this. Fuck everything. Just fuck because Dean has never been able to deal
with Sam crying. He can’t let this go and just allow his little brother feel
this awful and embarrassed about something that he can’t help.
“Come on, Sammy…” he groans, hauling himself out of bed and across the room to
lean against the bathroom door. He can still hear the crying, but it’s gotten
softer, like Sam’s trying to muffle the sound, and it’s punctuated by weak
sniffling. “Don't be like that…”
“Go away!” Dean flinches at the words, but just sighs again.
“Look I just don’t want you freaking out about this. Yeah it’s a little weird…”
It's way more than a little weird, but hey, Sam doesn’t need to know that. He
forces a lightness into his voice that he doesn’t really feel. “But you’re
turnin’ into a man now, you know? This kind of stuff is gonna happen.” There’s
still no response, but he presses for one. “Would you just open the door,
Sammy? I wanna make sure you’re alright.”
It’s silent for a long few moments before the lock clicks and the door opens a
crack to reveal half of Sam’s still blushing face. Dean does his best to grin.
“Hey, kiddo,” he smiles. “You gonna come out and go back to bed? It’s damn
unnatural to be awake this early.”
Sam just blushes again and shakes his head, shifting uncomfortably and looking
away. Dean’s eyes go wide as he glances down and realizes why. “Oh…jesus…” As
if they needed more trauma. “Just uh…you know, take care of it like usual. I’ll
be out here.” He turns pretty quickly, not ready to look Sam in the eye after
that, but stops short when he feels a hand grasping his wrist. Sam’s still got
such little, soft hands…
“Wait…” the boy pleads, and Dean’s got no choice but to turn and face him.
“Yeah?”
There’s another long pause and it looks like Sam’s biting down on the insides
of his cheeks. “I’ve never…I don’t…” He’s bright red again. “I-it usually takes
care of itself?”
Dean’s mind short circuits as it tries to wrap around that. His brother, his
brother, has never…?! “Hold on, you’re telling me you’ve never jerked off?
Seriously?” He’s only shocked, but the laughing tone is just a bit to
accusatory for adolescent ears. Before Dean knows it he’s getting a door
slammed in his face once again. 
“Son of a— come on, Sam, I didn’t mean it like that!” He gets no response, but
at least the boy didn’t think to lock the door this time. Sam’s leaning over
the sink when Dean nudges the door open, nails digging painfully against the
hard edges of the counter as he grips it for support. The tension in his
shoulders rises as Dean’s eyes pass over them, as if he can feel the gaze and
is doing his very best to shrug it off. He’s failing…
“If you’re just gonna make fun of me, go away.”
“I’m not makin’ fun of you, Sammy,” Dean sighs. “It’s just… Damn it, I don’t
know what it is.” He leans against the doorframe, shoulders hunched, eyes
turned up to the ceiling. Where the hell is their dad when shit like this goes
down? He’s not Sammy’s father, he’s not prepared to give the talk. Especially
since he never really got one… 
It’s a soft pressure against his chest that makes him look down, and he’s
surprised to see Sammy leaning his head against him, tousled mop of hair hiding
his face. Dean knows he’s still flushed though, he can feel the heat through
his shirt.
“It’s ok…” Sam sighs and Dean has to smile a little. Can’t stay mad with Sam
around. He rests his hand on the kid’s hair, which is getting a little too
long, and ruffles it slightly, pulling a laugh from his little brother. For a
moment everything’s ok, things the way they always should be…until Sam leans
against him more and he feels the kid’s hard-on rub against his thigh. 
Luckily, Sam panics first, leaping back, hands between his legs, face burning.
“Why won’t it go down!”
“Because it wants attention and you’re not giving any.” Dean can be concerned
later about why it’s begun to feel less weird to talk about all this; in the
meantime he has to deal with Sam sinking to the floor and whining in
frustration and embarrassment, hands still firmly wedged between his legs.
“It’s usually gone by the time I wake up…” he mutters, laying it out this time.
Uncertainty always loosens his tongue around Dean. “And then there’s a mess…”
“Yeah, I meant to ask…how many times has this happened?”
Sam shrugs, looking away. “Just a couple. You and dad weren’t here so I’d just
hide the pillow under the bed…”
Dean rolls his eyes. Smart kid. He kneels down, taking Sam by the shoulders.
“Well I get why, ok? But it’s not something you need to be embarrassed about,
everybody does it. Though most guys take care of it when they’re awake so you
don’t have to worry about cleaning up in the middle of the night.”
Dean’s getting really sick of these long pauses, but still finds it in him to
smile when Sam finally raises his head to look at him. If it’s something Sammy
needs, he’ll always manage it. But the young man’s heart just about stops in
his chest at what the boy has to say: “Can you show me how?”
Can you show me how…
Can you show me how?!
Jesus Christ, does this kid have any idea, any idea at all what he’s asking
for?!
The look in Sam’s wide eyes tells Dean right away that no, no he doesn’t. He
has no idea why it’s an absolutely terrible fucking idea to ask your older
brother to show you how to jack off. But fuck if Dean has ever been able to say
no to those big puppy dog eyes that look up at him like he’s the best damn
thing to ever walk the earth. Eyes that see more in him than anyone else ever
has… The words are out before he has a chance to think about stopping them.
“Yeah, if you want.” He knows it’s maybe the worst idea he’s ever had, but if
Sam doesn’t know that then maybe it won’t be so bad. “Bed’s gonna be a little
more comfortable.” Slowly, he stands up and pulls Sam with him, guiding the boy
out of the bathroom and towards his bed, which Sam crawls onto obediently
before turning to look up at Dean with those damn eyes, legs slightly spread to
reveal the curve of his arousal pressed up against his sweatpants.
He’s got no idea…
“Uh…just…stay there,” Dean mutters as he gets on the bed as well, sitting with
his back against the headboard. But like usual, Sam’s not so good at following
orders and moves closer as soon as Dean’s still until he’s between his legs,
eyes as big and sweet as ever.
Dean is fucked and he knows it.
He takes Sam by the waist and turns him around so maybe those eyes won’t have
to bore straight into his soul as he signs this deal with the devil, but Sam
just leans back against him and really that’s no better. Dean has to close his
eyes for a moment, steadying himself. It’s for Sam. It’s just for Sam, just
because his baby brother asked for his help. He can’t say no to that. 
“You’re gonna use your hand, ok?” It doesn’t even sound like his own voice when
he starts to talk, but Sam doesn’t seem to be aware of his brother’s internal
struggle. “It’s easier if it’s wet. Lot’s of guys use lotion or something, but
spit works just as well if you get enough of it.” He nearly laughs when Sam
makes a face at that. Of course. “Hey, man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”
Sam rolls his eyes and brings his hand up to his mouth, but he doesn’t spit.
No, that would’ve been too easy.
His way too fucking innocent baby brother starts to lick, slowly and steadily,
all over his hand, coating his palm and each finger one by one as his little
pink tongue sneaks out of his mouth over and over.
Fuck.
Dean doesn’t know how long that goes on, but it’s like a slap in the face when
Sam’s tongue disappears back into his mouth and his hand disappears down his
pants without hesitation. Dean sees Sam’s hand form a fist and—goddamnit—he
feelsthe boy jolt and gasp at the contact.
“Good…” he whispers, shaking himself a little. “Good. Now, move your hand up
and down, nice and slow at first, ok?” Sam nods, and his face screws up into a
funny little frown as his hand starts to move, a furrow forming on his brow.
“How’s that feel, Sammy?”
“G-good?” the boy murmurs, but Dean’s not convinced. And that’s unsettling.
It’s only a few seconds before Sam pulls his hand back and shakes his head. “It
doesn’t feel right.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know!” 
Dean frowns but doesn’t say anything at first, resting his hands on Sam’s
shoulders and squeezing gently. Sam’s already got faint muscle lining his thin
frame thanks to all their training, and every inch is hard as a rock under
Dean’s hands. “You’re all tensed up, you’ve got to relax, ok? It’s about
feeling good.” He catches a glimpse of Sam’s face, still twisted into a
nervous, confusion and sighs. They could be here a long time like this. “Hey,
don’t worry so much. I’ll—” He can’t believe he’s doing this. “I’ll help, just
close your eyes.”
Sam glances back at him, his eyes searching. “What are you gonna do?”
“I’m gonna show you the right way to do it. Just trust me, ok?” For a moment,
Dean prays that Sam is going to see sense and say no. Pull away and go back
into his own bed. But he’s not so lucky. After a second of consideration, Sam’s
leaning back against him again, eyes closed as his head rests against Dean’s
shoulder.
It’s not as if Dean didn’t already know he was going to end up in hell.
“Try to remember what you were dreaming about,” he murmurs, his hands squeezing
Sam’s shoulders again before sliding slowly down the boy’s arms. Dean closes
his own eyes for a moment when he feels Sam relax under his touch, as if that’s
all the boy was really waiting for. “Focus just on that, nothing else matters.”
His hands are moving to Sam’s chest now, and the boy sucks in a breath when his
shirt gets pulled up just enough to allow Dean’s hands to slip underneath,
stroking slowly up his slim body. He arches when Dean’s fingers brush over his
nipples, and Dean swears that the moan it pulls out of him is the sweetest
sound he’s ever heard. And maybe he should be worried about that, but right now
he just can’t be bothered. He pulls up Sam’s shirt until the fabric’s bunched
just under the boy’s chin and he can see that Sam’s flushed all the way down to
his navel, nipples a darker pink than the rest of him as Dean pinches them and
pulls a whimper from Sam’s lips. 
“Thinking about somebody real pretty, weren’t you?” Dean teases. He keeps one
hand tugging and rubbing at the hard pink nubs that Sam seems to like having
touched so much as his other hand travels down, fingertips brushing over Sam’s
stomach, where he feels the muscle flutter under his touch, and then down
further. He doesn’t touch Sam’s cock, but strokes his thigh instead. Sam cries
out like he’s in pain, but the way he’s started to grip Dean’s thighs says
otherwise. Dean can’t seem to stop talking. “Somebody you saw at school? Maybe
that blond girl I saw you grinning at the other day? I figured you were sweet
on her or something…” 
He trails off when Sam shakes his head, whining softly. “No…” he protests, and
Dean chuckles. 
“Alright, not her. Who then? Who’re you dreamin’ about, baby boy?” he teases,
smirking when Sam shakes his head. “This is one hell of a time to be feelin’
shy, Sammy.”
“Dean…!” Hearing Sam whine his name like that is like nothing Dean’s ever
experienced before and he falters, gripping Sam a little too tight as he
steadies himself. But the boy doesn’t seem to mind at all and opens his eyes to
look up at Dean with an expression that just about breaks his older brother’s
heart with it’s sweetness. “Dean, stop teasing! It hurts!”
“Ok, ok, calm down,” Dean whispers, raising his hand to run it through Sam’s
hair, the way he used to when he was trying to get the boy to fall back asleep.
Sam just bites his lip and keeps squirming, his hips rocking up against
nothing. “It’s gonna hurt if I do it with my hand dry—”
Before he can even finish Sam’s got his mouth open, and is grabbing Dean’s
wrist, bringing his brother’s hand to his mouth. Dean just about loses it then
and there as he watches his little brother’s tongue press wet and warm in long
strokes along his palm before wrapping around his fingers one by one. Sam’s
breath is coming out in needy little whimpers and he hasn’t stopped squirming,
as if sucking on his brother’s fingers is just as good as being touched. That
thought is enough to make Dean groan, and when Sam looks up at him with
questioning eyes he doesn’t look away, just leans down as presses his lips to
Sam’s. The boy gasps but doesn’t pull back, moaning softly as he tries to match
his brother’s kissing. He usually fails but the innocence of his trying is good
enough for Dean, who smiles as he slips his hand down his brother’s pants and
doesn’t hesitate to grasp his cock. Sam’s whole body jerks as he cries out
again, eyes going wide as he looks up at Dean.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, baby boy?” Dean purrs as he starts to stroke Sam
slowly, smirking when the boy’s legs clamp around his hand, his body too
overwhelmed and inexperienced to know how to move.
“Uh-huh…” is all Sam can manage to get out between his panting and whining, his
eyes still locked on Dean’s like he’s hypnotized. 
Maybe he is… Hell, maybe they both are. Dean’s body and voice seems to act of
his own accord, but no part of him is protesting now.
“Gonna take good care of you,” Dean whispers and suddenly he’s leaning in close
again, close enough that their lips are touching and he can feel Sam’s breath
as it passes from his lips with each little gasp. “You’re gonna feel so good,
baby, not gonna know what hit you…”
“Dean…Dean!” He’s not sure when Sam’s moans turned into his name, but he can’t
question it, pressing kisses to Sam’s face and hair as he holds him tightly,
his hand moving faster on the boy’s cock as Sam squirms and cries out in his
lap. He’s a mess of sweat and arousal, with his shirt still rucked up and his
hair sticking to his face when he throws his head back, and it’s the most
beautiful thing Dean’s ever seen. His baby brother, coming apart for the first
time as he holds him. 
It doesn’t last long, not surprising considering Sam’s age, but it’s still
perfect as Sam’s back bows up, his nails digging into Dean’s skin where he’s
clinging to him as he cries and let’s go. Wetness covers Dean’s hand as he
keeps moving it up and down, pumping Sam for every last drop he’s got until the
boy is whimpering and shaking, eyes unfocused as he continues to hold onto Dean
like it’s the only thing keeping him together.
Dean pulls his hand back slowly, wrapping both arms tight around Sam and
keeping silent as he holds him through the aftershocks. Sam’s gonna be spoiled,
he thinks to himself with a wry smile. It’s always better when someone else is
there with you.
“Doin’ ok?” he whispers once Sam’s breathing is back to normal and he’s stopped
shaking. He’s still perfectly relaxed though, like putty in Dean’s arms, and
Dean can’t help but be pretty pleased with that.
“Y-yeah,” Sam whispers in reply, tilting his head up to look at Dean. Those
eyes are as dangerous as ever, so trusting and warm and sweet. Dean’s
inevitable guilt spiral is held off a little longer by that look as he smiles,
running his hand through Sam’s hair again. “I’m tired…”
“Yeah, that tends to happen,” he chuckles, slowly pulling his arms from around
Sam. “Let’s get you cleaned up, then catch a couple more hours of sleep, what
do you say?”
Once Sam is asleep, Dean will be free to have a panic attack over the fact that
he just molested his little brother. Over the fact that Sam liked it. Over the
fact that he’s now stuck with a raging erection from watching his little
brother come and feeling his little brother’s ass rub against his cock.
But for right now, he just needs to keep Sam smiling. Smiling, and feeling
safe, and looking up at him with eyes that say I love you, I trust you…
That’s what big brothers are for, right?
End Notes
     Find me on tumble at moonsofavalon.tumblr.com!
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