Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1768450.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Hurt/Comfort, John's_bad_parenting_is_the_cause, Blow_Jobs, Praise_Kink,
      Submissive_Sam
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-06-11 Words: 1512
****** What you need baby I got it ******
by ImagineYourself
Summary
     Just like every year before, it's the first year of high school and
     John isn't there to see Sam get his award for being a fantastic
     student despite all the moving around and crap he's had to put up
     with. Dean just wants to make him feel better.
Notes
     For the longest time I couldn't get smut out, and now all I can write
     seems to be smut. At least it's something. Also I'm sorry for the
     title, I could literally think of nothing and I didn't care enough.
It was a Thursday night and Dean watched Sam stand up on stage, lights making
him glow along with the grin on his face, when his name was called. Dean
clapped louder than anyone else as Sam received his award, smiling wide in the
middle of the crowd. It was the day before Dean's birthday and they were at
school for Sam's reward of excellence for his first semester of high school. It
was nothing but a little medal on a lame ribbon, but Dean was happy to see his
brother slip it around his neck, a reminder of all the hard work he'd done
despite starting the semester halfway through when they'd temporarily moved to
this little town.
Sam had been fervently hoping that John would attend the ceremony, but he
hadn't made it, even though he had said he'd try when he left for another job a
week before. Dean knew Sam would be disappointed when it was over and he
realized his father hadn't come, but for that moment, Dean just cheered for his
brother and gave him a moment of happy respite.
"Wow, look at you, Sammy," Dean said with a whistle and a shit eating grin as
his brother walked off the stage and found him waiting in the lobby of the
little auditorium. "All decked out with awards and shit." He bumped into Sam's
shoulder and got a laugh from him before the boy started looking around.
"Is Dad here? Did he come?" he asked hopefully.
Dean put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Sorry kid." Sam glanced at him with
a look that said he was about two seconds from calling shit, but he didn't as
he saw Dean's expression.
Abruptly, Sam's face fell and he turned away, shrugging off Dean's hand.
"Whatever. Guess I should've expected it, huh?" he muttered bitterly. Dean
opened his mouth to say something, but Sam told him, "Let's just go."
Sam was silent and brooding the whole drive back to the shoddy motel they were
staying in and Dean didn't try to talk to him. Once they got inside from the
freezing January night, Sam slumped into a chair at the table and Dean glanced
around the kitchen. Most of the time, when Sam got like this Dean could crack
him with a few bad jokes and reassurance that even if their dad wasn't there,
Dean always would be. But this seemed like one funk where Dean would have to
wait for his brother to get over it himself.
"Hungry?" Dean asked into the tense silence of the room. Sam just answered with
a one-shouldered shrug and Dean busied himself putting together a couple of
PB&J's. He cut Sam's into four triangles like he used to when Sam was young and
slid the plate in front of the boy, taking the seat next to him with his own
sandwich.
The younger brother stared at the food for a long moment before picking up a
piece. He made it through three triangles before the first tear rolled silently
down his cheek. He sniffled a bit and Dean pushed his own plate away before
moving his chair to face Sam, reaching out to brush his knuckles against his
cheek. Sam turned his head away but Dean caught him with his other hand,
cupping his face gently.
"Hey, look at me," Dean said softly. "He's a bastard and an idiot and we both
know that."
"He said he'd be there," Sam whispered, his eyes bright with more unshed tears.
"I know, Sam." He didn't say how many times John had said that before and how
many times he had lied.
A sob broke from Sam's chest and he dropped his eyes, letting those tears slide
down his face to be brushed away by Dean's thumbs. The elder brother moved his
hands to card through Sam's hair and coax him into moving by tugging on his
waist. Without complaint, Sam clambered onto Dean's lap and buried his face in
his brother's neck, snuffling and getting the collar of Dean's shirt wet. He
didn't mind though, content to wrap his arms around his little brother and hold
him as he cried.
It wasn't a very "brotherly" position though, but then again much of what the
two had gotten up to recently wasn't. This...thing between them wasn't exactly
new, it seemed as though it had always been there, but what it had evolved into
was decisively less platonic than it had been growing up. To a point, Dean felt
bad about it, guilty like he was taking something away from his brother. He
knew no one could ever find out, that was for sure. But at least while he had
Sam in his arms, he could think about consequences later.
They stayed like that for a long time until Sam's sniffling had quieted and he
slid off of Dean to go blow his nose. The slumped way he shuffled to the
bathroom shouldn't have looked cute to Dean, but it did, even though he was
also mad at their father for causing this. While Sam was gone, Dean cleared up
the kitchen a bit and changed into pajamas, sitting on the edge of one bed to
wait.
When Sam emerged, Dean beckoned him over, taking in his red rimmed eyes and
slow, tired walk. He helped his brother out of his shirt, pulling it over his
head and tossing it onto the floor. He unbuttoned Sam's jeans, silent all the
while even as he got Sam to step out of them. Gently, he tugged Sam to lay
beside him on the bed, reaching over him to turn off the lamp. Sam snuggled
close to his body, and Dean kissed his forehead. He ducked down and left barely
there presses of his lips on Sam's closed eyes, his nose, cheeks, and his
mouth.
"What're you doing, Dean?" Sam mumbled.
"Trust me?" Dean's question felt heavy in the quiet darkness.
But Sam just replied, "Yeah." With light touches, Dean got Sam to lay on his
back, and even respond a little to Dean's kisses. Migrating to Sam's jaw and
neck, the older boy whispered slow words as he worked.
"So proud of you," Dean told him with a kiss to his pulse point. "Looked so
good on that stage." He trailed his lips down to Sam's collarbone, tongue
flicking out to lick it. "You deserve to feel good, wanna make you feel good,
Sammy."
Sam jerked up a little at the nickname, his hands tightening their grip where
they rested on his brother's shoulders. "Dean..." he choked out when teeth bit
into his chest above his heart, the spot soothed over a moment later by a
smooth tongue.
Dean's lips closed around a nipple and he felt Sam shudder beneath him. His
hands, which had been absently roving over his brother's hips, now hooked in
the boy's boxers, pulling them down and off, repositioning himself between
Sam's legs once he was naked, panting and writhing, his hard little cock
twitching against his stomach. Dean kissed his way up his little brother's
thigh, skirting right around his dick and licking the dip of his hipbone.
"Dean!" Sam whined, reaching down to touch himself.
Dean caught his hands, twisting their fingers together, and talked in a low,
husky voice. "So pretty like this. Needy and hard. Don't worry, I know what you
need baby boy." Sam let out a keening moan, canting his hips up, searching.
Dean let his lips stretch into a smile before licking a long stripe up the
bottom of his brother's cock. He flicked his tongue under the head and suckled
it into his mouth, his hands held in a vice grip like he was Sam's only
lifeline.
The younger boy was gyrating his hips, shallowly thrusting into the wet heat of
Dean's mouth. Dean just took it all in stride, alternating sucking and bobbing
his head, tongue languidly pressing up against the hard length. If Sam was
coherent enough, Dean was sure he'd be embarrassed at how quickly he came into
Dean's mouth, crying out loud and tensing his whole body as he shook through
orgasm. As it was, he was nowhere near coherent and collapsed into a weak lump
as he slid from his older brother's lips.
Dean moved back up his body, freeing his hands to let one cup Sam's jaw as he
kissed him tenderly. The other moved quickly under his waistband and with a few
quick strokes he was coming, too, falling boneless next to Sam as he came down.
A minute passed and Sam seemed to be right on the brink of sleep, so Dean put
him back in his boxers, cleaned himself off, and tucked his little brother into
his side. The pair's arms fit instinctively around each other.
“Sleep, Sammy. I've got you,” Dean whispered into the younger boy's floppy
hair.
He thought he heard Sam mumble, “I know,” before dropping off to sleep, but it
might have just been a trick of his imagination.
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