Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/806121.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester, Sam_Winchester/Original_Male_Character(s)
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Wincest_-_Freeform, First_Time, Preseries, Underage_-_Freeform, Jealous
      Dean_Winchester, Blow_Jobs, Coming_Untouched, Weecest
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-05-17 Words: 3372
****** we are who we are ******
by Mekina
Summary
     What Dean finds Sam doing after school isn’t exactly something as
     innocently nerdy as joining the chess club.
Dean overhears some of Sam's classmates talking when he goes to pick him up.
"I swear, you never had your cock sucked so good.”
He raises an eyebrow, mildly curious who the girl is that impressed this random
kid so much.
"He lets you fuck his mouth pretty hard, god, dude."
He? Not what Dean expected to hear, but whatever. He's pretty open minded. He's
leaning on the Impala, waiting for Sam to hurry up and get his geeky ass out of
the school. God, he's probably joined the damn chess club or something. Dean is
going to go in there and drag him out if he takes much longer.
"He's really hot when he comes."
"How many guys has he been with, anyway?"
"You kidding me? Practically every one in the damn school. Winchester gets
around."
Dean's head snaps towards them immediately. Sammy? It’s Sam that they’ve been
talking about like he’s some sex toy or something?
There’s a moment where Dean struggles to decide whether he should just turn
around and floor the ugly bastards with a punch (and maybe not stop until
they’re unconscious) or go in and find Sam right the fuck now, because it might
not be something as innocently nerdy as joining the chess club.
He takes a second to breathe, reminds himself that no, he can’t go whaling on a
couple kids because who the fuck knows where that would land him? Dad’s on a
hunt and Dean has to take care of Sam, not get arrested for beating some
bastards within an inch of their lives.
Sam. He has to go get Sam.
The kids are probably giving him a weird look when he shoves off of the car
(quick apologetic pat to her door, he’ll make it up to her with a nice thorough
wash later) to storm angrily into the school.
He checks Sam’s homeroom first, which is empty. The next logical place, to
Dean, is the bathroom.
Dean hears a muffled moan when he walks into the bathroom. It’s definitely Sam,
and it’s coming from one of the stalls.
He doesn’t stop to think about it, just goes straight over and slams his hand
against the stall door. There’s a gasp and a startled squeak, then silence.
“Sam, you in there?” Dean knows he sounds angry, doesn’t try to sound nice.
He’s too pissed off for that. “Sammy, get your ass out here!”
Sam sighs, and then there’s shuffling and the sound of the door being unlocked.
Sam pulls it open just enough to peer out at Dean. He can only see about half
his brother’s face, but what is visible tells all; Sam’s hair, all mussed up,
and his lips, red and a little swollen from kissing. His face is red, too,
though that’s probably from embarrassment at being caught.
“What are you doing here, Dean?” Sam looks over his shoulder for a second, then
back to Dean. “You can go back and wait outside, I won’t be long.”
“You can just go ahead and come out of there. Right now.” Dean levels a glare
at Sam and folds his arms, waiting.
Sam hesitates, biting his lip. “Can’t you just—“
He hits the side of the stall, actually growling, “Get out here, right fucking
now!”
Whoever is in there with Sam is probably scared, but not Sam. No, his brother
is just sulky as he opens the door wider and slinks out. He knows Dean isn’t
going to do anything to him, no matter how mad he might be.
The other kid, though, he might just need to fear for his life. He comes
stumbling out after Sam. Dean notes absently that the boy isn’t ugly; if Sam
had to mess around with a guy, at least he didn’t go for an unattractive one.
“Go ahead and get lost,” Dean tells the kid sharply, and he doesn’t even glance
at Sam before darting out of the bathroom.
Sam is even redder now, and it seems like it might be partly from anger. He’s
scowling at Dean. “What the hell? Dean!”
Looking Sam over, he notices Sam’s jeans are open and pulled down a little.
Thinking about that kid’s hand down Sam’s pants gets Dean even angrier, makes
his blood boil. He’s not entirely sure why, but all he can think of is how some
stranger had no right to put his hands on Sam like that.
“Fooling around with pretty much every guy in the school? Really, Sam? Really?”
“It wasn’t every guy.” Sam shrinks a little in front of Dean’s eyes. “Dean, I,
I like girls too. I do.”
Oh. Oh. Sammy thinks that Dean is worried he’s gay or something. “I’m not mad
that you like guys. I just wish you’d told me before messing around with so
many of them.” Is there a simple way to say that guys seem like more of a
threat than girls? He’s not worried about some girl hurting Sam, but guys are
different. Trained though he is, Sam could still…
Dean makes himself abandon that train of thought. Nothing is going to happen to
Sam, not as long as he’s around.
“Come on,” he sighs after a few moments of awkward silence. “Let’s get out of
here.”
It’s only once they’re in the Impala and on the way back to their rented house
that Dean lets himself really think about it. Why exactly was Sammy messing
around with so many guys? He’s sixteen and horny, sure, but from the sound of
it, Sam has been with a lot of guys.
“You wanna tell me what that was all about?” Dean gives Sam a quick glance.
Sam is curled up against the passenger side door, staring at the floor of the
car. “I like guys too, Dean.”
“I get that. S’fine. But damn, Sammy, you’ve always been some sort of monk or
something. Seems like it takes you weeks to get to the stage where you can go
on a date with a girl. Now all of a sudden you’re having sex with every guy in
your school?”
Sam’s head snaps up. “It’s not, we didn’t…it, I didn’t go that far.”
Something in Dean unknots, and he relaxes a little. He has trouble imagining
Sam going any farther than blowjobs, and he’s glad that it didn’t get too far.
Sam doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t answer Dean’s question.
“Any particular reason you been doing it, though? Why now, what happened?” He
can almost see Sam clam up further. By now they’ve arrived home, and Sam stays
silent as they both get out of the car and go inside.
He catches Sam by the shoulder before he can skulk off to his room. He’s almost
worried now, this isn’t like Sam. Sam is the kid who hangs around and watches
girls from a distance, who always asks Dean for advice, how to ask a girl out,
what should he do on a first date, he always asks Dean about things like this.
Dean hasn’t heard anything from Sam about this, and it makes him uneasy, that
there’s anything in Sam’s life that Sam isn’t comfortable sharing with him.
Does he feel he can’t talk to Dean about this? Did he deliberately hide it for
some reason? Dean is always here for him, he should be able to provide
everything Sam needs or wants.
There’s a part of him that doesn’t want Sam going to anyone else for…well,
anything.
“Sam?” he asks, a little sharply. “There something you’re not telling me? Why
the sudden—“
Sam shrugs off Dean’s hand. “It’s you!” He almost yells it, then repeats, a
little quieter, “It’s ‘cause of you.”
Because of him? Dean’s arm falls back to dangle limply at his side. “Me? Sam,
what do you mean?” His fault, how is this fault, has he done something?
“You’re always around. Sometimes we have to share a bed, and we’re always stuck
in the car together, and it seems like every time I turn around you’re two
inches away, and you, you’re always touching me.” Sam’s voice goes gradually
quieter and quieter as he goes on, and the last three words are whispered so
quietly Dean can barely hear them.
This isn’t how it sounds, it can’t be, Dean is hearing wrong.
“I’d probably have died of sexual frustration by now if it weren’t for all
those guys,” Sam confesses to his feet. “I know you’re not…like me, you aren’t
so messed up. But all of them, those guys, they’re better than nothing. If I
can’t have you…” Sam turns away, shoulders hunched, a sound suspiciously like a
sob slipping from him.
No matter what the circumstances, Sam in distress distracts Dean from
everything but his impulse to offer comfort. “Sammy,” Dean is reaching for Sam
even as what his brother just said registers.
Sam wants him? He’s been fucking around with all these guys just because he
can’t have (he thinks he can’t have) Dean?
Sam resists Dean’s first try to pull him into a hug, but when Dean tries again
Sam all but throws himself into Dean’s arms. Sam isn’t so little anymore, he’s
the same height as Dean now, and it seems like any day now Dean will wake up to
find Sam towering over him.
“You aren’t messed up.” Dean’s hand finds its way into Sam’s hair, stroking it
in what he hopes is a comforting way. “I promise, you’re not.” And if he is,
then Dean is every bit as fucked up as Sam.
Whatever Sam says next is muffled into Dean’s shoulder. Dean takes him by the
shoulders, holds him at arm’s length. Sam blinks, eyes big and watery. “How am
I not? In case you missed it, I— I want you. Why aren’t you freaking out?”
It’s not like Dean is actually going to tell him, he can’t encourage this (Sam
doesn’t even know what he wants, he’s sixteen, for fuck’s sake. Dean isn’t, he
wouldn’t, it would be like taking advantage of Sam’s age. Or something. God, he
wants to, but he won’t let himself.)
“You’re just not, okay? Trust me when I say you’re not.” Sam isn’t, Dean
couldn’t ever think badly of him, and anyway, who is Dean to judge Sam for
feeling the same thing Dean does?
Of course Sam isn’t capable of just letting it go. “Why? Why aren’t you telling
me how horrible and sick this is, why aren’t you,” Sam pauses, biting his lip
and blinking.
He can actually see the exact moment Sam gets it, and his eyes get all hopeful.
Oh god. No, what’s he thinking, is he actually thinking that Dean would ever
touch Sam, regardless of how Dean feels. He couldn’t, not ever, not when Sam
was given to him at six months old, to protect and love and raise.
“It’s because you feel the same, isn’t it?” Sam inhales sharply, clenching his
fists tightly at his sides in what Dean can only guess is either excitement or
shock. Maybe both. “You want me too, don’t you? Dean?”
He starts to answer, but Sammy lunges for his mouth before he can, almost
knocking Dean over in his haste to get a kiss. Dean knows he shouldn’t, god,
how he knows, but he can’t help but savor it for a second (okay, more like
thirty seconds), Sam’s soft lips.
Then he pushes Sam away gently. “Sam, no. We can’t. You know it’s not right.”
“I don’t care.” Sam is every inch the stubborn little brother. This is so
fucked up. “I want you, Dean. I dream about us, I think about it all the
goddamn time. It’s like I’m walking around permanently hard. I want it, and you
want it, I can tell. What’s the problem?”
The problem is that this is Sam, his little brother, and the problem is that
Dean has to protect Sam, not fuck him. He can’t let himself, he just can’t.
“I want it,” Sam says again, determined this time. And then he says the magic
words. “Please, Dean.”
He’s never able to hold out when Sam look at him like he is now, eyes wide and
pleading with him to crumble and give them both what they so desperately want.
Dean wants it as much as Sam apparently does, if not more, but he shouldn’t.
He knows all the reasons why he shouldn’t, but they nearly fly out of his head
when Sam surges forward again, kissing Dean and rubbing up against his thigh.
The knowledge that Sam is hard takes him by surprise. So hot and hard in his
jeans, fuck, and he’s grinding himself up against Dean.
He doesn’t stop Sam this time. Dean grabs Sam’s ass and pulls him closer,
slipping a thigh between Sam’s legs, making it a little easier on Sam,
encouraging him to rock against Dean.
Sam makes a surprised noise, then gets the idea, rubbing up against Dean faster
and harder. “Dean, I want,” he pants, “let me touch you.”
Dean almost puts a stop to it right then, because letting Sam hump his leg is
one thing, but letting Sam touch him? That’s very nearly too much. He doesn’t
get a chance to stop him, because Sam is dropping to his knees in front of Dean
and reaching for Dean’s belt buckle.
“Sammy,” he breathes, shuddering as Sam rubs him through his jeans. It’s not
tentative or in experienced, the touch of Sam’s hand. It’s a little unsure, but
not like Sam’s never touched another dick before. Oh, that’s right, he has.
Lots of them. Dean grits his teeth against the jealousy and, hell anger that
washes through him.
He doesn’t own Sam, he has no claim on him. Hell, just a minute ago, Dean was
telling himself he couldn’t do this with Sam. He’s thinking now about all the
guys Sam’s had his hands on…his mouth…
Thinking about it gets him so mad he actually shakes a little. Sam feels it
where his big hands are planted on Dean’s thighs, and he looks up at Dean
suddenly, as if mistaking it for passion. Sam is getting bigger every day, but
he’s Dean’s little brother, and it’s never been more obvious than it is now.
Sam’s expression is eager, like he can’t wait to get Dean naked, but nervous
and vulnerable too. Dean realizes Sam is waiting for the go ahead, for Dean to
give him permission to keep going.
He so obviously wants this, and Dean wants it too. All those guys, Sam didn’t
want them. Never them, it was always Dean. And if Dean rejects Sam now, not
only will it leave them both unhappy and wanting, it will strain their
relationship and quite possibly drive Sam back to those assholes from his
school.
There’s every reason to say yes, and despite all the equally valid reasons he
should say no, Dean goes with it and gives in. “S’okay, Sam. Keep going.” The
if you want is unspoken but hanging there between them.
Reassured, Sam gives him a huge smile, and goes to work getting Dean’s jeans
open and his dick out. Dean moans at the first touch of Sam’s hand to his dick,
and then again, louder, when Sam pulls him out and kisses the tip.
Sam doesn’t tease him, they’re both too wound up already for that. He guides
Dean’s cock straight into his mouth. He isn’t able to take more than half of
Dean in immediately, but it’s Sam doing this, Sam on his knees, touching Dean
so gently, and going to work with his lips and tongue. It’s Sam, and that makes
all the difference.
Even if Sam was terrible at this, Dean thinks he would still be enjoying it.
Sam isn’t terrible. He’s good, better than some of the girls that have done
this to him, but no, Dean isn’t thinking of anyone else during this. He won’t,
it isn’t fair on Sam to compare him to other people. Not when he means things
to Dean that no one else ever will.
“God, Sammy.” Dean’s fingers slide through Sam’s soft hair. Sam’s lips are
stretched around his dick, and it’s hot and filthy and perfect. “So good.
You’re so good at this.”
Sam lets his mouth slide off, laughing brightly. “I had lots of sexual
frustration to work off with the guys in my school. Plenty of practice.”
Involuntarily, Dean’s hand tightens in Sam’s hair to the point where Sam
winces. Dean loosens his grip and pets Sam’s head apologetically. “Don’t, don’t
talk about any of them. Never again, you hear me? Sam, if we’re doing this
thing…I can’t share. I won’t. I don’t want to.” Dean’s always had the desire to
keep Sam for himself, for no one else, Sam turning to him for everything.
Having Sam like this, after having this, he can’t go back to Sam being with
other people. Not other guys, anyway.
“Seriously, Dean? You want to start a conversation now?” Sam sits back on his
heels, eyebrows raised. “Thought I made it clear those guys were just poor
replacements for you. Why the hell would I even think about them now that I can
have this?” He stops Dean from saying anything else remotely coherent by
leaning forward and swallowing down his dick.
All he can do after that is moan as Sam eases Dean’s dick deep, down his
throat. Jesus. It takes a couple tries, and Sam has to pull back once to
breathe, but he goes back to it before Dean has a chance to worry about Sam
hurting himself or something. He’s got that determined look in his eyes he gets
when it comes to research, or when he first tried to take a gun apart and put
it back together blindfolded. He’s going to do it, and he’s doing to make a
damn good job of it, too.
Sam gets it, swallows around Dean, and it’s…mindblowing, perfect. Dean’s about
to come, can’t imagine it being any better than this, right now.
Then that amazing sensation is gone. Dean blinks, a little dazed from the
sudden loss of pleasure. Sam is peering up at him again, hand loose around the
base of his dick, lips swollen and red. “Are you holding back? You can fuck my
mouth, Dean. If you want.”
He’s gone. Dean hunches forward a little as he comes. When he opens his eyes he
realizes he pumped his come all over Sam’s face. Oh. “Sorry, Sam, shit!”
Sam’s tongue flickers out, licks up a bit of come on his bottom lip. “I don’t
mind.” He smiles at Dean, seems totally content.
“Lemme—“ Dean drops down beside Sam, swiping some of his own come off Sam’s
face with his finger. Sam grips his wrist, pulls Dean’s hand close so he can
suck it clean, nice and slow. Sammy’s tongue teases slowly over the end of
Dean’s finger, and he pulls it free with a shudder. “Want to get you off.
C’mere.”
“You don’t have to,” Sam tells him, even as Dean feels the wet patch on the
front of Sam’s jeans.
“You got off just from blowing me?” Dean asks in mild disbelief. Sam nods.
That’s…fuck, that’s hot. At the same time, though, he’s disappointed he didn’t
get to make Sam come, hear his moans as he lost it. “Good thing you’re sixteen.
Short recovery time. Soon as you get hard again, I’mma make you get all messy.”
Sam’s cheeks flush. “I hope that’s a promise.”
Dean knows how fucked up this is, but why the hell not? They both want it, and
Sam looks so damn happy and pleased to be alive. Dean’s always been the
proudest when he makes Sam smile like that.
“You better fucking believe it is.” Dean smiles back at Sam. “No point in you
showering, when I’m just going to get you filthy again.” The floor isn’t the
most comfortable place, so he nudges Sam in the direction of the bed.
Because he’s such a stand up brother, he doesn’t protest when Sam curls against
him. Instead, he wraps an arm around Sam and pulls him closer.
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