Supernatural: Growing Pains
Title: Growing Pains
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 for explicit sexual content, underage (of body, not of mind) but references to underage when Sam was younger
Word Count: 4,885
Author’s Note: Written for spn_masquerade prompt: A coda to 10x12. Sam can't keep his hands off of this teen-aged version of his brother. Not beta'ed, but cleaned up after initially posting.
Summary: AR after 10x12: Sam kills the witch who put a spell on his brother before they get a chance to restore him to his proper body. Dean is stuck in the body of a 14-year-old, and Sam should really keep his hands to himself.
"Are you mad at me?"
Dean drops his duffel on one of the motel beds and stands there for a long time, his back still turned to Sam. He's been eerily silent since they waved Tina off at the bus station, his expression nearly unreadable. Sam doesn't know this face as well as he used to.
Finally, Dean sighs, turning to look at Sam and shaking his head as he does so. "I just…I feel weird, Sam. I mean, look at me." He gestures down at himself; there isn't much to point to. "I'm entitled to feel a little weird, aren't I?"
"Yes, of course," Sam says. And he knows he should let it go at that but, well, he just can't. "Dean, I'm sorry. She was about to kill you, I had no choice but to throw her in that furnace."
"I know. I was there," Dean replies. "This was my idea anyway, remember? I was the one who said we shouldn't change me back."
"I don't think you meant it," says Sam.
Dean huffs a laugh. "Doesn't matter much now, does it?"
"We can find another witch, reverse engineer the spell. We can fix this."
"And then, what? I get the mark back? Start jonesing for a kill, worrying any day I'll snap and turn again? That I'll become a demon and come after-?" Dean looks up at him, and Sam can see panic in his eyes. No one this young should ever have to look like that, but Dean wasn't much better off when he really was this age, if Sam is being honest with himself. "Way I see it, all our problems are solved. And no one got hurt. This is a clean fix. This is better than we usually do."
Dean loses the hoodie the witch had dressed him in and starts pulling his shirt off over his head. Sam sees a flash of pale skin, pulled tight over scrawny bones and sharp angles, and he does everything he can to tear his eyes away before Dean can see him checking him out.
"You're still pissed. I know when you're pissed." Sam sighs and takes a seat on his own bed, careful to keep his eyes on the floor. "You can at least tell me that much."
He hears his brother huff out a bitter laugh and sees only Dean's feet as he crosses the room, heading for the bathroom. "Yeah, so my mood isn't great. Not about to undo a spell that's saving lives because I would rather be a little taller."
"You weren't all that tall before," Sam says, making himself smile at the joke.
He looks up to see if it's lifted Dean's spirits any, but his brother's lips are thin and twisted like he's sucking on lemons. He meets Sam's eyes and shakes his head, muttering "You won't even look at me," before slamming the bathroom door behind him.
_______________________________________________________________
By the time Dean is finished with his shower, Sam's curled up in bed. He's not really pretending to sleep, but he decides to keep the option open. Maybe that'll be enough. Sam can fake fatigue every night for the next four years, lie on top of his hands because if he's awake and looking at Dean, they're going to roam.
He closes his eyes and lets his breathing even out, and he hears his brother moving through the room for a few minutes before he feels his bed dip.
Dean crowds up against his back and wraps an arm around Sam's middle, pressing his lips to Sam's shoulder. There's not enough of him; he hardly get his arm up, and at this angle, there's no way he's not in pain by tomorrow.
Sam rolls onto his back and looks at his brother, who is wearing his own t shirt and boxers now, and drowning in the fabric. He looks like Sam used to when he would burrow into whatever clothes Dean left behind when he went on hunting trips with Dad.
"We need to get you new clothes," Sam says, without thinking, and Dean just grins.
"Or we could devote more time to non-clothed activities." His hand moves down, so much smaller than Sam is used to, and he grips Sam between the legs.
It takes everything in Sam to keep himself together, to will his dick to stay soft under his brother's touches. He pushes Dean away. "Dean."
Dean stops and pulls back immediately. "I knew it."
Sam sits up on his elbows. "Knew what?"
"You don't want me," he says. "You flinched, earlier, when I took my shirt off. You fucking flinched."
"It wasn't-"
"After we dropped Tina off. When we got in the car. I put my hand on your leg and you turned your face away. Like you can't stand to see me."
"That's why you've been in such a shit mood?" Sam asks. "I was checking for other cars."
"You always kiss me when I do that after a hunt," Dean replies. "Always."
"Oh, come on," Sam says, laughing it off as much as he can. "You're usually the one driving."
"Not that I blame you. I stared in the mirror for ten minutes while I was in there," Dean says, hitching a thumb over his shoulder and pointing to the bathroom. "Couldn't find a damn thing that would make you want me."
Sam's mouth drops open just a tad, and he keeps his eyes on Dean's worried expression, trying to process everything his brother just said. At this age, Dean was already draping himself in Dad's jacket, talking big, smiling smoothly, the definition of cocksure. He realizes now what he was too young to see then-that Dean was just a scared kid, putting on a brave face because Dad wouldn't have it any other way. Playing strong for Sammy.
It doesn't have to be that way anymore, and Sam actually…feels happy for him? He smiles and reaches out to brush hair away from his brother's face. "You're having a mood swing."
"What?" Dean yells. "No, I'm not!"
"It's okay," Sam assures him. "It's perfectly normal for someone your age."
"Fuck off, Sam," Dean replies. He shoves at Sam's chest when Sam tries to wrap him in a hug, then stands and crosses the room, turning to glare at Sam as he leans on the dresser.
Sam sees the TV shake and almost fall from how hard Dean rocks it, and for one guilty flash of a second, all he can think of is standing up, joining his brother, bending that little body over and fucking Dean so hard the TV does crash to the floor, and still going at it after that.
"You're gonna get that fresh start we talked about," Sam promises, swallowing down those images. He can't look at Dean like that. He can't really be this twisted. His brother is a child, and Sam hasn't wanted him with this kind of burning intensity in years. "You're gonna get to be a kid."
"That was a line," Dean tells him. "That was a line we fed Tina because she got stuck like this, too."
"Yeah, but it was true for her." Sam pushes the covers aside and sits up. "I'm gonna make sure it's true for you, too."
"I don't want you to be my parent," Dean snaps. "I don't want you to be my big brother. I don't want you to look at me like I'm some dumb kid. You're supposed to want me. Even though-god, I know I don't look like I did. I know what I look like now. But I thought you and me was about more than what we look like."
"Dean. That's not fair. If I had kissed you out there when you put your hand on my thigh, do you know what people would have seen? If I fuck you in here and someone knocks on the door to complain about the noise, do you realize what I would be to them? Some pervert fucking a-"
"Yeah, wouldn't want anyone to think you're a pervert when you fuck your brother," Dean tosses back with an ugly laugh. "Since when do we care what people think?"
"They could take you away from me," Sam replies, his voice small.
Because now he understands all the times Dean lied to strangers about Dad only being out for groceries when he'd been gone for weeks. All the times he sat Sam on the bed and coached him on how to answer questions that stern looking women with CPS badges clipped to their blazers asked. He'd spent his entire childhood terrified someone was going to take Sam away, and now Sam's the one who has to be in charge, make sure he doesn't do any of the things he wants to do to Dean.
"I'd like to see them keep me away," Dean replies. "You know they never could. Nothing ever could. So why can't you just admit it? I'm not sexy like this. I'm not blind."
"You don't see what I see," Sam answers, letting his eyes slowly move up Dean's body, his knobby knees, legs not nearly as bowed as they will be in a few years, and, god, Sam wants to help with that. Dean should be right; Sam shouldn't want him like this. That's not the problem he's having. "Of course I want you. I have always wanted you."
"Then why?" Dean asks. "Because I look like I'm 14? I'm not! You know I'm old enough to want this. What are you gonna do, just not touch me for four years? Not once?"
Sam looks away from him. "It's a second chance, Dean. You can have a normal life now. If I stop this. You can have something healthy someday."
Dean laughs and walks over to the bed, sitting next to Sam. He strokes Sam's cheek with the back of his fingers until Sam looks up, and then Dean kisses him, softly, gently, like it's his first time doing it. Like Sam used to wish Dean would do, when Sam was so much younger and Dean really was the boy he looks like.
"I never wanted anything except for this," he whispers, and when Sam tries to huff at it, Dean turns his face and forces Sam to meet his eyes. "I know what you're thinking. I know exactly how you feel right now. Fuck, Sam, you remember how long I fought this? How many times I pushed you away when this was new, because I didn't wanna fuck my little brother up for life?"
Sam laughs. "I remember how hard I wanted to knock your head against the wall sometimes," he says. "I couldn't believe you didn't understand how much I needed you."
"Got our positions a little reversed now, kiddo," Dean says, grinning at the way Sam raises his eyebrow at being called 'kiddo' by a 14-year-old. "I understand your hesitation, Sammy. But I'm freaked. I'm freaked and I need my brother."
It's like something in him snaps, thinking of his younger self, of how desperately he had begged Dean until his brother finally gave in. He'd spent years believing Dean would never want him and he would never get this. He can't do that to Dean now. Not for four whole years. He just can't do it.
So he moves quickly, shoving Dean into the mattress so fast Dean's expression is shocked for the first few seconds he's looking up at Sam, until his brain catches up and a smile breaks out over his face. "Calm down there, little brother."
"Are you a virgin?" Sam asks. Dean looks confused for a moment, so Sam clarifies. "This body. Had you been fucked yet?"
"Not-not by a guy," Dean replies, his eyes getting darker. "Been with a few girls, but no other guys."
"No one else is ever gonna fuck this body," Sam tells him. "If we're doing this. I'm never sharing your ass with anyone, got it?"
Dean nods. "Only ever went to them to try and stop wanting you, Sammy."
Sam slips his fingers under the elastic of Dean's boxers and pulls them down with two hands. He takes his time, drags the fabric slowly over every inch of Dean, watching the way his brother twitches and curses at every light brush. His dick is smaller between Dean's legs than Sam is used to but already stiff as can be.
He groans and climbs back onto the bed, wrapping one hand around Dean's hard little prick and covering most of it easily. Dean gasps, his head falling back as he bucks up into Sam's palm, and he starts to say something about how big Sam is, but he doesn't even get to finish before he's spilling spunk into Sam's fist.
"That was fast," Sam jokes, and Dean turns a ridiculous shade of red.
"Not fair!" he says. "I've been horny all day!"
Sam laughs, his face pressing into the dip of Dean's shoulder as he cracks up. His hands snake around Dean, and he paws his brother's ass with them, loving how much he can hold, how easy it is to pull him in closer, whether Dean wants him to or not.
"Gonna need plenty of lube," Sam says. "Gonna make sure your first time is just as good as you made mine, Dean. And I bet your ass is so tight."
Dean lets out a broken moan, rubbing his whole body up against Sam's side, even though he just came a few minutes ago. Sam's gonna get him hard again, that'll be easy. He remembers being this age. He wonders if he can get him hard again after that, too.
Sam reluctantly unwraps himself from his brother's needy thrusts and pulls Dean's duffel off the other bed where he'd dropped it earlier. It takes some fishing to find the lube-fucking hasn't been a priority in the last year, but Sam figures they're gonna more than make up for that now that the Mark of Cain is not an issue.
He tosses the bottle onto the mattress Dean is sprawled on and starts undressing. It's easy, just a t shirt and pajama pants that fall down once Sam's given them a nudge, and he's back on the bed in time to bat his brother's hands away where he's trying to take off his own shirt.
"Don't," Sam says.
Dean frowns, that uncharacteristic self-consciousness clouding over his young features again. "Don't want to see me naked?"
Sam slips a hand up under the fabric, thrills in how much space there is for him to feel his brother up. "Of course I do," he promises. "Just, god, I wanna touch you first."
Dean nods, his hips jerking up and a cry breaking from his lips when Sam tweaks his sensitive right nipple.
"First guy who fucked you," Sam asks, "was he like this?"
"He was b-big," Dean stutters out as Sam traces Dean's skinny ribs and flat stomach. "Had big hands, like yours. But I was bigger, too. Wouldn't have let him push me around. Or touch me like you are."
"No one's ever gonna touch you like this," Sam murmurs. He shoves the shirt up and over Dean's head and tosses it carelessly, looking down at Dean's now-naked flesh under him. Sam could blanket him without trying.
He's pale, the freckles that used to only come in the summer absent, but Sam knows they'll start sticking in just a year or so. He remembers how much Dean had wiped at them and bitched, completely oblivious that they had been the stars of Sam's first few desperate jerk off sessions.
Dean fidgets under Sam's hungry gaze, his arms long and gangly when he tries to reach for a sheet and pull it over himself. But Sam is fast and Dean is practically made of china compared to him.
He never could have taken Dean in a fight at this age, not without Dean letting him win. Not without popping an embarrassing boner and having to scramble away to hide. Now it's easy to pin his brother's arms down over his head.
"Wanna see you." Sam flips Dean over so his ass is in the air. He bends down, growling into Dean's ear, "Gonna see your ass when I fuck it. Gonna see how much I open it up by the time I'm done with you."
The sound Dean makes is oddly close to a sob, and Sam almost worries, but then he slips his other hand around and feels that Dean is rock hard. Again.
"Like this, don't you?" he asks. "Like being shoved around by your little brother."
"Sammy," Dean gasps. "Never-never been like this."
Sam presses his mouth to Dean's neck and lets his brother feel his smile. "I remember how much you loved this when I was little. Pushing me around. Forcing me wherever you wanted me. However you wanted me. God, I thought I was gonna die from how much it turned me on back then. But it's even fucking hotter from this end."
"Not so sure," Dean replies in a choked voice. "Because this whole manhandling thing you've got going on is pretty hot."
Sam kisses Dean's neck and then his mouth when Dean turns his face toward him, but after a few seconds of making out, he breaks away and moves down, marking his way down Dean's spine, kissing each knob that pokes out now where before it was all smooth muscle.
By the time Sam makes it to the dip of his lower back and the swell of Dean's ass, there's plenty of sweat for Sam to lap up, the taste clean from Dean's shower, but salty and reassuringly familiar despite how different the rest of Dean is.
He splays one hand on each cheek of Dean's ass and covers nearly all of the white skin, and the pads of his thumbs hold Dean wide open. He dives in, loving the way Dean always moans when Sam's tongue stabs into him without warning.
Sam goes deep and filthy, not caring that he's making Dean's shower moot with all his sloppy licks and bites at the rim of Dean's hole. Dean sounds like a kid whimpering from a beating under him, but he's begging Sam not to stop, so much needier than he's ever let himself be before.
It occurs to Sam that Dean could probably come, just like this, on the point of his tongue, with all those teenage hormones pumping through his body. It's definitely an experiment Sam decides to try out, but this, right here right now, this is about claiming Dean. Taking the first fuck that should have been his to begin with, and Dean is going to come on his cock, nothing else.
He slips a finger into Dean between licks, and to his surprise, Dean whimpers, "No!"
Sam pulls back, about to ask, and Dean looks at him over his shoulder. "No fingers. Wanna be tight for you. Wanna be so tight."
"Jesus," Sam says breathily. He squeezes the base of his cock, starting to worry he's gonna come before he can properly fuck Dean. "You sure you can take me like this?"
"Remember the time you shoved that 40 of malt liquor up my ass?" Dean asks.
"You were really drunk, though," Sam reasons. "And not twelve."
"Fuck you, I'm not twelve now!" Dean replies, sounding like a whiny brat throwing a hissy fit, and Sam shouldn't like that as much as he does, but oh well. Coulda, woulda, shoulda. He did try not to touch Dean and that should get him some kind of credit. "I'm a trooper, now get your giant dick in my ass, stat."
Sam lubes himself up and sticks just one finger into Dean, spreading slick despite his brother's protests. Dean tries to fight against it, but Sam has him shoved down with one hand and all his thrashing is useless. Apparently that's hot enough to make Dean forget why he was upset at all, because he melts into the mattress, moaning happily.
All Sam has to do is tap Dean's belly, and his brother is jumping to, anticipating what Sam is asking for, propped on all fours in seconds. Sam shoves into him then, starts easing in slowly because-no fucking kidding, Dean is the tightest hole he's ever fucked right now.
Dean is panting under him, but he's a champ just like he's always been, and with some effort he relaxes himself, welcoming Sam in further and further until Sam is balls deep in him. He's amazed he can fit, full-sized cock in this too-small body, but Dean knows just how to open himself to make Sam feel at home.
Sam slumps against him for a few seconds, breathing heavily and letting Dean adjust to him. He strokes his hand in Dean's hair, loving the way Dean responds so sweet and openly to the affection, when just yesterday he would have bitched about it. He keeps at it, soothing Dean with his petting as he pulls his cock out and shoves it back in, one clean thrust this time.
His brother cries out, maybe a little in pain, but he grips the headboard and pushes back even more, pulling a groan out of Sam. "God, yeah, little brother. Just like that. Love how big you are. Love it. Didn't think you could get bigger. Fuck."
Sam likes Dean, and he likes fucking Dean, so he doesn't point out that he didn't get bigger, because he knows Dean's got pride that never completely healed from the summer Sam grew taller than him, and Sam's not about to go and point out that he's gotten smaller. Even if he does find it kind of weirdly arousing to watch Dean's little body writhing on his cock.
"Sammy," Dean whines, and Sam gets the message. Focuses again on the task at hand by driving his body into Dean so hard his brother's grip on the headboard slips and he goes crashing into the mattress.
He catches Dean's hips with both hands, though, and is able to hold his ass up in the air even as Dean plasters his face in the pillow, trying and failing to stifle his needy moans. Dean's never been this loud before, and they'll probably have ten noise complaints by the time this is done.
They'll probably have to throw their shit in their bags and make a run for it before the come has a chance to cool, and Sam slaps his hand on Dean's thigh and grunts at the thought of that. Driving too fast out of town, watching Dean squirm in the seat next to him and try to pretend Sam's jizz isn't running down the back of his stubby teenage legs as Sam checks them into the next nearest motel, smiling with the clerk at the counter and telling them about the road trip he's taking his nephew on.
If he's weirded out by how well he's slipping into this creepy uncle role, Sam decides now isn't the time to psychoanalyze it. Instead he fucks Dean roughly, loving the sound Dean makes every time he hits the right spot, and that between the size difference and their years of practice, Sam doesn't even have to think about it to get that bullseye every time.
"Sam, I think I'm gonna come," Dean says. "Holy fuck, I'm definitely gonna-"
And just like that, Dean cuts himself off and starts whimpering instead, shooting white strings of spunk onto the cheap motel bedspread and sounding like it hurts, to have so much to give and no contact on his cock to ease the stimulation in his ass.
Sam doesn't take mercy. He fucks harder and harder, desperate now to get to his own climax, and it's not far off. Dean is hardly soft when Sam starts to lose it, filling Dean's raw ass with so much come it just might be a record. And there's one more thing that's all his, whether this is really Dean's first time or not. No one else gets to fuck him bare, and now no one ever will.
He waits until he's fully soft to pull out, and then he admires his handiwork. Dean is still breathing hard, his face smushed into the mattress, and his hole looks wrecked. There are purple fingerprints all over his hips, bright red hickeys all down his spine. Sam's made a mess. If someone saw his brother like this, Sam would be a real monster in their eyes.
But Dean turns over and smiles up at him, and that's all that matters now. All that will matter for the next four years. The only thing that ever mattered, really.
Sam falls on him with kisses, and Dean is eager to please. He kisses Sam filthy and sweet at the same time until Sam has to break away to catch his breath. He rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling.
"You know, I haven't fucked a guy, either, in this body," Dean says.
Sam opens one eye to check, and yup. "Jesus. You're hard already? Again?"
"What I lack in stamina, I more than make up for in enthusiasm," Dean explains.
He laughs and thinks about it, Dean's little body, thrusting away on top of him. He won't be big like Sam is used to, but there's a weird charm in the idea. He remembers his own first time, remembers artlessly grinding into Dean and losing it in minutes. Remembers the way Dean had laughed and pulled him into his chest, letting Sam rest inside of him and running his fingers through his hair, pretending it had been good for him.
Sam definitely owes him one. "You wanna open me up? I'd offer to do it for you, but I'm a little worn out."
"Ready for another round?" Dean asks, kissing Sam softly as he climbs up onto Sam's chest. "Damn, Sammy, I'm going through puberty. What's your excuse?"
"You look exactly the way you did when I fell in love with you," Sam says.
He watches Dean's face change, confusion takes over, and Sam kind of wishes he could take it back. But it's out now, and it's true, and it's the reason Sam can't stand the thought of blinking ever since Dean knocked on the door and Sam saw him looking like this.
"Seriously?" Dean asks. "You were-"
"Just a kid?" Sam asks. He laughs at Dean's nod and tries to turn away. "I was old enough to want. Or at least, to start to want. And you were the first thing that ever drove me crazy. You were. I think, maybe, I always loved you, but you looked like this the first time I got it."
"You didn't tell me," Dean says. "For years."
"Yeah, now you can see why I was so handsy by the time I finally owned up, huh?"
Dean laughs, but then he smiles and-even now, even like this, that's a big brother smile. He passes his hand through Sam's hair, and it's still comforting in the same way, and Sam's heart unclenches, a fear he didn't realize was there suddenly abating. "We can fix that, too. We can get you a fresh start."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," says Dean, "I mean, this. You and me. Forever if we want. Wait four years-we gotta have an adult. But in four years, we can do that spell again, make you young. Make you look like the kid I fell for. This thing with you being older than me, it doesn't sit right."
"You just wanna be taller than me," Sam teases.
Dean is weirdly earnest when he shakes his head. "I don't want to go on without you, Sammy. Don't want you aging this far ahead of me. Come back with me. Have a second chance. You can do school again. Be normal if you want. Hell, we can have whatever lives we want. As many times as we want."
"You're serious about this?" Sam asks.
"Hell yeah," Dean says. He looks away, and his voice gets softer. "I missed three years of your life. Never got to see you change from being 18 to being 21. That ain't right, either."
Sam grins. He missed Dean changing from the twinky young adult he'd left for Stanford to the Adonis he was by the time he showed up in Sam's kitchen. He hadn't even realized this would be his chance to get those years back.
"Four years," he says. "It's not the dumbest plan you've ever had."
"Awesome," Dean says. "Drinks on me after I'm done fucking you."
"They won't even let you into a bar," Sam teases.
Dean scowls. "We're gonna be doing a lot of drinking in motel rooms for the next two years. I could totally pass with a fake at 16."
"If the bartender is already drunk," Sam replies.
Dean straddles Sam's hips and glares down at him. "How dare you?"
Sam holds his hand over Dean's head. "Sorry, little guy. You must be at least this tall to ride this ride."
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 for explicit sexual content, underage (of body, not of mind) but references to underage when Sam was younger
Word Count: 4,885
Author’s Note: Written for spn_masquerade prompt: A coda to 10x12. Sam can't keep his hands off of this teen-aged version of his brother. Not beta'ed, but cleaned up after initially posting.
Summary: AR after 10x12: Sam kills the witch who put a spell on his brother before they get a chance to restore him to his proper body. Dean is stuck in the body of a 14-year-old, and Sam should really keep his hands to himself.
"Are you mad at me?"
Dean drops his duffel on one of the motel beds and stands there for a long time, his back still turned to Sam. He's been eerily silent since they waved Tina off at the bus station, his expression nearly unreadable. Sam doesn't know this face as well as he used to.
Finally, Dean sighs, turning to look at Sam and shaking his head as he does so. "I just…I feel weird, Sam. I mean, look at me." He gestures down at himself; there isn't much to point to. "I'm entitled to feel a little weird, aren't I?"
"Yes, of course," Sam says. And he knows he should let it go at that but, well, he just can't. "Dean, I'm sorry. She was about to kill you, I had no choice but to throw her in that furnace."
"I know. I was there," Dean replies. "This was my idea anyway, remember? I was the one who said we shouldn't change me back."
"I don't think you meant it," says Sam.
Dean huffs a laugh. "Doesn't matter much now, does it?"
"We can find another witch, reverse engineer the spell. We can fix this."
"And then, what? I get the mark back? Start jonesing for a kill, worrying any day I'll snap and turn again? That I'll become a demon and come after-?" Dean looks up at him, and Sam can see panic in his eyes. No one this young should ever have to look like that, but Dean wasn't much better off when he really was this age, if Sam is being honest with himself. "Way I see it, all our problems are solved. And no one got hurt. This is a clean fix. This is better than we usually do."
Dean loses the hoodie the witch had dressed him in and starts pulling his shirt off over his head. Sam sees a flash of pale skin, pulled tight over scrawny bones and sharp angles, and he does everything he can to tear his eyes away before Dean can see him checking him out.
"You're still pissed. I know when you're pissed." Sam sighs and takes a seat on his own bed, careful to keep his eyes on the floor. "You can at least tell me that much."
He hears his brother huff out a bitter laugh and sees only Dean's feet as he crosses the room, heading for the bathroom. "Yeah, so my mood isn't great. Not about to undo a spell that's saving lives because I would rather be a little taller."
"You weren't all that tall before," Sam says, making himself smile at the joke.
He looks up to see if it's lifted Dean's spirits any, but his brother's lips are thin and twisted like he's sucking on lemons. He meets Sam's eyes and shakes his head, muttering "You won't even look at me," before slamming the bathroom door behind him.
_______________________________________________________________
By the time Dean is finished with his shower, Sam's curled up in bed. He's not really pretending to sleep, but he decides to keep the option open. Maybe that'll be enough. Sam can fake fatigue every night for the next four years, lie on top of his hands because if he's awake and looking at Dean, they're going to roam.
He closes his eyes and lets his breathing even out, and he hears his brother moving through the room for a few minutes before he feels his bed dip.
Dean crowds up against his back and wraps an arm around Sam's middle, pressing his lips to Sam's shoulder. There's not enough of him; he hardly get his arm up, and at this angle, there's no way he's not in pain by tomorrow.
Sam rolls onto his back and looks at his brother, who is wearing his own t shirt and boxers now, and drowning in the fabric. He looks like Sam used to when he would burrow into whatever clothes Dean left behind when he went on hunting trips with Dad.
"We need to get you new clothes," Sam says, without thinking, and Dean just grins.
"Or we could devote more time to non-clothed activities." His hand moves down, so much smaller than Sam is used to, and he grips Sam between the legs.
It takes everything in Sam to keep himself together, to will his dick to stay soft under his brother's touches. He pushes Dean away. "Dean."
Dean stops and pulls back immediately. "I knew it."
Sam sits up on his elbows. "Knew what?"
"You don't want me," he says. "You flinched, earlier, when I took my shirt off. You fucking flinched."
"It wasn't-"
"After we dropped Tina off. When we got in the car. I put my hand on your leg and you turned your face away. Like you can't stand to see me."
"That's why you've been in such a shit mood?" Sam asks. "I was checking for other cars."
"You always kiss me when I do that after a hunt," Dean replies. "Always."
"Oh, come on," Sam says, laughing it off as much as he can. "You're usually the one driving."
"Not that I blame you. I stared in the mirror for ten minutes while I was in there," Dean says, hitching a thumb over his shoulder and pointing to the bathroom. "Couldn't find a damn thing that would make you want me."
Sam's mouth drops open just a tad, and he keeps his eyes on Dean's worried expression, trying to process everything his brother just said. At this age, Dean was already draping himself in Dad's jacket, talking big, smiling smoothly, the definition of cocksure. He realizes now what he was too young to see then-that Dean was just a scared kid, putting on a brave face because Dad wouldn't have it any other way. Playing strong for Sammy.
It doesn't have to be that way anymore, and Sam actually…feels happy for him? He smiles and reaches out to brush hair away from his brother's face. "You're having a mood swing."
"What?" Dean yells. "No, I'm not!"
"It's okay," Sam assures him. "It's perfectly normal for someone your age."
"Fuck off, Sam," Dean replies. He shoves at Sam's chest when Sam tries to wrap him in a hug, then stands and crosses the room, turning to glare at Sam as he leans on the dresser.
Sam sees the TV shake and almost fall from how hard Dean rocks it, and for one guilty flash of a second, all he can think of is standing up, joining his brother, bending that little body over and fucking Dean so hard the TV does crash to the floor, and still going at it after that.
"You're gonna get that fresh start we talked about," Sam promises, swallowing down those images. He can't look at Dean like that. He can't really be this twisted. His brother is a child, and Sam hasn't wanted him with this kind of burning intensity in years. "You're gonna get to be a kid."
"That was a line," Dean tells him. "That was a line we fed Tina because she got stuck like this, too."
"Yeah, but it was true for her." Sam pushes the covers aside and sits up. "I'm gonna make sure it's true for you, too."
"I don't want you to be my parent," Dean snaps. "I don't want you to be my big brother. I don't want you to look at me like I'm some dumb kid. You're supposed to want me. Even though-god, I know I don't look like I did. I know what I look like now. But I thought you and me was about more than what we look like."
"Dean. That's not fair. If I had kissed you out there when you put your hand on my thigh, do you know what people would have seen? If I fuck you in here and someone knocks on the door to complain about the noise, do you realize what I would be to them? Some pervert fucking a-"
"Yeah, wouldn't want anyone to think you're a pervert when you fuck your brother," Dean tosses back with an ugly laugh. "Since when do we care what people think?"
"They could take you away from me," Sam replies, his voice small.
Because now he understands all the times Dean lied to strangers about Dad only being out for groceries when he'd been gone for weeks. All the times he sat Sam on the bed and coached him on how to answer questions that stern looking women with CPS badges clipped to their blazers asked. He'd spent his entire childhood terrified someone was going to take Sam away, and now Sam's the one who has to be in charge, make sure he doesn't do any of the things he wants to do to Dean.
"I'd like to see them keep me away," Dean replies. "You know they never could. Nothing ever could. So why can't you just admit it? I'm not sexy like this. I'm not blind."
"You don't see what I see," Sam answers, letting his eyes slowly move up Dean's body, his knobby knees, legs not nearly as bowed as they will be in a few years, and, god, Sam wants to help with that. Dean should be right; Sam shouldn't want him like this. That's not the problem he's having. "Of course I want you. I have always wanted you."
"Then why?" Dean asks. "Because I look like I'm 14? I'm not! You know I'm old enough to want this. What are you gonna do, just not touch me for four years? Not once?"
Sam looks away from him. "It's a second chance, Dean. You can have a normal life now. If I stop this. You can have something healthy someday."
Dean laughs and walks over to the bed, sitting next to Sam. He strokes Sam's cheek with the back of his fingers until Sam looks up, and then Dean kisses him, softly, gently, like it's his first time doing it. Like Sam used to wish Dean would do, when Sam was so much younger and Dean really was the boy he looks like.
"I never wanted anything except for this," he whispers, and when Sam tries to huff at it, Dean turns his face and forces Sam to meet his eyes. "I know what you're thinking. I know exactly how you feel right now. Fuck, Sam, you remember how long I fought this? How many times I pushed you away when this was new, because I didn't wanna fuck my little brother up for life?"
Sam laughs. "I remember how hard I wanted to knock your head against the wall sometimes," he says. "I couldn't believe you didn't understand how much I needed you."
"Got our positions a little reversed now, kiddo," Dean says, grinning at the way Sam raises his eyebrow at being called 'kiddo' by a 14-year-old. "I understand your hesitation, Sammy. But I'm freaked. I'm freaked and I need my brother."
It's like something in him snaps, thinking of his younger self, of how desperately he had begged Dean until his brother finally gave in. He'd spent years believing Dean would never want him and he would never get this. He can't do that to Dean now. Not for four whole years. He just can't do it.
So he moves quickly, shoving Dean into the mattress so fast Dean's expression is shocked for the first few seconds he's looking up at Sam, until his brain catches up and a smile breaks out over his face. "Calm down there, little brother."
"Are you a virgin?" Sam asks. Dean looks confused for a moment, so Sam clarifies. "This body. Had you been fucked yet?"
"Not-not by a guy," Dean replies, his eyes getting darker. "Been with a few girls, but no other guys."
"No one else is ever gonna fuck this body," Sam tells him. "If we're doing this. I'm never sharing your ass with anyone, got it?"
Dean nods. "Only ever went to them to try and stop wanting you, Sammy."
Sam slips his fingers under the elastic of Dean's boxers and pulls them down with two hands. He takes his time, drags the fabric slowly over every inch of Dean, watching the way his brother twitches and curses at every light brush. His dick is smaller between Dean's legs than Sam is used to but already stiff as can be.
He groans and climbs back onto the bed, wrapping one hand around Dean's hard little prick and covering most of it easily. Dean gasps, his head falling back as he bucks up into Sam's palm, and he starts to say something about how big Sam is, but he doesn't even get to finish before he's spilling spunk into Sam's fist.
"That was fast," Sam jokes, and Dean turns a ridiculous shade of red.
"Not fair!" he says. "I've been horny all day!"
Sam laughs, his face pressing into the dip of Dean's shoulder as he cracks up. His hands snake around Dean, and he paws his brother's ass with them, loving how much he can hold, how easy it is to pull him in closer, whether Dean wants him to or not.
"Gonna need plenty of lube," Sam says. "Gonna make sure your first time is just as good as you made mine, Dean. And I bet your ass is so tight."
Dean lets out a broken moan, rubbing his whole body up against Sam's side, even though he just came a few minutes ago. Sam's gonna get him hard again, that'll be easy. He remembers being this age. He wonders if he can get him hard again after that, too.
Sam reluctantly unwraps himself from his brother's needy thrusts and pulls Dean's duffel off the other bed where he'd dropped it earlier. It takes some fishing to find the lube-fucking hasn't been a priority in the last year, but Sam figures they're gonna more than make up for that now that the Mark of Cain is not an issue.
He tosses the bottle onto the mattress Dean is sprawled on and starts undressing. It's easy, just a t shirt and pajama pants that fall down once Sam's given them a nudge, and he's back on the bed in time to bat his brother's hands away where he's trying to take off his own shirt.
"Don't," Sam says.
Dean frowns, that uncharacteristic self-consciousness clouding over his young features again. "Don't want to see me naked?"
Sam slips a hand up under the fabric, thrills in how much space there is for him to feel his brother up. "Of course I do," he promises. "Just, god, I wanna touch you first."
Dean nods, his hips jerking up and a cry breaking from his lips when Sam tweaks his sensitive right nipple.
"First guy who fucked you," Sam asks, "was he like this?"
"He was b-big," Dean stutters out as Sam traces Dean's skinny ribs and flat stomach. "Had big hands, like yours. But I was bigger, too. Wouldn't have let him push me around. Or touch me like you are."
"No one's ever gonna touch you like this," Sam murmurs. He shoves the shirt up and over Dean's head and tosses it carelessly, looking down at Dean's now-naked flesh under him. Sam could blanket him without trying.
He's pale, the freckles that used to only come in the summer absent, but Sam knows they'll start sticking in just a year or so. He remembers how much Dean had wiped at them and bitched, completely oblivious that they had been the stars of Sam's first few desperate jerk off sessions.
Dean fidgets under Sam's hungry gaze, his arms long and gangly when he tries to reach for a sheet and pull it over himself. But Sam is fast and Dean is practically made of china compared to him.
He never could have taken Dean in a fight at this age, not without Dean letting him win. Not without popping an embarrassing boner and having to scramble away to hide. Now it's easy to pin his brother's arms down over his head.
"Wanna see you." Sam flips Dean over so his ass is in the air. He bends down, growling into Dean's ear, "Gonna see your ass when I fuck it. Gonna see how much I open it up by the time I'm done with you."
The sound Dean makes is oddly close to a sob, and Sam almost worries, but then he slips his other hand around and feels that Dean is rock hard. Again.
"Like this, don't you?" he asks. "Like being shoved around by your little brother."
"Sammy," Dean gasps. "Never-never been like this."
Sam presses his mouth to Dean's neck and lets his brother feel his smile. "I remember how much you loved this when I was little. Pushing me around. Forcing me wherever you wanted me. However you wanted me. God, I thought I was gonna die from how much it turned me on back then. But it's even fucking hotter from this end."
"Not so sure," Dean replies in a choked voice. "Because this whole manhandling thing you've got going on is pretty hot."
Sam kisses Dean's neck and then his mouth when Dean turns his face toward him, but after a few seconds of making out, he breaks away and moves down, marking his way down Dean's spine, kissing each knob that pokes out now where before it was all smooth muscle.
By the time Sam makes it to the dip of his lower back and the swell of Dean's ass, there's plenty of sweat for Sam to lap up, the taste clean from Dean's shower, but salty and reassuringly familiar despite how different the rest of Dean is.
He splays one hand on each cheek of Dean's ass and covers nearly all of the white skin, and the pads of his thumbs hold Dean wide open. He dives in, loving the way Dean always moans when Sam's tongue stabs into him without warning.
Sam goes deep and filthy, not caring that he's making Dean's shower moot with all his sloppy licks and bites at the rim of Dean's hole. Dean sounds like a kid whimpering from a beating under him, but he's begging Sam not to stop, so much needier than he's ever let himself be before.
It occurs to Sam that Dean could probably come, just like this, on the point of his tongue, with all those teenage hormones pumping through his body. It's definitely an experiment Sam decides to try out, but this, right here right now, this is about claiming Dean. Taking the first fuck that should have been his to begin with, and Dean is going to come on his cock, nothing else.
He slips a finger into Dean between licks, and to his surprise, Dean whimpers, "No!"
Sam pulls back, about to ask, and Dean looks at him over his shoulder. "No fingers. Wanna be tight for you. Wanna be so tight."
"Jesus," Sam says breathily. He squeezes the base of his cock, starting to worry he's gonna come before he can properly fuck Dean. "You sure you can take me like this?"
"Remember the time you shoved that 40 of malt liquor up my ass?" Dean asks.
"You were really drunk, though," Sam reasons. "And not twelve."
"Fuck you, I'm not twelve now!" Dean replies, sounding like a whiny brat throwing a hissy fit, and Sam shouldn't like that as much as he does, but oh well. Coulda, woulda, shoulda. He did try not to touch Dean and that should get him some kind of credit. "I'm a trooper, now get your giant dick in my ass, stat."
Sam lubes himself up and sticks just one finger into Dean, spreading slick despite his brother's protests. Dean tries to fight against it, but Sam has him shoved down with one hand and all his thrashing is useless. Apparently that's hot enough to make Dean forget why he was upset at all, because he melts into the mattress, moaning happily.
All Sam has to do is tap Dean's belly, and his brother is jumping to, anticipating what Sam is asking for, propped on all fours in seconds. Sam shoves into him then, starts easing in slowly because-no fucking kidding, Dean is the tightest hole he's ever fucked right now.
Dean is panting under him, but he's a champ just like he's always been, and with some effort he relaxes himself, welcoming Sam in further and further until Sam is balls deep in him. He's amazed he can fit, full-sized cock in this too-small body, but Dean knows just how to open himself to make Sam feel at home.
Sam slumps against him for a few seconds, breathing heavily and letting Dean adjust to him. He strokes his hand in Dean's hair, loving the way Dean responds so sweet and openly to the affection, when just yesterday he would have bitched about it. He keeps at it, soothing Dean with his petting as he pulls his cock out and shoves it back in, one clean thrust this time.
His brother cries out, maybe a little in pain, but he grips the headboard and pushes back even more, pulling a groan out of Sam. "God, yeah, little brother. Just like that. Love how big you are. Love it. Didn't think you could get bigger. Fuck."
Sam likes Dean, and he likes fucking Dean, so he doesn't point out that he didn't get bigger, because he knows Dean's got pride that never completely healed from the summer Sam grew taller than him, and Sam's not about to go and point out that he's gotten smaller. Even if he does find it kind of weirdly arousing to watch Dean's little body writhing on his cock.
"Sammy," Dean whines, and Sam gets the message. Focuses again on the task at hand by driving his body into Dean so hard his brother's grip on the headboard slips and he goes crashing into the mattress.
He catches Dean's hips with both hands, though, and is able to hold his ass up in the air even as Dean plasters his face in the pillow, trying and failing to stifle his needy moans. Dean's never been this loud before, and they'll probably have ten noise complaints by the time this is done.
They'll probably have to throw their shit in their bags and make a run for it before the come has a chance to cool, and Sam slaps his hand on Dean's thigh and grunts at the thought of that. Driving too fast out of town, watching Dean squirm in the seat next to him and try to pretend Sam's jizz isn't running down the back of his stubby teenage legs as Sam checks them into the next nearest motel, smiling with the clerk at the counter and telling them about the road trip he's taking his nephew on.
If he's weirded out by how well he's slipping into this creepy uncle role, Sam decides now isn't the time to psychoanalyze it. Instead he fucks Dean roughly, loving the sound Dean makes every time he hits the right spot, and that between the size difference and their years of practice, Sam doesn't even have to think about it to get that bullseye every time.
"Sam, I think I'm gonna come," Dean says. "Holy fuck, I'm definitely gonna-"
And just like that, Dean cuts himself off and starts whimpering instead, shooting white strings of spunk onto the cheap motel bedspread and sounding like it hurts, to have so much to give and no contact on his cock to ease the stimulation in his ass.
Sam doesn't take mercy. He fucks harder and harder, desperate now to get to his own climax, and it's not far off. Dean is hardly soft when Sam starts to lose it, filling Dean's raw ass with so much come it just might be a record. And there's one more thing that's all his, whether this is really Dean's first time or not. No one else gets to fuck him bare, and now no one ever will.
He waits until he's fully soft to pull out, and then he admires his handiwork. Dean is still breathing hard, his face smushed into the mattress, and his hole looks wrecked. There are purple fingerprints all over his hips, bright red hickeys all down his spine. Sam's made a mess. If someone saw his brother like this, Sam would be a real monster in their eyes.
But Dean turns over and smiles up at him, and that's all that matters now. All that will matter for the next four years. The only thing that ever mattered, really.
Sam falls on him with kisses, and Dean is eager to please. He kisses Sam filthy and sweet at the same time until Sam has to break away to catch his breath. He rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling.
"You know, I haven't fucked a guy, either, in this body," Dean says.
Sam opens one eye to check, and yup. "Jesus. You're hard already? Again?"
"What I lack in stamina, I more than make up for in enthusiasm," Dean explains.
He laughs and thinks about it, Dean's little body, thrusting away on top of him. He won't be big like Sam is used to, but there's a weird charm in the idea. He remembers his own first time, remembers artlessly grinding into Dean and losing it in minutes. Remembers the way Dean had laughed and pulled him into his chest, letting Sam rest inside of him and running his fingers through his hair, pretending it had been good for him.
Sam definitely owes him one. "You wanna open me up? I'd offer to do it for you, but I'm a little worn out."
"Ready for another round?" Dean asks, kissing Sam softly as he climbs up onto Sam's chest. "Damn, Sammy, I'm going through puberty. What's your excuse?"
"You look exactly the way you did when I fell in love with you," Sam says.
He watches Dean's face change, confusion takes over, and Sam kind of wishes he could take it back. But it's out now, and it's true, and it's the reason Sam can't stand the thought of blinking ever since Dean knocked on the door and Sam saw him looking like this.
"Seriously?" Dean asks. "You were-"
"Just a kid?" Sam asks. He laughs at Dean's nod and tries to turn away. "I was old enough to want. Or at least, to start to want. And you were the first thing that ever drove me crazy. You were. I think, maybe, I always loved you, but you looked like this the first time I got it."
"You didn't tell me," Dean says. "For years."
"Yeah, now you can see why I was so handsy by the time I finally owned up, huh?"
Dean laughs, but then he smiles and-even now, even like this, that's a big brother smile. He passes his hand through Sam's hair, and it's still comforting in the same way, and Sam's heart unclenches, a fear he didn't realize was there suddenly abating. "We can fix that, too. We can get you a fresh start."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," says Dean, "I mean, this. You and me. Forever if we want. Wait four years-we gotta have an adult. But in four years, we can do that spell again, make you young. Make you look like the kid I fell for. This thing with you being older than me, it doesn't sit right."
"You just wanna be taller than me," Sam teases.
Dean is weirdly earnest when he shakes his head. "I don't want to go on without you, Sammy. Don't want you aging this far ahead of me. Come back with me. Have a second chance. You can do school again. Be normal if you want. Hell, we can have whatever lives we want. As many times as we want."
"You're serious about this?" Sam asks.
"Hell yeah," Dean says. He looks away, and his voice gets softer. "I missed three years of your life. Never got to see you change from being 18 to being 21. That ain't right, either."
Sam grins. He missed Dean changing from the twinky young adult he'd left for Stanford to the Adonis he was by the time he showed up in Sam's kitchen. He hadn't even realized this would be his chance to get those years back.
"Four years," he says. "It's not the dumbest plan you've ever had."
"Awesome," Dean says. "Drinks on me after I'm done fucking you."
"They won't even let you into a bar," Sam teases.
Dean scowls. "We're gonna be doing a lot of drinking in motel rooms for the next two years. I could totally pass with a fake at 16."
"If the bartender is already drunk," Sam replies.
Dean straddles Sam's hips and glares down at him. "How dare you?"
Sam holds his hand over Dean's head. "Sorry, little guy. You must be at least this tall to ride this ride."