Sam wanted his first kiss.
Really wanted it.
He had always thought of his first kiss as a huge climactic relief of built-up tension between him and another person (and he says another person because, as much as he didn't like to admit it, he wasn't really sure yet). And he felt girly thinking this, but he wanted it to be romantic.
But he was getting restless.
The first time he had practiced on the back of his hand was when he was a week or so away from turning fifteen. Dean had gone out with Dad on a hunt and he was left at this house they were staying in. He was sitting cross legged on his bed and had just been thinking about it for ages, wondering what it was like. He bit the back of his hand in frustration.
The skin was surprisingly soft under his hand and he was struck by the idea that he could… well… practice. He'd felt embarrassed, even though he'd be alone in the house for another two days and no one would even know. But no one would know, so he did.
He pressed his lips to the back of his hand tenderly and closed his eyes, tilting his head to the side. He imagined bunching his hands up in the shirt of the person he was kissing (who was starting to appear more and more like a guy in his mind). He imagined being pressed up against a wall by this imaginary guy-person. He imagined sitting cross legged just like he was, with this person opposite him, both of them leaning into each other's mouths and when he stopped, his breathing was heavier than usual.
Even though it had satisfied his curiosity, it had just left him wanting the actual thing. So then he flopped back on his bed, more frustrated than ever.
When they got home, Sam had practiced another two times, one of which he felt very embarrassed about because he tried… licking… a bit. He was still frustrated, though, and it didn't help when he was watching a movie with Dean and a kissing scene came up. Sam exhaled and awkwardly looked away, hoping that Dean didn't notice.
"Sam, have- have you… kissed a girl yet?" Sam froze. Apparently, he had noticed.
"I- yes." He said, stuttering slightly. Dean arched an eyebrow, tilting his head toward Sam expectantly.
"Ok, ok! No." His voice became more embarrassed the longer he spoke.
"Damn, Sammy getting on in years aren't you?" Dean said with a chuckle. He shuffled slightly, sitting up more and leaning toward Sam.
"Shut up!" Sam said, tossing the pillow he was holding at Dean's head.
"If you already knew why did you ask anyway?" Sam sat with his arms crossed and he was shrugging, stooping his head.
"I don't know Sammy. Just… wondering."
A week later or so, there was another hunt and Sam was left at home for a couple days. Dean and Dad had just left and he sat cross legged on his bed again and thought about whether or not he should… practice again. He had become a bit less embarrassed by it after the last couple times and he actually found himself anticipating it.
He brought the back of his hand up to his mouth and tilted his head to the side, envisioning his favourite scenario yet, where the mystery guy-person pulls Sam down into a kiss and Sam-
Shit.
Sam's hand snapped to his side and he grabbed a book off his bedside table just in time to hear the heavy footsteps sounding up the stairs reach his door and to see Dean open the door.
"Hey, Sammy I forgot my-" Sam could see Dean's eyes move quickly to the back of his hand and then back to his innocent expression.
"OhohOH, Sammy," Dean twisted his mouth into a wry smile, "Were we practicing?"
"No."
Dean's lips pressed hard together, as though forcing down laughter.
"Sure, Sammy, sure." Sam was looking down into the book now, his hand angled so that the back was out of Dean's line of sight.
Oh my GOD. OH GOD WHY IS THIS HAPPENING.
"Don't worry, Sammy, I won't tell." And then Dean was gone, ducking out of the room with a wink, leaving the door half-open.
Sam could hear Dean rifling through cupboards in the next room and, soon enough, he called out.
"I found it!" Then Dean was bounding down the stairs and hear could hear the Impala door slam and then the engine was purring as it drove off and Sam was lying on the bed with his face in his hands, still flushed with embarrassment.
Two days later, Dean and Dad were back from the hunt and Sam had sat down on his bed, reading. Sam was still embarrassed out of his head and had been waiting for Dean to mention… it. Dad had gone out.
"So that's it then?" Sam called to Dean as he walked past his bedroom door.
"What's what?" Dean replied.
Sam rolled his eyes. "You really aren't going to, I don't know, tease me about…"
"About Sammy getting friendly with the back of his hand?"
Sam was going to bitch face about it, when the tone in Dean's voice struck him as… off.
He turned toward Dean and found him with a soft expression on his face.
"No, I understand Sammy. It's good. About your age you just," Dean shrugged and turned his mouth up, "Start to, uh, wonder- I guess."
Sam could not believe himself. Dean wasn't mocking him. If he was doing anything he was sticking his neck out.
"Hey, don't look so surprised!"
Sam knew he could trust Dean with how he felt so…
"No, sorry… but yeah, you're right. I have been wondering… what it's like y'know?"
Dean had stepped inside Sam's room at this point, and he stepped forward again.
"Sammy whe-"
"Would you show me?" Dean stopped halfway through what he was saying, his eyes snapping up to Sam.
"What?"
"Would- you… show me?" One look at the disbelief on Dean's face had Sam calling himself an idiot and taking it back as soon as he had said it. "Sorry, I just thought that if I was going to do it I should do it with someone I trust and then I thought 'why not you?' but that's a stupid id-"
"Um, sure." Sam was cut off from his rambling by Dean replying quietly. "Yeah, Sammy… ok."
Dean took off his over shirt, set it down on a chair, and strode to Sam's bed, sitting down and crossing his legs. He leaned back on his arms. Sam was looking up at him, trying to think of what to say.
"O-kay."
"Just tell me whatever you want to do, Sammy."
All that Dean could think was that he hadn't had any support or concern when he was feeling like this, and so he had constantly been confused. He remembered his first kiss. It was terrible. A dry, gross smack with a girl called… Melinda? He hated the fact that it hadn't been anything… well, anything! He wasn't gonna freakin' let that happen to Sammy. No, that wouldn't happen to Sam.
"Ok, I'll start then." Sam was blushing to the tips of his ears and now Dean could feel a bit of blush creeping up his neck. "Would you like me to kiss you, Sam?" He looked Sam in the eyes.
"Y-yes."
"Do you want to start or do you want me to?"
"Could… could you? Start, I mean. Sorry." Sam was all flustered and embarrassed now.
"Ok, Sammy just tell me when." Dean looked at Sam patiently, as though he could wait there for however long Sam wanted him to wait. Sam thought that he probably would, actually.
"Whenever." He was breathing heavily.
"Okay, I'll take that as a when."
Dean started leaning forward and Sam tilted his head to the side like he had done before. Sam leaned in a bit and then Dean moved up and forward and Sam's lips locked with his.
Sam's stomach was fluttering and his eyelids were closing when he realised that Dean had his eyes closed and that there was a pink blush tinting his cheeks. Sam made a soft sound that was muffled by the kiss and Dean's eyebrows turned up, his cheeks red now to match Sam. Dean leaned further into the kiss and Sam leaned in in turn, tilting his head further and opening his mouth slightly to match Dean's. He couldn't help but make another noise at the sensation of tongue sliding wetly against tongue and Dean made a small noise in turn.
At this point, Dean had a hand cupping the side of Sam's face and Sam was gladly leaning into the support. It was then that Sam realised that his mystery guy-person was turning into Dean.
It was Dean's shirt that he imagined bunching his hands up in. It was Dean he imagined being pressed up against a wall by, being pulled down into a kiss by. And now, he didn't have to imagine sitting cross legged with Dean opposite him, both of them leaning into each other's mouths, because it was happening.
They broke the kiss for a moment and pressed their foreheads together, just long enough for Sam to let out Dean's name in an airy voice, dizzy.
"Oh, Sammy."
Dean pulled Sam back into the kiss with force and their lips crushed together, Sam leaning forward and uncrossing his legs out from under him, shuffling forward until he was sitting in Dean's lap, hands bunched in Dean's shirt. Dean had a hand in Sam's hair and the other arm wrapped around his little brother's back.
"Sam." Dean moved slightly, mouthing Sam's jawline and working around to his neck and under his ear, leaving Sam breathless and clinging to his shoulders. He sucked on Sam's earlobe, which earned him a moan.
"God, Dean." Sam's voice was almost a whisper, full of pleading. Sam didn't have to plead; Dean wasn't going to stop any time soon.
Dean lightly bit Sam's earlobe and moved back to Sam's lips, pressing them to his.
Sam could feel Dean grin into the kiss.