Prompt: ""I know this may be hard to believe, but I'm on your side." Weecest/Wincest?"
A/n: I'm in the process of moving things to me profile, from my blog. (It's a process.) Anyway, I'll be better prepared now. [Not beta'd. Any and all mistakes are my own, now more than ever. *Winks* ~ kiz]
Warnings: Weecest (Underage incest relationship featuring Dean and Sam Winchester)/Wincest (Incest relationship featuring Dean and Sam Winchester). Read at your own discretion.
Dean Winchester (18) / Sam Winchester (13). I don't own anything in or related to the Supernatural Fandom.
Dean could have sworn he saw Sam run into the hotel, just before he dad's tires squealed out of town, but he couldn't find them. He had been looking for the better part of two hours, he knew he had plenty of time before Dad showed back up, because John surely wouldn't be coming back until sometime in the morning, and if they were lucky it would be mid-afternoon by the time he woke up from his night of drinking and whatever bed he fell into, then of course lunch. Which he would most surely bring the boys cold burgers and complain they weren't ready to leave.
It was almost a science, between John Winchester and his sons.
Dean still had yet to learn what this fight was about, but he knew it was something bad - or at least, bad enough for Sammy to hide.
"Sammy," Dean whispered the moment he came into his mind, sinking down to seat, "where are you?"
"Just leave!" Came from near their beds and Dean whipped around on his feet, instantly mad. That fucking brat has been in here the whole time? He stomped over, practically flipping the mattress over and showing Sam huddled under the bed.
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Leave me alone!"
"I've been looking for you!" Dean snapped and with a point he glared, "get up!"
"Leave me alone!" Sam yelled back, jumping when Dean threw the mattress across the room. He bent down and jerked him up by the arm, "ow! Dean!"
"You're acting like a baby." Dean growled, hauling Sammy to his feet, "I know this may be hard to believe, but I am on your side."
"Yeah, right." Sam answered shoving Dean hard in the side, jerking his arm out of his hold, "don't touch me!"
That stopped Dean short, he was the only person that touched Sam. Their father most certainly didn't, they weren't a hugging and family-oriented bunch, and John was never around enough to effectively discipline either of them and Dean highly doubted that he would have ever hit and beat them - he wasn't that type of bad father, they were almost too old for it now. Sam was just turning 13, after all and Dean was 17. (Dean was fairly certain Sam would be able to put up a pretty good fight at this stage, he had grown tall over the past year.)
This wasn't about John Winchester though, this was about Sam. His Sam. His Sammy. Sam didn't want him to touch him?
"What are you talking about?" Dean breathed out, stepping back and dropping his hands immediately. He'd never push a line, at least one that wasn't accepted by Sam. It was honestly how he rationalized everything he did - everything that was, he'd say it, a little messed up in their world.
"Just leave me alone." Sam growled, shoving Dean again. He stumbled back, bracing himself for the next shove so he didn't move that time. "I hate you!"
Dean flinched when Sam's shoves turned more to slaps, "stop hitting me Sam or I'm going to get pissed off."
"I hate you."
Dean didn't know what had happened, something John did no doubt, but at least Sam had stopped shoving him. "What did he do?"
"It's what you did. To me."
Dean swallowed nervously, he knew this day would come. He had a feeling, anyway. Selfish as it may be he had hoped it wouldn't have been until Sam was in High School but... well, it was bound to happen at some point. "What did I do?" Dean asked, his voice was quiet, barely audible.
Sam heard it though and looked at him, "you... Dad said you're leaving me!"
"Leaving you?"
"You'll find a girlfriend, soon, you'll leave me!"
"Wh-what?" Dean blinked down at his baby brother, well he wasn't really a baby anymore, and down wasn't quite what it used to be. With that growth spurt he was almost as tall as Dean was at 17. He hated to think of how tall Sammy was going to grow in the end. "I'm not going to leave you, ever, Sammy."
"Don't call me that."
"Okay..." Dean swallowed his hurt, taking in a deep breath and composing himself. No matter what happened, he couldn't let Sammy Sam know he cared as much as he did. That wouldn't help anything.
"Dad told me all about it!"
"What did he fucking tell you, Sam?" Dean sighed, he wanted to grab Sam close. He wanted to cuddle him, he wanted to make him feel better... But he was frozen. Frozen as Sam yelled at him, his face red with his anger and his crazy hair all over the place and his cute, little hands pointing and waving around as he talked.
"He saw you buy...uh... y'know!" Sam growled, a new wave of embarrassment washing over him. "For girls!"
Oh, God. Dean shook his head, "why did Dad tell you that?"
"It's true isn't it!"
"No, it's not bloody true!" Dean yelled, his cool blown, "it's for you... for us!" His yell matched Sam's, only it overpowered his and made Sam's eyes open wide before he hurried to step back when Dean advanced. "It's for us, I didn't know he was there. Why the fuck did he tell you?" Dean's composure was gone, he was ever bit the hot-headed angry teenager he had been fighting to control since he found Sam hiding under the stupid bed.
He could perfectly picture when he bought it, two nights ago. The day after Sam and him had experimented a little further than blow-jobs and hand-jobs, he had fucked Sammy with his finger. Sammy had been quite something, writhing and moaning and, Jesus, Dean just want feel that on his dick. It was all he wanted for the past two days. He couldn't even focus in school - not that he did much anyway - but he really couldn't, because all he wanted to Sam pressed beneath him, moaning the way he did.
Those condoms (and that small bottle of lube he had swiped) were burning a hole in jacket pocket.
And, apparently, John Winchester's mind too. That explained their earlier conversation, the one before he sent Dean to get him and Sam a few drinks for the night at the gas station so they wouldn't have to leave when night came because he wasn't going to be there.
"Don't leave Sammy alone, Dean." "I know, sir." "Don't have anyone over... either, Sammy is too young to see that stuff." "Yes, sir."
"... we can try to work something out, if uh, y'know, there is someone?" "It's okay, sir."
"What did Dad say?"
Sam could tell Dean was upset, he didn't raise his voice at Sam too often. It made him feel a little scared and he shrugged, "to tell him if you leave or bring someone over." Dean fought to keep from rolling his eyes, "and when I asked him why he said he saw you buy, 'stuff for girls'."
"Guys use that stuff too, Sammy." Dean explained in exasperation, "there is no one else."
"Promise?" Sam didn't have to crane his neck to look up at him anymore, but he did have to shift just slightly. And he did, peering at Dean under his lashes, "promise, Dean?"
"I promise. It's just you."
Sam practically melted and hurried to press himself against Dean's chest, working his arms around his waist, "ever?"
"Ever, just you Sammy." Dean promised and held him back, bending just slightly, he pressed his lips to his forehead. "I... it was just because of the other night."
"I remember it." Sam said rather confidently, but Dean could feel him blushing.
"I... it's not a rush or anything, Sam. It was just in case. I wanted to be careful and safe and take care of you." Dean promised, hiding his own nerves by burying his nose against Sam's hair and taking a deep breath. Little Sammy, his little Sammy.
"Okay, D."
"Let's get ready for bed, it's getting late." Dean dropped his arms, it wasn't particularly late, just about 9. "I'll pick up the room, you go shower."
Sam shifted, tugging at his t-shirt, "we, uh... Dean, we try tonight?"
"No," he chuckled, glancing over at his nervously shifting brother, before smirking and giving him that look. "Not tonight, Sammy."
"Dean."
"Go shower." Dean answered, arms crossed against his chest. Sam pouted, biting at his bottom lip and frowning and Dean's heart gave a stutter, "make it quick," he added with a wink. Sam's cheeks tinted pink before he hurried to shut himself in the bathroom.
Dean huffed out a strained breath as soon as the door clicked shut, he grabbed the edge of the bed and flipped it over before he slid it back onto the frame. He sunk down to his seat on the bed, head in hands, why does Dad think Sam got so mad...? Was all he could think, was all he could focus on. What does Dad think?
