Title: My Sammy?
Disclaimer: Of course I don't own SPN.
Notes: Don't really know why I did this, it's a short piece on Dean watching Sam sleep teen!wincest :) just a drabble really. Review if you like it, it's only a little thing :)
Dean sat on the edge of the bed, his hand a touch away from Sam's. The fourteen year old looked so peaceful, his eyelashes splayed against his cheeks that were tinged pink from the warmth. Dean knew he lost minutes that tuned into sharp notes of hours when he watched Sam. The world shrunk, and Dean found it more difficult to stop. He told himself it was protective streak in him that had been conditioned by his dad, and that it was normal. But it wasn't. Leaving a kiss longer on your teen brother's forehead when he drifts off to sleep wasn't normal. Sam's hair splayed out in tufts, and Dean – even now – could feel the strands spilling over his fingers when he ruffled Sam's hair that morning.
His jaw had become stiff, and that was when he noticed he was crying. No chick flick sobbing, just a tear. That tear was everything that was Sam; he'd be in his life, make a big difference, make him wake up to things, and then sooner or later will disappear. Dean will lose him, and he could already see the change, the rebellion and Sam's desire to be normal.
Sam used to be stubborn kid when it came to bedtime. At the age of five, no matter what dad did, Sam just sat there, glaring up at John as if he needed silver bullets. John's shoulders had slumped in defeat, but he was still trying. Dean came into the room and picked Sam up, smiling smugly at the hands that circled around his neck. That's it Sammy he had cooed into Sam's hair, passing his dad who nodded at him in a silent thanks.
Actually, Dean found it harder and harder to say no to Sam, the boy had this way of looking like a little kicked puppy when he wanted something. This meant that Sam and Dean sat on Dean's bed in the middle of the night and exchanged stories and lullabies. Soon Sam would fall asleep with his head in Dean's lap and Dean would have to lift him and place him back in his bed. Sometimes he fell asleep with Sam between his legs. He would wake early in the morning with the tree outside knocking the window, and Sam's hand entwined in his t-shirt.
When Sam became a teenager the tension blew with a bang, and they had a fight involving a smashed chair and Dean with a split lip. Dad had come back to find Sam and Dean scowling heavily at each other. Sam had a bruise on his jaw, and a tiger's anger in his eyes, Dean just wanted to kiss the teenage bitch out of him.
Back to Dean sitting on the bed, he glanced over Sam's physique. The kid was growing, and his features had shifted so he looked less babyish and now manlier. When Sam had been kicked out of the bathroom by Bobby – don't ask – Sam stumbled out wearing a pair of boxers and not much else. His kid brother had now his own spread of muscle. Paired with his bright brown eyes and bangs, Dean could only lick his lips and go downstairs, leaving Sam looking utterly confused. Sam would be a remarkable man, and would most likely be able to charm his way out of anything, if he let his conscience slide. He learnt from Dean, who learnt from dad.
Sam moved suddenly and Dean froze. If Sam woke Dean would have some explaining to do, so he came to the conclusion to go back to bed. After all, he wasn't even meant to be there at all, let alone still. He stood as gracefully as he could, trying to avoid the bed springing. He thought he managed it. With his back to Sam, Dean wiped the tear from his eye with the back of his hand. Sam was going to break him, and the result wouldn't be pretty.
'Dean' and Dean turned on reflex, but Sam was mumbling and still asleep. Relief swept over him, but he moved closer to check. There was something deeply wrong with him, he was certain. Something deep inside that clawed at his entire character.
'Shh Sammy' he whispered knowing that the hand he reached out to feel Sam's locks was not listening to every instinct which told him he was sick. Sam leaned into the touch, and breath trickled out in a sigh.
Dean removed his hand and crawled back into his bed falling asleep with the thought of Sammy.
He woke up to the sound of dad yelling for him to get up. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes, and frowned at a little piece of paper on his duvet. Scratched in blue ink were the words:
You protect me from everything, and you won't lose me. Love you. Sam.
Dean left the note on his bed, got dressed and headed downstairs to breakfast. They didn't talk about it. Dean didn't really want to.
(I feel like I'm exploding, going out of my head. Gonna live while I'm alive, I'll sleep when I'm dead.)