Title: Distracting Or Helpful?

Disclaimer: Don't own SPN

Notes: Exam period for me, so I thought I'd let off steam. For FreekyDisaster18 too.

It was stressing him out, and for Sam Winchester to get stressed – given that his brother was someone who could irritate you till you scream – it took a great deal. Exams were doing this to him; specifically the PSATS and other very stupid modules that he had to take because apparently he had the smarts to so he had been pumped up to Advance English among other subjects.

Not only did Dean never bother with revising at school: he had never failed a test in his life. You might think Sam was joking but no, Dean, never the one to revise or even look at a textbook outside of school consistently got C grades. Which wasn't only a pass, but a good one considering he never bothered. Most boys in Sam's class who didn't try, flunked -badly.

Of course Sam had mocked Dean all the time, asking his brother how many teachers he had to make out with, or – after moving out of hitting range – how many did he have to get on his knees for. Dean just bitched and told Sam to get on with his work. Sam obviously knew that Dean had never slept with a teacher for grades, because, well, he didn't need to, but Sam could bet there were teachers who'd make him think he needed to.

Sam on the other hand needed As and Bs at an average for his score and Christ if it didn't stress him out. Sam sat in Bobby's living room, back against the bottom of the couch, legs underneath the table and books and notes spread on top of the work surface. Sam gazed at his notes on Sociology, Family Structures and chuckled somewhat hysterically at the thought of his family in a study. In order to revise, Sam started to drink more and more caffeine, which caused massive withdrawals when he stopped. He even nicked one of Dean's beers to help him study. Unfortunately Bobby's more perceptive than Sam takes him for and there were no coffee beans in the house. No coffee. Bobby had gone cold turkey. Damnit. The revising, the pressure, it was all getting to his head and fuck if he didn't believe for a second he was overdoing it. He just needed to do well.

'Yo, Sam, you okay?' Dean's voice carried through the house from somewhere upstairs.

'Yeah' Sam called back, and he heard the pitter patter of Dean's footsteps on the landing. Sam didn't pay much attention, except trying to get back to reading the Marxist views that family should be seen as solely in terms of their economic functions for society. Oh the Winchesters were very economical. Dean hustles, and Dad gives them fake Ids.

Sam didn't react when there was the squeak of the living room door, nor the press of Dean's weight on the couch next to him. The puff of breath across his cheek did get his attention though.

'Sam, tell me to fuck off if you want to, but you've been working on freakin' everything for the past four hours' Dean's low voice sounded next to his ear. Sam paused in between writing a sentence.

'Fuck off' Sam said without bite. 'Counting are you Dean?' he asked stiffly, knowing he sounded like a bastard, but he couldn't care his head had started the swim.

'Course I am, you jackass, you're my little brother. Given my position as big brother I have to check on you. It's in the job description'

Sam slumped against the couch and his shoulder shifted against Dean's knee.

'I know, pity you don't get paid isn't it?' Sam sighed and two heavy hands were placed on either of his shoulder. Sam immediately tensed up – it was just a typical reaction now. He wasn't used to people laying their hands on him really. Dean made a sort of sshhhh sound, and Sam's muscles began to untie.

'See, look at this, all tensed up and for what?'

Sam coughed out a laugh, 'My PSATS'.

'Which you know you'll ace because you're my smart lil Sammy' Dean reasoned, and Dean's hands grooved into Sam's trapezoids. 'And' Dean drew out the vowels in the word, and 'You work harder than every kid in your class'

'Dean, come on that's not true-'

'Ah maybe some of those chicks work harder-' and Sam growled back, Dean emitting a chuckle.

'C'mon Sam, relax. You tellin' me that you're actually taking stuff in? Cause I can tell, and you ain't'

Dean's right hand snaked into Sam's hair, pads of his fingers touching the hairs that curled around his ear. Sam's head lolled back and Dean made a noise of protestation.

'Nah nah, shift forward I need to get behind you'

'Well Dean, now that's a bit forward'

'Shaddup. Scoot' and Sam complied, trying to ignore the way his body conformed under Dean's touch. Sam shifted forward, and Dean readjusted himself, each leg either side of Sam.

'What ya revising?' Dean asked and Sam rolled his neck.

'Sociology, specifically Family Units'

'Any space in the exam for families of hunters, where the brothers are closer than just blood?' Sam could tell Dean was teasing, and even without looking at him, Sam knew Dean had a small smile on his face. But Sam also knew it was Dean's way of admitting what he couldn't say in the actual words.

So Sam helped. 'Not really, don't think the syllabus covers it' he muttered and felt Dean, who was still massaging Sam's shoulders, lean forward and read over Sam's notes.

'Functionalist view? What the heck is that?'

'Functionalism is an extremely optimistic view of family life. But as we know it isn't always like that. The evidence on child abuse, violence against women, divorce statistics shows that yeah, families don't really work. It kinda neglects the dysfunctional aspects of the nuclear family. Something we don't have anyway…' Sam recited, eyes slipping closed.

'Wow. Yeah, I guess you got to work with what you've got I suppose' Sam heard the sadness in Dean's words.

'I'm getting fed up with Sociology, I might do some Math'

'Nuh uh Sammy, Bobby told me to make sure you got breaks. Man, I can hear the cogs whirling in your head due to too much reading' Sam smiled lazily, suddenly all the pain in his back was really evident and was seeping out of him due to Dean's ministrations.

'What're you thinking Dean?' he asked.

'Well Brain Box, I'm thinking you need to relax'

'Dean, how come you always pass without doing any work?' Now why the hell did he have to go and do that? Sam hated his mouth sometimes, it didn't co-operate with his brain or his dick.

'I dunno, good head I suppose – and oh jeeze that was not meant to be a joke' Sam giggled, he actually giggled. It felt like a while since he had.

Dean could do that to you. Sometimes Sam never really knew if Dean meant to or not. Sam could be stressed out and crying for god's sake and Dean, if he wanted to that is, could make him smile just by being him.

It was times like this that Sam forgot all the fucked-uppness of their family, and the fact that he knew how to curtail Casper-the-not-so-friendly-ghost with his eyes closed. On the rare hunt that Dad took Sam and Dean on, it did involve Casper. Unfortunately, this one seemed to like Dean. 'Bastard threw me out of the window!' Dean had cursed, and after checking his brother over, Sam smirked at Dean's disgruntled nature at being outdone by a pesky little Casper. They had got back to the motel and Sam had begun studying for the PSATS, ignoring Dean.

'You revised much History, Sammy?' Sam should really listen to Dean's tone of voice before he answered, but no.

'Some yeah, why?'

'Mhnnn' Dean dipped and placed a kiss on the expanse of neck under Sam's ear.

'Jus' wondering' was Dean's vague response back.

Dean's hand travelled south, from his neck and down to lay splayed across Sam's chest. Sam waited…

'What happened on March 1770, you cover that far back don't you?' and Sam nodded, his mind mentally shifting through his History notes.

'Uhm Boston Massacre?' he lilted it into a question and Dean purred back in response.

'Good, boy, what happened?' Dean pressed, and Dean's hand was searing hot past Sam's t-shirt.

'Four workers shot by British troops in Boston streets'

Dean's hand slipped down on to Sam's abdominal muscles, and Christ he was getting hard. Hard while reciting American History, only Dean could do this.

'July 6th 1775 Declaration on the Causes and Necessity of Taking Up Arms stated what?' Dean tested. How the hell did Dean even know any of this? How did he even… Sam couldn't tell you what went on in Dean's head, he was fooling people with the stupid act.

'Americans are resolved to die free men rather than live as slaves' he replied and he thanked Bobby that the hunter had a low couch because Dean cupped Sam's erection, Sam gasped. 'Dean…'

'Not bad Sam' Dean breathed in Sam's ear, and Jesus was the guy distracting or what? Dean undid the button of Sam's jeans and curled his hand around Sam's hardness.

'The American Revolution and so did the American War of Independence, led by… nnnggghhh… George Washington… was fought between Britain and British colonies in North America' his fluctuating fluency was caused because Dean was cruel and twisted his grip, making Sam blurt out moans.

'Yes Sam, you pay more attention than I did. What happened in 1866? Give ya a hint, Missouri and Gordon wouldn't like them one bit'

'Klu Klux Klan. Jesus Dean… Why…'

'I don't even know Sammy, fuck' Dean chuckled, 'You are doing very well' he crooned.

'Thanks but Dean, do something' he whined.

Sam was partly thankful for his brain, and the ability to retain American History while Dean was jacking him off. Slowly. If he could remember it then, then he could certainly do it in the PSATS. God, he felt good.

'In 1903 a Motor company formed that sells awesome classic cars'

'Ford. You and freakin' cars…' he grumbled, that wasn't on the PSATS. Dean took his hand away for that smart arse comment and Sam moaned at the loss.

'I didn't mean that c'mon!'

'Uhuh… American History is American History' Dean was loving this. 'We impersonate them enough, what was founded in 1908?'

Sam's mind went blank because two things happened. Dean licked his ear while he swiped his thumb over the head of Sam's dick.

'FBI' he just about managed before he whited out, and the pressure went BAM! No he didn't see stars, but yes he closed his eyes as his whole frame sort of collapsed as he climaxed. He was certain he made un manly noises as that happened, but he couldn't care.

'Lawrence founded?' Dean nudged, and oh Sam couldn't care when but he replied regardless, letting the moment give peace.

'1856'

'Nevada?'

'1865'

'Dakota?'

'1890'

'North or South' Sam could hear the grin in his big brother's voice.

'Both, same year. I hate you' Sam muttered, and Dean made Sam look at him by turning his chin, and kissed him on the lips. It was soft, chaste.

'Nah you don't. But where's my thanks? I helped you relax and I helped you with American History'

'Wait till I tell Bobby that you helped with American History, he'll never believe me' Sam smiled.

'Yeah, yeah. I'll be upstairs' Dean cuffed him playfully on the head with a sinful wink and Sam shoved him.

Sam needed a change of boxers, but he now felt like the equivalent to a two-hour soak in the bath. So, Sam went upstairs to get some new boxers, then he wanted to get to work on Math.

Pity he got distracted by Dean Winchester in the bedroom, second door to the left.