I Hadn't Noticed

Written for a great prompt over at LJ SPN Kink Meme
HERE
Dean has refused to touch Sam after he got back from Purgatory, angry and hurting that Sam didn't look for him. He's very indifferent toward Sam, doesn't trust him, too caught up in his own hurt about Sam not looking for him.

This sends a message to Sam that Dean doesn't really want anything to do with him and Sam agrees but he can't distance himself from Dean. He lives for those small moments that Dean still touches him, is almost ready to beg Dean to do something but he doesn't voice it.

It isn't until after the second trial when Sam is visibly weakened, stumbling around the MoL bunkers does Dean realize how much he's been neglecting Sam and he tries to make up for it, anything from cooking for Sam, touching him more, letting Sam sleep in his room spooned against Sam's back.

Kinks are up to whatever the author chooses and bottom!Sam only, please




“I went to Purgatory and Sam got a dog.” If Sam heard that sentence one  more time he was going to hit something. Once again, he’d let his brother down. He got it. One more on a very long list of why Sam just didn’t make the cut. Wasn’t like he didn’t already know, but apparently Dean didn’t think he’d get it without hearing it at least once a day and it pissed him off.

It had to piss him off, because if he stopped being pissed, the hurt would seep out and he’d struggle to breathe. Dean had alternated between sniping at everything to just plain ignoring him for months. After telling Sam that he wanted Sam to have a life and get out of hunting, he thought it was better, but it was only a ‘one of us might die’ moment, apparently. Because after the hellhound was dead and the first trial over it was right back to ‘Sam can’t do anything right’. Dean had spent two weeks trying to convince Sam to dig up another hellhound so he could do the trials. Apparently it was the only way Dean thought they’d be done right.

Sam watched Dean grab a beer out of the fridge and he stood in the doorway.

“Wanna move?” The tone was gruff and the older Winchester brushed by him with almost a shove. Once he was past and in the other room, Sam sighed. He hated himself for being so fucking weak, but attention was attention. Ever since hell he’d craved his brother’s touch like air. Before Purgatory, Dean had understood that, catered to it, even. Ruffles to his hair, grips to his shoulder, light touches to his back or arm when he walked by, and bruises in the shape of fingerprints when they fucked. Having a dog and a woman that was as broken as he was hadn’t diminished his need for his brother. He just wished his brother would see that.

Part of him wanted to ignore his brother the way Dean was ignoring him. He wants to be pissed and act like everything is Sam’s fault? Fine. Sam wished it didn’t matter so much. Truth was it fucking hurt. Part of him wanted to go sit on the sofa beside his brother and beg him to help. The second trial had hit him a lot worse. Reaching for a bottle of beer, Sam retreated to his bedroom. Just seemed the safest way to avoid any kind of confrontation with his brother. As he reached the hallway, a sharp pain ran through him that felt like his skin was being peeled off his frame. And he knew exactly what that really felt like.  The bottle crashed to the ground and he reached to hang on to the wall.

“Why we don’t have nice things, Sam!”

Dean’s angry voice echoed, but his brother didn’t hear the latest dig. He was busy trying to force air into his lungs. Sam hadn’t really had a flashback of the cage since Cas took ‘Lucifer’ out of his head, but right then he was convinced every scrap of flesh was going to be peeled back and his bones shattered one by one until he was dead. And then it was going to start again.

“Sam! Sammy!” Dean’s voice finally broke through.

Opening his eyes, Sam realized he was on the ground and his brother was standing over him. For a moment, he wasn’t sure his brother was real. He pushed away and forced his body to move to the wall, still not sure where he was.

Dean was terrified. He hadn’t seen that look on his brother’s face in so long, but he’d never forget it. The look Sam got when he was in hell in his mind. “Sammy, come on, man. Snap out of it. You’re not there. You hear me? It’s not real. We’re in the batcave, remember?” Hazel eyes finally focused on him and Sam nodded.

“Batcave. Yeah. Got it.”

He let his brother breathe for a moment, but he couldn’t resist holding his shoulder, like he’d disappear if Dean didn’t have a grip on him. “Wanna tell me what brought that on?”

“I don’t know. Something hurt.”

“Yeah the scream was a hint.”

Still breathing hard, Sam flinched. He was so far beyond his endurance at the moment he literally couldn’t take one more jab from his brother. “Sorry. Won’t bother you again.” Gripping the door jam, he pulled himself to his feet. He only got about halfway up before his legs gave out and he fell.

Watching his brother slide towards the ground made Dean move. With an arm around his brother’s waist he led the taller man into the bedroom and sat him down on the bed. He kneeled in front of him and gripped Sam’s shoulders. “Talk to me, Sammy.”

“I’ll be okay.” Keeping his eyes to the ground, he fought the urge to throw his arms around his brother like he did when he was a kid and in pain.

Predictably, Dean went on a tirade. “Of course you’re gonna be okay! No matter how much of that is bullshit, you’re not about to actually tell the truth, are you?”

It was too much. Struggling to keep his voice from breaking, Sam sighed. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“How about the fucking truth for a change?”

Tears came and he gave up on trying to control his emotions. “You don’t want the truth, Dean. You want me to fucking stay quiet and out of your way. You want anything that keeps you from actually having to talk to me, or God forbid, touch me. You want to forget all about me.”

“I want to forget about you? Who the hell are you to say that to me, Sam. Who. The. Fuck. Forgot. About. Who. Here?”

“Jesus Christ, Dean.” It was quickly becoming cathartic to let it out and Sam got on a roll. “I gave up. I fell apart. I ran. I admit it, alright? You were gone, I was alone, and I checked out. What the fuck more do you want me to say? That I absolutely fucking suck at being alone? FINE! I suck at being alone. You sell your soul, but me, I’m an over achiever in the screw up department, I end the fucking world.” Angry, ran his hands over his face. “But right now? Right now it fucking hurts, Dean. I have no idea what a ‘molecular level I can’t even fix’ means. But I can’t say anything. I can’t tell you it feels like my skin is being peeled off my body, my bones are breaking and my blood is fucking boiling. Even though you know that I know how that feels as well as you do. Because I never know how you’re going to react. I don’t know if you’re going to offer to help me or punch me anymore.” At the end of his endurance, physically and emotionally, Sam stood up. “And the most pathetic thing is I don’t care. That’s right. Give me shit about it, but I’m so fucking pathetic I don’t care what you’re doing to me, because even if all you’re gonna do is kick my ass at least you’ll be looking at me.” He couldn’t even look up at his brother to see how disgusted he was with this show of emotion. “The trials are trying to kill me. And if I have to fight them alone they’ll do it before I finish them.” His legs gave again and he felt himself start to fall.

With a start, Dean crossed the room to grab his brother and move him to back to the bed. He could actually feel how much weight the younger man had lost. “When’s the last time you ate?”

All he got was a shrug before those long arms wrapped around him.

If there was one thing Dean knew, it was Sam. For as big as he was, the only time he actually ate was when it was placed in front of him, and sometimes not even then when he was healthy. The way he was feeling  now? He probably hadn’t really eaten in days. Shaking his head, Dean pulled the blanket around his brother and pushed him gently to lay down.

For a moment, the younger man fought him. Who knew when the next time his brother was going to hold him like this and he wasn’t about to give it up easily.

It took a few minutes, but Dean finally figured out what was going on. It was the first time he’d touched the kid in months other than to shove him out of the way or treat an injury, and Sam didn’t want to let go of him. He’d been avoiding Sam to avoid how hurt he was about his girl and his dog.

Princess.

He could practically hear Bobby’s voice mocking him. All this time he had looked at it like Sam had run away. Stanford all over again. But, if he stopped to think about what his brother had just said, that wasn’t it. Sam had shut down. He’d run from the fact that the last time he’d lost Dean he really did almost end the world. Somewhere in the back of Sam’s mind he could have done it again. And Dean wasn’t sure enough that he was wrong to call him on it.

Gently, the older Winchester pried himself out of Sam’s arms.

“Sorry.”

The voice sounded so pitiful that Dean couldn’t help himself. Reaching out, he pushed the long hair off his brother’s face. Two things happened. First, Dean realized the hair had grown really thin and was desperately in need of a wash. Second, tears ran down his brother’s face. “Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll be right back, promise.”

It wasn’t that Sam didn’t believe his brother, but….. okay, he wasn’t sure he believed him. Dean wanted him to let go. That was it.  Closing his eyes, he heard the older man leave the room.

Moving into the kitchen, Dean decided enough was enough. Jesus, Sammy had spent 150 years being tortured by Lucifer and Michael. It was way past time his older brother stopped torturing him. And he knew that as emo as his brother was, the way Dean had treated him had hurt Sammy just as much as the torture in the cage. He scanned through the kitchen, stopping when he finally saw it. Tomato soup. Perfect.

It wasn’t five minutes later he came into Sam’s room with a tray carrying tomato and rice soup. He hoped his brother would accept it for what it was. When Sam startled, he realized that his brother hadn’t expected him to return. That hurt. Wasn’t that he didn’t deserve the lack of faith lately, but it still stung. The look on the younger man’s face told Dean the last thing he really wanted to do was eat, but he knew exactly what the gesture was and he wasn’t about to turn it down. Relieved, but not really surprised, Dean watched him eat. It wasn’t a good thing that it took him almost twenty minutes to get it down, but he was grateful that the kid didn’t give up and ate all of it.
Before Sam could lay down Dean shook his head. “Not done with you yet.”

Pitiful full blown puppy eyes stared at him.

“Shower. I could change the oil in Baby by what’s in your hair.”

“Fuck you.” It was more of a whine than an insult, but Dean shrugged.

“Maybe. Let’s see if you can stand up first. Then we’ll talk about fucking.”

For a moment he was afraid he’d pushed too far too fast. Sam stared silently at him, obviously trying to decide on a comeback. Finally he shrugged. “You’re gonna have to do all the work.”

Jesus. It was that easy. Forgiven, accepted, and understood in the span of ten minutes. Not that Dean would let Sam see how much that affected him, he was a Winchester, thank you very much. Reaching down, he pulled the taller man to his feet. “Come on, Sasquatch. Let’s blow the stink off and wring out the oil.”

With his arm around his brother, Dean could feel almost every rib. Through the layers he couldn’t tell until now just how much weight Sam had lost. Kid was all skin and bones. Leaning him against the wall, Dean turned on the water and while it was warming up he started to peel the layers off. It wasn’t lost on the older brother that he just stood there, not helping, not fighting, just limp and cooperative.
The truth was that, even if he felt up to doing anything, Sam wasn’t sure what he should do. If he pulled away, his brother would most likely get pissed at him and leave him standing there. If he leaned on his brother, it might get him the same result.

Leaving Sam against the wall, Dean turned the water on and waited for it to get warm. “Come on, Sammy.” In a split second decision, the older man dropped his own clothes before dragging his brother under the water. “Gotta clean you up, little brother.”

Closing his eyes, Sam just leaned back into Dean’s hands as they scrubbed his shoulders and arms. He shivered as those hands crossed the back of his neck just below his hairline. He couldn’t count how many times his brother had done this for him, starting when he was just a baby and needed someone to bathe him. Later it was when he’d been injured and couldn’t hold himself up without help. Then eventually to sensuous and, oddly enough, more needy times when it was a rarely enjoyed gentle foreplay.

Dean was literally stunned into silence. He could see almost every bone that made up the back of his brother’s body. If there hadn’t been a supernatural cause he’d believe Sammy had turned into one of those anorexic chicks they made movies about. As he moved soapy hands across Sam’s collarbone, his first thought was where did the muscle that formed the curves of that body go? The second thought was a memory. Sam was about sixteen when he’d shot up about four inches overnight and for a while it had seemed like even his skin was having a hard time keeping up with the stretch. The thirty year old body in front of him was almost identical, and that scared Dean. It hit him like a bucket of ice water. The trials really were killing his brother and he’d done nothing but tell him he couldn’t do it. Shaken, he dropped his hands to the disappearing waist and leaned his forehead against the knobs of the long spine in front of him.
Feeling Dean against him, Sam sighed. He wanted desperately to lean back, but he was still leery of the reaction he would get. He was so lost in his head he failed to realize that Dean’s lips were gently traveling across his back and over to the now bony edge of his shoulder. For a moment, he hoped his brother was going to turn him around and really kiss him, but that moment was short lived when Dean suddenly pulled back.

It was overwhelming to Dean that the younger man had been literally fading away right in front of him while he’d been busy being an asshole. By the time his finger reached the long hair in front of him they were shaking. He’d prayed the thick head of hair had appeared thinner to him due to how dirty it was, but once he guided Sam’s head under the spray he couldn’t deny it any longer. A lot of it had fallen out, and he was afraid if he pulled too hard he’d have handfuls of it on the shower floor. Gently, he worked shampoo into it, still barely breathing. Sam wasn’t bald, by any stretch, but the loss of hair was just as frightening as the loss of weight. Easing his brother back under the spray, he rinsed the soap and shampoo.

It was too much for Sam. His brother hadn’t touched him in so long, to have his hands and lips traveling over him so gently now sent shivers through him that wracked his frame. Tilting his head back, he put his face under the spray to hide the tears he no longer had the strength to hold back.

Dean felt the tremors running through Sam’s body and sighed. It was time for him to get his shit together and be the big brother again. Caressing more than gripping, he turned the younger man around and stared into his chest. Once again, the sight of every bone took his breath. But he reached out for the soap and continued. When he leaned down to wash his brother’s legs, he was concerned that his brother wasn’t responding to his touch. Even if Sam was pissed, hurt, sick, or not really in the mood, Dean’s touch always got a physical reaction.

The look on Dean’s face told Sam exactly what his brother was thinking. With a sigh, Sam shrugged. “Trials are pretty much effecting everything.”

Standing, Dean took the back of the taller man’s neck and pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry. Sammy, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Finally Sam returned the hug and leaned against the smaller man. It seemed to be a signal to Dean, who turned off the water and reached for a towel. With the same care he used cleaning his brother, he dried him and led him to the bedroom.

Lying down, Sam welcomed the blankets being draped around him. He got cold easily now, and the batcave always seemed to be about ten degrees colder than he was comfortable with. When his brother disappeared from his vision, he lifted his head to see where he was going.

“Just getting myself a towel, Sammy. I’m coming back.” With a small smile, Dean stood beside the bed and dried off. Hazel eyes traveled over his body and he felt his heartbeat speed up a bit. Slowly, he moved around the bed and climbed in behind his brother.

Strong arms wrapped around his waist and Sam sighed. It had been so long since they’d been like this he gave in to the urge to lean back against his brother and reached for the hand that was leaning against his stomach. His body might not be quick to react, but Dean’s was. Feeling the hardening flesh pressing against the back of his thigh, he made a decision. He shifted away far enough to roll over and faced Dean. Before he could say anything, his brother’s lips met his. The kisses were gentle, like he was made of glass. Reaching up, he put his hand on the side of Dean’s face and deepened the kiss. His dick started to stir, but he still wasn’t really getting hard.

“You sure you’re up to this?” The look on Sam’s face told him that his brother thought he was giving him shit about the fact that he wasn’t hard. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what I need, Dean.” He kissed his brother as he reached for his brother’s growing erection. “I need you to fuck me.”
Needing no more convincing, Dean nodded and moved closer. He sucked Sam’s tongue into his mouth for a few minutes and they kissed like it was the first time in two years. Which it was. But when he moved his lips down Sam’s jaw to his neckline, he stopped when he realized the muscle that joined the neck and shoulder had diminished to the point he couldn’t sink his teeth in without hitting bone.
Sam knew exactly what his brother was thinking. It was a hot spot for both of them and there was nothing left on him to bite. “Sorry.”

“No. You don’t say that. What these trials are doing to you is not your fault, Sammy.” Backing away enough to stare into those hazel eyes, Dean shook his head. “You’re going to get through this, you hear me? You’re going to slam those fucking gates, we’re going to get some weight on you, and we’re going to be good. Got it?”

Sam knew his big brother was back with those words. “Got it.” They kissed again. When he felt Dean’s hands slide down his side and around the back of his leg, he broke the kiss. “Drawer in the nightstand on your side.”

“There’s my boy scout.” Laughing, Dean rolled away from Sam long enough to grab the tube out of the drawer. When he turned around, Sam was sprawled on his back gently stroking his own dick. The grin that brought to his face faltered a bit when he  realized that his little brother’s dick still wasn’t really hard. The sight of his probably thirty pounds underweight brother stroking a dick that refused to get fully erect brought it all home to Dean that these trials really were trying to kill him. Dean wondered if he sucked that long dick down his throat if it would fill out. But if it didn’t, Sam would just feel worse and he knew it. So instead when he moved between those long legs he put one hand gently over his brother’s and one down to grip his balls loosely.

Sam’s body jumped, and  he inhaled sharply. Smiling, he moved a finger back and probed gently, his own dick actually twitching at how tight his brother was. “Jesus, Sam.”

“Been a while.” He spread his legs farther apart. “Come on.”

“Not gonna hurt you.” Leaning down, he kissed Sam while his finger twisted and made room for a second. Easing two fingers inside, he moved them to stretch the tight muscles. He felt the small bundle of nerves just as Sam’s sharp inhale told him he’d found it.

“Dean….” The name came out more of a whine and Sam pushed down so he was sending Dean’s fingers harder into his body.

“I got ya, Sammy.” Looking down, he realized his little brother’s dick was full and leaking. Reaching up, he closed his hand around Sam’s again, but the younger man shook his head.

“Didn’t say I couldn’t. Just takes a while. Oh Christ.” Dean hit that spot again. “Won’t last long, though. Come on. Want you in me when I come.” A third finger thrust into him and he pushed into it, wanting his brother to get with the program.

Dean knew the younger man probably wasn’t as ready as he was saying, but he  couldn’t wait any longer. Lining up, he eased in slowly, not wanting to hurt Sam.

The younger Winchester wasn’t having any of it. Arching his back, he shoved his hips down, burying his brother inside his body. He hissed in response to the burn when the muscles were forced to  stretch to accommodate Dean’s girth.

“Sammy! Jesus!” Dean held himself still and leaned down to kiss his brother. The kiss was sloppy, needy, and both of them  moaned. When Sam shifted his hips, Dean started to move. Drawing back, he adjusted to get the angle right and slammed back into his brother. Sam’s entire body shifted and it brought home again how much weight the younger man had lost. But there would be time to dwell on that later. At this point Dean forced those thoughts out of his head and concentrated on working sounds out of his brother that echoed in through the concrete halls.

As Sam had predicted, it didn’t take him long. The third time the blunt head of his brother’s cock nailed his prostrate it was over. The orgasm rushed through him and he yelled Dean’s name when his muscles locked down.

Dean saw stars and groaned into Sam’s neck as his release was forced from him. Even as his body wanted to collapse, he was afraid his weight on the thin frame under him would hurt. Shifting, he pulled out gently and flopped next to his brother on the soft mattress. Immediately the younger man moved to him, all arms and legs wrapped around him like the younger Winchester was afraid he’d disappear.

“Not goin’ anywhere, Sammy.”

Nodding, Sam just pulled his brother closer and might have murmured “I love you.” Before he fell asleep.