It had been three and a half weeks since they had sex. Hell, it had been even longer since Dean tried to initiate a damn thing.
And Sam would be lying if he said it didn't sting a little. But... he understood, he supposed.
He wishes he could blame it on things being hectic but honestly? Their lives had never been anything else, and even if they didn't have time to fuck, Dean would make a point to kiss him frequently or hop in the shower alongside him.
Now, it wasn't like that. And the more reasonable explanation was that Dean was simply losing interest in him.
It was understandable. They'd been in this weird state of together since they were teenagers, of course Dean would get bored eventually.
Not to mention that Sam was in his thirties now, and as he stared in the mirror and grimaced at his reflection, he looked it.
He found a fucking grey hair type other day, and he wasn't that lean little baby that Dean adored. He still had his abs but he looked too bulky, and maybe he should start shaving his chest and legs again - Dean always tended to prefer him with smooth skin. He was covered in permanent marks and scars that looked ugly and messy on his body.
He didn't feel pretty whatsoever. Not like how he used to when he was 22, showing off his legs in a short skirt, wearing nothing beneath oversized hoodies to show off collarbone and thighs. Wearing lingerie and panties.
He had felt so damn sexy, even more so when Dean would throw him on the bed and moan his name, telling him how hot and gorgeous he was.
He couldn't quite remember the last time Dean complimented him like that, he thought with frown as he continued to scrutinise his reflection in the mirror, standing in just his boxer shorts.
"Sammy? What you doing?" He startled at Dean's voice, cheeks burning crimson as he grabbed his shirt and pulled it back on.
"Nothing, what's up?" He asked, hoping desperately Dean would accept the subject change, but of course he wasn't that easy to distract.
"Hey, c'mon. Somethings wrong, I can tell." Dean said, using that gentle tone he reserved exclusively for him. It made Sam smile a little.
"I'm... I'm just being stupid, seriously. I'll be fine." He tried, but Dean came closer and pressed a kiss to his lips softly and Sam couldn't quite stop the couple of tears that rolled down his cheek.
Dean quickly went from concerned to downright alarmed, brushing the tears away with his sleeve, and Sam just wanted to cry harder because he missed Dean's touch so badly and he hadn't even fully realised till now.
"Sammy... you're scaring me. You can tell me anything, you know that."
Sam swallowed, glanced off to the side so he was staring at the door rather than his brother.
"I'm... I'm just not feeling the best about myself, I guess. I'll get over it, seriously." He really wasn't sure if he would, especially if things continued how they were, but he wasn't really in the mood to be told how much of a girl he was being.
"What do you mean?" Dean pushed, and his fingers wrapped loosely around Sam's wrist to stop him leaving.
"I mean that I'm... I'm not exactly in the peak of my youth anymore, Dean! I look different, I feel different, and not for the better!" Sam huffed, and for a minute Dean just stared at him.
Then he started laughing.
And Sam had heard enough, his eyes burning as more tears fell, and he yanked himself from Dean's grasp so he could head for the door.
"Sam- wait, wait." Dean called out, grabbing him just before he got to the door, and Sam immediatly tried to shrug off the grip.
"Fuck you! I mean, was avoiding touching me like the plague not enough?! Do you really need to laugh in my face too?!"
All humour was immediatly wiped from his brothers face, and he was left standing there with a dumbfounded expression.
"What? I started laughing because of how ridiculous the idea of you being insecure is. You're literally the definition of perfection, like, stupidly so." Dean explained, and Sam frowned.
"If that's what you think, what's with the avoiding me? You haven't... we haven't done anything in weeks, and even before that I always had to start things. I know I'm not that baby boy anymore. I'm older, and I get that seeing me like that must be pretty damn difficult now, but-"
Before he could finish, Dean was kissing him, arms wrapped tight around his waist.
When they finally parted, Sam could only blink owlishly over at his lover.
"I didn't ever mean to make you think like that, Sammy. I've just had a lot on my mind - with mom, Jack... I suppose I ended up neglecting you a little, huh?" Sam felt his cheeks burning as Dean ran fingers through his hair.
"I'm sorry, I suppose I should of just tried talking to you instead of letting myself spin my own narrative-" he began, feeling like an absolute idiot.
"Shhh, none of that. It's all on me, baby. Should've been looking after you better... let me make it up to you?" The way Dean was talking was going straight to Sam's dick, reminding him of when they were teenagers.
Dean led him to the bed, pushing him onto it and immediatly crowding his body as he kissed over his neck.
"Daddy's been neglecting you, hasn't he baby boy? You're always so good to me..." he murmured, breath hot against Sam's skin.
"Y-you don't gotta do that De... I know I'm not-"
"Stop it, sammy. I'm not doing anything cause I gotta. I'm doing it because I want to. Because you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life, and you always will be. I don't care how old you get, you'll always be my baby boy, and it's my job to look after you and show you how sexy I think you are." Dean tugged at the hem of his shirt, and Sam arched his body to allow Dean to manoeuvre it off.
"Even when I'm 60 and all wrinkly and gross?" Sam joked, hoping that Dean didn't hear that slight tinge of insecurity in the question.
"Of course. Old wrinkly sex with you sounds awesome." Dean said with a grin and a wink, and Sam huffed and rolled his eyes even if he was still wearing a small smile.
"Thank you Dean. Seriously." He breathed after a few seconds, and Dean grin turned into a much softer smile.
"Anytime, baby boy."











