#shy!sam

SAME, ANON. S A M E. Especially when Dean finds out that sweet little Sammy will do anything his big brother asks him to. Even if it makes Sam blush from head to toe.

Sam hates that he gets embarrassed so easily. Or maybe he just hates the fact that Dean loves it. Either way, he knows he's absolutely screw because his big brother could never pass up an opportunity to use Sam's overwhelming shyness against him. Those gorgeous green eyes already locked on him with a predatory gaze as they both stared at Sam's reflection in the mirror.

"You look pretty like this, little brother." Dean's breath is warm and steady against Sam's skin, but somehow, it sends a chill down his spine. He can feel his brother's fingertips, oil stained and rough, teasing his bare thighs again. But he knows the older boy is only toying with him. Purposely avoiding the hem of Sam's light pink mini skirt just to watch him squirm.

In retrospect, Sam should've known that Dean was up to no good the minute he'd ask him to put the skirt on...but when Dean started talking, his baby brother didn't stand a chance. God, he could get Sam to do anything with that tone. Please Sammy, for me? Dean's voice was a weapon, smooth as whiskey and twice as intoxicating. Sam couldn't say no if he tried. And they both knew it.

"You wearin' panties under this cute little skirt, sweetheart?"

Sam bites his lip and gives Dean a shy nod in reply. Dark red blush spreading across his dimpled cheeks like a rose blooming over smooth, pale skin. He doesn't understand why Dean enjoys humiliating him like this. It makes Sam feel confused and frustrated...but fuck, did it also leave him aching for more. His cute little puppy dog eyes starting to well up with tears of embarrassment as Dean's fingertips continue to dance playfully across his trembling thighs.

"Y-es."

Sam gasps when he finally feels Dean reach under his skirt. His brother's large palm cupping Sam's throbbing cock and giving it a rough squeeze.

"Dean!" Sam moans, his knees threatening to buckle at the filthy sound of Dean's breathless laughter. The younger boy's soft black cotton panties already soaked through and stretched thin as he stands there rock hard and desperate. Waiting patiently for something he knows his brother isn't going to give him without making him suffer first.

"Tell me why you're wearing panties, baby," Dean growls, the low, condescending tone of his voice causing goosebumps to spread across Sam's skin like wild fire. A sticky hot sensation building up in the pit of his stomach as he tries desperately to catch his breath. It's no use though. Sam can feel himself unraveling further and further with every cruel, torturous move Dean makes. Skilled fingertips ghosting across sensitive, overstimulated skin, and driving Sam absolutely insane.

"Because...that's what good girls do."

When Dean’s door creaked open, it couldn’t have been later than midnight. He hadn’t even fall asleep yet.

Immediately alarmed, he shot out of bed, his hand already reaching for the revolver tucked safely under his pillow, when he sees the familiar figure in his doorway.

“Sam?” Dean blinks, hand coming away from the gun, relieved. “Christ. What’s wrong? Nightmares again?”

Sam stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. “I can’t stand sleeping in a different room than you,” He admitted softly, eyes on the floor.

And usually, Sam and Dean would share a bed. But they were staying with Bobby tonight, and John and Dean had gotten into a huge fight before bed, about how Sam was “getting too attached” and that the boys needed some separation.

Dean, of course, couldn’t disagree more. But to keep John from taking it out on Sam, he’d agreed that for the night they’d sleep separately.

He should have known that Sam wouldn’t be able to sleep. He’s had Dean beside him at night his entire life. It’s second nature. It’s right.

“Okay,” Dean whispers. “C’mere. Quietly, though.”

Sam tiptoes over into bed and slides up next to Dean.

It was like two puzzle pieces, the way they fit together. Like neither of them were meant to be anywhere else.

Sam lets out a soft sigh, and wiggles impossibly closer.

Dean’s hand cups the back of Sam’s head, as always. He presses a gentle kiss to his brother’s forehead.

“G’night Sammy,” He whispers. “Love you.”

Sam is already asleep.

____________________

“Do I make you nervous?” Dean teases gently, tucking some hair behind Sam’s ear. “’Cause I shouldn’t, you know. I want you to be comfortable. I want you to be relaxed.”

“I am,” Sam argues. “I’m just - - I don’t know what it is. It’s...it’s so new, Dean. And...you know I’ve only ever been with Jess. I just feel...”

“Alright, alright. S’okay.” He leans in, pressing his lips to Sam’s forehead. “What can I do to make this better, sweetheart?”

Sam shrugs. “I...I don’t know. Can we go a little slower, I guess? I don’t think I’m really ready to...to take my clothes off yet, you know.”

BOTH - - 

Personal compliments about his appearance. In episodes in the past, we've seen him kind of clam up after someone compliments his looks. Cute little modest baby.

Secret smiles in large rooms/little gestures in crowded places/backroom make out sessions/ pet names

unexpected praise!

OH, GOD.

“Huh,” Dean says, and he’s smiling at Sam.

“What?” Sam replies, eyes scanning the large book in front of him.

“Nothin’. You just look cute today.”

Sam’s head snaps up, his cheeks suddenly hot. “Er, uh - what?”