okay so have you ever considered dean being just a lil bit more angry in his teens/early twenties and analytical little psychotic!sammy slowly figures out its due to deans feelings for him, realizing the anger started when dean hit puberty, and then got even worse when sam hit puberty and began filling out his lanky stature? (1/2) 🐢
have you considered sam using that knowledge against dean? using it to his advantage? knowing that if he bats his eyelashes and bends over just a little too far he can get anything he wants out of dean? consequently deans anger gets even worse, becoming even more frustrated with himself, and he starts taking it out on other people because they cant find the monsters for him to take his anger out on fast enough. and little sammy getting off on his brothers pain as well as others. (2/2) 🐢
My lovely turtle anon! 🐢 You are speaking right to my sweet little psychopath Sammy lovin' soul. 💕 And self-loathing, trembling with violent rage Dean who loves his baby brother far more than he should? The air I fucking breathe. 🙏
I seriously live for guilt-ridden teenaged Dean, who has a compulsive need to break pretty things out of anger. Like the throwing arm of an all American quarterback who's gaze lingered a little too long on Sam. Or the teeth of that cute waiter that gave Sam a flirty smile and a pat on the shoulder.
And hates himself more and more every day because the one pretty thing in his life he hasn't broken is the one thing he wants to break the most.
"Dean."
His little brother is pressed close to his side. Too close. Too close for Dean to think, or even breathe without his senses being flooded with everything Sam.
It makes his jaw tic.
"Get off me, Samuel," Dean grits out, but he doesn't push his little brother away. He doesn't have the strength, he never has. And Sam knows it.
"Did you see the way that guy was looking at me?" Sam asks, his voice so sticky sweet that it makes Dean's stomach turn. He can feel the younger boy nosing at his jaw, toying with him like a kitten that just cornered it's prey.
It makes his hands shake.
"You know I did."
Sam smiles against Dean's stubbly cheek, little hand slipping between his big brother's legs before he can stop him.
"What are you gonna do about it?"
Dean squeezes his eyes shut and tries with everything he has not to rock himself against Sam's palm. His face is flushed and his chest hurts. A sharp pang of guilt and anger and something else he never wants to admit out loud aching deep in his gut when he feels teeth nipping at his throat.
"Nothing," he lies, finally maning up long enough to lean away. Those sinful lips of Sammy's leaving his skin tingling and wet with forbidden kisses.
"I see." Sam is pouting now and Dean wants to scream. "So you're just gonna let some creep think all sorts of nasty things about your baby brother?"
"Don't, Sam. I mean it."
"I bet he's got some pretty twisted fantasies, big brother."
Maybe not as twisted as yours a voice inside Dean's mind whispers cruelly.
It makes him see red.
"You should beat them out of him."
Sam's breath is warm against his clammy skin. God, he practically moans the words in Dean's ear. The soft, needy little sound nearly driving him insane. "Or," Sam adds, clearly amused by his big brother's anguish, "you could just take what he wants. I'd let you, Dean. You know I'd let you do anything to me."
"God damn it, Sam," Dean growls before shoving his little brother all the way off of him. Rage burn white hot in his chest as he gets up from the booth, still half hard in his jeans.
"You gonna let me watch? Or are you feeling particularly self-righteous today?"
Sometimes Dean forgets how cruel his baby brother can be. And these little reminders make him want to break Sam in half. They make him want to take all the frustration and resentment that's been eating him alive for as long as he can remember out on that cute little ass.
But the worst part? The thing that drove Dean to drink? That was knowing Sam wanted it too.
Dean was a ticking time bomb of shame and unbridaled rage and Sam knew the timer started counting down the day he turned sixteen. Sam knew Dean needed an outlet for his anger. And he wasn't going to stop until his big brother's slip knuckles finally found the pretty face they were longing for.
He was going to keep pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Until Dean loses that last bit of self control he's been holding onto for dear life. Until he finally puts Sam where he aches to be. On his back beneath Dean, bruises being dug into his writs, with the taste of blood on his tongue.
Of course, Dean knows it's only a matter of time until he takes the bait Sam's been dangling in front of him for years. Because it's clear from the situation at hand that he can make Dean do whatever he wants him to. After all, Sam knew firsthand that using a Winchester's anger as motivation was easy as taking candy from a baby.
"Yeah, whatever."
Dean doesn't bother to look back as he follows the latest victim of his rage outside.
He knows Sammy is right behind him, wicked smile on his beautiful face.