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The question had been asked about as innocently as something like that could be asked. Sam had just turned 14, and he was fresh into high school, not quite fitting in with his doe eyes and inch-deep dimples.
It’d all happened when Sam came home from school one day, a question burning at his mind, after his friend had talked endlessly about his first kiss.
Something Sam had never had.
Dean’s waiting for Sammy to come home just like any other day, feet braced apart, arms open wide, waiting for the second his baby moose comes galloping through the door and into his awaiting embrace.
Only, today, when the door swings open, his kid doesn’t look so enthusiastic. His shoulders are hunched over his rather small body, and his bottom lip is out in somewhat of a pout.
Dean notices immediately and his arms drop, his excitement of seeing his brother after 6 grievous hours apart drives away and he’s left worried and anxious as he asks, “Sammy? Everything alright?”
Sam drops his bag by the front door and shuts it behind him, approaching Dean with his eyes cast down. “De…” He begins, voice soft. He looks up at his big brother with huge eyes. “Have you had your first kiss?”
Dean peers down curiously at the 14 year old, not really understanding where he was coming from. “Sam, I’m 18, of course I have.”
Sam tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy, and it results in something extremely adorable. “So….you….know a lot about kissing?”
Dean nods, hesitant. “I guess you could say that, yeah.”
Sam brightens, bouncing like an excited electron, grabbing Dean’s hands and pulling and pulling and turning the full power of his gaze upon him to ask, “So you’ll teach me?”
Dean blinks once. Blinks twice. Swallows, and blinks again. “Sam, I—“
Sam can tell when Dean starts to get nervous, and that’s when he turns on what Dean likes to call desperate times call for desperate Sammies, and so this look included a pout, big eyes, and a signature whine of, “Dean, please?”
“Yeah, fine, whatever. Listen, you just lean in, and then you touch lips, and then maybe, I don’t know, stroke her hair or something. It’s easy. But it takes practice.”
Sam gives Dean a dimpled smile. “’Kay, De.” He agrees easily. “Let’s practice?”
Dean should say no. He absolutely should being saying hell no Sam brothers don’t show their brothers how to kiss this is wrong this is wrong this is so, so wrong.
But instead, he only hesitates slightly before answering with, “Yeah, I guess that’s okay….so c’mere.”
Sam draws foreward—always the eager student, and waits patiently for further instructions.
“Uh, now lean in.”
Sam obliges, leaning in so their bodies are pressed together. Sam has to tilt his head up a little to meet Dean’s eyes, his big brothers pupils blown wide. “Now what do I do, De?”
“Now pretend like you’re pecking my lips, and I’ll lead from there okay?” Dean asks. Sam knew how to normal-kiss, he did it all the time to his and Dad’s cheek before they went out for hunts.
Sam nods, and rocks his weight foreward onto his own toes, to press into Dean, hands steadying himself on Dean’s chest as he leans in, and pecks his big brother right smack on the lips.
Dean, as promised, takes control, one of his arms coming around to hold Sam’s waist, the other cupping Sam’s head, keeping him pressed there. All the alarms are going off in his head—no, stop now, this is wrong, this could ruin everything—but he ignores them, as his lips part against Sam’s.
When Sam stays there, lips shut tight, Dean chuckles slightly. “Open up, Sammy,” He urges in a breathy tone. Sam seems to snap back into focus, his jaw falling slack. Dean grins again, heart racing, and he shakes his head. “Not that much, kiddo. Just a little, like this,” he puts a hand under Sam’s chin and adjusts the opening to his mouth to where he likes it, before leaning down and sealing their lips together once more.
Dean works his lips patiently against Sam’s, slowly, letting Sam learn the feeling of being kissed, letting himself learn the feeling of Sam. And when Dean’s tongue swipes across Sam’s lips, Sam gasps and arches up into his big brother like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt and pulls just a centimeter back so he has enough room to say, “Again, De. More.”
And now it’s Dean’s turn to oblige Sam, tasting and licking.
“Girls like it when you touch them,” Dean explains between breathless kisses. “Their hair, their hips, their back.”
“Like this?” Sam asks, his small fingers playing trails around the small of Dean’s back.
Dean shudders and nods, kissing Sam once more. “Exactly like that.”
Sam bites Dean’s lowerlip, half on accident, and Dean lets out a sharp cry of arousal, one Sam mistakes for pain, and he jumps back, blushing bright red, his hands slapping over his own neck in shock. “De!” He cries. “Sorry! Sorry!”
“No, don’t be.” Dean reassures Sam, brushing their lips together lightly, more of a touch than a kiss. “Felt good.”
Sam turns impossible redder, leaning into Dean and resting his head on his shoulder. “Really?”
“Really.” Dean asked, smoothing down his kids hair, heart speeding like a hummingbird in his chest. “But…you’re going to need practice.” Dean lied. Sammy was born an expert—but like hell he was going to pass up the chance to kiss his little brother.
“With you?” Sam squeaks out, excited.
Dean grins in victory, his arm looping around Sam’s waist to pull his kid flush against him, feeling Sammy, warm and content and safe in his embrace, and it was the best feeling in the entire world, to know that Sam was here, was okay, was happy. He feels Sam’s arms tighten around him in anticipation for his answer and Dean chuckles out, “Damn right with me.”