Dean never thinks Sam’s watching when he gets himself off. He’s in his own little world, watching the channels Dad always chastises him for sneaking a peek at or thinking about the prettiest girl at their new school. He never sees Sam staring when his head is thrown back, his mouth hanging open, inhaling and exhaling as softly as he can while he pumps his hand up and down underneath the covers.
It takes Sam a while to work up the courage to slide underneath his pajama pants, to touch the part of himself that no one else ever has.