Author's Note:

Dewey/Reese pairing, my "curious" Dewey one-shot. Warning: This story contains sexual acts between two brothers, one of them underage. If this isn't your thing, or you aren't supposed to read this, don't. Otherwise, carry on.

Though I came up with the perverted little plot contained herein, I am not the creator of Dewey, Reese, their Dad, or any other characters mentioned, nor am I the creator of their fictional world ('Malcolm in the Middle') or making any money from this work. This work is fiction and does not suggest anything about the actors or characters of Malcolm in the Middle. I did borrow a few lines from a specific episode, season seven episode 16 (14:18 to 14:38, without commercials). These lines are all the speaking parts, up to "He's having a very good day." The story continues from there.


Dewey is thirteen years old and coming to terms with being gay. This burgeoning realization is so early in development that he hasn't even considered what his parents, brothers, or friends would think, or of telling anyone; its not that he isn't ready to tell anyone, but that he hasn't even thought of it. He barely knows what he thinks himself.

Mainly, Dewey knows he's curious. That's about it.

His curiosity is about to become a significant factor on his behavior.

"You wouldn't believe the homework Mr. Hendrickson has been dumping on us lately. Lift your arm," Dewey directed. Reese wordlessly obliged. Dewey was currently giving his eighteen-year-old brother a bath. And Reese seemed to be in a sort of catatonic stupor; in other words, he was moving and talking very little and very slowly. He was listless. He was apathetic. He was hopeless.

Less than a week ago, he'd answered the doorbell expecting his blind date, a girl by the name of Cindy. Cindy, who purportedly loved the fake dog shit he'd put in the punch bowl at the dance. Cindy, who agrees with him that real dog shit would have been funnier. Cindy, who according to her picture was gorgeous. And she liked him. Really! She sounded perfect! He was a twist of nerves and a jumble of action when the doorbell rang, tripping over himself in his rush to answer it.

And there before him stood "Cindy," a fifty-pound pig with lipstick, escorted by four of the cruel/popular chicks who'd come to see their joke in action.

Reese stood slack-jawed.

The girls laughed and took pictures. Still, it took a few minutes for it to sink in – this was ALWAYS his Cindy. A practical joke. A girl rather set up with him on a dare. Lipstick on a pig.

Ever since then, he'd been depressed, listless, apathetic, and hopeless. Nothing seemed to shake him, and he had trouble going through daily tasks…so that, for example, it took another person like Dewey to help him bathe.

"I mean okay, your wife moved out," Dewey continues while scrubbing, speaking about Mr. Hendrickson. "Don't take it out on us. If his behavior is anything like what it is with us in Math class, I totally get it."

Their dad enters. "Hey. How's he doing?"

"He's having a very good day," Dewey answered, turning from his work. Their dad nodded, leaving again with the newspaper in hand.

Dewey turned back to Reese, washcloth in hand. "Lift your other arm," he asked. When Reese had, he used his hand to hold it up and the other to scrub Reese's armpit and his side. Little soap bubbles spread about with each swipe and Reese's skin shone a healthy, clean pink. "Oh, and remember the kid that sat in the beef stew? And spilled the lemonade? He's got a nickname now. Ole One-Two." Nothing, no response.

Dewey sighed, and moved on to washing Reese's chest. Personally, Dewey felt he'd love to grow into a chest like that. Sure, it wasn't a body-builder's or anything, but Reese kept in shape, had nice definition…it looked good. 'Course right now the muscles were completely lax and irresponsive, just like the rest of him. The nipple he'd just scrubbed became slightly erect, but no response from Reese. Maybe when Reese realized Dewey'd have to scrub lower?

Of course with how the boys lived, they'd seen each other naked (and their Mom naked – EW! – and their Dad naked – EW! – and their dad being shaved every month on a schedule – EWWWWWW!!!). But touching was officially weird. And bathing?

Well Dewey was willing to do it after seeing how pathetic his brother had become; after a point, it stops being funny and starts being sad (he would have never believed it, but here they were).

"He hasn't come in to school yet," Dewey continued, "but everyone's already trying it out. 'Ole One-Two.' I think I even heard a teacher use it." Reese said nothing. But Dewey was talking as much for himself, to keep his mind off the fact that he was washing his brother. Was about to wash his brothers' lowers. Ew! …he tried not to recognize the part of him that was excited. That Wasn't Right.

He began scrubbing Reese's abs, noting that even with how slack Reese's body was, propped up against the shower wall in sitting position like a propped doll, that his abs were still rather hard. Was that because Reese had no body fat? Or because his ab muscles were so well developed that they remained firm even when relaxed?

This was envy he was feeling, of course. He began prodding Reese's stomach before he realized what he was doing.

Dewey'd run out of drabble to blather…if he talked right now he might actually say something he was thinking. And the hard, er, no; the difficult part was next. "Reese, do you want me to do…the next part?"

Reese didn't respond. Dewey didn't sigh, but he definitely had to be conscious of his breathing.

Dewey carefully took the washcloth in both hands and neatly folded it. Then he folded it again. Four layers between his hand and…Reese. Then, after a bit of trial-and-error, he found a grip that kept his hand fully behind the cloth – with all the fingers close together, as if he were plucking out an eye.

He dipped the cloth in the soapy water three times. He then moved the cloth back to Reese's abs. Then made a gentle swipe lower, brushing back the fringe of Reese's pubes. Then another swipe, lower. Circular motions, getting generally closer and closer.

Dewey realized that he'd begun to cringe. Reese made no move. Reese had done nothing throughout this whole thing. This was ridiculous! "Sorry, Reese. I'm just acting weird," Dewey explained. Just weird – that's all there was to it.

Taking a deep breath in order to force it out slowly, Dewey dipped the cloth into a soapy part of the bathwater and went to Reese's nether region, washing as he'd wash himself, pretending that it was his (bigger) penis…

He stopped, and set aside the washcloth. The thought was half-formed, and he didn't dare finish thinking it in words but –

Dewey turned to look at Reese, who still looked to be in an abject stupor. Dewey took his hand up to Reese's droopy head. Stroked his cheek. Ran his hand through his hair. Rubbed Reese's ear a bit, thumb on one side of the lobe and forefinger on the other. "Reese, you're a good guy. Trust me – you're handsome, and cute, and strong. And you know I wouldn't say that if it weren't true…I normally wouldn't say it if it were, but with you like this… Anyway, you're a good guy, and sexy, and if I see it, other people will too."

Dewey held his breath for a second (Sexy? Really? Was that necessary?), but Reese didn't respond. Dewey moved his hand to scratch the back of Reese's head, tilting it a bit. Then, unsure if he should be kicking himself or if he was taking advantage of Reese's situation, he leaned in slowly, held himself up with his other hand on the tub, and kissed him. On the cheek.

Dewey held himself against his brother's face for a second, and then slowly moved back. Nothing.

It was creepy. It was weird. He couldn't help but feeling so perverted…no, it was just a kiss. Weird, but not bad, and he knew thoughts were just thoughts. He just wasn't sure why he'd done it.

Dewey picked up the washcloth and moved back to washing Reese's penis, scrubbing under and around his scrotum. Then, hesitating for only a second, he used his other hand to pull back the foreskin and cleaned around there (as Reese was cut, this took only a moment).

Then Dewey moved on to Reese's thighs, while Reese wordlessly spread his knees – and Dewey noticed Reese's cock had noticeably swelled.

Dewey froze and audibly swallowed. And then almost swallowed audibly again after noticing how loud his swallow was. Geez! Penis Fuck Vagina! Whatever word was appropriate! He nervously looked up, and Reese's expression hadn't changed – still looking into nothing, still dejected and listless – but there was a subtle blush. A blush! Now what?

Feeling a bit shaky, Dewey wordlessly turned back to his work and tried to ignore the swelling cock (as Dewey figured, a penis was flaccid, whereas a cock was hard). Scrub around the right thigh, then the left. Scrub the back of the knees, which he knew were sometimes ticklish. Scrub the smooth, defined calves-

No! Dewey shook his head, trying to shake his thoughts clean, to shake thoughts of muscles and cocks and balls…No!


Dewey scrubbed more, while caressing Reese's thigh with his other hand. He told himself it was mindless, but didn't stop, only slowing down. As he worked about the ankles and feet, he let himself think of how smooth Reese's skin was, and how he wanted to touch him all over, and hold his body close to his. And he felt dirty and guilty and bad all at once…but good, because he didn't do anything.

And he was done with the feet. Dewey considered taking care of the slightly-blistered calluses on Reese's feet, but decided that could wait. Besides, it wasn't normal bath-time stuff.

And then he turned back to Reese. Who was now fully hard.

Hard! And come to think of it, so was Dewey. This is unfair! This is sick! This was just so…Dewey just wanted to hold Reese, and kiss him! And stroke his cock! And rub up against him! All these feelings were welling up in him, and he had to clench his teeth to keep himself together. Such. Control!

And, he thought, it looked like Reese's head had moved a fraction. The blush was definitely out of control.

"Are you okay?" Dewey asked, his voice breaking twice. And then he checked himself: "It's okay Reese. You're fine." He waited a second. "You're fine, right? You were speaking a bit earlier today, I know you can speak. Do you want me to continue? I mean, I still got to go…where you haven't been washed yet."

"Thanks," Reese said, his voice low and quiet. To Dewey, it still looked like Reese was looking far away, but he definitely heard him.

"It's okay," Dewey assured. "You're welcome. And everything I said was true." And he was sure he was blushing now, but since Reese had been blushing for five minutes he hoped it wasn't a problem.

"Now, what about your…?"

Reese didn't answer, but he moved his hand on top of Dewey's, which had been resting on the tub.

Dewey felt like his mind exploded! What did that mean? He didn't dare to think of what Reese could want, but simply waited, trying not to shake with anticipation. Or excitement! Or fear! But that was it – just hand-to-hand contact. Still, Reese normally only touched him to beat him down.

But he still looks so dejected, Dewey told himself. He wanted to comfort him. And another kiss might comfort him, right? Maybe? If he didn't want it, he'd simply move away, right?

Shivering with his shaky rationalizations, Dewey leaned again towards Reese, took the back of his head by his free, soapy hand, and slowly moved in. For a kiss. Gently. On the lips.

Dewey had no idea what he was doing, felt completely out of control, but he noticed Reese hadn't moved away. And Reese's hand was gently rubbing his own, the one supporting him over the tub. "Its okay Reese," he heard himself whisper. Their foreheads were touching, and he went in for another peck. Moist. Comforting. It felt…well, good. He let it linger before pulling back. "I don't know what I can do for you, but I'm here." The words sounded trite and useless, so he moved again, this time to give Reese a hug. Both hands around Reese's neck, but it felt awkward. Still, he held him as best he could from the other side of the tub. And Reese hugged him back! He could feel the wet hands soak through his shirt!

Dewey reached a decision, hoping he wouldn't freak out his brother, or that anyone might come in. He broke the hug to empty his pockets. Then he hesitated a second, and locked all the doors to the bathroom.

But he wouldn't take his clothes off – that'd be sexual.

Reese's eyes had moved to follow Dewey, making him feel elated, yet tense for what he was doing. And Dewey steeled himself, trying not to think about what he was steeling himself to do.

He came back to Reese and grabbed his hand. Then after a second, he leaned in for one more kiss, this one by no means a peck, but a gentle massage of the lips. Passion. Comfort. His brother had nice, kissable lips! And Reese was kissing back, with almost as much passion and maybe more yearning!

Dewey dipped his hand over to Reese's side, slid up and down his soapy back a few times, and then pushed down to the back of the tub just behind Reese to support himself. Then, with one hand on the side and the other behind Reese, he leaned farther in and slowly lowered himself on top of his brother – his smooth, silky brother! With the glistening muscles to track his fingers on, and the lips, and his naked body!

Dewey's cargo pants were soaked in seconds, and his shirt became fairly drenched by the water off Reese's chest, and from Reese's enveloping arms that held him. And he held Reese, close, in what would be an awkward embrace in the cramped bathtub, if he weren't enjoying the experience so much.

He let out a little groan in pleasure. Surprisingly, he heard Reese respond with a positive-sounding sigh.

Dewey no longer heard the voice in his head that told him how bad of an idea this was.

Dewey turned to Reese's lips again and went for another go, and this time let himself try everything he wanted: light nibbles on his lips; ten, fifteen seconds of no-breath kissing; introducing his tongue, and, happily enough, getting Reese's tongue in return; and occasionally taking a brake from the lips for a suck on Reese's neck or a lick on his jowls or nose. Dewey felt in complete heaven, or abandon, or likely both! He gave Reese a good squeeze as he kissed him some more, pushing himself against him, trying to hold him so close that he'd permanently fill that void he sometimes felt.

Reese in turn was caressing his back, his hands circling beneath Dewey's shirt and every once in a while dipping down to tease the edge of his underwear. When they broke for breath, Dewey could see Reese's smile and he felt emboldened – but he still jerked in surprise when he felt Reese's hand snake over and furtively prod his hardened arousal through his cargo shorts.

"Is this okay?" Reese asked, his voice still a whisper but somehow deeper, more gruff. More aware.

Dewey didn't trust his own voice – He nodded. He also turned to sit up on top of Reese to give more access, during which time Reese made quick work of his shirt.

"Dewey, this is ridiculous," Reese said, still smiling and still blushing.

"Let's worry about that after," Dewey whispered back. In an awkward foray of splashing, the two struggled Dewey's shorts and underwear off. For a moment, Dewey felt exposed, embarrassed, and 'underrepresented' compared to his older brother. But Reese smiled, said nothing, and guided Dewey back down into their former positions; Dewey's four-inches pushed against Reese's firm abs, while Reese's six-inches came up behind Dewey's balls and along his smooth crack.

Reese pushed up with his hips, brushing the head of his cock against Dewey's hole and sending a shiver of pleasure through Dewey. Who knew touching that area could feel so good! Dewey ground forward in response, his hips moving in a circular motion to mimic Reese with his own cock grinding against Reese's abs. In seconds they had a pattern going which thrashed the bathwater about rhythmically, upset only by one and then the other's need to go faster, to push harder, to bring their mouths to the other's in a rough kiss or suck. And by Reese's wandering hands, which occasionally interrupted for a couple quick strokes of Dewey. And though both Reese and Dewey stifled their groans to soft, guttural, animal noises, the sounds of slick flesh, thrashing water, and the thumps of their knees echoed between the bathroom walls.

And then amidst a flurry of fuck-motions, Dewey could feel a pressure build near his balls, and then he came, gooey Dewey cum shooting up Reese's chest.

Reese slowly stopped his own grinding, and Dewey sat up. And as the cloud of his orgasm lifted, Dewey felt the familiar confusion rise in him, heightened by Reese's presence and the question of whether he should feel ashamed and by how much. God, he'd just had sex with his brother! No penetration, but naked bodies, making out, and orgasming…

"Dewey," Reese said. "Its okay."

"But you didn't even…" Dewey gestured to Reese's hardness still nestled behind him.

"I had a great time. I promise." Then he looked up into Dewey's worried face and pulled him back down, next to him. "Look, that weirdness you feel? I think everyone feels it a bit different, but it's normal. Its like a test – it helps you figure out if you're actually okay with what you just did. And are you okay?"

"Well…yeah. It felt awesome! I just can't believe…I mean…"
Reese interrupted his babbling. "Thank you Dewey."


"The things you said. And…this. I mean, I don't know why you did it, and I might tease you about it later, but I was feeling unlovable, like a monster. I normally don't let my guard down with girls, but this time…and after those girls made a joke out of…" and he paused, swallowing some bitter emotion. And smiled to Dewey. "Anyway, you helped me feel attractive and interesting."

"You're welcome," Dewey said, giggling a bit. He still felt kinda embarrassed and exposed, but no longer ashamed – as weird as it may have been, it was good. "I was just…I mean, all the things I'd said were true, and I was curious, and you were sitting there. What I mean is…are we going to do this again some time?"

Reese laughed. "I dunno – lets get cleaned up." After a quick rinse from the shower, they pulled on their respective clothes and headed quickly to their room; Dewey still needed to change into something dry.

And Reese still had his erection to take care of; as soon as they had the door closed, he sat on his bed with his back to the door and went to work.

"You know," Dewey said, catching Reese's attention. "There are still a few things I'm curious about." And he licked his lips.