Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. i'm a fan.

'To Stay Here for a While'. (March08)

FAO

Sam, Dean, Ruby, Bobby

slash...Sam/ OMC ... Sam/Dean ... Sam/ ? (don't want to spoil)

warnings...m/m - coercion – incest – so be warned

Set a week after of E12 S03 (Jus in Bello)

He was uncomfortable. None too sure what it was about the bar, but something was bothering him. Not Sam though. He had done nothing but glance around from under that too long fringe and, amazingly, seemed to be relaxing. Sam never relaxed. Not recently anyway, but looking at him now, leaning back in the corner of the low booth, he was relaxing. There was no other word for it.

Dean glanced around and caught the eye of a passing young woman. She smiled then headed over to the bar, ordering, then glanced back at him. Well, that was how it should be but there was still, something. Sam had picked this place saying, to Dean's objection, that for once he wanted to sit in a bar that actually felt clean and not as if they had forgotten to put the sawdust down. So he had relented.

The woman moved off, smiling on her way past and he watched as she handed the extra beer to an equally attractive friend and, after a brief conversation, both looked over at him laughing lightly, lifting the beers in salute. That was definitely more like it. His imagination went into overdrive.

"You want another?"

"Huh?" turning back to look at Sam.

"You want another?" Sam asked lifting his empty bottle already sliding out of the booth.

"Yeah." And his attention went back to the ladies who, weren't there anymore. "Damn!" under his breath. So he watched Sam at the bar where he was stood nervously glancing to his right then back at the bartender as he took his order. He could not see what was making his brother so nervous but it seemed that anxious, almost excited nervousness that usually heralded an attractive presence. He carried on watching but could not see anyone. He looked around once more studying the place then back at Sam who was now talking to another man just about his own age.

Dean's interest waned and he set to scanning the room again. There was a pool table. Maybe he could make some money? But the group around it did not seem intent on the game. It was just something to stand and talk around.

Sam was back, putting the beer in front of him and sitting down, all the time looking off towards the same pool table with the group of what looked like collage or university types surrounding it. He thought he'd noticed some type of big school thing on the way into town.

"So. You want to go somewhere else?" Dean had had enough. The music was all modern pop stuff but at least it wasn't too loud, but please?

"No. I'm fine here." not looking at his brother but over his shoulder.

"It's a bit… you know" gesturing aimlessly with the bottle.

"What? Clean? Civilised? Unlikely to have a bar room brawl?" Sam finally turned his attention back to his brother raising an eyebrow.

"No. You know."

"What?" starting to feel angry and nervous all at the same time. He knew exactly what Dean was finding hard to say.

"Come on Sammy. This isn't our type of place." He hadn't even managed to find any bar snacks and was now yearning for something spicy.

Sam had had enough of always following Dean into one of 'their' type of bars. He did not normally care, as they would be gone the next day, but after what they had just been through, Dean had finally agreed to stay in one place, at least for a few days or until they were forced to move on. He wanted to relax a bit and, if possible, be around people who knew nothing of the dangers they faced. To mix with people who worried about mundane things and had no knowledge of daemon attacks or other paranormal manifestations.

Sam wanted to talk music, film, theatre and even fashion, anything that ordinary people spoke about. In this university town, he figured, he could possible get to talk to people with similar interests and occupations as he himself had had before Dean turned up in his kitchen near three years before.

He loved Dean intensely but sometimes, just sometimes, he wanted to be with people who knew what a knife and fork were for. He had immediately felt guilt at the snobbish thought but it did not make it any less true.

"I'm fine here." It came out more harshly than intended causing Dean to sit back slightly stung. But he sort of hoped he would leave and go somewhere else. He was worried that Dean's attitude would keep people at bay. He was trying to decide how best to gain entry into the group around the pool table, although there was very little actual pool being played.

"Sam? Is there something you want to tell me?"

Yes, but looking at that smirk, he knew Dean had not seriously being enquiring. He gave him a disgusted look because it really was time that Dean realised Sam had his own tastes and attractions, Bella aside. He was sure he was not the only one dreaming about that infuriating woman. And not about getting even either. "Just leave it."

"Would you like a game of pool?"

'Wow' Dean thought, Sam said that with out moving his lips, then together they turned to look up at the same young man who had been talking to Sam at the bar.

"No were leaving."

"I'd love to." Both speaking at once, causing the man to look from one to the other with a confused smile to his lips. He backed off slightly raising a hand. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get in the middle of anything."

"You're not" said Sam rising to stand beside him. "David, this is my brother, Dean. Dean, David." He was pleased to see the relief on David's face and amused at the begrudging look on Dean's as they shook hands, not at Dean's prompting.

"I'm out of here. Nice to meet you, David." Dean said thinking Sam would appreciated the pleasantry, if not expect it and left wondering what the hell Sam was playing at? "See you later, Sam." But it was more of a question and all he got was a shrug for reply. He left desperately wanting to look back but thought, 'just get out of here. He's old enough and can damn sure look after himself. Yeah, right'.

Leaving the bar Dean glanced around. He needed something loud, run down and now was defiantly spoiling for a fight. He should go back in there and drag Sam out. Couldn't his brother see where that invitation of pool was leading? He'd known there was something about that bar. Serve his brother right if he ended up having to watch his ass, literally. He stood stock still. Damn it Sam?

Why the hell had he never told him? He thought of all the times they'd been mistaken for a couple and wondered why Sam had always gotten so annoyed and defensive about it if he did swing that way occasionally. He started walking again. Then he thought of all the wisecracks and comments he himself had made. 'Damn it Dean! No wonder Sam had never said anything'.

He could be wrong. He must be wrong. Maybe Sam just needed a break. A break from him. They had been through a hell of a lot lately. He laughed ironically at his turn of phrase just as his shoulder decided to hurt. At least it had not been his drinking arm. Getting shot was bad enough but that would have been plain insulting.

But Sam was not like that. No, he was not queer or gay or bi or whatever. Not his brother. He was just … intellectual, clean, sensitive…he was just Sam. Again he thought of all the ribbing he had given him recently, all the names and voices and Dean felt like crap.

He straightened his shoulders and carried on walking, decision made. Sam was Sam. Nothing else mattered. He was his brother and, if it turned out that he occasionally liked to take it in the ass, so be it. It did not change anything. He was still the brother he was going to Hell for and he was still worth it.

As if by an extrasensory perception of his own, Dean could tell it was near. He stopped, cast around and, whether it was by the noise, the smell or that sixth sense, knew he had found his type of bar. He walked in accompanied by the sound of breaking glass. "Yes!" and grinning made his way to the bar.

==000==

"Wha….What time is it?" slowly surfacing as he realised Sam was back and stood at the bottom of the bed. He peered over the violently geometrical bedspread and groaned at the disapproving visage that met him. He pulled the covers back over his head and hid. He was in no mood to face that rebuke. His head felt like it was filled with dancing lumberjacks and something had done something unpleasant on his tongue.

After finding that bar, he had had one hell of a good night. Ending on his own being the only let down but as soon as he had gotten back to the motel it had been a relief. He had drunk so much and had eaten one of the hottest chilli's he'd had outside of New Mexico and imagined that his breath could kill.

"It stinks in here!"

'Bitch. Bitch. Bitch' thought Dean to the sound of the window being opened with a tortured squeal. It must be bad as usually they practically barricaded themselves in. He tried again and managed to sit up scooting back to lean against the leatherette headboard scrubbing at his face with both hands. Owe, what the hell? He prodded at his cheekbone, carefully, then felt at his teeth. It had been an enjoyable fight. A proper fight. Nobody dishes Metallica! And they'd all shared a beer before singing their way into the night. Good times.

Now looking over at Sam, who was sort of just stood there, he could not tell whether he had had a good night or not. He glanced at the bedside clock. Ten twenty. So it couldn't have been that bad. He'd stayed out all night but where, he wanted to know? It was not any of his business but since when had that stopped him? "So give."

"What?"

"Where were you?"

"Out," totally none committal and he was fiddling with the fastening on his jacket so obviously not wanting a conversation they both knew they needed.

Dean tried again and he reminded himself to keep any wisecracks to himself. Sam was stood there looking so vulnerable. He really wanted to take the piss out of him but knew he could never be forgiven as it would surely hurt as Sam looked scared. So just act as if nothing life changing had happened. As far as he knew this was not life changing for Sam, just him. "Do you like him?"

"Yes," softly spoken and still not looking at him.

"Are you going to see him again?" he could not believe he was managing to be so calm.

"I hope so," and Sam finally looked at Dean, sort of glancing up as he moved to sit on the other bed facing him but still playing with the zip on his jacket.

"So tell me all," hoping to sound supportive.

Sam just looked up at him from under that fringe stating the absurdity of telling his brother anything about his sex life. Then he sighed. "Dean. Are you okay with this?" and went back to his zip.

Dean could not help but smile. He had an image, a memory, of when they were much younger, long before Sam had left Dad and him, when he still idolised his big brother. Sam had asked him in hushed tones to tell him what sex was like, sat more or less in the same position, that time toying with the laces on a pump, one on one off. That had seemed to be so important to him too. He remembered he had told him outrageous things seeing the excitement, shock and finally horror on the young teenagers face that he thought he might have successfully put him off sex for life.

"Sam. Why shouldn't I be okay? It's your life. That's what we keep fighting for. Who am I to tell you what you can or can't do with it?"

There was a slight lopsided grin on Sam's face. 'Yeah', Dean admitted, he was always telling Sam what he should do.

"Why'd you never tell me?" but guessed he had already answered that himself last night and, at the look he was getting off Sam, head to one side brows slightly raised, he laughed and was relieved that Sam was finally looking at him and laughing too.

He slid out of bed and pulling Sam's head to his stomach, gave him a sort of hug only to be pushed off none too gently. Looking over from his sprawled position on his bed he looked askance. He had just been trying to be sensitive or something. "Wha…?"

"Dean. You stink!" and getting up to move to the table housing his laptop added, "At least I had a shower this morning." Then blushed, ducking his head.

Dean decided, he did not want to know after all, and smirking, headed to the bathroom via slapping Sam over the back of the head.

==000==

TBC...