Summary: There's a reason Sam sometimes slouches. Sometimes Dean notices and knows what to do. Set vaguely in mid-season 7. Written for the continuing "alphabet prompt" over on the PreviouslyTV Supernatural board fanfiction thread. This time featuring a word starting with B in a 500 word or less story. I entirely failed that second part in this one.
Author's notes: This one's for everyone over at the PreviouslyTV Supernatural board. I failed you this time, 7kstar, but I wanted to do both brother's perspective this time.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all of its characters are not mine. I hope the powers that be won't mind me playing with them for a bit.
The Big Brother
Lucifer was wrong. Sam knew this as he glanced to where Lucifer now examined a dead fly he'd found on the motel windowsill. Sam closed his eyes, but he could still hear his imaginary nemesis talking, telling Sam that he shouldn't be slouching down in his chair like a whipped puppy, because it just showed everyone what a broken mess he was. Lucifer wasn't wrong about the mess part, but that wasn't why Sam was hunched down. That went much deeper. Lucifer just didn't understand; Dean was supposed to be the big brother.
Sam didn't remember exactly when he grew taller than Dean, because even though he sometimes thought that he wanted to be bigger than Dean when they were kids, it didn't turn out to be true. So for a long time, Sam tried to hide it, not standing up to his full height. Dean eventually noticed of course, often poking fun at Sam for his tall stature. Sam generally didn't retaliate though, because he agreed. Being taller than Dean just felt wrong.
Even on the occasions when Sam did mention Dean's being shorter - like that time when he got drunk on that case in New England - it was more of an accusation than an insult. Even as Sam was saying "You're bossy. And short," what he really wanted was for Dean to be the big brother. To feel assured that Dean would do what was needed if Sam went bad, so Sam could feel safe being the little brother for a while.
So Lucifer was wrong. Sam didn't hunch over because he was broken. And somehow when he stood tall, it was too much of a reminder of when he was soulless. Soulless Sam stood up straight, because he didn't care that Dean was supposed to be the big brother. Sam didn't want to think about soulless him right now. Pressing down hard on the scar on his palm, Sam turned his eyes back to the computer screen and wished Lucifer would just go away.
Dean pretended he didn't notice his brother pressing his thumb into his palm and slouching down a little further into his chair. He only glanced surreptitiously at him from across the small motel room table. He would give Sam that semblance of dignity, because Sam was trying. And considering everything, his brother was doing better than expected.
Sometimes researching a case worked for Sam. Not right now though. Sam's body language was telling Dean that clearly enough. Sometimes it bothered Dean that one of the reasons he'd known Sam wasn't really Sam when he first returned from hell was that his body language was never like this. But Dean couldn't help it. He liked being able to read Sam, and it had been so disturbing when he couldn't read Sam then. But Dean knew what his brother needed now.
The diner down the street was having a turkey dinner special. He'd get Sam to eat, get a nice tryptophan mellow going. Maybe Sam would get some sleep. Even though lately sometimes even being the big brother was too much for Dean, right now he could this.
Dean closed his computer and sat up straighter, an ache in his heart as Sam sat up straighter as well, but only enough to be even with him. "We're not getting anywhere right now. I think we need dinner. Let's go eat."
"I could eat, but.." Sam glanced at his computer.
"You can take it with you, keep researching the case. There's a diner with Wi-Fi down the street. Got a turkey dinner special," he added with just a hint of persuasion in his voice. The kind that nudged Sam in spite of himself. Now to seal the deal…"Turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, stuffing… just like the Pilgrims used to do."
Sam shot him a look somewhere between indignant and amused. "The Pilgrims actually ate corn and barley at their feast, not mashed potatoes and stuffing."
Inwardly Dean smiled. Yahtzee. "Yeah, well you can tell me all about it over dinner." He pushed his chair back, and grabbed his coat as he got up.
Getting up from the table himself, Sam's eyebrows raised an inch towards his hairline. "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"
"What?"
"You never want to hear that kind of stuff."
"Well you never know. Someday we might come across some Thanksgiving-y harvest god and I'll need to know all the geeky first Thanksgiving details."
Sam smirked, but there was a smile behind it. "Thanksgiving-y harvest god? The Pilgrims didn't have a harvest god."
"Hey, we had pagan Christmas-y gods. And who said it had to be a Pilgrim god. Maybe it could be a vengeful, native-American spirit." Dean pointed towards Sam for emphasis, his Baby's keys in hand as he opened the motel room door, leading Sam out.
Sam made his down-turned pouty-mouth "I'm impressed" face as he followed Dean out the door. "Good point."
"'Course it's a good point," Dean said with a scrunched "duh" face as he walked to the Impala, and his brother chuffed a small snort in reply.
Dean couldn't help smiling a bit when he noticed that Sam was standing a bit taller now and that he'd left his computer behind. Opening the driver's side door, Dean watched Sam, eyebrows scrunched a little in thought, get in beside him. Probably going over in his head all the geeky first Thanksgiving facts he knows. Maybe Dean would make sure to subtly mention Thanksgiving again, so Sam could do his whole geeky first Thanksgiving spiel. Sometimes to be the big brother, he had to take one for the team. Who knows, maybe he might even pay attention to what his brother actually said. Well, maybe half of it.
The End