This is what happens when one obsession collides with another. I wrote this back in the fall. I hope you enjoy it.
No spoilers.
Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Kripke and Co. No infringement intended.
All the Comforts of Home
Dean glanced at his watch. "Damn it!" he muttered. "Sam, what time is it?" Maybe he was wrong.
His brother looked at him from the passenger seat. "Six. Straight up. You want to stop for dinner?"
"Huh? No, no, not hungry." Dean's eyes darted along the roadside, but all he saw was empty fields. He swore again. "We've gotta find a place to stop. Keep your eyes open for a motel."
"Man, I'm starving. Can't we just--"
"No! Later. We need to find a motel. Now!" Dean focused on the road, pushing on the accelerator. They still had time. They'd make it. They had to.
"Dean, man, what's the hurry? You tired?" The seat creaked as Sam shifted and Dean just knew his brother had a worried look on his face. "Sick?"
Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Sam's hand extend toward him. "Whatever you're thinking about doing with that hand, don't. I'm fine, not sick."
"All right. Whatever you say." There was a brief moment of quiet that Dean knew was too good to last. "You're kind of tense, man. If you're not careful you're gonna twist the steering wheel out of shape. Want to tell me what the hell's going on here?"
"Sam." Dean sighed in exasperation. His brother and his damn inquisitiveness. He always needed to know everything and it was fucking annoying at times. "Nothing's going on. We just need to find a motel. Think you can do that?"
"Dude, you're the one driving. Shouldn't that be your job?"
"Smartass," Dean muttered. "Just keep a look out for one."
"Do you need to take a leak? Is that what it is? Because we could just pull over--"
Dean growled, interrupting his brother. "I don't need to stop to take a piss. Fuck, I just want to find a motel. There isn't much time."
"Much time? What do you mean? Come on, Dean, what's going on? I can't help you if I don't know what's going on." Sam's tone was earnest and--there it was again--concern.
"Shit." Dean spared a glance at his brother. "Stow the touchy-feely crap, okay? Everything's fine."
"Fair enough," Sam said quietly. "But what's the emergency? Why do we need to find a motel right now?" His brother's voice rose on the last word.
Dean flinched. Sam didn't like being in the dark about anything. But Dean couldn't explain it. "You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
Dean opened his mouth only to shut it again when the words wouldn't come. What was he supposed to say? Sam would think he was crazy, but...well, Sam had his version of normal and Dean had his.
"Dean?"
"Look, Sam, it's just...it's hard to explain. We just need to find a place to crash for the night. Okay?"
Dean felt his brother staring at him. "Okay, yeah. It's been a rough couple of days what with that poltergeist in Biloxi. I know you haven't been sleeping well. Probably because you dislocated your shoulder..." Sam's voice trailed off.
No doubt his brother was remembering how Dean was flung against the stone fireplace during their last hunt. His shoulder was still sore, but it had nothing to do with what was going on now. Not directly anyway. He swallowed a sigh, knowing Sam was worried and that he himself was the cause of it. That had never been his intention. "Shoulder's fine."
"Sure it is," Sam answered.
Dean rolled his eyes as he admitted grudgingly, "Yeah, I might have to rub it down with Icy Hot™ sometime tonight, but this has got nothing to do with that."
"So what does it have to do with?"
Still wouldn't leave it alone. Usually it was an admirable trait in his brother when researching. Not so great when he tried to dig into Dean's head. "Trust me, it's not a big deal."
"Not a big deal?"
Right. He could understand his brother's incredulity and when they settled down for the night, Dean was going to feel like a pretty big idiot for blowing this whole thing out of proportion. But wasn't he entitled to a little happiness? A little joy? Was that too much to ask? God, he was turning into such a girl. He snorted to himself. "Just let it go, man. I'll explain everything when we get to a motel." As if he would need to. Sam will have figured it out by then.
"Fine," came the sullen response. A beat. "Dean, you just passed a motel."
Dean knew his brother would have noticed that. "No cable," he muttered.
"What? What was that?" Sam sounded puzzled, like he wasn't sure he had heard right.
Oh, he was so going to pay for this. He knew for sure that once Sam figured out what was really going on here, Dean wouldn't hear the end of it. He rubbed his forehead and suddenly being tired wasn't so far from the truth. "Not that one, Sammy. It has to be another one."
"What the fuck it going on?"
Dean started, uncertain what had surprised him more--the yelling or the cussing. Great, he was really pissing off his brother now. He was not going to hear the end of this, but now he didn't even give a damn. "Fine. I'm dead tired. My shoulder is killing me. And, maybe I can't stand seeing the fucking road anymore and just need a break. Anything else you want to know?"
"Damn it, Dean, why couldn't you have just said that in the first place? Why does it always have to be like navigating some damn obstacle course with you? I can't help you unless I know what's going on."
"Oh, fuck." Dean slammed his hand on the steering wheel. "We are not having this conversation. Man, I can't believe this." He couldn't understand how the whole situation had gotten out of control. Dean just knew if he were to look, he'd see Sam's puppy dog eyes filled with worry. Yeah, he thought. When this was all over he was going to feel like such a jerk.
"Dean," Sam said.
"No, Sam," Dean interrupted. "Not talking about it, remember? I shouldn't even have mentioned it." He winced, knowing as soon as he said them that those had been the wrong words to say.
"You know, I hate it when you do that." Sam sounded angry now. "You make it sound as if what's going on with you isn't important. God, Dean, you've always been there for me. Why can't I be there for you?"
Dean finally saw a motel and whipped into a parking space in front of the office. Sighing, he turned off the engine and sat for a moment to collect his thoughts. "Look, Sam, just you being here is enough. Like I told you when I went to pick you up at school, I can't do this without you. I don't want to. I wanted us to kick evil ass together. Now, do you think you could get us a room?" He glanced at his watch. "We've got about ten minutes."
"Ten minutes?" Sam asked.
"Never mind," Dean growled and wrenched his door open. He stopped and clutched his shoulder as a wave of agony swept up his arm. Damn it. He'd forgotten about his shoulder.
"Dean. Dean, you okay?" Sam's hand landed on his other shoulder.
Dean would have knocked it off if he had had the energy. "Fine," he said through gritted teeth. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but what would be the point of telling Sam that. Dean was sure it was written all over his face.
"Don't move," Sam ordered. "I'll be right back." He slid out of the car and was disappearing into the motel office before Dean could manage a grunt.
Dean rubbed at his shoulder as he took deep breaths to manage the pain. His original reason for stopping had seemed so simple. Now, he was happy to have a place to lie down for a while. His body would certainly thank him for it. The trick would be to allow himself to give into his exhaustion without having Sam notice.
When is brother returned a few minutes later, making his way to the driver's side, Dean realized that his plan was shot to hell. He recognized that look on Sam's face. God knows he wore it enough times when Sam was hurt. There was no way he was going to escape from Sam's hovering. As long as they were in the motel room by seven o'clock, Dean guessed he could deal with it...for a little while, anyway.
"Come on." Sam made a grab for his arm, but Dean jerked it away. He immediately regretted it as a trail of fire once again burned through his shoulder joint. "Would you quit doing that," his brother demanded, once again reaching for him.
"I got it," Dean growled at him. "Nothing wrong with my legs. Here, give me the key. You grab the bags."
Sam rolled his eyes, but complied. Soon, the car was locked up for the night and they were ensconced in a relatively well-kept motel room.
Dean, mindful of his shoulder, flopped down on the bed. The softness of the mattress surprised him and he closed his eyes, feeling his body relax. This was a good idea in more ways than one.
"Here," Sam's voice came from his left side.
Dean opened his eyes. He sat up, taking the bottle of water and pain pills his brother offered him. "I suppose you want me to take these?"
"No, man, I thought you could play tiddlywinks with them," Sam replied. "Will you just take them already? I'll rub down your shoulder in a minute."
There was no point in arguing with Sam especially when he needed the pills. Dean swallowed them before arranging the pillows behind his back so that he could lean against the headboard comfortably. "Don't worry about my shoulder. I'll take care of it later."
"Dean," Sam started to say.
"Later, Sam." Dean glared at him then relented. "You can help me with it later. Right now, hand me the remote. It's just about to start."
Sam grabbed the remote lying on top of the television and handed it to Dean. "What's about to start?"
Dean turned on the television and flipped through the channels. It was a great way to keep from looking at his brother. He hoped his face wasn't flushing red right now. "The Simpsons."
Sam frowned at him then glanced at the television as the familiar theme song from the animated show filled the air. He looked back at Dean. "All this," he made a gesture, "was about a cartoon?"
"It's not just a cartoon, Sam," Dean said, irritated. "It's an American icon."
"Whatever." Sam sat on his own bed, laughing a little.
"See? That's why I couldn't tell you. I just knew you wouldn't understand." Dean tossed the remote onto his bed and crossed his arms over his chest. It would be nice, just this once, if someone would try to understand him.
There was silence as the show played.
"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam said in a low voice. "I, uh, didn't know that this show meant so much to you."
Dean grunted. "It doesn't mean a damn thing to me other than the occasional laugh. It's not like I have to tune in weekly, man."
"Then, why--" Sam started to say. "Oh."
"Yeah, 'oh'." Dean nodded, grinning as Sam finally figured out what was so special about the show.
"Metallica? How did you even know they were going to be on the show?" Sam's eyes were wide as he looked at Dean.
"The Internet. Where else?" He pointed at the screen. "Man, did you hear that? They played Master. Oh, man, that's cool."
His brother stared at him and then let out a laugh. "They played a ten second clip. They didn't even sing, Dean."
"So? It was still Master and it was still awesome." He closed his eyes and settled back among the pillows. "Yeah, great stuff."
"It doesn't take much to make you happy, does it?" Sam's voice held a note of affection.
"Guess not." Dean shrugged. The action triggered a memory of his injury as once again the pain flared throughout his shoulder.
Sam jumped up from his bed and began rifling through his bag for the medkit. "Let me help you with that, and then you can get some rest." He sat down next to Dean.
Dean opened his eyes, ready to protest the offer. One look at his brother's face and he nodded instead. "Yeah, okay." Trying not to jostle his injured shoulder, he pulled his t-shirt off as Sam squeezed the medicated cream onto his hands.
"It might help if you sit up," Sam suggested.
"Right." Dean eased himself upward. He winced as Sam started to knead his shoulder, but began to relax as his brother massaged the joint. "Man, that feels good."
"I'm glad." Sam was biting his lip, something Dean couldn't help but notice.
"Spit it out, Sam, what's bothering you?"
Sam reached for some tissues on the nightstand and cleaned his hands. "I just wanted to say that I do understand. You think I don't know why you have the Greatest Hits of Mullet Rock in the Impala? Why you have the Metallica Club website bookmarked?"
Dean blinked. Sam knew about that? Of course he did. It wasn't like it was some great mystery and his brother was their resident cyber-geek after all. "What are you getting at, Sammy?"
Sam shrugged, tossing the dirty tissues into the wastebasket. "It's all the comforts of home...without having a home. I get that. It's--it's your normal, Dean."
"Aw, man, it just means I have great taste in music." Dean made sure the smirk was in place as he looked at his brother. Sometimes he wondered if Sam had some other special abilities--like safecracking. Dean tried to keep his secrets safely locked away.
"Fine, I get it." Sam smiled. "I'm crossing the line into Chick Flick territory. Sorry. Won't happen again."
Dean laughed and shook his head. "Of course you will. That's what you do. You're all about bein' a chick, Sammy."
"Ha, ha. Very funny." Sam stood up from the bed. "I'm going to grab a shower. Get this smelly stuff off my hands."
Dean waited until his brother had the bathroom door open and the light turned on before he called to him. "Sam?"
Sam turned to look at him. "Yeah? You need anything?"
"No." Dean stared his brother in the eye. "I've got everything I need." And he did.
The End.
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