Thing of Beauty
Chapter 1
Sa-m!" Dean Winchesters green eyes flash open as his hand finds the gun under his pillow, looking for a target before he's even fully awake.
Two deep breaths, as his eyes scan the room for threats and register where he is.
The bunker, his room... home.
Everything is where it should be and yet the dream lays heavy on him, twisting his gut. Images flick through his mind like blackjack cards in a Vegas dealer's hands, Sam hurt, Sam in trouble, Sam yelling his name...
"Just a dream" he mutters reaching for the bottle on the nightstand taking a swig.
Except what if... Ever since the bitch of letters waltzed into the bunker, banished Cas and kidnapped his brother there's a tension in him that he can't shake. Mom leaving only made it worse.
It's alright when they're on the road when he can look across the room at the bed furthest from the door and know Sam's there.
But here in the bunker they've got their own rooms. Usually that's great, fan-f cking-tastic, but right now it's ... Dean looks up.
He's paced across the room and back twice now.
What he wants is to walk into Sams room and just look at him, but that's stupid. The bunkers warded, they've added extra layers of security, done everything but release attack dogs around the perimeter for Chucks sake.
Wanting to go and stare at his little brother sleep just because he had a bad dream... its right next door to neurotic and needy!
"D mb-it" He's out the door and halfway to Sams room before he's even really made the decision.
If he's quiet, Sam will never know.
He eases into the room silently and crosses the room in two strides to stand looking down at his little brother, sprawled across his bed like an attenuated toddler.
His eyes rove over the planes of his brothers face and he winces at how thin and ragged Sammy still looks, worn thin by too much crap dumped on him. His brother doesn't look like a kid anymore, even when he's sleeping.
That thought twists Deans insides with equal parts grief, guilt and anger as his eyes scan for the vestiges of Sammy the kid brother he's spent his whole life trying, trying to protect...
Except for the hanks of hair falling over half his face, the hair that irritates Dean so much sometimes he just wants to shave it all off.
But to do that would be a weird crime, the hair has been his brothers quiet rebellion or shelter against the world pretty much his whole life.
His hand reaches out to brush the hair out of his brothers' face. Then, a guilty look skews his face and his hand stops; as the thought hits that he's standing here gazing down at his brother like a moony prince in a budget production of sleeping beauty.
Half turning away to leave in disgust at himself.
Momentarily he looks down again, and then a sly smile spreads across his face.
Ideas fill his head and an evil grin lights up his eyes. Silently striding from the room Dean has a plan and things to do.
...
Half an hour later Dean looks down, a smug smile on his face, snaps a few photos from varying angles and congratulates himself on a job well done.
Sam wakes slowly, one hand flails up to run through his hair and finds an obstruction. Puzzled he looks at the thing in his hand. A pink ribbon tied into a bow, rests in his palm.
"What the...?"He rubs his other hand across his mouth and it comes away pink.
A horrifying suspicion coalesces in his mind as he stumbles out of bed and scrambles to the mirror.
"DEAN!?..." he bellows in horror as he surveys what lies before him.
His hair is in two plaits, one unravelling and one still tied off tightly with a bright pink bow. His face...
well now that the pink lipstick is smudged around his mouth he resembles a subdued clown (clowns he hates clowns) or maybe a hooker with a five-year-old makeup artist.
His first reaction wants to be, to storm out of his room and clock his brother. Then possibly force feed him two pretty pink bows. But he's pretty sure that's what Dean wants, him storming in like a tween in a temper tantrum, makeup smeared across his face and unraveling pigtails flying.
Instead he yanks the last bow off and runs his fingers through his hair to remove the plaits, he wipes at his face with his sleep shirt.
The person looking back at him still looks like a disheveled tween, only with wavy hair and makeup smears that haven't come off.
Trust Dean to find industrial strength makeup for his art project. Huffing through his fringe at his reflection he stomps down the hall to the shower.
...
"DEAN!?..."
Dean looks up from the laptop screen at the curdled shout from the direction of his brothers room with an anticipatory grin.
"Mornin' sleepin' beauty" he chuckles dryly turning back to the screen, his back to the door, he pretends to be engrossed awaiting an outraged little brother with a vendetta.
The minutes tick by and Sammy doesn't storm out, it appears Sams going to go with the whole revenge best served cold thing, well bring it on little brother!
A dialog box pops up, the search engine first Ash, then Charlie worked on has snagged a possible hunt.
Five drowning deaths in as many weeks in some seaside town, weird storms that just suddenly appear then blow over.
A smile of anticipation flashes, as Dean runs his hand over the back of his neck and keeps digging.
...
Sam walks into the kitchen face scrubbed pink from his shower his stride long and full of contained fury, he glares at his brother, who is (of course) pretending to be engrossed in the laptop.
Finally, Dean looks up at him face blank and carefully schooled to ignorance, but whole oceans of amusement sparkling just below the surface of his eyes.
"How's Mommys little princess this morning?" Dean enquires deadpan.
Sam stops mid stride like he's been kicked somewhere low and painful, his mouth open in shock and his hazel puppy dog eyes doing a world of kicked dog impressions.
"Dean... you didn't" Sam whispers in horror.
Deans mind scrambles back over what he just said and snags on the word Mommy and the penny drops, Sam knows there's always photographic evidence and he thinks that he sent a copy to Mom, the thought hadn't even occurred to him.
... Cas yes, but Mom? That would be cruel.
He'd imagined the puzzled deadpan reply from Cas briefly (maybe something along the lines of "Dean why is Sam wearing female cosmetics?") but Cas was with Crowley at the moment, and it really didn't bare thinking about.
The torment the King of Hell could and would come up with, with something like that as ammo (50 foot billboards maybe.)
Sam and Crowley had a whole 'thing' going on and it wasn't just because Sam tried to gank him for Rowena.
Realising, he'd been wool-gathering too long and Sam was still looking at him in pale horror Dean raised his hand placatingly
"Nah nah man, I'm not evil" he reassured "coffees on…think I've found us a case."
Sam shot him a bitch face but seemed to believe him, padding over to get two cups, black for Dean...
Sam stops in front of the fridge in the act of reaching for milk to top off his own cup.
Dean grins, shooting a look at his handy work from across the room before Sam yanks it off the fridge.
The pink bubble writing was a great touch Dean thinks smugly
"Samantha Winchester stars in ... Sleeping Beauty"
Sam stands looking down at the flyer in his hand looking almost puzzled.
"Dean the makeup I get, Mom or ..." he fades off before mentioning Charlie "but where on earth did you get the pink ribbon?"
Dean grins nudging two things on the bench beside the laptop, a small roll of bandages and a pink hi lighter
"Necessity an' invention Sammy, necessity an' invention"
The image of his brother sitting there in the middle of the night, colouring in bandages with a pink highlighter forces a laugh out of him, leaving him shaking his head in a weird kind of wonder.
"Dean imagine if you used that intellect for good..." he mutters rolling his eyes.
"Yeah I could probably save the world or some thin' " Dean deadpans back.
"Speaking of..." he takes a sip of coffee and taps the screen "think I might've found us a case - at a beach nonetheless" a grin lights his face with anticipation. "We're goin' to the beach Sammy."