Disclaimer: Anything you recognise here from the show Supernatural is not mine. I do not own anything whatsoever! Not even an Ipod. I want an Ipod for my birthday!
"Dean!" the plaintive cry echoed through the cheap motel room, walls covered with flowered, yellowing wallpaper. Sam lunged at the paper Dean held behind his back, trying to wrap his long arms around his squirming brother and stretch just enough to grab the offending piece of paper squashed in his brother's fingers.
But Dean just stepped out of the way and ran to the other end of the bed, his lips spreading into the cheeky grin that was his trademark. "What you hiding from me, Sammy? Sweet on some girl, writing her a loooove letter?"
Sam stared at Dean, wondering quickly how he could get the letter from Dean without him prying. This was no joking matter. Dean would probably kill him, salt and burn his body if he knew what Sam had scribbled in that piece of paper. He stared at the grinning Dean, brows pulled together in a frown as small tendrils of fear started pulling at his intestines.
The grin slowly faded from Dean's face, replaced with a look of slight concern and curiosity. Sammy was trying to hide something, wasn't he? Well, Dean would find out. He always found out what was worrying Sam, and if he was not mistaken, there were definitely signs of anxiety flashing across his face.
Sam smiled and held his hand out. "Come on, Dean, it's not a love letter. It's just something I'm... just give it to me, I'll explain later." Sam tried to pull off a laugh, but it came out as a nervous giggle, and Sam knew now that there was no putting off Dean when he wanted to know what was happening.
Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead as his nervousness turned into fully fledged anxiety. He swallowed the bile rising to his throat, his adam's apple bobbing. Dean was staring at him with a mixture of surprise and stubbornness. Sam knew what that look meant. It meant that Dean was surprised that his Sammy kept secrets from him, worried about what this meant and if there was something wrong with his brother, and stubborn enough to go through hell to find out. The rustling of paper brought his attention back to the task at hand. Dean was smoothing out the crumpled paper and his eyes alighted on Sam's neat handwriting filling the page...
