Story A/N: This is a collection of companion pieces to my story "Falling into Grace" which, for various reasons (flow, alternate POV, etc), don't quite fit into "Falling" itself. This collection will be updated along with "Falling," so that the timelines stay current with each other.
Chapter A/N: This chapter is a prequel to "Falling," so it can be read before "Falling" with no problems. It takes place a few months before the first chapter of "Falling."
Description: Sam tries to help Dean deal when YET ANOTHER person wrongly assumes that the brothers are actually a couple. The emotional fallout leads to some realizations and reassurances between the brothers.
On with the show!
"When I look at my brother, I see two things:
First, I see the next place I want to leave a rosy welt.
Second, I see a good man who will always be there,
no matter how hard life gets for me or him.
Then, I get out of the way because I realize
he's coming at me with a wet dish towel."
-Dan Pearce
Prequel
Within a minute of walking into the club, Sam Winchester could tell. Frankly, he's surprised it took his brother Dean so long to figure it out. Then again, Dean was focused on hustling pool and getting drunk that night (though not necessarily in that order), so he may not have bothered scrutinizing the place beyond his initial observation that the bar was fully stocked, and that there were pool tables.
To be fair, like most gay bars popular with the 35 and under crowed, this one seemed to consist of only about fifty percent gay people. The rest were straight women who had come out to dance and flirt with the gay guys without having to worry about getting hit on, with the occasional straight boyfriend dragged along for the ride. Besides the seating around the bar, there were a few smaller tables scattered throughout any space that wasn't taken up by the two pool tables, and a small dancing area.
Sam and Dean sat at the bar, facing the pool tables. Dean ordered a beer while Sam pulled out his laptop, causing Dean to silently roll his eyes, before turning them toward the pool tables to assess the competition.
They had chosen this bar for it's proximity to the local university campus. When their cash funds were running dangerously low, like they were that night, headstrong frat-boy types were Dean's favorite mark for pool hustling. They were still young and dumb, living off the parents' money while trying to decide what they wanted to be when they grew up. If a fool and his money are easily parted, a drunk fool trying to save face in front of his friends and his parents' money are parted even easier.
Dean was just finishing his beer when a blonde woman sat down on the neighboring stool and started talking to him. He flirted at her a bit, offering to buy her a drink. She flirted right back, and if Dean wondered why she kept trying to include Sam in their flirtatious conversation, he didn't show it. After she had finished her drink (something girly that contained more fruit juice than actual alcohol), she stood up and reached a hand out toward Dean.
"Would your boyfriend mind if we danced a song?"
Dean had stood up along with her, a wide smile on his face, before her words had registered. It was obvious to Sam when they finally did. The smile slid off of Dean's face like a drink off a barmaid's overfilled tray. It would have been the perfect time for the music to pause in an extended record scratch. In the old west, it would have been the moment the piano player stopped playing and everyone in the bar turned to look at the poker player who had just insulted the gunslinger. Instead, the digital jukebox continued playing, and everyone kept dancing, talking, and drinking, totally oblivious to the conversation.
"Wha- What do you mean?"
The blonde seemed perplexed at the complete one-eighty degree turn from Dean's previously flirtatious demeanor. Confused, she asked, "I mean, he's busy with his computer. Why don't you keep me company for a while?" She turned to face Sam, "You don't mind, do you?"
Sam assured her that he did not mind, before ducking his head low, trying to hide his grin from Dean. He failed, which just made Dean angrier.
"Hey, lady," he said, shifting his weight from one leg to the other and back again while gesturing between himself and Sam. "We're not together."
"My- My mistake." She was obviously thrown by his over-reaction, and the slight growl in his voice was apparently her warning to back away from Dean and disappear into the crowd as quickly as she could.
Dean sat back down heavily on the stool, looking over to see that Sam was still grinning like a loon. "What the hell, man?!"
"Well, it was an honest mistake, especially given where we currently are."
"What does being in Duluth, Minnesota have to do with her assuming I'm gay?"
"Not the city, Dean, the bar."
"Wha…?" Dean finally started looking around, paying attention to something other than the people playing pool and the various ladies around the bar. The small dance floor was so crowded with bodies bouncing to the upbeat song, it was hard to pick out any actual couples, but there were a few people sitting around the tables that finally gave it away: men leaning too closely into other men as they spoke into each other's ears to be heard over music that wasn't actually that loud, hands drifting a little too low on backs to be merely friendly, platonic touches, and one lesbian couple at small table in the corner holding hands as they got up to leave.
Sam picked up the cardboard coaster that had been sitting under Dean's beer and Frisbeed it at his brother's chest. "I mean, it's kinda obvious."
Dean caught the coaster against his chest and looked at it. On one side, on a black background, the words ABSOLUT PRIDE were printed in blocky rainbow letters, on the other, ABSOLUT VODKA was printed in letters just as blocky, and just as rainbow, on a white background.
Dean angrily threw the coaster back down onto the bar, voice growling even lower. "We're leaving."
Dean was obviously in a mood, a scowl planted on his face as they made their way to the Impala and he silently drove them back to the hotel. Sam had wondered about Dean's reactions to this type of situation before. They had even talked about it a few times -that is, every time it had bothered Dean when someone had assumed he was gay, or implied that he and Sam were a couple. Sam had already told Dean about his observation that Dean often overcompensated, and that people could pick up on that. This tendency of Dean's had actually gotten Sam wondering about his brother, which had lead him to start scrutinizing his behavior and interactions with people even closer, which had lead Sam to an almost realization about his big brother. He wasn't certain or anything, but this time, he intended to find out for sure.
Sam turned toward his brother. "What do you have against gay people?"
"What? Nothing! I don't have a problem with gay people. It's just, I'M not gay."
"You're not Italian either."
"Yeah, so?"
"Would you be offended if someone incorrectly assumed you were Italian? Would you act this defensive about it?"
Dean squirmed in his seat a bit. "That's not the same thing."
"It IS the same thing. It's okay to be gay."
"I know it is." Dean's words sounded like an agreement, but his tone spoke of fear.
"It's okay for YOU to be gay," Sam clarified.
Dean's voice was getting deeper as he got more upset. "I'm not gay. I like women."
Sam took a breath, steadying himself for the response that was sure to come after what he was about to say. "It's okay for you to be bisexual, Dean."
Dean's fingers visibly clenched on the steering wheel. "No it's not," he growled.
"Yes it is."
"No it's not!" His voice was starting to get louder now. He was more upset than he had been all evening.
"Why not?"
"BECAUSE IT'S NOT! OKAY?" Dean took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm his voice before continuing, "It's not okay. I can't be."
"Dean, it's fine-"
"No! I'm into classic rock and vintage cars. I hunt demons for a living. I can't be into men."
Sam had to let out a mirthless chuckle. His brother could be so frustrating sometimes! "Dean, stop buying into stereotypes. Interests and hobbies have nothing to do with who we're attracted to."
"We have to be strong. We can't allow ourselves to be weak. We have to be perfect. I have to be strong," Dean recited.
It was almost verbatim what their father used to pound into them as he was training them to be hunters. John Winchester was always harsh over any mistakes from the boys, but the brunt of that mentality had always fallen on Dean. As the oldest, he was always scrutinized harder, and any sign of what John considered to be weakness in his son would be rebuffed with harsh criticism, if not the occasional backhand. But why would Dean equate their training as hunters to his sexuality in any way? Sam wondered if their dad had ever applied his hunter training mentality to criticisms about his oldest son's personal life. Sam remembered being taught not to "hit like a girl." He remembered being told not to be a "pansy" about blood, and each of them being referred to by feminine pronouns whenever they displayed weakness. There was never anything, at least that Sam could remember, said specifically about sexuality. There were no gay slurs.
They had made their way to their hotel room, Dean quickly unlocking the door and then slamming it shut just a little too hard once Sam had come in behind him. He made his way over to his bed and crashed down on it, turning his back toward Sam. He clearly didn't intend to discuss the issue further, but Sam had something he wanted to say.
"Dean."
"Sam, I-"
Cutting off the interruption, Sam pressed. "No, I need to say this. Sexuality has nothing to do with interests, abilities, or worth. It has nothing to do with strength or weakness. It ONLY has to do with who we are sexually or romantically attracted to. There is nothing wrong with being gay. It is not a flaw. It is just a biological reality, like eye color or race. I don't care if you're bisexual, gay, straight, or only into midgets. You're my brother. Who you want doesn't matter, it's who you ARE that matters. Anyone who says otherwise is dead wrong. You get me? Dead. Wrong."
What followed was a pause that stretched on long enough, Sam wasn't sure if Dean had fallen asleep.
Finally, Dean broke the silence. "Sammy, I…" Sam heard Dean take in a faint, shaky breath before he tried to continue, "I'm not-"
Sam interrupted one last time. "I don't care, Dean. I really don't. Whether you end up with a girl, weather you end up with a guy, I just want you to be happy."
An even longer pause followed that. It stretched on long enough, Sam almost thought Dean didn't intend to reply. When he finally did speak, it was so quiet, Sam almost didn't hear him.
"Thanks, Sammy."