They were quiet as they walked to the clinic.
Both brothers lost in their own thoughts as the crowd moved with them and against them. The sidewalk jammed with people coming and going. The downtown area busy at 4:30 on a Tuesday afternoon as shops and restaurants and other places of business – a gym, a hair salon, a bar and grill – lured customers through their doors like proverbial moths to flames as evening approached.
Despite the setting sun and the dipping temperatures, people strolled along hand-in-hand, bundled in coats and scarves while they sipped their coffee and enjoyed their time together browsing in windows.
Others scowled and bustled, dragging overloaded shopping bags or fussy children – or both – behind them as they made their own path through the crowd, offering distracted apologies over their shoulders as they pushed past.
Dean kept his brother close. His hand still resting on the back of Sam's neck as he steered the kid down the sidewalk, dodging those who weren't watching where they were going and glaring at the assholes who bumped into him or Sam.
"What's the fucking rush?"
Sam shrugged at his brother's rhetorical question and shivered as the late January wind blew cold and sharp and biting. The 12-year old tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat as they continued walking.
"Almost there, Sammy..." Dean commented, knowing his brother was freezing and wishing the kid had stayed back at the motel like Dean had told him.
But no.
I'm coming with you, Dean.
Dean quirked a fond smile at his stubborn little brother, still surprisingly comforted by having Sam with him to face whatever awaited at the clinic...but hoping the kid didn't get sick from being out in the falling temperatures.
One sick Winchester at a time, please.
And it seemed it was Dean's turn to fit that description.
...though maybe not.
Maybe Dean wasn't sick.
After all, he didn't feel sick.
Maybe the initial blood work had just been screwy for some reason, had turned out a false positive for something that wasn't really there.
That happened sometimes.
Maybe they would all laugh about this later when the new blood work came back fine, would indulge in the kind of nervous, relieved laughter that resulted from successfully dodging a bullet.
Maybe.
Hopefully.
Because Dean wanted to laugh. He wanted to roll his eyes and be pissed that these doctors and nurses had scared him over nothing.
But Dean doubted it would be that simple.
Nothing was ever that simple.
Not for them.
Dean sighed. "Almost there..." he repeated, his own anxiety swelling in his chest as the clinic's sign came into view across the street.
Sam nodded that he saw it but didn't otherwise respond, instead ducking his head to swipe his coat sleeve across his face. His nose running from the unrelenting wind.
Dean frowned, not liking the kid's silence or his sniffles. "Sammy..."
Sam glanced over his shoulder, Dean still slightly behind him as the 17-year old steered the 12-year old down the sidewalk.
"You okay?" Dean checked, even as he scanned his little brother.
But aside from windblown hair and pink, wind-burned cheeks, Sam looked fine.
Sam nodded again, indicating he was indeed okay, and then faced forward as the brothers continued to walk.
Dean let it go for now, knowing Sam was still processing the earlier phone call that had led to their unexpected return trip to the clinic...and knowing he just had to wait the kid out.
...which could take minutes or hours, depending on how much Sam was silently obsessing.
Dean ruffled the kid's hair – an it's okay and I'm here all-in-one.
Because this was scary – especially for a kid – and Dean got that, was there for Sam as much as Sam was there for him.
And whatever this turned out to be, whether something or nothing, then they would face it like they always did...together.
Dean and his kid against the world.
Damn right.
Bring it on.
Dean nodded once, feeling the warmth of reassurance.
Minutes passed.
Dean scanned his and Sam's surroundings as they continued to walk, trying not to be annoyed that the trip to the clinic was taking longer than yesterday.
"Where the hell did all of these people come from?" Dean grumbled, pulling Sam closer as he elbowed through a small clump of 30-somethings clogging the sidewalk outside an already overflowing bar.
Sam said nothing but shrunk against his brother as he allowed Dean to guide him through the crowd.
Conversations floated around them, peppered with soft kisses and delighted laughter, even the occasional yell...and then all of it overwhelmed by air brakes squealing and hissing as a bus arrived at its next stop.
Dean glanced at the passengers spilling onto the sidewalk to join the chaos.
"What else did they say?"
Dean blinked at Sam's voice and redirected his attention to his brother, knowing Sam was referring to the earlier phone call and "they" meant the clinic.
Dean quirked a smile, amused that Sam's question and tone made it seem as though their conversation back at the motel had never paused.
"Dean..." Sam prompted when his brother didn't answer.
And that's how this kid worked – either silent as a rock or chatty as a parrot.
Now that Sam had sorted through everything and had decided to start asking questions, good fucking luck getting him to shut up again.
Dean's smile lingered as Sam persisted.
"What else did they say?"
Dean shrugged. "I've already told you."
...though the big brother had kept the high white count, the possibility of a biopsy, and the vague mention of treatment to himself.
Because Sam would only worry – and Sam was already worried.
Hell, Dean was already worried.
And Sam sensed it, too.
Sam knew Dean was anxious, which was only making Sam more anxious.
Dean could feel the kid's tension in the bunched muscles beneath his hand, and he rubbed his thumb at the base of Sam's neck as he continued to guide the 12-year old through the crowd.
"Relax. Everything's gonna be fine."
Sam shook his head, feeling his hair brush across Dean's fingers. "They don't call if everything's fine, Dean."
And the kid had a point.
The brothers had been through enough physicals over the years to know that nurses didn't call requesting additional testing if everything was fine.
But Dean could be stubborn, too.
"Everything's gonna be fine, Sammy," the big brother insisted, his thumb still coaxing Sam's muscles to relax. "Just chill the fuck out, huh? Before you work yourself into a migraine..."
Because that's how Sam operated – the kid's stress leading to tension in his neck and across his shoulders, which then usually coursed upward and triggered a massive headache.
"Sammy..." Dean called. "You hear me?"
Sam sighed, indicating he had heard Dean and didn't appreciate being treated like an old woman with a case of the vapors. "I'm fine, Dean."
Dean hummed his doubt but let the issue drop.
There was a pause.
A horn honked in the street and someone waved from the car's window while someone else waved and yelled back from the sidewalk.
"Did they say what was wrong with your blood?"
It was Dean's turn to sigh.
So much for Sam chilling the fuck out...
"Did they?"
"No," Dean replied, because high white count really didn't tell what was wrong. "They just want more of it."
And possibly a tissue sample, too.
Dean cringed at the thought, wondering what they wanted to biopsy...and when...and how he was going to pay for all of this.
He only had a little over $500, and that was meant for food and the motel and...stuff.
Dean's budget didn't include extra doctor visits and additional tests.
Sure, he could always hustle more cash, but...
Dean blinked as his mind abruptly switched topics.
...but who would take care of Sam if Dean was out of it for a few days?
Sometimes biopsies were a big deal – depending on what was biopsied – and recovery could be slow. So, who would take care of Sam if Dean was laid up?
Dean inwardly groaned at having one more detail to work out.
Of course, everything depended on what happened at the clinic, but still...
Maybe Dean would call Bobby later...or Pastor Jim. Or hell, even Caleb could probably watch out for Sam for one or two days while Dean recovered. It would just depend on who was closest to them, who could make the drive in the shortest time.
Sam would scoff at having a babysitter...but that was just too fucking bad.
No way would Dean consider leaving his 12-year old brother to fend for himself while Dean was not 100%.
And no way would Dean consider calling John.
Fuck him.
Dean clenched his jaw at the memory of their dad advancing toward Sam that night back in November. John having slapped the shit out of the kid in the blink of an eye. Before Dean could even react, Sam had been knocked to the floor of their motel room.
Dean's jaw clenched even tighter as he remembered how Sam's cheek had almost instantly bruised from the force of the blow, how the 12-year old had stared up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes.
Dean had immediately lifted his little brother and had tucked the kid behind him as he had raged at John, had threatened their dad in a fury of anger and hurt and betrayal.
Because how could John have done that?
The grief-filled date and the drinking that always accompanied the anniversary of Mary's death explained what had made John momentarily lose control that night...but it didn't excuse it.
Nothing excused a grown man – a father – from hitting a 12-year old child.
Nothing.
And Dean meant what he had said to John that night – had meant every word.
John knew it, too. Knew he had crossed the line...had lost his boys' trust...had done what was unforgiveable in Dean's eyes – hurting Sam.
And Dean knew their dad was sorry, had seen the shock and instant regret in John's expression that night, but...
Sam sighed, scattering Dean's thoughts. "What did they say about me?"
Dean glanced at his brother, reminding himself to not waste time and energy on the past.
What was done was done.
And John wasn't in their life now. He was just a weekly phone call.
But this kid walking beside Dean...this kid was his life. Sam was all that mattered...was the reason Dean kept going...was the only one who made everything worth it.
Dean twitched a smile at his little brother.
Sam blinked up at him. "What did they say about me?"
Because Sam remembered the first part of the phone call back in the motel room when Dean was asking whoever was on the line if Sam was okay.
"Just the usual," Dean reported and pulled his brother to a stop as they lingered at the curb, checking traffic both ways before crossing the street.
"The usual," Sam echoed as they finally approached the clinic's walkway. "What does that mean?"
Dean briefly considered a smartass answer but decided against it. "It means you're too scrawny and too low on iron."
"Oh."
Dean snorted at Sam's quiet, short response. "Yeah. Oh."
Sam glanced up at Dean, feeling his brother's hand shift on the back of his neck. "Does that mean – "
" – yep," Dean confirmed and smiled his smug pleasure at delivering the news. "That means it's burger time for Sammy."
Sam wrinkled his nose at the punishment. "Dean..."
"Don't 'Dean' me," the big brother countered as they passed through the clinic's automatic double doors. "You're anemic, Sam...which is probably why you're tired and cold all the damn time."
Dean gestured at the layers of clothes the kid always wore and was wearing even now...and was still shivering.
Sam shrugged. "So?"
"So..." Dean continued. "That means you're not winning this one," he informed his brother about their current debate. "It's red meat for the rest of the week. It'll put hair on your chest."
"That's stupid," Sam huffed. "And besides, being anemic isn't that big of a deal, Dean."
"It's a big deal to me."
Because anything being wrong with Sam, no matter how minor, was a big deal to Dean.
"But I don't like burgers like you do."
"Too bad, so sad..." Dean quipped in response to Sam's complaining. "I'm crying on the inside, Sammy."
Sam scowled. "You're such a jerk."
"And you're such a whiny little bitch," Dean returned, chuckling as he roughly – affectionately – tousled Sam's hair before releasing his grip on his brother now that they were safely inside the clinic.
Sam's scowl deepened as he smoothed his hand over the messy strands.
"Good luck," Dean remarked about Sam succeeding at making his hair look decent and then chuckled once more as his little brother punched his arm. "Dude. You hit like a girl."
Sam growled his annoyance and swung again.
Dean accepted the second punch with a grin.
Sometimes it was just too easy to get under the kid's skin.
But at least Sam was distracted now, was irritated by Dean's teasing and not worried about why they were here.
...which meant Sam was now slightly more relaxed and Dean's mission was accomplished.
Dean's smile lingered as he and Sam crossed through the clinic's lobby. The big brother checking all exits and mapping a path to each one before cataloging every single person in the waiting room and determining their threat level.
The cute young blonde currently crossing her legs and oh-so-casually lifting the hem of her short skirt to flash her thigh at Dean? No threat.
The girl's mom glaring a hole through Dean? Also no threat.
In fact, Dean winked at the mom and then nodded appreciatively at the woman's daughter to thank her for the peep show.
The young blonde smiled.
Her mom did not.
Dean continued through the waiting room, keeping one eye on Sam as the kid walked a few steps in front of him and another eye on their surroundings.
There was an older couple in the corner who were no threat...and two empty seats in the opposite corner where Dean would likely sit with Sam if they had to wait.
It was a good location since their backs would be against the wall – reducing the risk of something attacking from behind – and Sam could be tucked securely in the corner with only the wall and Dean beside him.
Dean nodded, liking those corner chairs even more, and then blinked as he noticed a middle-aged woman staring at him, suggestively licking her lips while rubbing her hand back and forth across her chest.
Dean cringed at the invitation.
Wow. No thanks, Mrs. Robinson.
"Cougar alert," Dean whispered to Sam and smiled when Sam glanced at the woman and then shrugged his indifference.
Obviously not today, but one day the kid would appreciate such warnings.
Because the cougars were going to love Sammy's floppy hair and dimples.
Dean's smile widened, hoping he was there to see Sam's reaction the first time an older woman hit on the kid in the years to come...but his smile faded as he noticed Mrs. Robinson wasn't the only one watching them.
Some creeper – a guy who looked like he could be Mr. Rogers – was locked in on Sam, was following the kid's every move as the 12-year old crossed the waiting room and was smiling at Sam in a way that made Dean instantly on guard.
Dean glared at the creeper and then reached forward, snagging the edge of Sam's hood and pulling the kid back toward him.
Sam blinked at the unexpected tug and then glanced up at Dean as his brother was suddenly beside him instead of behind him. The 12-year old prepared to bitch about Dean's overprotectiveness but changed his mind when he recognized Dean's expression.
Dean nodded, confirming there was a potential threat in the area, and tilted his head.
Other side of me.
Sam returned the nod, glancing around the waiting room as he crossed to Dean's opposite side while they walked, effectively hiding himself from the creeper who was a little too eager to watch a 12-year old boy.
Dean glared once more at Mr. Rogers and then flashed a smile at the receptionist as he approached her desk.
She smiled back. "Hi, there."
Dean nodded his greeting, thankful this young, attractive girl was the receptionist today instead of that old, cranky woman from yesterday.
"May I help you?"
"I hope so, Mindy," Dean replied, reading the girl's badge and then glancing at her necklace. The silver cross pendant perfectly framed by the deep V-neckline of her pink shirt and dangling just above the crease of her breasts.
Mindy looked down, following his gaze.
"Nice necklace," Dean commented, clearly complimenting something else of Mindy's besides just her choice in jewelry.
Mindy blushed and giggled, tucking her brown hair behind her ear as she glanced up at Dean through her feathery bangs.
Sam rolled his eyes, shifting as he stood beside Dean at the receptionist counter.
Leave it to his big brother to flirt no matter what.
Sam sighed.
Because believe it or not, they were there for a reason – and that reason wasn't Mindy.
Dean glanced at Sam, hoping one day the kid understood the importance of working this angle and appreciated the advantages flirting could afford if done right with the right girl.
But right now, Sam just looked annoyed...with maybe a hint of worry resurfacing.
After all, they were standing in a clinic – a clinic neither brother had expected to return to after yesterday, much less return to barely 24 hours later.
And yet, here they were.
Dean refocused on Mindy. "Listen, sweetheart..."
Mindy leaned forward on her desk, ready and eager to listen to whatever Dean wanted to tell her...and to most likely do whatever Dean needed.
And that was the power of flirting, Sammy.
Take notes.
"I got a call maybe half an hour ago from a nurse saying I needed to come back over here for more testing."
Mindy blinked. "Oh," she replied and frowned at the news. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Sorry?" Sam echoed, his worry surging. "Why are you sorry? Is that bad? Does that mean something bad?"
Mindy glanced at the cute kid she just now noticed. "No, no..." she attempted to soothe. "That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?" Sam pressed. "People usually say they're sorry only when it's something bad."
Unable to argue against that logic, Mindy glanced at Dean for help.
Dean smiled. "It's okay," he assured the uncertain receptionist. "My little brother is just a little...excitable."
Mindy nodded.
Dean held his smile as he wrapped his arm around Sam's narrow shoulders, drawing the kid close and squeezing his bicep a little harder than usual before rubbing his thumb over the same spot. The gesture meant to reprimand as well as comfort – a chill the fuck out immediately followed by a more soothing relax, kiddo.
Sam exhaled a shaky breath, marginally calming beneath Dean's touch.
Mindy's wide-eyed gaze flickered between Dean and the panicky 12-year old standing beside him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset him."
"It's fine," Dean dismissed but decided to use Sam's outburst to their advantage. "We're just a little on edge since that call."
"Yes, of course," Mindy sympathized.
"So, maybe..."
Dean's voice trailed off, allowing the receptionist to draw her own conclusions about what he wanted from her.
Women were usually pretty good at that.
And Mindy did not disappoint.
She smiled, easily following Dean's train of thought.
"So maybe I can get you back to see the doctor a little quicker than the rest," the receptionist finished and glanced at the other patients scattered around the waiting room who had been there long before this good-looking guy and his cute little brother.
Dean nodded at her offer as if he hadn't already thought of that. "Oh, man...that would be awesome," he agreed about not having to wait. "I mean...if you can do that. I don't want to get you in trouble or anything."
Mindy shook her head. "I won't get in trouble. Who's your doctor?"
The question was odd.
Because Dean wasn't used to having a doctor he saw routinely.
"Dr. Stanley," Sam replied for his brother. "That's who we saw yesterday."
Mindy smiled, amused and touched by Dean's little brother answering for him.
Sam blinked back at her.
Mindy's smile widened – what a sweet, adorable kid – before she glanced at Dean. "I guess his nurse Patricia called you earlier?"
Dean nodded.
Mindy did the same. "Well, she's probably expecting you, so this won't take long. What's your name?"
"Dean."
"Dean..." Mindy repeated and felt a bit flushed – such a cool name for the cool guy standing in front of her.
She glanced at Dean's little brother.
"And your name?"
Just because she was curious.
Sam checked with Dean.
Because sometimes he wasn't allowed to tell people his real name.
But Dean nodded his permission.
Sam refocused on the receptionist. "Sam."
Mindy smiled.
Sam and Dean.
That was somehow perfect.
"Alright..." Mindy began as she stood from her desk. "You two just hang tight, and I'll be right back."
Dean nodded, watching as she disappeared around the corner.
Beside him, Sam shifted and sighed...and then shifted again.
Dean glanced down at his fidgeting little brother. "Hey. Relax..." he urged, his arm still around Sam as his thumb rubbed back and forth over the kid's shoulder. "So far, you're really sucking at the 'no freaking out' rule."
"Sorry," Sam muttered, glancing up at Dean as they continued to stand in front of the receptionist desk. "I'm just – "
" – I know, Sammy," Dean interrupted, once again squeezing Sam's arm. "Me, too."
Dean was worried, too.
And that only made Sam more worried.
The 12-year old leaned his head against Dean's side as they waited for Mindy to return and briefly closed his eyes at the reassuring scent of worn leather from Dean's jacket.
Minutes passed.
Dean glanced over his shoulder, surveying the waiting room – all the same people as before...including the cougar and the creeper – and then glanced down at Sam, his thumb still rubbing the kid's arm.
Sam sighed again and opened his eyes. "Dean..."
"Yeah, Sammy..."
Sam shook his head, apparently not wanting to talk...but just wanting to say Dean's name.
The kid did that sometimes when he was scared or nervous – drew comfort from just saying his big brother's name.
Dean smiled softly and tightened his arm around his brother as they waited.
Seconds later Mindy appeared in the doorway separating the waiting room from the rest of the clinic.
"Guys..." she called, motioning them over.
And thank you, Mindy, for not yelling their names across the waiting room.
The last thing Dean wanted was for Mrs. Robinson and Mr. Rogers to know his or Sam's name.
Dean nudged Sam forward, his hand sliding up the kid's arm as they walked to once again rest on the back of Sam's neck – a soothing, grounding presence for a nervous 12-year old.
Mindy smiled as the brothers approached, wondering if they had any idea how incredibly sweet it was to watch them interact – both brothers' worlds so clearly revolving around the other.
Mindy swallowed against the emotion suddenly lodged in her throat. Her smile slipping as she remembered Patricia's expression seconds before when she had told the nurse that Dean had arrived.
Mindy had been a part-time receptionist at the clinic for the past two years and knew the tells of the doctors and nurses like a poker player knew the tells of his opponents.
She knew how to recognize their candid worry before they hid it behind a professional mask, knew when the situation was urgent even as they maintained a well-practiced calm.
And Mindy had sensed both from Patricia – worry and urgency, which never resulted in good news.
"Oh my god..." Mindy had whispered in the hallway as she had stared at the nurse. "Is it bad?" she had asked, echoing Sam's words from earlier.
"I don't know," Patricia had replied, unable to give details. "But Dr. Stanley is concerned."
Mindy had frowned, unsure what to think – because sometimes Dr. Stanley was just overly cautious...and sometimes Dr. Stanley was a genius in detecting the unknown.
The doctor aptly nicknamed the "Magic Man" for his seemingly magical ability to diagnose diseases in their early stages – often before any symptoms developed.
The Magic Man responsible for saving hundreds of lives since early detection and early diagnosis usually led to early treatment...which resulted in high percentages of happy, healthy, living patients who were cured, in remission, or successfully maintaining their conditions through medications.
Patricia had smiled, had patted Mindy's shoulder since she could tell the young woman liked Dean.
"Don't worry," the nurse had told the receptionist. "You know he's in good hands."
Mindy had nodded – because there was no better doctor at the clinic than Dr. Stanley.
Patricia had nodded as well. "Go ahead and call him back. I'll grab his chart and meet you outside the exam rooms."
Mindy had nodded again...and now here she was, staring at Dean as he and Sam stood in front of her.
Mindy smiled. "Good news," she announced, ignoring the little voice that said this was likely the last bit of good news the brothers would hear today. "No waiting. You can come on back."
Dean smiled. "Awesome. Thank you."
"You're welcome," Mindy returned, though his flirting and her influence as a receptionist had nothing to do with Dean's quick admittance.
Whatever was in his chart was solely responsible for Dean skipping to the head of the line.
Mindy swallowed at the reminder. "This way..." she invited, stepping back and allowing the brothers to pass through the open door.
Dean nodded – wondering if this was how VIP guests felt when they were being ushered backstage at concerts – and again nudged Sam forward, his hand still resting on the back of the kid's neck.
Mindy followed, allowing the door to shut behind them. "Just wait here," she instructed the brothers. "Dr. Stanley's nurse should be – "
" – here I am," Patricia interrupted, appearing around the corner with Dean's chart.
Dean focused on her – the nurse looking at little older than he had remembered from yesterday – and then frowned as he noticed the woman staring at Sam.
Sam shifted beneath her intense gaze and edged closer to his brother.
Dean's thumb rubbed over the kid's neck. "Problem?"
Patricia shook her head, sensing the protectiveness in Dean's tone. "No," she assured. "I just wasn't expecting you to bring him." She paused, still staring at Sam as if he was a problem to solve. "Um...hmm."
The nurse glanced at Mindy.
Mindy blinked back.
Dean scowled at the implication they were trying to figure out what to do with his brother. "Sam's coming with me," he told them.
Because if they thought Dean was leaving his little brother in the waiting room alone, then they had lost their fucking minds.
No way would Dean leave Sam unprotected in an unfamiliar place filled with strangers.
If Sam wasn't back in the motel room behind a locked door and a line of salt, then Sam was with Dean.
Simple as that.
And if these women had a problem with that, then Dean would be leaving and taking his kid with him.
Patricia smiled as she attempted to defuse the situation, sensing she had unintentionally pissed off the teen standing in front of her and feeling surprisingly uneasy as he glared at her.
"I'm sorry," the nurse apologized. "I didn't mean to offend. I just...well...I'm not sure what Dr. Stanley might be doing during this afternoon's visit."
And by her meaningful stare, Dean knew she was referring to the biopsy she had mentioned over the phone...which meant in her own misguided way, Patricia was trying to protect Sam.
Dean nodded, now understanding her line of thinking. "It's okay," he assured her. "He'll be fine. Won't you, Sammy?"
...though Dean had his doubts about the truth of that statement – because Sam was going to freak the hell out when he heard the word biopsy.
The kid was already an anxious bundle of nerves.
Sam glanced up at Dean, frowning his confusion about this conversation but also nodding his agreement, trusting his big brother.
Dean squeezed Sam's neck.
That's my boy.
There was a pause – a doctor passing by at the end of the hall, another nurse snatching a chart from the nearby shelves that stretched behind the receptionist desk.
Dean sighed. "Are we ready?" he asked Patricia, because seriously...they had other shit to do besides waste time here.
And the sooner Dean did this additional testing crap, the sooner he could get Sam fed and back to the motel to finish his homework before bed.
After all, tonight was a school night. And Sam had a bedtime. A bedtime Dean strictly enforced during the week since Sam was a moody little shit when he was tired.
"Yes. Right this way..." Patricia called, turning and walking down the hall.
Dean glanced at Mindy as she continued to stand across from him and his brother. "Thanks for your help," he told her. "Maybe I'll see you around."
"Maybe," Mindy returned and smiled. "But not here."
"God, I hope not..."
Mindy laughed, her smile lingering before she blinked, suddenly startled by the ringing phone on her desk.
"Guess you better get that," Dean advised and waited for the receptionist to cross back behind the counter before pushing Sam forward to follow the nurse who was looking over her shoulder.
Patricia frowning as she realized her patient and his brother were still at the receptionist desk.
"Sorry," Dean apologized as they approached. "Sam's always flirting," he explained about their reason for dawdling and glanced at his little brother, shaking his head. "Enough's enough, Sammy. Really. It's embarrassing."
Sam pulled a face at the far-fetched explanation and rolled his eyes.
Yeah. Sure. He was the one who was always flirting.
Patricia laughed at the big brother's obvious teasing – because after all, she had seen who was really flirting.
"Yes, I'm sure it is," the nurse agreed in mock seriousness about Dean's embarrassment and smiled at Sam as the brothers entered the exam room behind her.
Sam quirked his own smile, secretly thankful for his big brother's humor.
Because no matter what Dean faced, he was always in tune with Sam...always knew how to put Sam at ease...always knew when Sam needed to be distracted and soothed.
...like right now as the brothers settled into the two chairs along the exam room's wall.
Sam and Dean sitting side-by-side as they prepared to face the unknown...together.
TBC