(I think this one is slightly more serious than the last one. Dedicated as always to L, and special thanks as always to Merisha, the best beta a girl could have.)
Encounter Four:
"Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"That's a really ugly woman!"
"Shhh! Sam! That's not a woman!"
"Then what is it!?" When the drag queen's eyes flicked over to them Dean winced.
"First of all, he is a man, and he dresses like that because…!" Not something he wanted to try and explain to his seven year old brother.
"I don't like the way he's looking at us."
"Well he wasn't looking at us until you had to go and open your big stupid mouth!" Dean hissed. He had a pretty bad sunburn, and sitting outside of yet another lame ass bar while their father did his thing did not improve the fact every inch of him hurt and felt raw, or the fact that he was tired, hungry, and still felt like he was in the pool. When he let his eyes close, he could feel the gentle rocking motion of it, hear the other kids laughing, splashing around while he taught Sam how to swim. It was so rare they ever ended up in a motel with a pool Dean usually had to re-teach both himself and his sibling. And now he had a sunburn for his troubles, for all he'd managed to slather Sammy in plenty of sunscreen, he'd forgotten about himself in light of Sam's impatience to just go already. Then again, Dean was feeling that same impatience. Not that he could voice it in front of Sam, or his dad. Either way he'd seriously screw up what faith his family had in him. When the queen looked their way again, taking a long drag on the cig he was holding, Dean noticed Sam watching.
Putting himself between man and boy, Dean held out his hands palm up. "C'mon," he told Sam, a slight challenge in his voice. He'd worked out how many times he could win, and how many times he had to lose to keep Sammy from being upset and pouting, along with losing his enjoyment of the game. Considering it was actually good for reflexes it was a game John encouraged. Dean just wished Sam had a little more self control, so when Dean held his hands in place, Sam wouldn't whack the hell out of them every time. It hurt after a while, and then the skin on his hands were all red and his hands stiffened up. "Missed Sammy."
"Almost got you."
"Whatever," Dean rolled his eyes. The first couple rounds he had to win, to get Sam into the game and wanting to win, then he had to lose more often than he won. Which sucked ass, considering his body's reflexes were so much better, mostly because he was older, but he also trained more.
"Deaaaan, he's staring at us again."
"Sam, shut up!" he snapped again, unable to risk them drawing more attention than two boys outside a bar ever did. 'Dad, c'mon' Dean thought, then glanced at Sam. "Want to try rock paper scissors?"
"No, I can beat you at this game!" the defiance in those eyes coupled by the curly mop of brown hair made Dean want to laugh. Instead, he just nodded seriously, tightening his lips into a flat line.
"So then pay attention!" Dean snapped. He would have rather had Sam's back to the man, but then it would leave Sam's back exposed. Dean's could be exposed without problem, and like he figured, his reflexes were better, and he'd hear anyone walking up on them. Except their dad. John always managed to walk up behind him and scare the hell out of him. But usually they laughed about it. He lightly tapped Sam's hands, and his brother growled in frustration. His eyes flicking up to watch the Drag Queen before Dean really slapped his hands.
"Ow, Dean, you meanie!"
"Pay attention! You want to get killed some day? Focus a little!" Dean was scared. He was good at the training their dad taught them, but he'd still be helpless against a fully grown man. Especially one he didn't really want to fight. And Sam's staring was not helping them out. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up on end when footsteps clicked towards them. High heels, but too heavy for a woman. Oh god.
"You got a problem?" the guy asked, smelling of stale beer and cigarettes.
"No, I'm sorry, my brother, he just…he doesn't understand. I'm sorry, we're sorry, he's not, it's, he's just a kid, he doesn't know any better," Dean whispered, his eyes wide. Sam looked at his brother, taking in Dean's fear, not realizing half of it was all put on for show. The other half was genuine, though. Tears welled up in Sam's eyes. "See, Sammy tell him you're sorry, okay?"
Sam nodded his head, eyes streaming. "Sorry," he choked out, one hand reaching out for his brother's. It'd been a long time since they'd held hands outside of Dean dragging him anywhere. Like across the street. The queen looked disconcerted, especially when a strong hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.
"Boys?"
"My fault, we said we were sorry," Dean added, refusing to say what happened. John glanced down at Sam, who was nearly crying. He'd explain it all later, because clearly Dean wasn't telling the truth. He was such a shitty liar. John wasn't sure how he was going to fix that.
"Alright," John shrugged as he released the man. "C'mon boys," he said, holding out his hand for Sam's, and letting Dean walk on his own. The motel was within walking distance, Sam had just thrown a temper tantrum about being left behind and how he wasn't sleepy and didn't want to stay in a motel with no air conditioning because it was hot. Dean hadn't seemed to care, then again he never did, just did whatever his father wanted. Whatever was best for his brother. John sighed, reaching out for Dean's hand as well. Feeling his boys' hands in his own, John smiled a little. Things'd be alright, they would.
Back at the motel, he noticed how burned his son's face was, and figured that it was entirely possible that more than his face was cherry red.
"Looks like I brought a lobster back with me," he muttered, then glanced at Sam. "Where'd I leave your brother? Some jerk tricked me and now I've got a crustacean." He knew Sam would get a kick out of the word 'crustacean' because it was one of his new vocabulary words.
Giggling, "No, it's Dean! We went out to the pool, but he didn't put sun block on." John saw Dean open his mouth to protest, defend himself, then saw it shut.
"Why didn't you put sun block on, Dean? You know better."
"I forgot."
John knuckled his forehead. "How about we go about this with the truth, huh?"
"Sam wanted to go swimming, and there wasn't time, I didn't want him to have to wait." Translation: Sam was being a pain in the ass, and I didn't have the patience to deal with it.
"So, now, what the hell happened in the parking lot, Sammy?"
"There was that weird guy there, you saw! I wanted to know why there was such an ugly woman, and Dean said that he was a man!" This time rubbing at his temples, John debated downing half a bottle of Tylenol to deal with the splitting headache he was getting. Other than the whole idea of that conversation, and Dean's probable reluctance to explain anything. He grinned.
"So, Sam. Your brother was right."
"Dean's always right," the little boy huffed.
"It's 'cause I'm older," Dean pointed out with a half grin.
"But Dean wouldn't say why."
"Well, Dean doesn't have to."
"Uh, Dean's right here," he said, raising up his hand. John just looked at him, and the hand dropped.
"But why would a guy dress like that? It's weird!"
"Dean, you wanna take this one?"
"What?!"
John chuckled. "Sam, people are just crazy, okay?" Sam nodded seriously. "They're never gonna make sense. And so that's just another person who doesn't make sense to you. God knows Dean almost never makes sense, does he?" Sam shook his head with a laugh.
He glanced over at his boy, and realized that his son was asleep, knees curled up to his chest. "Sam, you go to bed, okay? Brush your teeth, and be quiet. Practice being stealthy for me, okay?"
"What about Dean?"
"I'll handle Dean. Isn't tonight bath night? You go ahead. You don't need help, do you?"
"No way, and I'm old enough to take a shower, not a bath!"
"Alright," John chuckled, watching Sam grab his pajamas and disappear into the bathroom before he lifted Dean onto his lap. "You're getting too big for this kiddo," John muttered, slowly working Dean's shirt off to reveal bright red skin. Whistling softly in surprise, it probably hurt like a bitch. He riffled through his bag after setting Dean down again. No aloe. No lotion, even. There was a convenience store…Dean would wake up if he took the Impala, was it close enough to run? Had to be.
John got back while Sam was still in the shower. He played around, and John didn't give a damn if he wasn't paying a water bill. Smearing the aloe on Dean's skin, he was careful to let it get a little warm on his fingertips before letting it touch his son, otherwise he'd be awake in a flash. The boy's back was burned, too, but there wasn't all that much John could do about it without waking him up, and making him stay up until the stuff dried on his skin. "Sorry kiddo," John whispered to him, making a note not to leave his boys alone quite so often.
(reviews please? assuming you guys want to see more. the next one is more humourous again, I believe.)
