- 7 hours later

"Sam." Dean said as he flipped open his phone to stop the ringing that had ripped him from his comfortable unconscious. He'd spent the majority of the night pacing so had only gotten only a few hours rest. He mentally cursed Sam for being such a naturally early riser.

"Has he called?" Sam sounded guilty like he blamed himself for John storming out and Dean knew that his boyfriend was taking the blame that didn't belong to him.

The elder boy sighed and ran a hand over his weary features,"No, not yet. I don't even know where he's gone."

Sam was silent for a moment before whispering,"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, Sammy. I had to come out sooner or later anyway." He tried to comfort his boyfriend but knew he was doing a poor job of it.

The emptiness of the room seemed wrong even though he'd grown accustomed to living alone most the time. The usual silence that normally offered privacy now weighed on his shoulders, heavy with regret. He knew that John wouldn't react well to him coming out since he was kind of homophobic. His shoulders slumped.

"I'd offer to come over but I don't want him to turn up while I'm there and for everything to be made worse for you." Sam was quiet as he spoke almost as though he'd regained some of his shyness that had melted away over the last few weeks.

"Yeah. You're probably right."

"I'll get off the phone... You know, in case he calls. I'm here if you need anything though." Gently, Sam comforted the other.

"Thanks, Sammy." He answered before hesitating slightly. He may have been shaken but it certainly didn't change how he felt about Sam and he wanted to remind the awkward boy of that, "I... I-I love you, Sam."

There was silence on the other end of the line causing panic to invade Dean's mind until a quiet, awe struck voice replied, "I love you too."

The Winchester couldn't help the smile that spread across his lips. He had really grown to like and even love Sam. Every time they spent time together, his feelings towards the awkward teenager just grew stronger and stronger. He just hoped that Sam really felt the same way.

The call was disconnected leaving Dean alone to wallow in the silence for longer. He groaned to himself and flopped back down onto the mattress which squeaked beneath his weight. He couldn't believe he was saying this but he was looking forward to having his dad home.

He must have fallen back to sleep as the sound of his phone ringing pulled him into reality several hours later. Within giving himself even a second to adjust he pulled the cell phone to his ear.

"Dad?!"

"Nah. Sorry, son." Bobby's gruff voice was both a comfort and a disappointment. Sympathy carried in his tone.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah. I just done talkin' in your idjit father." The disapproval was almost tangible.

Shame washed over the young man, "I'm sorry, Bobby. I should have told you. I didn't mean-"

"Will ya shut up for a minute?!" He interrupted.

Dean allowed the silence to answer the old man's question that yes he could shut up and listen.

"Good. Like I said, I done talkin' with John and I wanted to say that I'm proud of you, boy. It takes a lotta guts to come out to someone especially when they're a stubborn old hunter who's set in his ways." Bobby said kindly. "Your old man will come around sooner or later. I had a few choice words to say to him so hopefully that'll kick him into gear."

"Bobby... I-I..." He was speechless. He never expected such a warm reaction from the old man.

"Don't mention it. You're a good boy, son, and this don't change that. You're his son. He just needs to realise that's more important than anythin' else."

"Thanks, Bobby." He felt like crying. The hunter had been more of a father figure throughout his whole life then his real father had ever managed. He felt lucky to have someone like his uncle Bobby there to support him.

"Call me soon. Okay, son?" He asked gently.

"Sure. Of course." Dean agreed without hesitation. He'd do anything for the old man.

Dean flopped back onto the bed and rubbed his eyes to relieve the sleep that had collected there. Despite his father's reaction, Dean really wanted the older hunter at the motel with him. Just knowing that John had taken it badly caused his gut to twist painfully. He glanced at the clock. When would he return?

- 2 hours later

The house wasn't extortionately large but the building was definitely bigger than most of the others on the long street. Dean felt slightly uncomfortable as he stood in front of the house just staring up at it. He wasn't used to being in an area like this, where stabbings were rare and there weren't drug dealers occupying every street corner. The house was pale and looked plain, almost unbearably so. It was much nicer than anywhere that Dean had ever stayed with his dad. The reminder of his father stung slightly but he convinced himself to go on.

He walked up the small pathway that had perfectly trimmed grass on either side. It almost felt like trespassing as he stepped up the steps towards the large door. With a swift ring of the bell, Dean stood by the entrance awkwardly, unsure of what to expect. The duffle bag slung on his shoulder seemed to double in weight as he stood in silence.

Despite it feeling like hours to the teenager, it took merely seconds for the door to be pulled away revealing a brown haired woman in her late forties. She had a weak prepared smile on her lips but was obviously shocked to see a youth lurking in her doorway. Dean suddenly realised that he must have looked a mess as a result of his lack of sleep, food and general hygiene. They haven't been his main priorities at the moment.

"Hello. Can I help you?" She asked politely. She had Sam's eyes and strong bone structure but her eyes were slightly sunken into her head and dark rings were under her eyes.

"Um, hi. I'm here to see Sam?" He shifted under her unwavering scrutiny.

Mrs Wesson's eyes, which lacked any form of spark, scanned over his body at the creased jeans and leather jacket. He knew that he probably smelt like gun powder and whiskey which didn't help with first impressions. For some reason, Dean had assumed that Sam would answer the door. His boyfriend probably would have if he'd warned him of his impending arrival. He suddenly realised that turning up on someone's doorstep unannounced probably isn't the best idea.

"And you are?" Her smile remained steady but didn't reach her eyes. Dean was obviously not who she'd been expecting behind the door nor was Dean the kind of boy she really wanted Sam to be around.

"Oh, sorry. I'm Dean. Dean Winchester."

Her eyebrows rose almost unnoticeably, "You're Dean Winchester? I've heard so much about you," Her voice sounded marginally more relaxed but she was still being wary; almost as though she was getting ready to run at any second, "Come in. I'll call Samuel."

Dean stepped through the door way and into the house. It almost took his breath away. Everything was perfect; nothing was out of place. The white carpet had a virgin softness to it and was like a blanket of snow in it's perfection. There was no dirt, stains or marks on it unlike every motel Dean had ever stayed in.

"I hope you don't mind..." She gestured to his feet nervously.

Looking down, he could see dried dirt clumped to his heavy work boots. Instantly, he understood what she was suggesting. The young man slipped off the boots and placed them along the wall beside a pair that looked like they belonged to Mrs Wesson as they were small peach pumps with white bows on the front. He didn't remember Sam ever mentioning a sister either. The shoes appeared to be organised into size order so Dean knew that next time he saw the boots they'll be placed somewhere else in the row of four.

She smiled, even though Dean had created small flakes of mud on her carpet(imperfections in this perfect world), and led the way through to a showroom perfect living room. Pale couches lined the room facing a large TV which sat high on the wall. Cushions were distributed evenly across the practically new looking furniture. It looked practically unlived in.

"Please, take a seat. I'll go and fetch Samuel." She smiled again but this time it was slightly stronger. Dean knew, without being told, that she was house proud or at least spent a lot of time keeping it a certain way.

He gingerly sat on the very edge of the seat; his ass feeling unworthy. She was leaving the room when he spoke to her, effectively stopping the woman's exit, "You have a beautiful home."

The pride in her eyes shone and Dean knew that he'd hit gold with that compliment. A perfectionist's dream. The smile that stretched across her pearly white teeth showed her pleasure, "Thank you." She quickly bustled out of the room leaving Dean alone.

His eyes scanned the dustless furniture and perfectly straight pictures. He wondered if Sam had felt uncomfortable in Dean's motel as it was such a contrast to his own home. Although, Sam hadn't mentioned anything and hadn't acted disgusted.

It was only a few minutes later that Mrs Wesson returned with Sam obediently in tow. Dark circles decorated the area beneath his eyes and he probably looked even worse than Dean himself. The word Zombie floated to the front of Dean's mind as he looked up at his boyfriend. Despite that, everything else about him was perfect; his mother's influence, Dean supposed. His usually ruffled hair was neatly combed back, his t-shirt was clearly freshly ironed and his trousers didn't have a single crease. He wondered how Sam could cope being under the control of his mother like that.

"Dean?" Sam asked, eyebrows rising upon seeing the man. He hadn't been expecting this. The tall boy suddenly seemed nervous and shifted uncomfortably as if he was embarrassed.

Dean stood. He had no idea why he stood but it felt like the right thing to do in such a formal household.

"Why didn't you say it was just Dean?" Sam looked over to his mother curiously but with sympathy in his eyes,

A frown creased her brow and the two Wessons silently communicated. The look obviously meant something to Sam as he swallowed and nodded while keeping his eyes downcast on the floor.

"Thank you, mom." He muttered quietly.

He looked up at Dean to speak with him but at the same time, placed a gentle hand on his mother's arm, "Do you want to come upstairs?"

Dean nodded so Sam gestured in the direction of the stairs allowing Dean to lead the way. The tall boy went to follow when his mom grabbed his arm as though he were a life raft. She pleaded with her eyes and no words were needed. Sam gave a soft smile to her.

"It's okay."

Whispering so Dean couldn't hear Mrs Wesson muttered, "He won't be happy."

"He doesn't need to know." Sam reassured the fragile looking woman and slowly she uncurled her hand from him.

The tall boy picked up the pace then, leading them up the stairs and too his bedroom.

Dean hadn't really thought about what Sam's room would look like but now he saw it he could truly say that it fit him perfectly. It wasn't a large room but it seemed to have whatever Sam needed.

A model replica of the solar system hung from the ceiling above the single bed that was pushed up against the far wall. Some people would probably say that such things were childish but he could imagine Sam lying beneath it at night, reciting the planets and suddenly he loved those little styrofoam balls more than anything. Pens and pencils sat in pots that, upon closer inspection, were actually glass beakers that would usually be found in a laboratory rather than a teenagers bedroom. Those beakers were lined up perfectly on the desk that stood neatly across from the bed. A selection of textbooks and one notepad were open on the small desk obviously from where Sam had been studying, or at least trying to, only moments before.

A poster was pinned to the wall directly above the desk. It was probably supposed to be humorous but Dean didn't really understand it. It was making a joke about Pi as in the mathematical term but that wasn't the kind of pie that Dean was interested in.

Aside from those small features and the large bookcase that had heavy looking textbooks, the room was pretty much identical from the rest of the house. The White walls, carpets and ceiling carried through to Sam's room. No clothes, bags or general rubbish littered the floor. It was like the perfect bedroom that you'd see on badly set Tv sitcoms where the set was practically empty and thoroughly unrealistic. Dean instantly felt bad for Sam, always living under his mother's obsession.

Sam coughed awkwardly and gestured to the room, "Make yourself at home."

Trying to act as natural as he could, Dean strode over to the bed and rested up against the headboard with his legs stretched out on the periodic table duvet cover. He wanted to laugh at Sam's geekiness but was starting to think that Sam's home life wasn't as easy as he had originally expected. Not that Sam spoke about his home much. Come to think of it, Sam almost always wriggled out of any questions about his home or parents. Dean frowned.

Sam settled himself down on the chair that was tucked under the desk. The awkward silence surrounded them making Dean wonder if he was actually welcome here.

"Has he called?" Sam asked quietly, obviously still feeling guilty. He peered up at Dean through his brown hair that had fallen in front of his hazel eyes. The older boy had to resist the urge to get up and push the strands behind his ears.

"No, not yet... But my uncle Bobby called." Sam seemed to lean his head in concentration, an adorable habit of his, "He said that he spoke to dad so hopefully he'll come around soon."

"I hope he does." Sam whispered.

"It's not your fault, Sammy." He said sternly, "I needed to come out to him anyway. Plus, Bobby said that he'll probably just need sometime."

Sam peered into Dean's green eyes as if he were desperately searching for some truth in his statement. Like he was looking for reassurance there. He sighed lightly and rolled his chair closer to the bed giving the illusion of intimacy but Sam knew better than to go any further with Dean. Not here, not under this roof.

The shorter man smiled at his boyfriend and had to fight the urge to lean forward and kiss his soft pink lips. Sam could see the desire on Dean's face so moved back slightly to try and make it easier. Not here, he thought desperately.

The boys both jumped guiltily as the bedroom door swing open suddenly. Sam's mother stood in the doorway looking flustered and mildly panicked. She swallowed and looked from Sam to Dean and back again. Almost as though she was assessing the situation.

"Your father will be home in a few hours." She muttered. Dean thought, for a confused second, that she was talking about John but that would be impossible. She didn't even know him.

Sam immediately stood and his eyes shot around the room desperately. Dean frowned in confusion and carefully watched his boyfriend's actions. Sam's eyes stopped on the shorter man and a weak apologetic smile spread onto his thin lips.

Dean shifted uncomfortably under his partner's worried expression.

"Maybe it's best for you to wait for your dad at home? You know, in case he comes back soon?" Sam spoke carefully as he ran his fingers through his long brown hair, a nervous action. Dean, upon recognising his partner's tell, raised an eyebrow curiously.

Nodding slowly, Dean collected his things as confusion wrapped around him. He nodded as Sam spoke but wasn't taking in the words. His mind was too busy rifling through the muddled information. Sam very rarely mentioned his father and Dean had deduced that he worked away a lot. He hadn't really thought to ask much beyond that.

What is it with fathers these days? Dean asked himself as Sam led him to the door quickly. The tall, lanky boy's actions had become skittish and jerky. He nibbled his lip as Dean asked when they could meet up again. Sam waved the question off with a vague answer.

Before he knew it, Dean was out on the steps of the perfect house with it's perfect lawn and perfect son. Glancing around quickly, Sam took in their surroundings before pulling Dean up onto his tip toes to kiss him. The kiss was chaste but conveyed the passion that Sam was too scared to voice under the Wesson Roof. The shorter boy briefly wondered whether his own coming out would put Sam off telling his parents since John had reacted so negatively.

They broke the kiss and Sam blushed shyly as Dean grinned like a dork. He loved it when Sam initiated kisses or intimate contact because it proved that despite his shyness, Sam really did love being with Dean.

"I'll see you later." Sam's blush just kept increasing.

"Promise?" Dean asked.

Without hesitation, "Promise."