Fluffy chapter alert! If you are looking for another helping of angst, you might want to skip this chapter. However, if you - like me - enjoy Winchesters in glasses, I have just one thing to say: You're welcome.
My thanks to Fanpire101 for her beta reading goodness. Heal up quickly, my friend! My appreciation also to MarbleWolf and Kathy for your comments on the previous chapter.
I suspect I'm going to need another chapter or two to wrap this thing up. Should Jess and Sam stay together or break it off? I haven't entirely decided yet. Let me know what you think in the comments!
Not mine, don't own, save any remaining errors. Cross-posted at Archive of Our Own.
Sam rolled over on the uncomfortable mattress and stared at the flaking paint on the ceiling. True to his word, Dr. Moore had found Sam and Dean a place to stay. In fact, he'd actually secured them an entire basement apartment, and even paid for the first month's rent.
"It's the least I could do," he'd told the brothers, and Sam still didn't know if the man had been sincere or sarcastic. Possibly both. It was clear to Sam that Dr. Moore disliked Dean - Sam still wasn't sure exactly why. There could be an litany of reasons, unfortunately. Jess' father had chosen to put them up in a sketchy part of town away from anyone in his family's social circle. Not that Sam really minded, if he was being honest with himself. Staying in the Moores' well-apportioned home with both Jessica and Dean would have felt strange at best. At least here he could relax. Walking on eggshells at Jessica's parents' house had been exhausting.
Turning to the thorny topic of his girlfriend, Sam's brain conjured up an image of himself trying to walk across a pathway of eggs to Jess' doorstep. One by one, they cracked into goo under his oversized feet. This devolved into Sam remembering the only time he had gone out trick-or-treating with a group of kids from school. Several of them had decided it would be fun to go egging houses and Sam had gotten caught in the crossfire. When he'd finally dragged himself back to the motel, dripping egg yolk from his hair, Dean had laughed so hard that he shot soda out of his nose. Sam smiled at the memory.
He rolled to his side on the lumpy mattress. From his vantage point in the bedroom, Sam could watch Dean resting on the sofa. Between his ribs and his arm, his brother felt most comfortable sleeping upright. And the sofa, oversized and overstuffed, was actually more comfortable than this bed, not that Sam intended to tell Dean that.
Only a few hours out of the hospital and Dean was already complaining of boredom. Sam had dutifully fed him, made sure his brother took his pain medication, and put an old Western on the TV for background noise. Televised gunfire now mixed with his sibling's snoring. Sam found the familiar sounds soporific.
He had no idea how long he could keep his brother down. But, in the meantime, Sam would make sure that Dean took care of himself.
"So? What do you think?"
It was Sunday morning, and officially, Myers Optical was closed. Sam was thankful that Mr. Myers had entrusted him with a key, or else the Winchester brothers might have resorted to breaking into the joint. News of Dean's car accident had spread throughout the sleepy Oregon town. Sam had no desire to explain to his boss why Dean Winchester had pretended to be Dean Winters when he'd ordered glasses from his little brother. In Sam's opinion, the less Myers saw of Dean, the better.
Sam took a step back as his brother studied the empty optical shop through his new lenses. To the untrained observer, the older man might have appeared unaffected by the change in his eyesight. But Sam knew. He caught the slight dilation of Dean's green eyes, the quirk of his brother's lips as he fought to suppress an "o" of wonder, and the sheepish dip of his head.
Dean rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "They're okay," he muttered, taking off the pair. "But they're makin' me kinda dizzy."
"You'll need to wear them for a few hours every day, Dean. Increase the time each day until they don't make you sick," Sam lectured.
Dean glared at his brother. "That's a load of crap and you know it."
Sam rolled his eyes and leveled a pissy face at his brother. He opened his mouth to argue, but Dean beat him to it.
"Besides," Dean said, placing the new glasses inside their case with an audible snap, "I don't need these during the day, anyway. Just at night, for hunts." Before Sam could protest, Dean added, "You had me get sunglasses for driving, remember?"
Sam's eyes widened. "Let me grab those from the back."
Dean chuckled.
Sam hurried to the rear of the store and ducked behind a heavy curtain. With so few orders coming in, it wasn't hard to find Dean's prescription sunglasses. Sam found the case and, succumbing to curiosity, slipped the dark lenses over his eyes. He peered around the storeroom, barely able to make anything out in the dim light. The strength of the glasses distorted what little Sam could see and his stomach lurched unpleasantly. He took off the sunglasses and blinked his eyes to clear them.
When Sam emerged from the storeroom, he caught Dean with his new glasses back on, an open look of wonder on his face. Sam couldn't help the soft smile that graced his features. But when Dean caught him staring, his older brother's ease slid away. Dean glowered at Sam as he shoved the glasses back into their case.
"Dude," Sam chided, handing Dean the small box containing his new sunglasses. "Chill out. You look fine."
His older brother struggled to pop the case open one-handed. Once he'd slid the sunglasses on, Dean frowned. "Damn, these are dark." He groped his way toward the windows, cursing when the sling protecting his right arm jostled against a swiveling rack of colorful kids' frames. Sam nabbed him by the opposite elbow and steered him toward the front of the store.
Standing beneath the blue awning just outside the door, Sam watched his brother lift the sunglasses up, only to replace them moments later and lift them up again.
Dean shrugged his left shoulder when he caught Sam studying him. "Yeah, these might come in handy." He took the sunglasses off.
"Dean." Sam waited until his big brother's wandering eyes met his own. "You don't have to pretend this isn't a big deal. I know how much you need them. I saw your prescription."
Dean scowled. "What're you sayin', Sammy? That I'm blind as a bat without 'em?" Dean put his new glasses back on with a flair. "What would you know anyway? They're just numbers on a piece of paper."
The younger Winchester rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Dean, I know what I'm talking about."
His brother lifted his eyebrows gingerly, due to the dual chains of stitches on his forehead. He still managed to convey a healthy dose of skepticism.
"I work in an optical shop!"
Dean simply stared at him.
"All right, fine." Sam sighed. He fidgeted in place as he ran his fingers through his long hair. "You're about a diopter more nearsighted than I am and I can't imagine trying to drive or hunt without my glasses." Sam's cheeks pinked at this admission.
"Since when do you need glasses?" Dean sounded both surprised and defensive.
Sam shrugged and answered calmly. "Since I got to Stanford and couldn't read the board in one of my classes." At Dean's incredulous look, he clarified, "I don't wear 'em much. But I would if I was driving. Or hunting."
Dean tutted at this. "Lemme get this straight. You're standin' here, lecturing me about wearin' glasses when you won't even wear your own?"
"Yes, but—"
"But what?"
"I don't really need them!" Sam could not, for the life of him, figure out how this conversation had gotten turned around on him.
"Only when you're reading the board, or driving, or hunting, or - I don't know - seeing in general?" Dean smirked.
"This isn't about me!" Sam all but yelled.
Dean lifted his uninjured shoulder. "Maybe it should be."
"You're an ass, you know that?"
"Show me."
"Show you what?"
"Your glasses."
"Dean, this is ridiculous." Sam looked away and ducked back into the optical shop. "I don't have even have them on me." He turned back to glare at his brother. "Because, like I said, I don't need them!" He stomped through the entrance.
"Sam." Dean snagged his brother by the arm before he stormed away. "I may look stupid in these," he gestured at his face, "but I'm not an idiot. You're the most anal person I know. You've got 'em stashed around here someplace."
Sam huffed. He wanted to argue the point. I'm not that predictable! I've changed a lot in three years!
But in the face of Dean's amused smirk, Sam gave a resigned sigh and headed back to the storeroom. To be honest, he felt a twinge of fondness at just how well his brother knew him. Finding his jacket, Sam pulled out his own wire framed glasses from the front pocket and carried them back out to Dean.
"Here."
Dean took the proffered lenses and replaced his glasses with Sam's. Glancing about the store, he raised an eyebrow.
"Huh. You sure these things are prescription?"
Sam plucked the glasses from Dean's nose and tucked them into his pocket. "Yes. They just aren't very strong, like I said."
"Put 'em on," Dean ordered.
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
Dean scrubbed his free hand down the back of his head, put his new glasses back on, and gestured at his face. "So I don't feel like an idiot here."
Sam felt a tug at his heart. He had known that Dean would feel embarrassed about needing glasses; it was the Winchester way, after all. But hearing him admit it aloud had Sam fumbling for his own specs and putting them on with a practiced hand.
"Happy?" he spat back at his brother, careful to conceal the tenderness he felt.
"Yep," Dean replied. He smiled at their reflected faces in one of the many mirrors around the optical shop. Sam's delicate gold rimmed oval frames contrasted with Dean's sturdier titanium pair of square-shaped lenses. Dean threw his good arm around his younger brother. "You're still nerdier than I am."
The younger man's expression contorted into a classic Sam Winchester bitch face. "Four-eyed jerk."
Dean smiled fondly and ruffled his brother's hair. "Bespectacled bitch."
A/N: This entire chapter was influenced by Short-Sighted by Charli.