Chapter 13 - The Winchesters

He's pacing across the floor, most likely running down the soles of his boots on the concrete, but Daryl pays it no mind as his head remains preoccupied with other thoughts.

The garage is empty at the moment, the Dixon not having gotten much customers over the past month or so, but that hadn't bothered him too much since it's only been him at the garage and he's been busy with a rather important project, the Impala looking a whole better than it had been a month ago. Daryl still has a few more issues he needs to fix before she's running smoothly again, but he's unable to keep his mind on his task, the owner of the Impala invading his thoughts.

Dean hasn't shown. At all.

Ever since the Winchester had the Impala brought over to his garage, the younger man has been here every single day. Sure, Dean's arrival time varied a little, sometimes arriving early in the morning, other times at noon, but never after one and it's already late in the afternoon, the Winchester still a no show.

Needless to say the absence of the younger man has Daryl wearing down a ditch into the floor, the older man catching himself as he forces his feet to stop moving. This wouldn't be bothering him so much if Dean would at least pick up his phone, but even that is being neglected by the Winchester.

The Dixon purses his lips and glances over at the Impala again before making up his mind. Turning on his heels, Daryl marches over to his bike and gets on. He starts it and kicks back the stand before he's pulling out into the street.

"I thought you would be happy getting that thing off your arm," Sam comments as he puts the car into park.

His older brother's insistence that he's fine and that they could do it another day had been odd, even for Dean. All the older Winchester had done the past few months had been complain about the cast each time he got home, but on the day he can take it off, Dean doesn't want to, instead telling him to go to the library to finish his studies.

If Sam didn't know his brother, he would say he's sulking. The man's lips are pressed into a firm line, a pout settling in. Not that Dean doesn't have naturally pouty lips, but they're pushed out in what people would call "duck lips."

Deans arms are crossed over his chest, knees bumping into the dashboard with how low he's slouching in the passenger seat, "I am happy."

Sam stares at his brother for a few seconds. "Yeah, you sure paint the picture," he says while stepping out of the car. "I'm hungry," he pauses, stooping down to glance into the car at Dean, who has yet to move.

The words do make the older Winchester stir, pout still present on his face as he grips the car handle with the tip of his fingers and shoulders the door open, "What do you want?"

Before Sam could answer, the sound of a motorcycle approaching interrupts him.

Dean tears his gaze away from Sam, green eyes landing on Daryl on his bike. His lips part slightly, rounding the car so that he's standing next to Sam who has also turned around to face the road.

"Isn't that the guy from the other..." Sam trails off, Dean already moving away from him to meet Daryl. "...day," he finishes, now sporting his own pout as his shoulders drop in defeat. "Don't forget I'm hungry," Sam mutters under his breath as he watches his brother approach the biker.

Daryl sets down one foot on the pavement as he rolls to a stop, turning off his bike and staying seated on it as Dean meets him half-way.

"Hey," the Dixon nods in greeting, glancing over the Winchester before meeting his eyes.

"Hey-" Dean returns before he's looking over Daryl with curious eyes. "Everything ok?" he asks, not sure why the other man has shown up at their doorstep.

The older man stares up at Dean for a moment before he's glancing away and nodding, "Yeah, it is now." He gestures at the younger man's arm, "Ya got it off?"

Dean glances down at his cast-free arm before he returns his attention to the Dixon. "Yeah, still can't do much, but it feels better off," he flexes his fingers as if showing them to Daryl before the curiosity gets the better of him again. "What are you doing here?"

Daryl purses his lips, looking as if he's contemplating his next words before he speaks them, his hand coming up so that he can chew on his thumb, "Ya wouldn't believe me if I told ya I was just in the neighborhood and decided to drop by, right?"

A smile splits across the older Winchester's face. "Really?" he asks, pulling his phone out from his pocket to wave it in the air in front of Daryl. "Sam says my phone was going crazy with some Daryl trying to contact me."

The color drains from Daryl's face before he's shrugging, offering Dean a sheepish smile, "You should listen to yer brother. Your phone is crazy." He glances past the older Winchester towards Sam when he says that, catching the younger Winchester's curious gaze before Sam looks away and pretends to be searching for the keys to the house. Daryl returns his attention to Dean, wary eyes glancing up at the older Winchester but not holding his gaze, "Ya didn't show. Just… didn't sit right with me."

A chuckle escapes Dean's lips. "You were worried. I have to say, you don't act like the type," he smiles, tongue darting out to lick his lips. "Thanks."

Daryl snorts in response, waving off Dean's gratitude as he leans forward to rest his arms over the handlebars, a grin spreading across his features, "Too quiet today. Didn't have ya bitchin' in my ear to be careful with yer baby."

Dean brows furrow, solemn expression settling his features, "You were gentle with her, right?"

The older man's grin morphs into a shit eating one, eyes glinting with amusement, "Ain't telling. Yer the one who left 'er alone today. Can't blame 'er if she won't start for ya tomorrow." With that comment, the older man pulls the Impala's keys out of his back pocket and tosses them at the Winchester. "Got 'er as good as she can be right now. Just need to take 'er for a spin and see if we gotta work on anything else."

Glancing down at the keys on his hands, Dean can't help but smile before he looks up at Daryl. It feels like forever since he has been able to drive her. As much as losing his father hurt, he's glad to have the Impala back.

Before Dean could say anything, Sam's voice interrupts him.

"Dean," the younger Winchester calls out.

The older brother looks over his shoulder, catching sight of Sam standing by the doorway and rubbing his stomach in clear indication that he wants food. He can't blame him, they were in the hospital for hours. He's starving as well. Though Dean can't help but wonder how truly spoiled Sam is. The kid had been living alone in college, surely he should know how to make something.

"Give me a minute!" Dean calls out to Sam before he's looking back at Daryl. "I'm about to make something for Sam," he starts, shifting on his feet and playing with the keys in his hand, as if he's having trouble forming his next words. "Do you want to… join us?"

Daryl glances past Dean at Sam again, pursing his lips before he leans back on his bike, "Don't wanna be a bother."

"It's not a bother. I'll make something quick," Dean assures while taking a few tentative steps back, waiting for Daryl's response before he heads inside.

The Dixon brings his hand back to his mouth to nibble on his thumb again, looking as if he doesn't know what to say, "Yer brother won't mind?"

"Princess buttercup will be fine," Dean dismisses, turning around to head in. "Come on."

At that, Daryl hops off his bike and follows Dean up to the house, hesitating at the doorway before he steels himself and steps inside only to linger at the entrance. He's filthy, every inch of exposed skin covered in dirt, grease, and oil from working at the garage and for the first time in a long time the Dixon is self-conscious of his messy appearance. Sweaty hair in knots that stick to his forehead, the holes in his jeans that expose his knees, and his sleeveless shirt that he literally tore the sleeves off himself.

It almost feels as if every step Daryl takes will just ruin the place, the tidy little house fitting of the two well-kept looking brothers. It's actually much cleaner than anything Merle and him had lived in and the thought of his brother makes taking another step further that much harder, the doorway becoming his permanent standing spot as he lingers there awkwardly.

Sam lingers by the couch, silent as he waits for Dean to reappear from the room he had ducked into. He doesn't know who this stranger is, much less why Dean just disappeared on him.

"Um, hi," the younger Winchester tries with a wave of his hand.

The motion seems to catch Daryl off guard as his attention turns to Sam. He shifts his weight from one leg to the next before he nods at the younger man, "Hey."

"I would offer a place to sit but," Sam smiles sheepishly, shifting his eyes away from Daryl. "Dean would have my head if the place gets dirty."

The Dixon nods, "Nah, it's fine. I get it." If he could, Daryl is sure he would have crawled out of his skin by now. Of course he's filthy. If it were him, he also wouldn't want him sitting anywhere. There is no way in hell he's sitting at that table either. The Dixon gestures out the door, "I'mma, uh, I'mma just go. Tell Dean thanks."

"But you didn't eat yet," Dean's voice is heard from the hallway before he appears with clothes folded in his hands. "Bathrooms that way," he points, handing the older man the clothes. "I missed having two hands," the older Winchester comments to himself.

The Dixon offers Dean a small smile before he takes the offered clothes, "Thanks."

At Dean's nod, Daryl slips past him and heads towards where the younger man indicated, finding the bathroom with ease. Once inside, the Dixon can't help but fall back against the door, releasing a shaky breath. The way his stomach flips makes him wonder if he'll be able to eat anything, but for Dean's cooking he supposes he'll just have to.

Stripping off his filthy clothes, he tosses them into a pile before stepping into the shower, the thought that this is the shower Dean uses hitting him out of nowhere. He shakes his head, doing his best to keep that strange thought away as he turns the handle and lets the water cascade down his tense body.

If Daryl is being totally honest with himself, he has no idea why he's here, in Dean's house, much less in the man's shower. This is a first for him, the older man deciding he's just doing this to humor the Winchester. The guy is going through alot right now, the least Daryl can do is take a much needed shower and eat the guy's food. Then tomorrow they'll take a test drive in the Impala and if everything is good to go, his job will be done. The Dixon ignores the way that thought makes his heart sink, reasoning it's just the feeling of that beautiful Impala leaving his garage. It hopefully never ends up in another garage again.

Daryl glances over the shampoo's in the shower, a particular one standing out to him as he picks it up, the scent of spice and pine familiar to him from the many times he has caught it off of Dean. Not dwelling on just why he's noticed that, Daryl washes his hair and his body before he shuts the shower off and steps out. The towel is soft against his skin, the older man enjoying the feel of it before he's slipping on the clothes Dean had provided for him. They're a good fit, the shirt fitting him a little tight across his chest but it will do, the jeans pooling around his ankles a little pulling a snort out of the older man. The brothers are giants compared to him.

Glancing over at his own filthy clothes, Daryl's not sure if he should just leave them there, but he decides on getting a bag from Dean first as he steps out of the bathroom, his long wet hair sticking to his skin and dripping into his shirt. The older man steps into the hall, hesitating for a moment before he peeks around the corner, searching for the brothers.

Dean is in the kitchen, one earphone in his ear as the other dangles on his chest, swaying back and forth as the older Winchester rocks with the beat. He mouths the words now and then, attention set on the food he's preparing.

Daryl's bare feet barely make a sound as he moves towards the kitchen, the corner of his lips quirking up into a smile at the sight of Dean grooving away as he works around the kitchen. Before he knows it, the Dixon is at the doorway, attention solely on the younger man and unable to look away as his smile widens.

Sam is nowhere to be seen, not until he appears behind Daryl. When Sam clears his throat and the older man turns around to face him, the younger Winchester holds out his hand, "Sam Winchester. Nice to meet you."

Sam had might as well ripped Daryl's heart out his chest with how hard his heart is beating, the older man barely hearing what Sam is saying with how loud his heart beats in his ears. Fuck, the kid caught him staring.

"Da-" he cuts himself off when his voice comes out rough and he clears his throat before he attempts again. "Daryl," he finishes, taking Sam's hand. "Nice to meet ya too."

The smile on Sam's face does not falter, not even when he releases the other man's hand. If anything, it gets wider.

Sam eyes his brother, whose back is facing them before he returns his gaze to Daryl. "So, how do you two know each other?" the younger Winchester inquires as he walks towards the table and pulls a chair out before indicating for Daryl to sit as well.

Daryl glances over his shoulder at Dean before he's taking the offered seat, his hands sitting awkwardly on his lap. "I'm fixing the Impala. I'm a mechanic," he adds and curses himself mentally at that, as if Sam won't be able to deduce that fact himself.

"Oh," Sam blinks, surprise clear on his face. "I didn't know my brother was fixing the Impala. Surprised he even let you lay a finger on her without watching your every move," he comments with a chuckle. "He won't even let me drive it, much less let someone else fix it. How's it coming along?"

"Oh, yeah?" Daryl questions, his turn to be surprised at Sam's revelation. He knows Dean has an attachment to the Impala, but the way the older Winchester talks about his brother would make anyone think Dean lives for the guy. To hear that Sam isn't allowed to drive it is news to him, the younger Winchester's other comment earning a raised brow from Daryl. "He couldn't with his broken arm," the Dixon offers as an explanation. "Finished 'er today. Just gotta take 'er on a test drive."

Sam nods. "I'm honestly glad you fixed it," he admits, hazel eyes turning to his brother. "He… he hasn't been the same since our father passed away… and maybe having the Impala back will help." Sam returns his attention to Daryl. "Thanks. I know it was a wreck when you got it." The younger Winchester remembers the state the Impala had been in. Bobby had said there was nothing that could be saved, but leave it to Dean to never give up on anyone, or anything it seems. "Thanks."

"My condolences," the older man offers, receiving an acknowledging nod from the younger Winchester. "The Impala belonged to yer father, didn't it?" Daryl inquires, keeping his voice low so that the conversation stays between him and Sam as he rests his elbows on the table and leans forward. "I could tell that Dean...he really pushed hard to get 'er fixed. Least I could do was give him a hand with it."

"He wouldn't have it any other way," Sam agrees, playing with his fingers over the table. "That's why I'm really glad you were able to put it back together. That'll make him really happy." A fond smile makes its way across the younger Winchester's features as he glances over at his brother again.

Daryl nods, gaze falling to his own hands, "That's...that's good. Really hope it stays that way. I mean, I know things will never be the same but…" the Dixon shrugs, trying to keep his thoughts in order. "...but at least yer both here and ya got each other." And really, Daryl has only known Sam for what must be a total of only twenty minutes now but he can already tell the younger Winchester cares about his brother just as much as Dean does him. "And the Impala," he adds with another shrug. Because that's the only reason the Dixon is here, after all. There is no other reason and as Daryl glances up to meet Sam's eyes, he hopes that fact is all the younger Winchester picks up on.

Sam is looking at Daryl hard, as if he can read what the man is thinking. Thin lips part, but he shakes his head as if changing what he wants to tell Daryl. "Yeah," Sam agrees, his gaze moving from Daryl down to his fingers again. "That's all we have…"

There is a click of a bowl being set down on the table next to Daryl as Dean places one there, both earphones tucked into his pocket. "Meat's almost done. Just five more minutes," he informs them, stepping away to head towards the kitchen again.

"Don't let it burn like last time," Sam calls over at his brother, a dimpled grin on his face when he sees his brother look back at him with a pointed look.

"Bitch."

"Jerk," Sam replies without missing a beat, the smile on his face growing even wider. Hazel eyes return to Daryl, "Smells good," he comments, reaching over towards the bowl.

"Sammy," Dean's warning tone is heard from the kitchen, not having to look back at Sam to know that his younger brother had been reaching for the bowl.

The younger Winchester rolls his eyes as he lets himself fall back in his set. "It's Sam," he corrects, gaze returning to Daryl, catching the amused glint in his blue eyes and the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

At having Sam's attention again, the Dixon lets his smile drop as he clears his throat, "Looks good too." He pushes the bowl towards the center of the table, closer to the younger Winchester.

"You just want me to get in trouble," Sam laughs.

"I would say he does," Dean comments as he places the plates on the table along with the utensils, his gaze fixed on the older man.

Daryl glances up at Dean, meeting his gaze before a grin finds it's way on his features, "Nah, just bein' a helpful guest, is all."

Dean offers him a smirk before he make his away towards the kitchen again. "Lucky for you, meat's done," he proclaims, sliding the meat from the pan to a rather large plate.

When Dean places down the plate, Sam's mouth waters at the smell, eyes practically tasting it as well. He glances up at his older brother, as if waiting for permission.

"Go right ahead, vacuum," Dean snorts, gesturing towards the food with a wave of his hand as he sits down next to Sam, across from Daryl.

"Look who's talking," Sam retorts, but that does not stop him from serving himself.

Daryl's attention is on the older Winchester, gaze lingering a little too long on him before he's tearing it away in favor of focusing on the food. It really does look good and the taste is beyond anything the older man could have scavenged for himself, appreciation on the tip of his tongue as he nods at Dean his compliments to the chef.

The Dixon can watch the brothers interact for the rest of the night if they let him, the food just another incentive to make him stay. It's just too bad that this is only a one time deal and by tomorrow, Dean Winchester will be out of his life.

Daryl does his best to convince himself that it's for the better.