A/N:
Wow … this gets a whole lot longer than I expected …
For "Nintendo and PlayStation" are Charlie's siblings … I didn't choose to use X-Box like in the series, because, the apocalypse happened, so there was no X-Box.
Chapter 27 ~ United We Stand
2 days, 21 hours and 36 minutes later …
… nothing had changed.
Sam was either staring, or sleeping.
Dean had tried – after losing his temper, because so help him god, this was not how Sam was supposed to go down – to force-feed him oatmeal.
Now Dean Winchester had a nicely bruised eye, which somehow flattered his forest-green irises, and oatmeal everywhere, but not in Sam's stomach.
To his defense, he should have seen it coming. Sam was a hunter, stubborn and strong-willed, and you were not supposed to force someone to do something they weren't in the mood for.
After leaving his room, getting cleaned up, his eye cooled (and earning a curious – slightly amused side-glance from his dad), he went back to Sam, and sat down in the chair beside the bed.
He sat there and stared at Sam, while Sam kept staring somewhere else but not him.
"You know … you're right. I'm a Jerk. – But you know what? That makes you a bitch. – So, we're equals?" Dean sucked in his lower lip and chewed on it. "And honestly … you're a pain in the ass."
He sighed deeply. "You should know – by now – that you got away. There's no chains. No demon. There's … just us. Me and Bobby." Dean cast his look into his lap. "We're trying, Sammy. – You could at least … talk."
"Don't bother." Sam said, barely audible, so silent, "I won't fall for you. No matter what you try. What you look like. I won't." Sam swallowed. "It doesn't work on me anymore. – I'm not giving in. Not this time. Not ever again. – So …" Sam blinked, then looked Dean square in the face, "… You can save yourself a lot of time and kill me. – Or, if it pleases you more, you can watch me die." He cast his look back at the far wall, staring, "And there is nothing you can do about it. No more messing around."
This was quite a speech – More than Dean had hoped for – and exactly what he had feared to hear.
Instead of saying something, Dean leaned forward and reached out to Sam, took his hand and squeezed it gently.
"Give it time, okay? – Try. At least try and believe that I'm me and that I'm real. That Bobby's real. We're no hallucinations – or whatever you think we are.", Dean said calmly.
"That's what the other Dean told me too." Sam's words drove an icy chill down Dean's spine and into his every fiber.
~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~
When Dean left the room, he was downright furious at the Hallu-Dean, who truly DARED to use his very words to get Sam to crawl out from the hole he was hiding in.
He practically wrecked every not-fixed-to-something piece of furniture and object in the map's room, causing mayhem and destruction in every physical way possible, to everything that came in his way.
"Dean. Stop it!", Charlie was hot on his heels, when he made his way to where her laptop and the tablet were sitting on the table. "Dude!", she wrapped her petite fingers around his bicep and yanked at him, to get him to a hold, before he'd smash her precious little baby. "Calm down!"
Dean huffed out angry breaths through his nose, chest heaving, nostrils flaring, green eyes burning – gleaming when angelic blue mingled into them.
"We can't fix anything.". Dean ground out frantically, "I can't fix him. – He won't ease up. Won't give in. Not an inch."
Charlie tugged at his bicep to make him look at her. "I don't know Sam. – Not in the slightest. But. Maybe you shouldn't push? Maybe it's better to … you know … wiggle into it … channel him? Something like that?.", she said calmly, with a reassuring smile.
"Charlie. I can't. – He's … He's not listening." Dean shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't MAKE HIM listen."
"Maybe he's not listening, because Asmohole was talking crap.", she rose both eyebrows. "Why don't you try to not talk. But show him?"
Dean thought about the suggestion. About the channeling. About wiggling into it …
"Besides, I can't have you running around the bunker and smash my baby-bro." She gestured towards her self-made laptop on the table. "You know I don't take it well, when you hurt my siblings."
Dean gave her a look. "It's a laptop, Charlene.", he grumbled, slowly coming down from his terminator-high.
"It is. Just like my Nintendo and PlayStation." She gave him a dreamy smile.
Dean shook his head. "You're not even playing with them."
"Because – once the apocalypse is over, I'm gonna sell them on eBay." She beamed at him. "Pre-apocalyptic stuff is gonna be sought, big boy." Charlie winked at him.
"You're gonna sell your siblings on eBay?" He rose both eyebrows, as he stared down at her.
The girl shrugged and pursed her lips. "A girl's gotta do, what a girl's gotta do."
"Yeah … sure …" Dean took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
"And now: Peace out, bitch." Charlie shoved him aside and sat down at the table behind her laptop. "Get your move on." She waved at him, already back to nerdy-little-sister-mode.
~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~
He had thought about Charlie's words, and – despite that the only known relationships she ever had were with Mister Nintendo and Misses PlayStation – he was sure, there was wisdom hidden in her message.
Dean didn't exactly have a plan.
It was more like … either it-would-work, or he'd mess-things-up-worse-kind-of-thing. Not to mention that he was damn nervous about it himself.
But. Yes, there was a but. A giant BUT.
But if he'd do this – it could possibly change everything. Sam could hate him. It could get awkward between the both of them – specially, if it'd work. And not in the good kind of way.
This could go so wrong. So … six ways from Sunday wrong.
Then again – what choices had he left? Between watching Sam going into full-on-lockdown and dying of thirst, and him maybe becoming awkward around him and canceling their partner-ship?
Dean'd choose the latter.
So, here he was. Standing in front of Room 11, nervous as fuck, debating with himself if he was going to do this – or not.
He was so going to do this.
Dean took a deep calming breath. Then walked in.
He didn't look at Sam, when he closed the door behind him and snapped the lock shut. He didn't see Sam flinch at the threatening sound of getting locked up in a room with the enemy.
The other shoe was about to drop, Sam figured. No, he didn't figure, he was damn sure about it.
Don't give in, he told himself, don't let him get the better of you.
Sam felt his heart swell, his chest tighten. He felt his heart hammer in his chest and felt the accelerating roar of blood in his ears, dimming all the other sounds around him.
Sam squeezed his eyes shut, breathing through his nose, waiting for the inevitable to happen.
Dean rounded the bed, bare feet barely making a sound. He stepped over his mattress on the floor, stripped down his tactical-trousers, lifted the covers and slipped in next to Sam on the narrow space.
Dean rolled over on his side, eased one arm under Sam's neck and head.
He felt him go rigid. Dean ignored it. Instead of stilling, he inched closer, and wrapped his arm around Sam's middle.
Dean pulled him in, tugged him closer, until his chest was flush against Sam's back, palm spread over Sam's belly, feeling his rabid breaths.
He rested his head on the pillow, nose buried in the man's hair and closed his eyes. Dean's heart was beating in a reckless rhythm – making his head spin.
Though he didn't move. He held perfectly still, resisting the urge to draw circles into Sam's skin, stroke him, talk to him, tell him that everything would be okay, and that he wasn't going to hurt him in any way. But that would be too early. Too soon.
Dean fell asleep like this. Wrapped around his partner, enveloping Sam in a protective embrace.
~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~
When Dean woke, Sam seemed to be asleep.
He gave himself ten more minutes, before he eased his arm out from under Sam and inched back towards the edge of the bed and rolled out onto his mattress. – More like fell onto his mattress in a very clumsy way. With a grunt.
Dean tiptoed around the room for fresh clothes, but didn't use his own bathroom.
Instead, he left, leaving the door unlocked. So not to wake Sam, he chose to use the bathroom down the corridor.
Dean didn't bother to prepare breakfast for Sam, since he was sure he wouldn't eat anything anyway. – He wouldn't pry anymore. Not yet.
This would probably take time, and he was going to try and ease into it, instead of forcing. Which also included food.
Other than that, he kept away from his room and Sam the entire day, leaving it to Bobby to sit with him (occasionally) and talk.
After supper, where all of them came together to eat and talk, Dean went back to his room. And as the night before, he locked it, went to the bed, slid in behind Sam, and wrapped himself around the rigid body.
He felt Sam's tension. Felt him tremble. Felt the soundless sobs, Sam was holding back.
Again, Dean had to suppress the urge to calm him down with words and caresses. He kept telling himself he'd need to "wiggle" into it. To not rush things.
Or else he may would fail if he'd screw up his own plan.
~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~
The next morning came and went.
Cesar and Jesse headed out to run some errands and trade goods with a sanctuary nearby.
Castiel was in their green-house taking care of his plants – and crops.
Charlie was still busy with letting the tablet run through her CBDIOA.
John was in the kitchen with Bobby. Or rather, Bobby was in the kitchen with John. All tense and awkward around each other.
John was leaning against the counter, sipping coffee-substitute, while Bobby sat at the table, hair ruffled and a pillow's imprint on his face.
It was impossible for Dean to not pick up on their vibes when he entered.
"How'd it go?" Bobby's voice was raspy. When he looked up under dark circles around his eyes, he had a hopeful expression on his face.
"We're gettin' there.", Dean muttered – still sleep-drunken and his voice hoarse. At least he hoped they were getting there …
The question of what they were doing in Dean's room at night, when he locked the door, so no one could enter unexpectedly, lingered unasked in the air.
"How's he doing?", John asked – who obviously had woken up just minutes ago too.
Dean stole a glance at the clock on the wall. It was shy past eight in the morning. Obviously, no one in the bunker was getting restless sleep at all.
John moved and prepared coffee for his son, then handed it to him.
"Dehydrated.", Dean answered truthfully. "Starving."
The corners of Bobby's lips sagged. "He's … he's getting weaker. – We have to do something."
Dean sighed. "I know that. – And I'm workin' on it." He paused, drank from the coffee. "Hooking him up on IVs won't work. – He'll rip them out. Sedation is out of question – we can't risk that." Dean met Bobby's eyes briefly. "I know, he's running out of time. – A little longer and we'll get there."
~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~