Disclaimer: I do not own. "Supernatural." I also do not own the line, "... she's way out of your league..." that is from the "Pilot" episode of the series.
Author's Note: Okay, I'm sorry. I really am. I was trying for one more chapter to this story, just one more. In this misguided effort I kept delaying my posting. I'm sorry for that. I've realized now it's just not going to working. The muse refuses to squish everything into a small package.
So I retract all previous chapter estimates and am refusing to put forth a new estimate. ;)
I hope you enjoy.
"I'll wait here."
Dean's soft words reverberated in the unusually quiet apartment.
The foyer had been empty, as was the living room they were standing in; a stack of blankets and two pillows lying neatly at the end of the sofa.
Sam whirled around, already frowning, "What?" No." he stated shaking his head, "Come on. She's probably in the kitchen." He offered motioning towards the kitchen door.
Dean too shook his head, setting down his duffel bag, "It's alright. I'll wait here—"
"Dean—"
"Dude, just go get her, will ya. I'll. Wait. Here." He enunciated, "Jeez, do ya gotta bitch about everything?"
Sam's frowned turned into a scowl, "Fine. Wait here."
Dean smirked, "Great idea."
It might have been the smirk or the words or it could have simply been that his brother was here, but Sam's irritation faded and a grin spread across his face, "Jerk," he muttered, then he turned and headed out of the room.
Dean watched him go. He waited for the door to swing shut before he slowly let the smile crumble and slid down onto the sofa. He exhaled tiredly before lowering his elbows to his knees and burying his face in his hands.
Christ. What was he doing here?
Of all the places to be, all the things to be doing… this was not the best option for him.
Sam had walked away. Yes, it had been a long time ago. Yes, his little brother was older now. Yes, people changed— matured, saw things in different ways…
But it didn't change the fact: Sam had walked out.
And Dad has slammed the door shut behind him.
That was a problem.
Him being here, whether he meant it to or not, whether he wanted it to or not—would spark that problem again. He knew it.
Dean sighed again, lifting his head and looking around.
The living room was so "normal" it was almost quaint and it made him want to gag. There were throw pillows and curtains and rugs, there was a television with DVD player and a stereo, there was a china cabinet and hell, there was a fireplace. Jeez.
He shook his head, standing and walking around a little. There was actual china in the china cabinet. Dishes and cups and saucers… with tiny pink roses on them and…
... oh god...
He barely held back a groan when he looked up and realized that the curtains had the same tiny pink roses on them.
Obviously, Sam's fiancée had decorated here. He hoped. But than again—with Sam one could never be sure.
The entire room was decorated in pinks and crèmes. Seriously— he was going to gag.
He walked over to the fireplace… a light smirk touched his face as he studied it— call the fire department—there's clutter here!
There were at least a dozen framed pictures on the mantle of the fireplace. The smirk faded as he studied them, a lump rising in his throat. They were pictures of Sam.
Sam with the guys Dean had met tonight. Sam with a blonde woman. A group of girls at a restaurant with Sam and other guys standing behind them. Sam with an older couple and the same blonde woman as before. Sam in a graduation robe, Sam on a basketball court, Sam on a horse, Sam by a pool…
Grinning in all of them… happy in all of them…
It wasn't a surprise. He'd known his brother was happy. He'd wanted his brother to be happy.
Still, he couldn't stop the stab of hurt that rippled through him. It was good that his brother was happy. But, damn, did he have to be that happy— without him.
Abruptly, he shifted away a little, running a hand through his hair and telling himself to chill.
This was ridiculous.
Of course, Sam had been happy without him. Sam had been free. Normal. So what the hell was Dean doing here?
… I missed you…
The words were a whisper in his mind and they made him sigh again. Sam had missed him. Sam didn't want the Hunt, but he wanted his brother.
Terrific
This situation was so screwed up. Anyway he played it someone was going to get hurt— 'cause Dad wasn't just going to be pissed when he found out Dean was here, he was going to be hurt.
He was going to feel betrayed.
And there was no doubt in Dean's mind that John Winchester would find out that his sons had met up again. No doubt at all.
Dean's eyes shifted to the end of the mantle. These pictures were older. Sam looked more like the teenager who'd left home in them.
He smirked a little and took a few steps to get a closer look at what appeared to be Sam in a toga…?
And that's when he saw it; framed on one side by a picture of Sam and the blonde chick—Jess, he assumed, and on the other by a picture of the older couple—Jess' parents, he assumed; was a picture of their Mom and Dad.
He reached a hand to it, touched the glass protecting it— Mom and Dad… one of the few pictures that had survived the fire. One of the few remaining pieces of hard evidence that once, a long time ago, the Winchester's had had throw pillows and china too. Once they'd been normal.
Figured Sam would have it on his mantle—proof for all to see that he was just like them…
He took a step back and stared at the conglomeration of photos on the mantle. Except for the progression of the timeline from one side to another there didn't seem to be any order to them. Serious and silly were placed next to formal and ceremonial, some frames were inexpensive plastic; others polished wood, some were shielded by glass others by plastic. It was a very haphazard display and some how it managed to convey more accurately than everything else he'd seen just how normal his brother had become.
The presence of that picture, of their Mom and Dad, surrounded by a sea of other smiling faces stung because…
He was fairly certain that everyone in Sam's life was on that mantle— everyone but him, that is.
Dean blinked the sudden burning behind his eyes. What was he doing here? He wondered again.
Sam.
A voice reminded him.
Sam thinks he wants you here.
Yes, Sam did think that. And Dean would humor him, because that's what Dean did—always. Sam wanted, Dean gave.
Always.
Even when he knew better, even when he had evidence right in front of him that he didn't so much as fit on Sam's mantle let alone in the younger man's life—he still gave.
Even when he knew he was just setting himself up to bleed again.
"Jess?" Sam called out as he entered the bedroom. He'd checked the kitchen and study—no Jess. He was starting to get worried.
"Yeah?" she answered.
And he sighed softly in relief, the tension that had been gathering between his shoulder blades easing.
"We're uh, here…" he muttered as she stepped out of the closet.
"What are you doing?" he asked, there was clothes strewn all over the bed and she had three hangers in her hand.
"I can't figure out what to wear." She stated, looking up at him with solemn blue eyes. "It would've helped if you'd told me something about your brother. I mean is he formal wear or casual? Shoes or sandals? Pony-tail or hanging loose?" she listed, "I need to know these things!"
Sam blinked.
She was dressing for Dean?
The thought was almost as amusing as her calling him sweet this morning— that still brought a smile to Sam's face.
Oh, this was going to be so much fun…
"It's not funny, Sam!"
"Jess." He began, reaching out and taking the clothes she had in her hands from her. He set them on the bed and then gently grasped her shoulders, "You do not have to worry about clothes."
She gaped at him, "Of Course. I do." She hissed, "He's the first person in your family that I'm meeting! I have to make a good impression!"
"You will."
"Yes. In the right outfit." She affirmed, "Let go." She added, wriggling under his grasp.
"Jess—"
"You had to get dressed to meet my family."
He blinked again. "Okay, yes… but…"
"But nothing. He's your family and I'm meeting him for the first time and I want it to be good. I want him to like me."
"He's going to like you."
"Great." She said dismissively, yanking herself away and staring down at the bed, "What do you think he'll like me most in? Which one says best-sister-in-law-ever?"
Sam stared at her profile. She was serious.
"Jess really, Dean isn't going to care. He's not like that…"
She lifted her gaze from the bed and turned her face towards him, "Neither are my parents." She stated, "Which I told you. Which, if I remember correctly, did nothing to stop you from getting all fussy about what color shirt went with what pants or whether or not you should wear a tie and what did I do? I humored you. I stood by and helped you meticulously select what you wanted to wear and told you what colors my Mom liked to see on young men and whether or not my Dad cared if you wore a tie. I humored you, Sam. So yes, its perfectly irrational that I want to get dressed at this time of the night or morning or whatever time it is and its perfectly fine that your brother wouldn't care if I met him in pajamas and bunny slippers, but I care and as my fiancée all you need to do is humor me. So do it." She finished firmly.
He was silent.
A moment later she turned to back to the bed, "I repeat…" she waved a hand over it, "… which one says best-sister-in-law-ever?"
She was serious.
Sam sighed, "I dunno… something causal, I guess. Sandals, pony-tail— jeez Jess, it's like three-thirty in the morning! He's not gonna care."
She turned back to the bed, "Okay. Casual, sandals, pony-tail. I can do that." She murmured and bent down to retrieve some items off the bed.
He sighed. "Good. Hurry—Dean's not exactly the patient type…"
She paused, then gave him a huge grin, her eyes sparkling as she looked up at him, "I'm ridiculously excited about this." She gushed.
Sam laughed, "Yeah… I kind of am too." He admitted, softly.
Dean was sitting on the sofa going through his duffel bag when Sam entered the living room.
"Sorry we took so long, man—" the younger man muttered.
Dean looked up and stood quickly, "No problem." He answered, shrugging a little, "You gotta real uh, cute place here, Sammy." He added, arching an eyebrow.
Sam rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips— leave it to Dean to make the word "cute" sound like an insult, "It's Sam," he said just to be contrary as he arched his own eyebrow.
"Uh-huh, sure. You actually got a fiancée to present or is this like that imaginary friend you had till you were seven?"
"Dude. I did not have an imaginary friend!" Sam stated, the familiar argument coming to his lips quickly.
"So you say. So you say. But who's the older brother here?" Dean asked.
"I did not—"
"I am." Dean answered his own question, interrupting Sam with a big smile, "And therefore I know all." He said with finality, then peered over Sam's shoulder, "Is there a girl back there or what?"
Sam sighed, moving to the side and shoved Dean lightly on the shoulder; a small smile touching his lips as he gave Jess a clear view of his brother.
He cleared his throat a little, suddenly nervous—he really wanted them to like each other. "Jess, this is my brother, Dean. Dean this is Jessica."
"Nice to meet you…" Dean offered, extending his hand to Jess. Bestowing his grin on her— that grin, Sam noticed, almost scowling; but instead of a scowl his smile just seemed to widen.
A smile that faltered when he glanced over at Jess and saw that she wasn't smiling back. She didn't seem like she was about to say anything either. In fact she wasn't even blinking… she was…staring?
He blinked again to make sure, but yes, she was staring at Dean—and not taking his hand. She was running her gaze from the top of his spiky hair, down the leather jacket, gray t-shirt, and faded blue jeans to his scuffed boots… then back up again. Her expression not just surprised, but… bewildered?
Sam looked back at Dean; trying to see what she was seeing… but he didn't get it. It was just… Dean.
Dean's hand dropped abruptly and Sam tensed, but instead of saying anything, his brother threw his head back and laughed.
A deep chuckle that Sam remembered from the prank wars of their youth.
"Let me guess…" Dean rumbled, his voice still filled with laughter, "… you were expecting another geek?" he asked.
Sam jerked, a scowl forming in earnest this time, but Jess, he saw— finally blinked. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.
"Sorry, sweetheart, but your boy here…" Dean motioned towards Sam, "Genetic aberration." He explained.
The scowl formed fully, "Dean." Sam hissed.
Dean shrugged, his eyes still on Jess—who was beginning to smile now, "He's one of a kind, ya know?" Dean added, his voice suddenly surprisingly sincere.
Jess's smile bloomed, "I know," she stated, then abruptly her eyes widened and she shook her head a little, "Oh god, I'm sorry…" she stated, extending her hand, "… really, I'm so sorry. Wow… that was… embarrassing…" she muttered, blushing a deep red as the realization that she'd just gaped at her future brother-in-law dawned.
Dean grinned, taking her hand, and pulling her forward a little, "Don't worry about it, sweetheart." He murmured, grinning down at her, "I have that speechless effect on all women." He offered.
A surprised laugh escaped Jess, her eyes still wide, but now amused and studying Dean intently.
"Dean." Sam growled, looking pointedly at where his brother held Jess's hand.
Dean shrugged, dropping her hand, and blinking at his brother in innocence, "Facts of life, little brother." He murmured, "Don't be jealous."
Sam rolled his eyes, "Glad to see you've humbled in your old age." He teased, smiling.
Dean made a face at him and then looked back to Jess, "I was lured here with the promise of cookies…?"
She jumped a little, "Oh, right. Right. I'm sorry…" she repeated, shaking her head, "I just… you're not exactly what I— cookies, right." She interrupted herself, blushing again, "Follow me…" she murmured, motioning towards the kitchen door.
The room was silent a moment when she left before Dean turned to Sam, a smirk on his face, "Dude, she's way out of your league…" he stated, as he began to follow her.
Sam rolled his eyes, falling into step beside Dean, "Can you please attempt normal behavior?" he asked, sardonically, "She's nervous. Be nice."
The older man frowned, "You told me not to hit on her…"
Sam nodded, "Be nice."
Dean's frown intensified, he blinked innocently at his brother, as they entered the kitchen, "But you told me not to hit on her." He repeated— in full hearing of Jess.
Sam glared at him, then cringed a little as Jess turned around and stared at them both, before fastening her gaze on Sam.
For a moment she said nothing, just stared at him, before turning to look at Dean again. She smirked, "You were going to hit on me?" she asked. Dean opened his mouth to respond, but she shook her head suddenly.
"No don't answer that." She interrupted herself.
"Let's just start this whole "intro" thing over…" she suggested hopefully.
Dean shook his head vehemently, eyeing the plate of cookies on the table— a plate edged with pink roses, "No way, sweetheart. I made you speechless. We're sticking with that intro."
"Here," Sam grouched, moving to the table and scooping up a cookie, "Just shove this in your mouth, would ya?" He handed it to Dean, who stared at it for a moment then took it.
"Don't mind if I do." He said taking a bite out of it.
Jess stared again, opened her mouth to say something, then seemed to decide better of it and snapped it shut again.
"This is good," Dean told her.
She smiled at him, still looking slightly embarrassed, "Thanks, have as many as you like," she told him, then ducking her head a little she added, "… least I can do…" and shook her head again— she'd gaped at Sam's brother.
Dean nodded solemnly, "Yeah, having Sam as a little brother sucked. Your sympathy is appreciated."
"Dean!"
"What? You think you were a walk in the park or somethin?" He asked, turning to him, eyes wide in mock indignation.
Sam rolled his eyes. He slipped into a chair at the table and kicked out another one with his leg, "Just sit." He told his brother, "And take the jacket off… unless you plan on sleeping in it."
Dean scowled at his younger brother even as he slipped the jacket off and hung it on the back of the chair. Then he sat down and snagged another cookie. A moment later Jess brought him a mug of coffee, handing it to him with a shy smile. He took it from with a grin, winking at her.
Her smile widened. Then she turned to Sam, "Mocha, right?" she asked him.
He nodded, making a move to get up, "I'll get it—"
She shook her head, saying quickly, "I've got it," and turning away.
Dean watched as she headed to the counter. The kitchen wasn't quite as big as the living room. The lighting was dimmer, like there was a light bulb missing or something, but it still screamed normal to him— in a much less "gag me" way, though. Except for the roses on the plates and curtains, that is.
"So what happened tonight?" she asked, over her shoulder, "How'd you guys run into each other? Jake was having a heart attack," she added suddenly, cutting off any response they could've made to her questions.
Her tone was full of laughter now and Dean wondered if this girl made it a habit of interrupting herself or if she was just nervous…
She turned back to them, a mug in her hand, "He was freaking out. I got the words: car, Mike, Doug, guy, and pool." She finished, handing it to Sam and slipping into another chair across from the two of them.
Sam shrugged and brought the mug to his lips, "Thanks," he murmured, then added, "You know, Jake... he's overtly dramatic."
Dean slanted his eyes towards his brother, as he too brought his mug to his lips, "Nice way of sayin he's a girl." He murmured.
The brothers shared a look.
One that communicated Sam's, you're such an ass and Dean's, but I'm right, which the older man accompanied with a smirk; to which Sam quirked his lips to express a quiet, maybe.
Jess watched the play by play, her eyes going from one to the other intently.
"I'm glad you're here, Dean." She stated simply, drawing two startled gazes to her.
Dean jerked a little, the carefree mask he'd adopted slipping momentarily. His gaze meeting hers in surprise, "Uh, thanks…" he muttered, uncomfortable with how affectionately she was looking him—as if they were family or something…
He set the mug down on the table, shifting his gaze a little to avoid the sense of welcome she was bestowing on him.
She nodded emphatically, "Sam's past is like the black of hole mysterious sighs and dark moods." She added, banishing any darker thoughts with her smile.
His eyebrows shot to his hairline. Dean didn't know what he'd been expecting, but straight-shooting like that wasn't it.
Could it be despite the pink roses plastered everywhere; the bouncy, blonde pony-tail; the sparkly blue eyes, and the tendency to blush and ramble that this girl had a backbone...?
Wouldn't that would be nice?
"Dark moods, huh?" He asked, shooting Sam a quick look.
"Oh yeah," She nodded, "Family is a—"
"Jess—" Sam said warningly.
"Shhhh, Sammy, show some respect. My future sister-in-law is talking," Dean hissed, reaching out and lightly slapping his brother on the back of the head. Then he looked back to Jess, "Go on, sweetheart—you were sayin?"
She blinked, her mouth forming a smile again, "Family is a touchy subject."
Dean nodded, "Yeah, Sammy here's got the sensitivity of thirteen year old girl," he stated, then added, "No offence."
Jess chuckled, "None taken."
"Speak for yourself, I'm offended," Sam muttered, then bit into cookie.
Dean shrugged; then leaned back, his gaze fastening on Jess, "So tell me 'bout yourself Jess. How's a pretty girl like you end up with a doofus like my brother?"
Her smile widened, "He paid me." She stated.
"I knew there was a catch somewhere!" Dean stated, grinning, taking in Jess's teasing blue eyes as she looked at Sam.
So far this was promising.
Sam groaned, "Don't encourage him," he told Jess.
She looked back to Dean, "He hired me as a Latin tutor," she told Dean, still smiling.
Dean blinked at her, straightening abruptly, "Latin?" he said, his voice suddenly hoarse.
She nodded, "We were in the class together sophomore year." She told him, her eyes flitting to Sam, "You could say the love of conjugating a dead language brought us together."
Dean stared at her, then let his gaze fall to Sam who was looking down at the table, a slow blush creeping up his neck—and rightfully so.
"Latin." Dean repeated, his voice infused with barely suppressed laughter, "He hired you to help him… with Latin?" He just couldn't stop the incredulity in those words—dear god, both he and Sam had been pretty much fluent in the language by the time they'd each reached twelve.
Sam kicked him under the table and shot him a quelling look.
Jess looked between them still smiling, "Yeah, few understand the appeal…" she noted. "Anyway, he caught on pretty quick and I didn't bill him for overtime."
A quick laugh burst out of Dean.
She continued, "So the relationship bloomed—until I found out he was pre-law and decided that no way could I date a guy who was pre-law, because every person in my life was either a lawyer or pre-law and I just wasn't going to do to that and—" she drew the word out, suddenly leaning back in the chair, "I'm boring you with history."
"You could never bore me, sweetheart," Dean purred, leaning forward on the table.
"Careful Dean, I think that constitutes as flirting," Jess warned.
"Yeah, it does." Sam confirmed, scowling at him.
Dean opened his mouth to respond when the shrill ring of the phone cut him off.
Sam's eyes shot to a clock that hung in the kitchen, "Who'd be calling at this time?" he wondered aloud.
Jess shrugged, even as she stood, "I dunno..." she drawled, smirking at Sam, "But I'll bet it has to do with you having a screaming match in the street in front of our friends." She finished, reaching out a hand and running it through his hair.
"Hello?" she said, shooting Sam a sunny smile even as he slumped in the chair and scowled at her, smoothing the side of his hair she'd ruffled.
Jess laughed at whatever the other person said.
"It's Kerrie, Sam," She stated a few moments later, "… she wants to know if this is why you had a problem with the delicious comment… what should I tell her?"
Sam scowled, "... to go to bed."
She laughed into the phone, "You heard that?" she asked the person on the other end.
"Yeah, they got here a little while ago… seems normal to me… no. Ker…! Jeez, he's…" Jess turned a bright red suddenly and spun away from the brothers, "You're impossible you know that!"
Dean shot Sam a look, Sam shrugged; signaling that he had no idea what was going on.
The laughter that followed Jess's heated declaration was light and affectionate, though, so neither man paid much attention.
Sam handed Dean another cookie and took one for himself, taking another sip of his mocha. He arched an eyebrow at Dean's mug, the older man nodded and brought it up to his lips, smiling a little.
"Everything's fine…" Jess's voice rang out suddenly as she started pacing the kitchen, still smiling, "… tomorrow, I guess… I don't really know… can we maybe have this conversation at another time," she asked, her voice teasing, "… you know, not in the wee morning hours…" more laughter followed that.
"You met Kerrie, right?" Sam asked softly as they finished devouring a couple more cookies. Jess moved away from them again, listening and smiling, her eyes shooting to Dean and Sam more than once as she gave short, soft answers.
Dean nodded, a grin spreading across his face, "Curly hair, brunette, blue-eyes, attitude, blunt—"
"—dating Doug." Sam finished for him, his tone softly warning.
Dean scowled, "—I'm not here to seduce all the women in your life," he hissed, suddenly upset.
Sam recoiled a little, surprised at the vehemence in Dean's voice, "I didn't say you were," he replied quickly, shooting a look in Jess's direction, noticing that she wasn't facing them. His gaze returned to Dean quickly though, "I just know that you—"
"You know what? What could you possible know, Sam," Dean retorted, before his brother could finish. His voice hushed, but sharp, his eyes pointed.
Reminding Sam, you left.
Sam swallowed hard, paling a little, a moment later Jess stepped over to them again. Her smile bright, her voice as warm and pleased as it had been moment earlier—only now it seemed out of place somehow…
"Doug called Kerrie from Mike's place," she explained, sliding back into her chair, "… to tell her that their Dean, was your Dean—except they didn't know your brother's name was Dean. So the entire conversation was apparently riddled with are you sure's and really's and YES's…which she completely blames you for, Sam."
Her chatter swirled around the brothers, neither really hearing her, the words lost to the memories and emotions rising up in each of them.
Her smile dimmed a little as she looked between them. They were staring at each other, neither having turned when she spoke, but the stare was not like the others she'd witnessed— she caught no sense of teasing this time, no hint of an inside joke, no brief glimpse into a shared past.
The stare was darker now, somehow more intense and she felt a chill of apprehension.
"Guys?" she called, trying to get their attention.
Sam jerked a little, pulling his gaze away. He seemed to falter for a moment, before pulling up a smile, that he directed at her, "Maybe its time we called it a night." He stated, quietly.
Dean pushed his chair back and stood immediately, nodding. "Good idea."
Jess swallowed hard, looking from one to the other, they weren't looking at each any more, but she could still feel the sudden tension between them— unspoken words that seemed to hum in the kitchen. It was the first time she could sense anything, but humor and affection in their voices, the first time she could feel the rift between them.
"You go on up, Jess. I'll clean up here," Sam offered, his voice loud in the silent kitchen.
It was a dismissal if she'd ever heard one.
She stood, nodding, still not sure what had just happened. How the cheery mood had suddenly gone so cold, so abruptly…?
"Okay, uh thanks for that, I guess," she murmured, waving a hand at the mugs and plate on the table. Her eyes went to Dean, " …well… I guess we'll talk some more tomorrow then." She finished, trying to pretend she didn't feel the sudden tension.
Dean nodded, meeting her gaze, "It was nice to meet you, Jessica." He stated softly and suddenly she saw a touch of Sam's earnestness in him.
She smiled at him a little, before turning towards the door.
Both brothers watched her leave the kitchen.
When the door closed behind herm Sam started to clear the table— a moment later Dean joined him.
"I didn't mean anything… by it."
Sam's voice was small—unsure.
Dean released a long sigh, "Okay. Fine." He stated, brushing the subject aside. He did not want to discuss the abrupt slip in his mask.
He looked over and shot Sam a grin— one that didn't reach his eyes, "I can't promise she won't fall at my feet though—I have that effect, you know."
Sam didn't grin back, "Why'd you get mad?" he asked, seriously.
"I say we take your advice and call it a night Sam." Dean stated, lifting the plate of leftover cookies, "Where do you want this?"
Sam didn't say anything. He stared at Dean. Dean standing in his kitchen holding a plate of cookies— it was surreal.
"Sam?— Dude. Blink."
Sam swallowed hard, shaking his head, "Um… yeah, just give'm here. I'll put'm in the fridge."
He reached out and took the plate, turning and shoving them in the refrigerator. "Why'd you get mad?" he repeated the question a moment later.
"Sam—" his brother's voice sounded almost weary.
"Just tell me, Dean."
"I'm not mad."
"Dean."
"If you thought I was gonna cause havoc and destruction why'd you want me here?"
Sam blinked, "I don't—"
"I know you, Sam. You're already having mental conniptions."
Sam scowled, "I am not."
"Whatever."
"Dean… I want you here, because—I want you here. That's it. I don't care… if…"
"If I cause havoc and destruction."
"You won't." Sam said confidently.
"I could and that worries you."
"You won't."
"But I could."
"But you won't."
"Are you sure?"
Sam grinned suddenly, "This has gotta be the most stupid argument."
Dean rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips, "Please, dude... be serious... this doesn't even make the scale—"
Sam laughed, "I'm glad you're here…" he added, meeting Dean's gaze.
Dean held the gaze for a moment, before giving a quick nod, "Good; 'cause I'm not too bothered by bein here, myself…" he responded.
Sam rolled his eyes, "Good… come on, let's get you set up for the night…"
Dean nodded, taking his jacket and following Sam back into the living room. Immediately his eyes strayed to the mantle. Determinedly he swung his gaze away from it, instead focusing on Sam who was removing the blankets, pillows and cushions off the couch.
"My room's over there," Sam pointed, past the foyer towards a hallway, "Bathroom's that way…" he added, pointing in the direction, "Oh, and if you turn the hot water dial all the way to left the water goes cold… instantly… so don't."
"Interesting," Dean commented dropping down into an armchair, "They're these people that fix those things... I think they're called plumbers…" he added as he stretched out.
"Sure, don't worry; take a seat, I can handle pulling this out on my own," Sam replied sardonically shooting his brother a baleful glare.
Dean shrugged one shoulder, "I am the guest aren't I?" He said causally.
Sam rolled his eyes, tugging on the bed. When he finally had it laid out he looked to Dean.
"Yeah, we keep telling ourselves to get it fixed, but..." He stated, referring to the water as he grabbed sheets and turned back around to start making the bed. "We moved in right after graduation and now we're both busy and when we're not busy we don't feel like dealing with plumbers… so we just deal."
Dean nodded, "What'd Jess study?"
Sam turned a little and shot Dean a wry smile, "Psychology…" he said dryly, then added, "… specialized in health and development," before turning quickly to finish making the bed.
Dean arched an eyebrow at his brother's back, "That's gotta be… fun." He drawled.
Sam straightened, grabbing the pillows and tossing them onto the now-made bed, "Oh, yeah…" he murmured, his grin still wryif a little sad now,"I've had to… uh, tone down our childhood for her."
"Wouldn't appreciate the finer points of The Hunt, would she?"
Sam shook his head, "I think not," he murmured, then turned around to face Dean and motioned towards the sofa-bed, "Okay, all set."
Dean stood, "Thanks." He stated, eyeing the bed.
He looked tired to Sam suddenly, "Where you coming from?" he asked, then almost cringed when he saw the way Dean stiffened.
"Around, Sam, just around…" he muttered, not looking up, his voice warning Sam to drop it.
And Sam did, because he wanted this to work.
He nodded, "Alright," he muttered, telling himself to leave it— that he wanted this to work.
But he also had to know—he had a life, a world to protect, "Are you on a job?" he asked, his tone hushed.
The living room was deadly silent suddenly and Sam tensed, waiting. Dean's gaze had shot up to his quickly and Sam noticed how dark that gaze had gotten. Burnt honey.
"… but you're not afraid I'll cause havoc and destruction…?" the older man taunted, and Sam read the anger underlying the words.
"Dean," he stated, shrugging, "I… just… want to… be prepared… if you are… I want to…"
"I'm not." Dean interrupted, his voice flat.
Reminding Sam of the conversation they'd had in the bar, reminding him that a few shared jokes and laughs weren't going to erase the past. He wasn't the same boy who'd left it all behind. It stood to reason that Dean wasn't the same boy who'd been left behind.
Sam nodded, pulling up the shards of a smile, "Good… consider this a vacation."
Dean arched an eyebrow, his eyes still dark, "A short one." He stated.
Sam shook his head, "Dean—"
"I'm here. I'll give you a rematch. But nothing's changed." The words were steady and Sam felt an urge to scream. He felt panic and denial and frustration all coiling together inside him…
And Dean saw and knew… and did what Dean always did, he made it better, easier.
"You're still gonna lose," he teased, making this about the game, looking away from Sam as he bent and lifted his duffel onto the now made bed, "… 'cause you still suck and I swear you're stance has gone to hell." He added, shooting his brother a mock glare.
Sam blinked, taking a deep breath, frowning at Dean's diversionary tactic—thanking him for it.
"We'll see… I was going easy on you," he responded.
The living room is silent for a moment, before both brothers just grin. Because they both totally know that Dean can kick Sam's ass at pool.
"… so, I'm gonna catch a shower…" Dean muttered, still grinning.
Sam nodded quickly, "Yeah, sure… please do." He said, emphatically. Dean flicked him off and started pulling stuff out of his bag.
"There're towels in the closet." Sam told him, Dean nodded.
Sam shrugged, "Okay, then… I guess I'm gonna go to bed…" he stated, suddenly reluctant to let Dean out of his sight.
"Good idea, I think there's a cute, little blonde waiting for you," Dean offered, grinning with innuendo, "I better not hear anything while I'm trying to get some sleep."
Sam started to scowled.
"Hey, I'm just sayin!" Dean protested, still grinning, "… remember you've got company here, company that doesn't need to hear anything,"
"Shut-up."
"That's not nice, Sammy."
"It's Sam."
"Uh-uh," Dean murmured, "So g'night already. What are ya wating for? You want me to walk you to the door or something?"
"Remember about the water…"
Dean nodded, "I got it."
Sam nodded back, but made no move to leave. He was scared suddenly; scared that if he turned around Dean would disappear just as if he'd never been there…
"So… I'll uh, see you in the morning…" Sam murmured, swallowing hard.
"It is morning," Dean said with a smirked.
Sam released a frustrated sigh, "You know what I mean…" he muttered, "I just… I want to make sure that you… you don't… I mean…"
"Go to bed, Sammy," Dean interrupted, his voice soft, "I'll be here when you get up."
"Promise?" Sam asked before he could stop himself; his voice sounding much younger than his twenty-three years.
Dean sighed, "Promise." He repeated.
Sam nodded, not knowing what else to say. He didn't have too though, because Dean just smirked at him again and turned in the direction Sam had pointed earlier, "G'night, little brother…" he murmured.
A small smile tugged at Sam's mouth as his mouth formed a whispered response, "G'night big brother," he murmured back and then slowly headed for his bedroom.
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