First Date
California
May 1998
The TV made a jumble of noises in voices of varying timbre as the channels changed rapidly, controlled by the remote in Dean's hand as he lay sprawled on the single bed, one of two he'd convinced John to spend the extra money to buy, instead of one double. The double they'd had prior to two years earlier had gone bye-bye when he'd been rudely awakened in the middle of the night upon receiving a bloody nose and split lip, courtesy of the back of Sammy's head, as the younger Winchester had developed a tendency to thrash around in his sleep. At the time Dean had vindictively pushed his younger brother off the bed, where he'd landed with a bone-jarring thud on the thin carpet, then gotten up himself to staunch the flow of blood before he 'bled to death'.
The jumble of voices was becoming nerve-racking and Sam glared over his shoulder from where he stood in front of the mirror, "Could you just settle on one channel, please!"
Dean barely spared him a glance, "I wanna see what's on but everything's at a commercial…Oh, Dude! Taz!"
The channel surfing abruptly stopped and the spluttering squeal-growl of the Tasmanian Devil filled the room, followed by Dean's chuckle as Bugs Bunny tricked Taz into eating a cooked chicken that was really a barrel of gunpowder with dynamite for the legs. Shaking his head Sam turned back to the mirror, running a comb through his hair for what seemed the tenth time in as many minutes.
"You know," Dean drawled, not taking his eyes of the TV, "If you left it a little messy it would look better. Chicks love scruffy. That's why they love me."
"No, Dean," Sam sighed, fighting with the tie at his neck, "They love you because you're easy."
Finally looking over, Dean grinned, "Yeah, that too. Need some help?"
Sam snorted in disbelief, purposely glancing at the white t-shirt Dean wore tucked into snug black jeans, "What do you know about tying a tie?"
"Hey, it's a skill that has come in handy more than once, Sammy Boy." Dean said as he got up and walked over, pushing his brother's hands away, "You never know when we'll have to dress to impress."
"Sammy Boy?" Sam grumbled.
Dean merely grinned as he finished tying the tie in record time and gave an exaggerated sigh as he stepped back to give the younger teen a once over. He gave a small teeter-totter of his head.
"I still can't believe you have a date. I remember you running around in diapers." Dean drawled, adding in an entirely too serious tone, "There goes my deepest wish to see you as a priest."
Another sharp snort escaped Sam as he rolled his eyes, "Right. The likelihood of me ever being a priest is only slightly better than you becoming one. Zip to none."
"I always thought it would be nice to have a priest in the family," Dean joked, absently straightening Sam's suit jacket, "I mean, all the confessions we miss due to the fact that anyone else would have us committed…"
"Right," Sam replied, "You're too far gone to be saved by confession, Dean…or so Pastor Jim says. Besides, me as a priest? Come on."
"Maybe you're right." Dean mock sighed, "So, you ready for this date?"
"It's not a date." Sam argued as he followed Dean out of the room, "It's just…Tami's just a friend."
A disbelieving chuckle was Dean's only response.
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Dean pulled the Impala to a stop outside the house Sam pointed to and put it in park sneering as he looked at the yard. It was the stereotypical normal, neighborhood residence. White picket fence, shutters on the widows, flower beds bordering the porch, children's outdoor toys littering the lawn.
Sam cocked a brow when he heard Dean release an exaggerated shudder, "What?"
"It's so…" Dean started, his sneer returning, "Domestic."
Sam looked over, almost longingly, at the house, "It looks normal."
"Normal is boring, Sammy." Dean responded, purposely turning his gaze away as his eyes teared up a bit at the vague memories of Mama and just how precious being normal really was.
Looking back at Dean, Sam shook his head, "Whatever. I'll be right back."
At that Sam opened his door to get out but looked back at the last moment, "Dean. Do me a favor."
Dean met his gaze, "Anything, Sammy."
"That's what I wanted." Sam replied with a sigh, "Don't call me Sammy in front of Tami and the rest of the people at this dance. Please."
A moment passed as Dean considered, before heaving a put-upon sigh, "I'll try."
Knowing that was the best he was going to get, Sam shook his head and made to get out of the car. At the last second Dean's voice stopped him.
"Hey, Sam, you forgot something."
Sam looked back, "What."
Without replying Dean reached out and mussed Sam's neatly combed hair, pulling an un-Samlike squeal from the younger Winchester.
"Dean!" Sam complained, trying to straighten his hair with his hands.
Dean just grinned, "Better go get your girl, Sammy, or you'll be late."
Throwing a glare at Dean as he got out of the car Sam walked toward the house grumbling curses under his breath.
He made it up the side walk, up the steps, and to the front door before he paused, nervousness freezing him in place. Absently he straightened his suit and hair, loosened and retightened his tie, then released a heavy breath.
He'd faced demons, poltergeists, werewolves, and pissed off spirits. Received scars from bites, scratches, even a graze from a silver bullet fired from a shot gun in the hands of one of those same pissed off spirits, or had it been a demon? Then, of course, there was the half inch scar just below his hairline above the outer corner of his right eye, courtesy of being dropped on his head by Dean when he was eleven.
Surely he could work up the courage to knock on a door and face a mere girl…even one as pretty and popular as Tamera Abrams.
An obviously amplified snort of laughter from the Impala spurred Sam into action again, even as Dean added, "Anytime, now, Sammy. I have a date waitin' for me, too, ya know."
"Probably more than one, and probably someone else's." Sam mumbled as he straightened his shoulders and knocked.
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Dean was having the time of his life as he managed to keep track of not one, but two girls out on the dance floor. Two sisters who were new to the school, Tanya, who was 18, and Sara, who was 17, both of whom Dean had met while sitting on the hood of the Impala in the school parking lot, waiting for Sam to get out. Unfortunately, they weren't into threesomes.
"You don't suppose you could snag us another guy," Sara suggested coyly, as she nodded to someone over Dean's shoulder.
Rolling his eyes, Dean looked over his shoulder to view Sam by himself at the punch bowl, looking somewhat depressed. Dean had to grin to himself. Even at 15 Sam could attract women older than him simply because he looked old for his age, and acted much more mature than most people in their 20's. And if there was anyone Dean would be willing to lose a girl to, it would be his brother.
Flashing a charming grin at Tanya and Sara, Dean started making his way over to collect Sam, "Now, I won't disappoint ladies as lovely as you two."
Ignoring requests to dance and any 'weird Winchester' comments that bothered Sam to no end, but just rolled right over Dean, he quickly made it to the food table.
"How is it you haven't been hogtied by the entire football team, and dragged outside to be beaten up?" Sam asked shaking his head as Dean approached.
"What do you mean?" Dean asked.
Sam rolled his eyes, "Have you not noticed the whole line of guys standing against the bleachers glaring at you?"
Dean looked over, "Yeah…what's up with that? Just jealous because they couldn't get a date."
"They have dates, Dean," Sam said, "You've been dancing with them all night!"
"Really," Dean said with a grin as he turned to regard the men still glaring at him, grinning wider as at least one of them flipped him the finger, "Well, you snooze you lose. Where's your date?"
"Shut up," Sam said through gritted teeth.
"What happened?" Dean asked, completely not joking for once.
"Apparently she just needed someone her parent's approved of to take her to the dance where her actual boyfriend would be waiting."
Dean felt a spike of anger as he looked around for Tami and her boyfriend. Nobody messed with Sammy but him. However, he did take some pleasure in the fact that the bitch seemed to be in a heated argument with said boyfriend.
"No problem, Sammy," Dean said taking a hold of Sam's arm, "I've got backup, and you're gonna love it."
"What?" Sam asked hesitantly as Dean dragged him away from the refreshment table. He had seen Dean's type…and it wasn't exactly Sam's type.
He kept his gaze lowered as Dean stopped, pulled him around in front of him, and asked, grinning, "Is he who you were thinking of, darlin'?"
"Mm-hmm."
The two-toned, wordless response was husky, drawing Sam's gaze up of it's own accord, and his breath caught. She was pretty, in a blonde bombshell way, yet still had a sweet face and disposition as she smiled at him. He just knew he was staring like a fool, with his jaw hanging lax.
Clearing his throat to get Sam's attention Dean put his arm around his brother's shoulders and gave a slight squeeze, "Girls, this is my brother, Sammy. Sammy, Tanya and Sara Monroe."
At that he pushed Sam hard between his shoulder blades, toward Sara, with a slyly drawled, "Have fun, Sammy."
The younger Winchester spun to face Dean and hissed, "It's Sam, you jerk!"
Unfortunately, Dean was already focused on other things, such as trying to find his tongue after apparently losing it down Tanya's more than willing throat. He tensed when a hand fell on his shoulder, and stiffly turned to face Sara.
She was smiling softly as she spoke, "Sammy, hmm. I think it's cute."
Sam sputtered for a moment before deciding to follow Dean's example by pulling Sara's mouth toward his, "You can call me whatever you want."
For the next few seconds the world around them disappeared…until Dean brushed by them with Tanya snuggled against his side. Sam broke the kiss with Sara as he felt his brother slip something into his pocket as he passed.
Suspicious of Dean's actions Sam hesitantly reached into his own pocket and pulled out the square, foil packet, blinked, and shoved it back in his pocket, his face heating.
Sara pressed a teasing kiss to the corner of Sam's mouth and whispered, "I saw that…Looks fun."
Again Sam blinked, then let Sara pull him toward the gym doors.
As Sam left the gym, he didn't notice the bitter eyes of all the jealous football players, or the glare from Tami, who's own evening had gone less than planned, as her friend remarked, "Didn't take him long to get over you."
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Dean sat slumped in his car whistling along to the Metallica song playing at a low volume, a relaxed grin on his face as he watched Sam fairly strut across the nearly empty parking lot toward him. He glanced at his watch and grinned.
11:59. A full ten minutes after Dean had knocked lightly on the fogged window of Tanya and Sara's flashy Trans Am. Beside him Tanya yawned and leaned over to press a quick kiss to Dean's cheek, murmured an invite to get together the next day, then got out just as Sam reached the Impala. Tanya uttered a soft good bye to the younger Winchester and walked away. Sam silently got into the car, refusing to meet Dean's gaze.
"Roomy back seat?" Dean asked, his grin obvious in his tone alone.
Sam remained silent and Dean added, "You still got the condom?"
"No." Sammy mumbled.
A dirty laugh escaped the elder brother as he reached forward to start the Impala, "That's my boy."
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John sat at the small dining room table, in the dark, tapping his fingernails in annoyance as he heard the Impala pull into the driveway and the car doors slam. He scowled as he glanced at the clock…12:21 p.m. Those boys had a lot of explaining to do since they had gone out when John had distinctly told them to stay in, then worried him senseless by having him come back to an empty house.
He waited silently as the door opened, listening to Dean as he said, "You may want to wear high collars for a few days until the mark fades, Sammy."
"What mark?" Sam asked as he stepped inside and flipped on the light, freezing as he caught sight of John. Dean stopped just behind Sam, both of them with the deer-in-headlight look.
"Dad!"
John cocked a brow, recognizing the signs, knowing what exactly had kept his sons out this late, "Boys."
Dean stepped forward, around Sam, hands held up placatingly, "I can explain everything."
Sam nudged his brother in the side and gave him a meaningful look when the elder boy met his gaze. When Dean turned back to John he sighed, "Almost everything."
Slowly getting to his feet John approached his sons, detecting…and recognizing…the scent clinging to both his sons, but letting it slide for the moment, "Where were you?"
"There was a summer dance at school." Sam replied, knowing it was pointless to lie to John Winchester.
"I see." John drawled, before purposely misunderstanding when he asked, "And you…went together?"
Sam opened his mouth to reply but was beat to the catch by Dean's witty comeback attempt to disarm the situation, "Nah, he's not my type. Sammy had a date that we…picked up. And my date was already there."
Shaking his head John let his gaze slide over both his sons, noting rumpled clothing, relaxed stance, and the smug gleam in both sets of eyes. His gaze stopped as it landed on the small mark on Sam's throat, and his brow hiked up.
"Sammy, is that a…bite mark?"
The youngest Winchester tensed, "Uh…I, uh…"
He cut off abruptly and ran, heading for the hallway to the bedroom he shared with Dean, too quickly for John to catch him. Turning back to Dean John tilted his head, obviously waiting for the rest of the explanation.
Dean sighed, "It was Sammy's first date, Dad."
Paternal pride made it's appearance at that. His baby boy was growing up.
"How'd it go?"
"Well, she was a bitch who just used him to hide the fact that she was meeting the boyfriend her parents hate." Dean half snarled, still angry that she'd used his brother that way, "But I hooked him up with a 17 year old…"
Realizing that was probably a little more than John needed to know, Dean cut off abruptly, expecting John to roar. Not many parents would like the fact that their 15 year old had just gone to home base with a 17 year old. So he was shocked when John released a laugh, his eyes flashing with pride as he turned to the hallway where Sam had snuck back toward the kitchen to listen. Both brothers were startled by what their father said next.
"Atta boy, Sammy."
Sam looked taken aback, "Uh…thanks, Dad."
Dean gave a disbelieving gasp, "He gets commended, 'atta boy, Sammy,' and I got grounded when you caught me with…whatever her name was?"
"Dean," John started, seriously, "You were 14. She was 19."
END