((A/N: I am sooo sorry this hasn't been updated in forever. The next few chapters will be finished soon and the story will be complete by the first! Special thanks to MissTripTucker for editing))
Sam had never been forced to cook in his entire life. Never. The idea of actually participating in a class designed to teach him the skills necessary to perform tasks that his slaves already did seemed absurd. Yet, here he stood. The entire class was hard at work, the wonderful smells of quiche hanging in the air. Sam was behind, his egg mixture still sitting in the bowl. Somehow it looked different from all the other mixtures, even the color was slightly off. Sam looked up at his partner, shrugging before filling the piecrust with the too-thick mixture.
"It'll be fine, I'm sure." Sam smiled, his eyes looking up to meet Chad's.
"Dude, it looks sick. Why is it green?" Chad wrinkled his nose as he stared down at the nasty colored mixture.
"I think that is from the broccoli? Maybe? Hopefully." Sam shrugged, opening the oven and carefully placing the dish on the rack. "What was the temperature again?"
"Um 500, I think. Should I go ask?"
"Nah, we'll just put it at that temperature, I'm sure it will be fine. I mean, if my slaves can do it…so can I." Sam laughed before moving to sit down at his table.
"What are you doing? We have to wash the dishes." Chad stared at Sam expectantly, his eyes shifting back to the pile of dishes on the counter.
"What? I can't do dishes." Sam shook his head, cringing away from the idea of work.
"Dude everyone in this class has to do dishes, it doesn't matter how pretty you think you are." Chad pointed to the pile of dishes, staring once more at Sam.
"It has nothing to do with being pretty. I'm disabled." Sam shrugged nonchalantly, averting his eyes.
"Yeah, how so?" Chad looked more than a little annoyed, as though he were considering hitting Sam again even though the bruises lining their faces were just beginning to heal.
"It's called super soft skin; you wouldn't want to make my hands all rough would you?" Sam was barely able to contain his smile.
"You really are gay. Get your ass up and help me wash these." Chad rolled his eyes as he pulled on a pair of bright pink rubber gloves. "Here, protect your precious hands with these magical inventions."
"To bring forth such magical things points to one thing, and one thing only…witch! Burn the witch!" Sam forced himself to keep a straight face as he pulled on a matching pair of pink gloves. "These are a bit gay, even for me."
"Well, the faster you clean, the faster you can take them off." Chad rolled his eyes as he let the water run hot, pouring a bit of soap into the stream he let the water begin to fill.
"That is not enough soap." Sam took the bottle and gave it a good squeeze, a massive amount flooding out into the stream of hot water. Almost instantly the sink was over flowing with bubbles, water splashing onto the floor.
"Shit, Sam! Now look what you've done!" Chad stepped back, his foot hitting the suds at just the right angle to force him to his ass. "Fuck!"
"It really isn't the time for a bath." Sam shook his head before reaching over to turn the water off. "You're so silly, get up before someone notices."
"Sam, Chad what have you done!" The teachers high pitch voice rang through the room, causing both boys to look up with horrified expressions.
XOXO
"Really, I think it would be best if you avoid the kitchen from now on. Some people are just meant to have slaves." Chad shook his head as he followed Sam into the mansion.
"Yeah, yeah blame it all on me. Come on, I want to bring this quiche to Dean before we go to practice." Sam smiled as he took the stairs two at a time, his heart skipping a beat as he considered seeing Dean.
"So, I finally get to meet the infamous Dean do I?" Chad laughed as he followed an ecstatic Sam up the curving stairs.
Sam pushed the door open to his bedroom, a bright smile breaking on his face as he stared at his brother. Everything had changed, even Dean. The makeup was gone, replaced by soft lashes and content eyes. The dark clothes were now mixed and matched with soft dress shirts and tight jeans. Dean was still pushing the limits, exploring himself in the hopes of finding what he had lost years before. The money that Sam had given him was mostly intact, the clothes being Dean's only expense. The man looked content, staring out of the windows at a busy world and just past that world the freedom of the ocean. It took Sam's breath away as he stared for the brief seconds before his friend joined him at the threshold.
"Holy shit, he is…like a model." Chad's words broke Dean's trance, his perfect eyes flickering over to the door as a smile spread across his plump lips.
"Sammy, you brought a friend home. This is a first." Dean moved away from the windows, walking slowly towards the door. "I'm Dean, and you are?"
"Chad, nice to meet you man." Chad nodded at Dean, leaning back against the frame of the door.
"You don't have to try and impress Dean with your coolness. Just relax." Sam punched Chad lightly in the arm, causing the boy to finally relax slightly.
"Wait, is this the boy you got in a fight with?" Dean looked back and forth between the boys, at their somewhat matching bruises.
"Yeah, but it's cool now. You know how high school is…or um I guess you don't, but things change almost daily. Speaking of change, I baked something today! I wanted to bring some to you before Chad and I go to practice." Sam grinned as he held out the small plastic containing his nightmarish version of quiche.
"Oh God, it is green. What, um, what is this supposed to be exactly?" Dean leaned away from the box, wrinkling his nose against the smell of burnt eggs.
"It is quiche, can't you tell? I worked really hard on it but the teacher decided to transfer Chad and I to a PE class. Apparently, letting the sink create an army of bubbles is against the rules. News to me." Sam giggled, pushing the container of quiche at Dean's chest. "I'm sure it tastes good."
"Yeah, I'm sure it does. Um did you try it?" Dean cringed slightly, staring down at the food with disgust.
"No, and you shouldn't either. Take in the glory that is that monstrosity and then throw it away. I'm pretty sure if you eat it…it will consume you from the inside out, or give you food poisoning." Chad shook his head at Dean, half tempted to throw the food away himself. "Brotherly love does not cover food poisoning, even if you have had sex."
"Wow, way to be blunt Chad." Sam rolled his eyes, a slight pout pulling at the corners of his lips.
"Aww, is my little brother all offended? Poor little Sammy, reduced to pouting." Dean laughed as he bumped hips with his brother.
"You know I'm cute." Sam stuck his tongue out, "Jerk."
"Bitch." Dean laughed at Sam's hurt facial expression, rolling his eyes. "You two are going to be late for practice."
"Yeah, we better go. I'll see you later, right?" Sam's expression was hopeful, the question hanging in the air.
"You own me Sam, where exactly do you expect me to go?"
Even after Sam left his house, even as he became accustom to the familiar sounds of shoes on polished wood, whooshing hoops and the obnoxious sounds of breathing, the words were still hanging in the air. Sam owned Dean. It was something that would always separate them, rather than connect them. Dean was, in a way, forced to love him, to care for him. Sam had simply given the man a longer leash, but the chains remained intact. It was weighing down on his soul, reminding him of the illusion he was currently living in. No, things were not okay. It was all an act, one that would have to end at some point. The players would need to go their separate ways and Sam would find himself alone. Thoughts haunted him through practice; even the success of accomplishing scores was not enough to allow him an escape from his mind. Something had to change.
XOXO
"Do you love me?" Sam couldn't hold the words back any longer as he crashed through his bedroom door.
"What? Of course, what makes you ask?" Dean was seated on the couch, a beer in hand and the television flickering in the dim light of the room.
"Why does it matter if you are free? Isn't it enough to just stay here with me?" Sam could hear the panic in his voice; practically feel the buzz of electric emotion in the air.
"Sam, brothers are not meant to own one another. Lovers are not meant to own one another. How can anything we feel be real if you own me? Everything is so fake in this situation. I can't be me, there is no me really, only what you want from me. I love you, but I only love you as much as the situation allows. I would die for you but death isn't really a threat when you don't even own your own life. It is like knowing your fate, knowing everything that is to come. Death is relief in that situation." Dean's eyes were firmly locked on the floor; a frown pulling his perfectly shaped lips down.
"And if I free you? What then?" Sam could barely force the words from his mouth, every fiber in his being insisting that he must keep Dean.
"Then things change, but my love won't. You'll always be my brother Sammy, and I'll always want to protect you from the world." Dean finally lifted his eyes to stare at his brother, an overwhelming sorrow swirling in his jade eyes.
"Will you stay with me?" Sam could feel the single tear streaming down his face, hear his emotion thick words, all asking for the most basic request.
"Not here, no."