Chapter 11: I Couldn't Help But Ask
Despite the nightmare he'd suffered through last night, Sam woke up feeling surprisingly good. He laid on his stomach, limbs spread out haphazardly and taking over the entire bed. His eyes were still closed, not ready to open them. He was awake but he did not feel like actually getting up yet so he just laid in the bed, hands under his pillow and propping his head up slightly. He felt comfortable where he was. He could feel loose strands of hair tickling his nose but it wasn't the kind of distraction that needed his immediate attention.
Dean had long since left. His side of the bed was cold by the time Sam decided to utilize the mattress to it's entirety. He was probably out there cleaning the weapons as he always did when a hunt was over.
Sam didn't know how Dean was able to bounce back from near death experiences so resiliently. When he was the one in one of these situations, he always fell apart. He scrunched up his nose in distaste as the memory of the night he summoned a crossroad demon while drunk flashed in his mind's eye. Not his finest moment, and even now over a decade later he was still embarrassed about it.
He turned over lazily and finally opened his eyes. The room was pretty dark as there were no windows. His only source of light, the slow roll of his generic screensaver. He let his eyes sweep over the spot his brother had slept in. Although Dean was no longer there and the cool sheets had no more traces of his warmth, Sam could swear that he could still feel his presence on the rumpled sheets. He ran his fingers over the spot absently, further crumpling the covers.
His mind went back to yesterday. He couldn't imagine being trapped in a place where Dean continually became more violent towards him. He took for granted just how much Dean focused on him and the thought of not being number one to his brother sent a genuine shiver of fear through him.
Even after the rough patch they'd been through, he had stayed with him after that shattering nightmare. Dean could have left, he could have also ignored whatever sounds he had been making. Instead, ignoring his own discomfort, he'd climbed into Sam's small bed to reassure him and he was grateful. The kind of lives they lived, while he actually enjoyed, it he wouldn't be able to survive it without the support he got from Dean.
Even when he literally just survived a life and death situation, Dean was putting him first. His brother seemed incapable of doing otherwise. His behavior after they left the motel made so much more sense. Dean must have felt such resentment to this fake brother who could only grow to hate him enough to try and kill him.
He was just glad that they were able to fix the issues that had resulted from this latest monster mindfuck.
As if summoned, the memory of being in the motel bathroom flashed in his mind and with all his will, he tried to forced it back behind the wall of things he didn't think about. Although he had joked about the whole thing in the car yesterday, in the light of the new day, he was experiencing some pretty strong delayed embarrassment.
After they'd reconciled it had felt like the whole thing could be easily swept under the rug and forgotten, after all it was not news to him that Dean had brother was the epitome of a sexual being and he enjoyed and actively sort out sex. Dean also had working parts. They shared a small space for the majority of their lives, so not only had he seen Dean in every state of undress he could. He'd also seen him in several states of excitement, the morning variety being the most notable one.
Maybe it was that despite all this, he'd seen his brother as kind of like a Ken doll. His eyes didn't register or notice the parts of him that made up an actively sexual male unless they could help him further his agenda of bugging his perfect big brother.
Huffing in annoyance, he wondered why this whole thing was bothering him so much anyway. Maybe because he'd been forced to take Dean out of the protective wrapping of brother and see this completely new side of him. A side that he'd never experienced in all his years. He'd glazed over the fact that for Dean to have hickeys he could make fun of, someone would have to be - He cut off that thought before it went any further and sat up decisively. Yup definitely time to get up.
His muscles were stiff and he kind of still felt a little sluggish from the pills but apart from that, he was fine. Only remnants of the nightmare remained and as soon as he saw Dean again, any ghosts of it would be swept away.
He flicked on the lights and glanced around the room. It was a little messy with his clothing lying around. He vaguely remembered shedding his travel clothing carelessly before dawning a fresh set and going to bed. He wrinkled his nose at the mess and tidied up. He definitely needed to get some laundry done. Maybe he could do Dean's as well.
It wasn't normally a strange thing to do both their laundry together. It was just the two of them so why not economize on the effort but to be honest, even though things seemed fine yesterday, he was a little worried that he and Dean might have a little awkwardness between them still because of the whole bathroom/sex thing. Ugh, it sounded like he was thinking about him and Dean having bathroom sex. He tried to imagine bleaching the thought from his mind as he made gagging noises. He stepped outside. His first priority food.
He just had to play it cool. He could do cool.
Sam walked down the two shallow steps into the kitchen, surprised to see Dean sitting at the wooden table, reading. He had a beer bottle near him, half finished.
Looking up at him briefly, Dean mumbled a good morning before going back to his book.
"Morning," Sam replied. "A little early for that isn't it?" he nodded towards the bottle.
"Bud Light," he said, "Less Alcohol. It's practically good for you."
"It's still beer Dean," Sam scoffed.
"But," Dean stressed, "less alcohol. Why else would I be drinking this. It tastes like piss water," The distaste on his face was almost comical. "Besides we have nothing else to drink."
"There's water," Sam argued. He didn't really care if Dean drank beer in the morning. It would take more than that to really affect him and he'd gotten much better over the last few years but any chance he got to poke and prod at him he would take.
Dean gave him such a betrayed look Sam's serious face almost cracked. "If it's a choice between water and this crap, I'll take the piss." Putting the book downward on the table to preserve his page, he said "my own brother."
Sam shook his head and hid his smile as he sat down. He picked up the book and read the title. 'Magic In Japan – Kotodama (Soul of Languages)' and making sure to mark where Dean had left off, he quickly skimmed through it.
"Some light reading?" stopping on a page that interested him. Unlike what most people believed, Dean was almost as voracious a reader as he was. The only difference was that his brother thought that he had a certain image the world expected him to fill so he deliberately filled it.
Sam was worried that if he continued to do so, eventually Dean would start to believe the lie. Not only was his brother brilliant, he was able to take control of a room or situation almost immediately. A natural leader that others just instinctively trusted and wanted to follow.
"It's interesting." He gave Sam an assessing look. "You should read it when I'm done. I think you'll like it."
"You think so? Sure." Sam had not looked up from the page yet. It really seemed like an interesting book but more than that, he was just really happy that they could talk easily again. After a moment, he surrendered the book back to Dean and got up to make himself some breakfast.
"I'll make you something. Sit," Dean said, getting up.
"You don't always have to make me stuff you know. I can feed myself," he chuckled softly. He didn't want Dean to think he was rejecting his help. He just wanted him to know that he didn't always have to.
"I know you can but you had a bit of a rough night so let me do this for you. Besides it's practically tradition by now for me to feed you."
There it was again. Dean was always so selfless. He'd almost died yet he prioritized Sam's nightmares. "I think it's more likely that dominating streak you have more than tradition. I'm on to you," he jokingly said the thoughtless comment, immediately catapulting them back to awkward and uncomfortable.
Silence fell over the room. He could tell that Dean was thinking about the motel incident because he was making that same pained face again. Trying to salvage the situation, Sam quickly added, "It's a good thing you're so good at it." Wait, would Dean get that he meant cooking and not the other stuff? He started to panic a little, mind floundering and mouth tempted to let loose a barrage of verbal vomit.
"Only good? I could put Gordon Ramsay to shame." He was either giving Sam a way out of his blunder or pretending not to notice it. He took a deep relieved breath as Dean placed a pan on the stove and started to beat a few eggs in a bowl.
With relief, he hurriedly changed the topic to avoid any more embarrassing slip ups. "I'm doing some laundry in a while. If you need anything washed bring it to the laundry room."
"Hmm," Dean said as he made quick work of some scrambled eggs and toast. "What's the plan for the next little while?"
He rest his chin on his steepled hands as he thought about that. "I think we should take a break."
"Hmm," Dean said thoughtfully. Grabbing the stuff he prepared, he placed it in front of his brother, along side a glass of water. Sam looked at the glass incredibly, and then at Dean, shit eating grin spreading across his face.
"Ha ha very funny," He said and to be a brat he grabbed the glass and drank it all before smirking triumphantly back.
He ate his breakfast in companionable silence while Dean took up his book again and it felt good. He felt good. Dean was here. Safe.
It had been over a day since he showered what with travelling all day yesterday and going straight to bed from exhaustion. He decided to hit the showers before getting to the laundry just so he could feel refreshed again.
He walked into the showers and quickly shed his clothing. He was looking forward to the feeling of the warm water. They really lucked out with the bunker. It had amazing water pressure.
The steady downpour of the water was soothing as steam rose with the rising temperature. Stepping under the flow, he sighed as the temperate stream sluiced down his body. Bending his head under the water, his hair flowed over his face for a second before he ran his fingers through it a few times, pushing it back.
He really hoped Dean would seriously consider taking a mini break. For the first time in years, neither of them were dying, soulless, in hell or some other dimension. Maybe it was selfish but he just wanted to keep Dean somewhere where he wouldn't be jumping in front of the next big bad saying, "Come get me!"
He'd thought of it in passing over the years. Just clicking pause on the world ending but they never realistically could. Now that there wasn't some vengeful trying to rip the world apart at the seams, they didn't need to go out and search for crazy. Not only that but there were a lot of hunters out there now. Let them deal with it for a while.
He grabbed his shampoo and lathered his hair, getting in a quick head massage while he was at it. It was a little fruity scented but he actually kind of liked it. Dean had picked it up as a joke but the joke was on him. His mind wandered as he fell into the familiar task of shampooing.
Their last hunt had put too much of a strain on their relationship. He just wanted to focus on strengthening their bonds, making sure they were still good. That fumble in the kitchen was a perfect example. Not being able to tease Dean about something was just wrong and the fact that it created this strain between them was worrying.
He stooped under the spray and shut his eyes as the soapy foam run down his face and body. When his hair was soap free, he reached for his bottle of body wash next to Dean's but stopped and picked his brother's instead. He sniffed the bottle and sighed contentedly. He poured a healthy amount onto his washcloth before he began washing his big body.
Maybe there was a reason they were hesitating around each other. Clearly he was still a little caught up on the motel incident. Who could blame him though. It was like a systemic shock. He thought he'd known every thing there was to know about his brother.
He took a deep breath in as Dean's scent wrapped around him. He knew that women fell all over themselves in his brother's presence. It had been that way since they were teenagers but he never considered that his brother might actually know what he was doing with those women. He'd been so-so commanding, confident as he told that woman what he wanted her to do and what he'd to her.
Opening his eyes in surprise, he hadn't even known he'd closed them, he felt horrified that he was actively trying to remember details of the incident. It made him uncomfortable to think of Dean this way so cutting that series of thought off, he quickly rinsed off and left the bathroom.
As he was walking down the hall, he saw his brother.
"Hey Sam. Going on a supply run. Need anything?" Sam mentioned a few things he needed and soon after, Dean was gone. He ambled down to the laundry room with his things, in a fantastic mood. Every time he had a good interaction with his brother, even a brief one, it banished the negative, doubtful voice in his head.
There was a basket filled with clothing waiting for him. Dean had already left his stuff in the room. A combination of textiles like towels and bedsheets, home clothes and suits and streetwear from their last hunt. That pile was smaller than usual.
Makes sense. Dean had spent three days tied up in the same clothing. It's funny. He didn't remember Dean smelling badly on the drive back to the motel. That could have been because he was just so relieved to have him back that he didn't notice.
Sorting everything in workable piles, he decided to work on the textiles first. They didn't need as much attention as the others. He started piling the items into the washing machine.
The first thing Dean had done when he got back was shower so if there had been any lingering proof of his harrowing three days Sam would never know. Besides, he thought that Dean always smelled good – a combination of his body wash and natural scent. Even when they were out in the muck and mud, sweating and bleeding, he could always pick out Dean's scent.
He couldn't quite decipher what it was but it was as familiar to him as his hand. Lifting his brother's sheets to his face, he took a deep breath, trying to identify the different hints that made up Dean. He truly couldn't tell. It smelled like home – like Dean, but he couldn't pick up special hints that reminded him of any other scent he'd smelled in his life. All he knew was that it was a good smell. I wonder if that girl noticed how good he smelled too, he thought.
Pull the sheets away from his face, "What am I doing?" he asked no one in particular. He quickly stuffed the sheets into the machine with the other items. He was standing in their laundry room sniffing his brother's dirty sheets like a creeper. He turned on the machine and walked away feeling disbelief at himself as water filled the drum.
He lay in his bed that might feeling perplexed. He didn't know why he was so hang up on what happened in the motel but it just kept flashing through his mind through random periods in the day. So much, that he felt so guilty that he couldn't look his brother in the eye during dinner.
No matter how smooth he kept trying to be, he was pretty sure Dean knew something was up. Sometimes he wished his brother wasn't so perceptive.
The problem was that he'd finally understood that to get a good night's rest, he needed to be in Dean's presence, even if it was just for a little while until his mind finally accepted that Dean was not going anywhere. So although he was now in his room, he knew that he'd be crawling over to his brother soon. He didn't even know why he kept up the pretense of going to his room. Inevitably, he'd end up in Dean's if he didn't want to suffer a night like last night.
Getting up, he decided that he was being ridiculous. He had an open invitation from Dean. He could ask for help, free of judgment, so there was no reason to agonize over it when he would give in anyway.
He quickly walked the short distance to his brother's room and pausing his hurried pace at the door, he knocked. It was past midnight so he wasn't sure if Dean was awake or not. "Dean?" he asked softly,
Dean's voice was gravel rough, as he told Sam to come in, like he'd already been asleep.
He flicked the lamp on when Sam opened the door and frowned in his direction from the sudden harshness of the lights as his eyes tried to adjust.
Sam closed the door behind him softly as he entered the room, pressing his back to said door like even closed, he could still walk through it if needed. "Can I stay here tonight?"
Dean waved a careless hand at the couch in agreement before dropping his head back on the pillow. Sam's gaze landed on the couch. It was a very comfortable couch, he knew this but he hadn't realized until that very moment how much he didn't want to sleep alone. It wasn't enough anymore to just be in the same room. He, more than anything wanted to climb into that big bed next to his brother.
Turning away from the couch, he looked at Dean helplessly, hoping he could telegraph what he wanted somehow.
With a sleepy, resigned groan, Dean lifted the covers making room for his pain in the ass brother. Sam, not wanting to give him time to change his mind, quickly climbed in as the lights flicked back off. This is exactly what he wanted. He took a deep breath and burrowed into the pillows – pleased.
The sheets and pillows were cool under his skin but they no longer smelled like Dean. It didn't matter though because the source of his favorite scent was right there.
"Thanks," he whispered, his back to his brother.
"Sleep," Dean said tiredly.
A/N: Please leave a like or comment on this chapter to let me know what you think. I've already written several chapters of this story (Into the twenties) and would post faster with better encouragement. I like writing but because of the lack of response I sometimes forget to post the chapters I've already written.