That's All There Is

“Jack wants to do the right thing.”

Sam looked out of the window. It was American History, and he’d covered the context two months ago in a different school, and seven months ago in yet another one. He could hear the teacher talking, a low mumble – the least enthusiastic way you could teach children about the past.

He had brought his own book to read whilst the other kids focussed on the history book. In small, ancient script he was learning about the arts of magic. Small magic. Nothing dangerous. Because he didn’t possess the ability to perform big magic anyway. He was forming the words with his lips as he read. He imagined himself standing in a high-ceiling room with a small fire burning in front of him. He saw himself raise his arms and face upwards. He heard himself chant the words as he read them under his breath in class. He looked like in a film, he thought. Important, magical, dangerous. He smiled to himself. It was only a spell to make a light object float, really. He scanned the next few pages until something caught his eye.

“Mind reading”. Below were brief instructions on how to focus on a single person, how to perform the spell, and how to reverse it. He didn’t need any ingredients, only an object from the person in mind, and a dark room. He almost jumped out of the chair with excitement and couldn’t wait for the lesson to finish. Eagerly he pushed past the other kids as the bell rang, and rushed towards the storage room on the first floor. He assumed it would be empty – and dark. He grabbed Dean’s jumper from his locker on the way – a jumper Dean thought he’d lost but Sam couldn’t force himself to hand it back (he clearly remembered Dean wearing it, laughing and running around with him in the back garden of the tiny house they were staying at. Dean had gotten to warm and thrown the jumper at Sam who caught it and threw it back. And thus, a war had started which finished in both lying on the floor with their arms around their bellies, laughing so hard it was almost impossible to breathe. Sam had been so happy in that very moment).

When he got to the room, he pulled the door shut and knelt on the floor. With the flashlight from his bag he illuminated the pages and started reading, whispering, the words. He pressed the jumper to his chest and held his breath, listening out for the thoughts he was supposed to be able to hear now. It was all quiet. His shoulders dropped and he frowned to himself. He must have done it wrong. He was about to start again when the bell went. He stuffed the jumper in his bag alongside the book and hurried back to class. By the time he was walking home, he’d almost forgotten that he was supposed to be able to read Dean’s thoughts. He walked into the kitchen-hallway-living room (the house was small and there was barely anywhere to sit to eat your food), threw his bag on the old sofa and walked to the fridge. It was leaking again, with a puddle forming in front of it. They’d have to throw out the milk again tomorrow if the fridge didn’t pick up again. He pulled out a carton of fruit juice and drank straight from it.

“Why the fuck does he always have to drink from the carton? I could kill him” he heard behind him. He spun around and saw his brother frowning at him.

“’xcuse me?”

“I didn’t say anything. How was school?”

Sam frowned back at his brother.

“Was alright.”

“Good.”

“Where’s dad?”

“Out,” he mumbled in response and looked away. “It’s just you and me, baby  brother. You and me in this small house in the only double bed available. And I’ll be spending all night lying awake next to you.”

Sam shook his head, confusion and surprise becoming one as he realised what was happening.

“Right” he whispered.

“Want to watch one of the old westerns?”

“Later.”

He could hear his brother’s thoughts but they didn’t make any sense. They were just noises. He realised that that must be what thoughts actually sound like. He realised that he himself wasn’t thinking in words but in sounds – until he realised that and suddenly he was thinking in words. He cautiously walked over to the sofa and sat down. Deep in thought he only just heard Dean think that he was “starving his ass off” and that he “couldn’t be fucked to make food”. Sam held back a small laugh.

“Shall I make us something to eat?”

Dean looked at him with such gratitude that Sam’s heart almost stopped.

“Thanks, man. Can I help?”

-          “As long as I don’t have to do the shit jobs”, Dean added in his thoughts. “I could do with some cheese now.”

“Yeah. Wanna make the cheese sauce?”

-          “I love you, Sammy. You know me too well.” Dean thought.

Instead, he said “Fine, I’ll make the sauce.” He put on a slightly grumpy face to hide his true feelings.

They cooked away, Sam boiling the pasta and Dean making the sauce – eating half of it whilst making it, as usual. They dished it up and sat down next to each other on the sofa.

“This is perfect, Sammy,” Dean said.

The smile on Dean’s face was genuine and Sam couldn’t help but smile back.

They finished and Sam realised that the noises in Dean’s head were a lot more cheerful, a lot lighter.

“Fuck, I have to do my homework,” Sam suddenly said.

“I’ll help you, you’ll be done faster that way.”

They started looking at his maths homework, but Dean’s thoughts quite obviously indicated that he was bored, and that he didn’t want to show Sam how much smarter Sam was.

“I think my brother is the smartest person on the planet. Why does he have to be part of this family? He’s too clever.”

Sam looked down at his homework, and tried not to get upset. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was one of the few people who actually knew how intelligent Dean was. And it hurt his head to know the things Dean was thinking.

“Dean, tell me again about the way you tricked that vampire nest last month.”

And Dean started describing the scene to him again, every detail, every thought. Sam could hear where Dean exaggerated, where Dean added a few details here and there to the story. But the bottom line was there – Dean had tricked the entire group of vampires.

Sam sat there, looking at his brother vividly telling the story and he smiled to himself.

They ended up playing card games all evening, with Dean’s thoughts going from the breasts of the queens to the fact he was losing and didn’t appreciate that. He was swearing a lot – in his thoughts and he didn’t mind voicing it either. But his thoughts were mostly noise. Mostly soft noise though.

When they went to bed, Sam was almost embarrassed to get undressed in front of his brother. And Dean’s thoughts were all over the place. Hectic noise and whispering thoughts were fighting for Dean’s (and Sam’s) attention. He was telling himself to look away, not to turn red, not to look but the loud hectic noise made it clear he couldn’t stop looking. And more importantly, he started telling his dick to stop swelling up, that it was not appropriate. And Sam couldn’t help but turn around and look. Wide eyes as his brother tried to hide his erection from his little brother.

“Fuck” Dean thought (shouted) to himself.

“Sammy, I think I’ll sleep on the sofa tonight.” He rushed out of the room, but Sam followed him. He put a hand on his shoulder and turned Dean to face him.

“Dean?” He whispered.

“He knows!” Dean’s thoughts were panicked.

“Dean, I want you to sleep in the same bed as me. I think I’d like to feel you pressed against me.” He would have shied away from what he was saying, but he’d heard Dean’s thoughts, he’d seen Dean’s erection. He knew it was okay.

“Sammy.” Dean’s whisper was drowned out by the hundred thoughts and voices that rushed around in Dean’s head.

Sam took Dean’s hand and pulled him towards the bed. He pulled him down with him as he laid down.

“I don’t know what to do, Sammy.” Dean’s voice was shaking.

“Hold me.” Sam turned away from Dean, becoming the little spoon in their entangled embrace. Dean smelled Sam’s hair and his thoughts turned from noise to music, all words gone because the only way to describe how Dean was feeling was through music, soft and melodic. If Sam could see Dean’s thoughts, he’d see a sunny sky and birds flying overhead, he’d see bright colours that portrayed total peace and happiness. He pulled Dean closer around him, hearing the music of his thoughts go more and more quiet, and slower and even more peaceful as Dean fell asleep.

Sam decided then, that reading minds was wrong, it was wrong because he was invading someone’s privacy. But he also decided that it had been the best thing he’d ever done. He sighed when he realised he’d have to undo the spell before Dean caught on. He thought of Dean’s face when Sam suggested to make dinner. He could make Dean so happy by reading his thoughts. But he also knew that it was wrong. And he knew that not all of Dean’s thoughts were beautiful. He had to help Dean understand how incredibly special he was to him – but without Dean’s thoughts in his head.

8x23 || 9x01

I liked SAMs “what do I do” to dean in the cabin. It was a nice shout out to his “how do I stop” in the season 8 finale. Full circle.

It was too easy, really. One small comment from one of Sam’s friends about the “club around the corner still looking to replace ‘Gary’” and Sam blushing from one ear to the other and Dean was on it. His first move was to check out the club. It wasn’t that he’d never been in a strip club before – he’d seen plenty of them from the inside – but he hadn’t actually expected s trip club. The club was pretty much empty. He looked around and saw a handful of girls and guys standing around. One girl was dancing on stage with three middle-aged suited-up men staring up at her. One of the girls looked up as the daylight fell through the door when Dean entered. Nobody bothered to even move. He didn’t look rich enough to make a big profit out of. He took a look around, and headed for the bar. The sole bartender looked at him, bored. He ordered a beer. When “Ty” handed him the bottle, and gave him the change, Dean asked him about ‘Gary’. Ty simply looked at him, eyebrows raised.

“He left a while ago. Disappeared after his girlfriend was found dead at their place.”

Dean’s heart started beating faster. Sam. His Sam.

“Right. Thanks, man.”

The bartender turned his back to him.

“Actually,” Dean started “do you keep photographs of all your dancers?”

He was curious now. Ty’s eyebrows shot up again, they almost vanished into his dyed-blond fringe.

“What?”

“You heard.” Dean didn’t feel like playing that game. “I’ll pay.”

“Nah, man. Sorry.”

“Come on. You tell me you don’t have photographs of all your dancers? Don’t bullshit me.”

“Look, they’re not for sale, alright.” Ty gave the security guy a quick nod, and Dean saw him move towards the bar.

“I don’t want to buy it. I just want to see it!”

Ty quickly raised his hand towards the bartender, suddenly a lot more interested in this conversation. “How much you willing to pay to see a photograph of a guy?”

Dean thought about how much money he had in his pockets. He made a fair winning last night playing pool, and he even managed to pick up some drunk, rich guy’s wallet with a few notes.

“Hundred,” he offered. He needed to see if it was Sam.

“Upfront.” The bartender wasn’t messing around. Dean fumbled with the notes in his pocket, and handed him the money. Ty shook his head in disbelief. “He wasn’t that good, man.” If this really is Sam, Dean promised himself he’d punch the hell out of this guy for that comment. But he simply shrugged for now.

Ty waved one of the girls over, told her to cover for him, and led Dean to a door in the back corner. He opened it carefully, peered through into the room before opening the door all the way. He motioned his head telling Dean to follow him in. He locked the door behind them. Then he started pulling out folders that were filling a small unit along the short side of the small room. There was nothing but a desk, an old leather chair, a computer and screen, and this shelving unit. Nothing more would have fit in this room.

“Ah.”

Dean’s attention turned back to Ty. He put a folder on the desk and started scanning through it. Dean walked over to him, watching him. He saw girls and guys, all basically naked, some posing next to a pole, some simply standing against a wall or sitting on a chair – legs always spread.

When Ty found the page, Dean couldn’t believe it. His heart stopped and he had to look away. But he couldn’t look away for too long.

It was his baby brother, his brother, naked apart from a pair of leather pants. He was sitting down, with the back of the chair between his legs. One hand was resting around his dick. He was biting the index finger of the other. He was looking at the camera, with a look that Dean had never seen on his brother’s face. Dean was instantly taken in, he couldn’t look away anymore. He was mesmerised and shocked at the same time.

Ty pulled the folder away from under his gaze.

“Think that’s about 100 bucks’ worth.”

Dean refocussed. He couldn’t believe what he’d just seen.

“Right,” he mumbled. He turned and walked to the door, unlocked it and ran out of the club. When he walked around the corner to the back of the club, he was breathing hard. He had to rest his hands against the wall and breathe for a few minutes.

His baby brother, his Sammy. He wondered how many people had stared at his little brother, how many people had touched his little brother. Anger overcame him.

He ran to the motel where they were staying, practically ran down the door to their room. Sam looked up, confused and slightly frightened. His instinct caused him to reach for his gun, but when he saw Dean he just stood up.

“Dean?”

“How many, Sam?”

“How many what?”

“How many got to touch you? How many got to stare at you? Huh? How many people, Sam?” He was almost shouting.

Sam backed away.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been to the club. Sounded like you were quite popular, Gary.”

Sam’s face whitened and his eyes widened. He looked horrified.

“Dean – “ he didn’t say anything else. He held his hands up, a sign of peace, trying to calm Dean down.

“How could you do this to me, Sam? Here I was, thinking you’d been with Jess all that time, Jess and nobody else. I was okay with Jess. I understood. But no, it wasn’t just her, was it? You weren’t just with Jess, a girl who you fell in love with to forget about me. No. You let all those men and women touch you, feel you.” Dean wanted to scream, he wanted to punch something. He wanted to kill every single person that put their hands on his little brother’s body for a dirty dollar note. Instead, tears started to build up in his eyes and he couldn’t stop them from rolling down his cheeks. His voice was breaking up and he had to stop.

“I really needed the money, Dean.” Sam tried to justify it, to explain it. His brother’s tears surprised him. He slowly walked over to Dean, approaching him as though his big brother was a frightened doe. When he got close enough, he reached out for Dean, but Dean pushed his hand away. He tried again and again, until he finally pulled Dean into a hug. He fought off the struggle from Dean, until he surrendered and simply sobbed into his little brother’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Dean. I never wanted you to find out.”

“I want to kill everybody who touched you, Sammy,” Dean whispered into Sam’s shoulder.

Sam ran his hand up and down Dean’s back. “I know.”

They slowly moved towards the bed, where they sat down, side by side and looked at each other. Dean’s eyes were red and swollen. Sam’s heart was aching. He’d caused this.

“Sammy – “ Dean started.

Sam looked at his brother. Dean’s face showed a hint of fear, a hint of shyness. He put his hands around Dean’s neck, thumbs resting on each cheek. He pulled his brother closer, until their lips touched oh so softly. He could feel Dean tremble slightly, and he could feel him relax.

“Sammy, will you show me why you were so popular?” Dean wasn’t looking at his brother, he was looking at the wall behind Sam’s head.

Sam smiled a little.

“If you want.”

When Dean looked into his brother eyes, he was overwhelmed with love. He closed the gap between them, and kissed him again, more passionately, more hungrily this time.

Sam was his, and only his, and if he had to show the world, he would.

Sam woke up with hickies all over his neck the next day. He understood why. He wore them with pride.