Mif

Each of the boys is always reading something strange. Dean carries shooting magazines rolled up in his back pocket. There’s a pen stuck in there too. He makes notes in a gun magazine. The fuck kind of a teenager does that? Sam’s got his own little book. Leather bound journal he guards like it's a little girl’s diary. He’s always making notes in it too. Once Finn Michaels ripped it out of Sam’s hand to finally look inside. He didn’t know what the Hell a shifter was and he knew vampires weren’t real, but Sam’s eerie drawings and scrawled writing could convince him of anything. 

They were always beat up from something. Never ending scrapes and scratches and bruises. The moment one of them healed five more of them would pop up. Some people thought it was their dad. From the few snippets the boys ever dropped about him he didn’t sound like a nice man. They had matching scars running up their palms. One weekend Dean came back to school with the cut reopened and stitched up. Tye Noel said it looked like it hurt. Dean said he was strong enough to handle it. He asked where it was from. Dean said it was from a grizzly bear. The closest grizzly habitat was three states away. 

Sam always looks a little out of place. He’s a little too quiet and a little too tall for his age, a head and a half over the rest of his seventh grade class. Paired with his lingering stares and mumbled words, Sam looks like a proper freak. And shit, man, the clothes really don’t help. Dressed like he could be a child of the damn corn. He’s even got blood stains on the cuffs of his jeans. Someone, probably his mother, tried to get them out with bleach. But if you notice the dark red blots, you’ll know exactly what you’re looking at. 

Dean keeps an old switchblade tucked into his back pocket. Definitely banned in the school’s hand book, but no one gave a shit. A few weeks ago he was showing it off to Brandy Mae Stevens at lunch. Doing the teenage boy version of peacocking. Flips and twirls and showing just how precise the sharp edge can be. Brandy Mae says it’s the prettiest knife she’s ever seen. Dean says that’s because it’s made of pure silver. When Brandy Mae asks why, Dean switches the subject and starts complimenting her tight jeans. 

Sam’s got something silver of his own. A little rosary he keeps tucked into his jacket. Kinda like he’s trying to hide it. Jackie Penny swears up and down that she saw him praying once. That wouldn’t be such a strange claim if everyone at school hadn’t seen the little pentagram looking thingy Sam had drawn in front of the classroom door. He said it was for protection, but most kids thought he was a devil worshiper. If he’s praying to Lucifer, he shouldn’t need something with Jesus Christ all over it. 

If only to make up for Sam’s silence Dean can’t seem to shut the fuck up. If he isn’t talking, he’s whistling. If he’s not whistling, he’s humming. And if he’s not humming, he’s moving or tapping or drumming in a way. Like he’s trying to fill up space. His clothes are the ones always too big. He tries to fill those too. His jacket, his flannels, his jeans. Why are these boys always wearing that shit anyway? It could be 90 degrees out and they would still be covered head to toe. 

The thing most people always notice first is how close they are. Always touching. Always standing right next to each other. Always whispering between themselves. Sure, yeah, siblings are affectionate, but they didn’t know where to stop. If Sam and Dean were in the same room, their hands were on each other. Whether it was brushing shoulders or knees or Dean’s hand on Sam’s arm or thigh. Adults would tell them to cut it out and Sam will try and hide how he still leans into Dean’s side. The other kids noticed too. Sam gets teased for needing his big brother like a little girl. Dean gets side eyes from the older students for touching someone young like that. Touching his brother like that. 

Old ladies think it’s sweet. Old men think they need to grow up and separate. If people ask, Dean will make a joke about how ever big his Sammy gets, he’ll always be his baby brother. Sam will dodge the question. 

The boys leave town two days after the school year ends. Almost like their stay was a contract. People will quickly forget their names and the more intricate details about them. Still, a decade down the road, people in that little town will talk. They’ll talk about those strange brothers and how the only place they seemed to fit in, was in each other’s arms.