Not Good Sir, True

‘Yeah,’ Dean finished, his tone dropping, ‘Sam says bye…bye.’

He hung up after a minute and you pretended like you didn’t want to ask what was going on, slowly pouring milk over your cereal so you had a reason to hover as Dean sighed and sank down into a chair at the table.

‘What did he say?’ Sam asked.

‘Not much, he’s picked up another case out in Mesquite, thinks it’ll take him another couple of weeks,’ Dean explained. You instantly felt your heart unclench and you glanced at Sam, who met your eye briefly but looked back at Dean as he carried on, ‘but he wants us to be ready, in case he needs help.’

‘Ready how?’ you asked curiously. Dean looked at you, something he hadn’t done much of recently.

‘Wants us to train today. Hand to hand, target practice,’ Dean answered.

‘Do we have to?’ Sam sighed.

‘Yes,’ Dean said firmly.

‘He’s not gonna know,’ Sam reasoned, the idea of spending the day being tackled to the ground and firing off guns in the backyard not an appealing one.

‘You know he will,’ Dean said.

‘Only if you tell him,’ Sam countered.

‘No, when you get your ass handed to you and I get blamed because you don’t know how to fuckin’ handle yourself,’ Dean replied.

‘I know how to fucking handle myself,’ Sam said tersely.

‘Like that rakshasa up in Maine?’

‘It got lucky,’ Sam snapped.

‘You got sloppy,’ Dean corrected. Sam looked like he was going to start combat training right then and there, his fist clenching and pressing into the denim of his jeans.

‘Why don’t we all do it?’ you asked, breaking their locked gaze the way you would two fighting dogs and causing both boys to look your way, that unimpressed Winchester stare feeling hot and heavy on your skin, ‘I mean, we could just do a couple of hours, that way if your dad asks we don’t have to lie. We could even do something fun after.’

‘Fun?’ Dean repeated sceptically.

‘Yeah,’ you shrugged, refusing to let him make you doubt yourself, ‘Sam and I talked about going to the zoo the other day. We could do that. Or the lake…though I suppose we need all day for that.’

Dean looked at you, and then his eyes shifted to Sam, who was smiling at you thankfully but shifted when he felt Dean looking at him, switching into that same old defiant look he normally had when it came down to Dean’s authority.

‘Fine,’ Dean said, standing up from the table and looking at Sam with an absolute firmness in his eyes, ‘eat something and meet me outside.’

Then he disappeared out the backdoor, closing it a little firmer than you had expected. Once he was gone you spied through to the study and found Bobby deep in his book. You knew he would’ve been listening the whole time, that he wouldn’t have wanted them to go this soon any more than you did, though he’d never admit that. But after hearing what Dean had said he’d obviously settled and seeing that he was distracted you moved over, completely out of the eyeline of the door. You reached your hand down, gently teasing the hairs at the back of Sam’s neck as he looked up at you glumly.

‘Are you okay?’ you asked softly. Sam nodded.

‘Maybe it won’t be that bad,’ you said as brightly as possible, ‘and you said you wanted to go to the zoo.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Sam said, still looking dejected. You felt your heart flip-flop at how sad he looked, how riled he’d gotten and how deflated it had left him. You knew he and John didn’t have the easiest of relationships. But it angered you how he could still worm his way into the time they spent apart. How he couldn’t be around but yet couldn’t let Sam be. And it upset you how it constantly forced a wedge between the boys. Sam the disappointment, Dean the soldier. Dean, forced into a role you weren’t even sure he fully believed in.

‘Come on. The sooner we start, sooner we finish,’ you reasoned, hugging him tightly to your hip for a moment before you let him go, careful not to let Bobby see before you grabbed your bowl of cereal off the counter and headed upstairs to change. Sam let out a quiet sigh and followed right up after you.

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You had figured that you’d be rusty when it came to training, the moves Bobby had drilled into you long ago sitting somewhere in your mind behind useless school information and song lyrics. So you had been intent on not getting overly involved. Dean had started Sam on the punching bag with Bobby’s supervision, the pair of them offering critiques here and there as you just watched. It was probably for the best; whatever aggression he’d been harbouring all morning taken out on the old leather bag that swung from an errant beam in Bobby’s garage rather than Dean’s face.

Then it had turned to hand-to-hand combat, and you were suddenly no longer a spectator. Dean called you up, challenging you when you protested, given that you’d volunteered yourself in the first place. You’d been nervous, standing across from Sam, who looked reluctant to even attempt anything with you now so much shorter than him. But it had come back naturally. One bark from Dean and an expectant look from Bobby and you’d flung yourself at him.

It had been haphazard and sloppy, and you’d realised that within seconds of doing it as he caught you by the wrist, pinning your arm back behind you. But that gave you chance to elbow him in the stomach. He grunted at the impact, just enough for you to slip his grasp and turn back to him. He smiled then, happy to know your instincts had kicked in, and then he lunged forward. You dodged, dropped low and hit his midsection with your shoulder. But he’d anticipated it, locking his arms around your waist and lifting you easily from the ground. You squealed involuntarily as he hoisted you up, Bobby and Dean watching you from the wrong way up as Sam dangled you upside down before he lowered you softly on the grass. He was chuckling when he looked down on you and you scowled, batting his hand away when he offered it you to get up.

‘Again,’ you challenged pushing yourself up from the grass and dusting yourself off. Sam just smiled.

You went at it for a while after that.

Bait, switch, hook, punch. Drop your weight, use his momentum, watch your shoulder, for God's sake!

The instructions were all called from the rusted-out car Dean was sitting on watching on his own now that Bobby had gotten bored and retreated inside away from the beating sun.

You had just straightened up, pulling Sam up from the ground where you’d pinned him ready to go again. You stood facing each other, waiting for the other to make a move, your eyes sweeping down his body. He moved his weight to his left foot, telling you that was the arm he was going to use. You shifted your weight left too, ready for when he swung. But he didn’t notice your adjustment so when he threw his left arm forward, you ducked cleanly under it, catching him right in the midsection. You threw every ounce of your weight behind your shoulder, and took him down onto the grass with a heavy, breathless thud.

By some miracle you stayed standing but not for long. In your smugness you had forgotten the sheer height advantage he had on you, that even seeming miles away from you his legs ghosted near your ankles. And with one quick hook to your right ankle he kicked your leg out from under you and took you down too. You fell blindly, landing heavily right on top of his stomach, which winded him even further and left you entirely breathless.

‘Sorry,’ you winced, fumbling around and trying to find some solid ground that wasn’t muscle to put your hands on to push you up. Sam just shrugged and laid there, chuckling as he watched you. You were sure you looked a mess. You had on nothing but shorts and a tiny tshirt which had ridden up continuously with every single spar, forcing you to constantly yank it back down. Your hair kept slipping completely out of its tie, sweaty wisps framing your face that you kept blindly pushing back from your brow.

But he didn’t look at you like that. He looked up at you like you were just as bright as the blinding summer sun shining directly behind your head.

You shook the violently distracting thought from your mind, dusting the dirt off your shins before offering him a hand to pull him up, though he obviously didn't need the help. Once he was completely upright, towering down over you as usual, you felt your heart rate quicken. You swallowed thickly, forcing out a confident, ‘that’s four-to-four Winchester.’

He looked at you, his eyes glinting like he knew what you were thinking as your gaze flicked to the way his bicep flexed as he ruffled his dishevelled hair.

‘You’re getting slow,’ you teased, forcing the conversation to feel normal.

‘You wish,’ Sam snorted, letting you get out of his immediate vicinity because he knew you lingering this close was dangerous.

From the rusted tailgate of a nearby Chevy, a loud, cynical scoff broke through the bubble.

In the rhythm, and without a running commentary, you’d forgotten Dean was still sitting there. But he was, watching the pair of you closely in a way that made you feel a whole different kind of nervous.

‘What?’ you grit, looking over, raising your hand to your brow to block the sun so he knew that you were glaring not squinting.

‘Four to four? Please,’ Dean muttered, sliding off the tailgate and letting the metal groan in protest.

‘We’ve done eight rounds,’ you countered.

‘That wasn't sparring. That looked like a couple of kittens play fighting one another,’ Dean mocked. Your jaw tightened.

‘We’re not going easy,’ Sam said, noting your clear irritation and feeling a sharp spike of his own.

‘He barely blocked that other take down,’ you added defiantly.

‘Because he's pulling his punches,’ Dean said flatly, leaving his soda on the edge of the tailgate before he got up and walked up to the pair of you.

‘He’s going easy on you,’ he said, watching your face closely. Your eyes flicked to Sam who shifted guilty, ‘he doesn't see you as a real target either because a girl or ‘cause you’re his friend.’

‘So what?’ you asked, unable to understand why this felt like an insult. Why it felt like there was something loaded behind the way Dean described you as Sam’s friend.

‘So he’s not going to put his weight into a strike he’s worried about breaking your nose,’ Dean said, folding his arms challengingly and looking at Sam.

‘I’m not doing that,’ Sam said angrily. Dean just stared, capitalising on the inch or so he still had left and his authoritative glare as he replied, ‘yes you are, and it’s bad form. Out in the real world a monster isn't gonna care about your feelings.’

You felt your heart flip-flop. Had he been? Did he really not want to hurt you just because you were a girl? No, Sam wouldn’t do that. If he did it was because this wasn’t real. He didn’t want to be here, neither of you did. You were doing it for fun. Surely he’d know what to do when it came down to it.

But then a little voice inside your head niggled at you.

Because what if he went on a real hunt and wasn’t prepared? What if he got hurt? What if he got his dad hurt? Dean hurt. You’d never forgive yourself.

Sam didn’t seem to be thinking the same though, the smile had gone from his face and his knuckles whitened as he balled his hands into fists, his tall frame tensing.

‘Except she’s not a monster. Besides she’s fast, I’m not pulling back,’ he said, his voice dropping an octave.

‘Yeah, okay. Sure,’ Dean scoffed, entirely unconvinced.

‘I’m not,’ Sam said, low and menacing in a way that worried you this was going to turn into more than just a squabble. You didn’t know what was the matter with Dean. Why he’d been so intent on today. He’d been content on doing his own thing and now he was acting like it was your fault he couldn’t ignore an order.

‘Alright then,’ Dean countered, bouncing on the balls of his feet, holding his hands up in a loose boxer's stance, ‘let’s see how tough you are when someone actually hits back. Come on, Sammy. Show me what you've got.’

The tension between the three of you became immediately suffocating but Sam didn't hesitate. He stepped into the makeshift ring, his face turning hard and focused. And you backed out of the way because you were sure that this was not going to be some easy spar like the pair of you had been doing.

And you had been right. You could see that from the off. Dean was older, more agile, and had years more experience and it showed at first. He easily slipped Sam's first two jabs, ducking under a heavy right cross and delivering a sharp, stinging slap to Sam's ribs that made him and you wince.

‘Keep your guard up,’ Dean barked, entirely in his element, a smug, dominant grin breaking across his face, ‘you're leaning in too far. I told you, you've been getting soft playing around with her.’

You were sure he just meant here, sparring, but something deep and ugly set under your ribs with his words, your blood boiling in your veins. Sam’s too. You could see it, the exact moment Sam snapped. The subtle shift in his shoulders, the furious, quiet heat flashing in his eyes. Dean's constant taunting, the authority he commanded. The comments about you, the only friend outside Sam he’d ever really known, it all seemed to crystallize in Sam's mind.

Dean lunged forward, throwing a heavy right hook meant to end the drill entirely and send Sam into the dirt. But Sam didn't drop back. Instead, he anticipated the move perfectly from something you’d done not ten minutes ago. Sam ducked low, letting Dean’s fist clear his shoulder, and drove his entire weight directly into Dean’s midsection. He caught Dean around the waist, lifted his older brother clear off his feet, and slammed him flat onto his back into the hard, baked earth.

You felt the impact before you heard it. The thud on the ground hard in contrast with the soft breath that was forced from Dean’s lungs. You watched as he just lay there in the dirt, completely stunned, his eyes wide as he stared up at the summer sky, gasping like a fish out of water.

And then without warning a sharp, unfiltered burst of laughter escaped your throat before you could even think to stop it.

It wasn't a polite giggle either. It was a loud, triumphant laugh that echoed off the rusted metal of the salvage yard. You stood there, your hands on your hips, looking down at the great Dean Winchester completely flattened by his little brother. Sam stood over him, chest heaving, his ragged breaths filling the silence. And when he heard your laugh, a slow, fiercely satisfied smirk spread across his face. He looked down at Dean, then glanced over at you, his hazel eyes gleaming with a dangerous, thrilling victory. He had taken Dean down, he had defended your honour, and he knew exactly how much you loved seeing it.

Dean groaned loudly, rolling onto his side and clutching his bruised ribs, his face flushed bright red with a mixture of pain and absolute humiliation. He looked up at your laughing face, his expression dark, furious, and utterly miserable.

‘Shut up,’ Dean croaked, his voice strained as he tried to find his breath, ‘it was... a slippery patch of grass.’

‘Sure it was,’ you said sarcastically, watching as he pushed himself up off the ground.

‘Alright,’ he said, dusting off his clothes but still a little breathless, ‘you think that's funny, hot shot? Come get a piece of this and let's see how loud you're laughing then.’

You stilled, your gaze flicking to Sam. You knew it didn’t mean anything, that he was just sore and pissed but you couldn’t help but feel a throb of excitement run through you. Last year you would’ve jumped at the chance to spar with Dean.

Now it felt weird.

Odd.

Like you needed Sam to tell a you it was okay.

‘You don’t have to,’ Sam said quickly, stepping between you two, ‘he’s just pissed.’

‘Shut up Sam,’ Dean said, stepping around his brother. He towered over you too and you felt your breath catch at his closeness making a smirk forming on his face, ‘what do you say, princess? You beat me, we can stop for the day. Head to the zoo as promised.’

You didn’t dare look at Sam though you could feel him watching you both curiously. You just straightened up, puffing your chest out as you nodded, ‘you’re on.’

‘Good,’ Dean said.

He moved back to stand in the circle, and you did too. Sam watched you closely and then moved to where you’d been observing from, close enough to intervene if needed, far away enough he wouldn’t get in the way.

‘Ready?’ Dean asked.

‘Bring it,’ you challenged.

Dean didn't give you time to set your stance. He moved in fast, lunging forward to grab your shoulders and use his weight to force you backward. But you were smaller, lower to the ground, and you'd spent the last hour actively avoiding Sam’s massive reach. You dropped your weight immediately, slipping right under Dean's outstretched arms. You drove your shoulder hard into his hip, wrapping one arm tightly around the back of his thigh and kicking your heel behind his ankle.

His enthusiasm had already left him off balance, so he went down hard for the second time in minutes, back pressed to the flat grass. And before he could recover you scrambled on top of him, settling your weight on his middle, your thighs boxing in his chest and your hands pressed to his biceps to keep him locked in place.

You leaned down, beaming and triumphant.

‘Looks like Sammy isn’t the only one taking it easy, huh?’ you gloated.

Only Dean didn’t say anything. He didn't move. He just stared up at you, his eyes wide, his breathing coming in soft, warm breaths against your face. The space between you grew dangerously small. You felt the air shift, getting tighter just like Dean’s fingers were on your waist where he’d grabbed to move you, rough and callous against the skin of your stomach under your shirt. Once you realised that you were then distinctly aware that you were straddling him, pressed so tight against you could feel his abs tensed even through the denim of your shorts.

Any teasing went in a second, replaced by your heart performing a violent, terrifying somersault. You froze, completely paralyzed by the sudden rush of heat in your chest, your eyes dropping to his mouth for a fraction of a second before snapping back to his eyes. He felt it too. You could see it in the sudden, dark intensity in his gaze, his fingers digging a little deeper into the skin of your waist.

From the edge of the circle, Sam was watching. He stood entirely frozen, his face going completely pale as he took in the sight of you straddling his brother, the sudden, loaded silence hanging over the yard like a thunderstorm.

And then the spell broke in an instant. Dean’s expression hardened, a flash of pure panic crossing his features before his instincts kicked in to erase the awkwardness. With a low, grunt, Dean violently arched his hips, throwing you entirely off balance. Before you could grab onto anything, he twisted his torso, flipping you underneath him in one fluid motion. He slammed your back down into the dry grass, his heavy weight instantly pinning you down, his hands trapping your wrists securely against the dirt on either side of your head.

He was breathing heavily, looming directly over you, his chest pressing down against yours.

‘Never let your guard down when you think you've won,’ Dean strained out, his voice rough and tight.

But the lesson was completely hollow. He was staring down at you, his face inches from yours, and the weird, heavy tension was still screaming between you, thicker and more uncomfortable than before. Your wrists felt incredibly small in his grip, the heat of his body overwhelming. You could feel his eyes tracking the frantic rise and fall of your chest. It felt entirely wrong. It felt dirty, confusing, and terrifying, especially with Sam standing right there.

‘Get off me,’ you whispered, your voice shaking with a mixture of sudden anger and panic. You threw your knee up, catching him sharply in the thigh, which made his grip slacken enough for you to shove your palms against his chest. Dean fell back immediately, scrambling on the grass as if he'd just been burned.

You sat up quickly, brushing the dry grass and dirt off your back with trembling fingers. Your cheeks burning a furious, bright crimson. You could feel Dean watching you but you refused to meet his gaze, your entire focus on anything but until Sam walked over.

He did it slowly, his expression completely unreadable, though his eyes were dark and incredibly tense as he looked between the two of you. He reached down, offering you a hand, his fingers clamping tightly around yours as he hoisted you to your feet. But he didn't let go immediately, his thumb giving your hand a firm, protective squeeze that grounded you instantly, drawing a line in the sand after whatever weirdness had just happened.

By the time you were upright Dean was standing, dusting off his jeans aggressively refusing to look at either of you.

‘I’m done with this,’ you said sharply. Dean didn’t look back so he didn’t see the way Sam was still holding your hand. You felt it though and without a thought you snatched it from his grasp. When he dropped his gaze to the ground you winced.

‘Yeah, whatever. It’s stupid anyway,’ Dean muttered gruffly, his voice forced and dismissive as he turned his back to the ring.

‘Told you,’ was all Sam could offer, too busy watching the pair of you do everything you could not to look at one another, too busy watching Dean pretend not to look at you as you stomped off towards the house.

Sam hesitated, watching you go. When the door slammed shut, he sighed and Dean finally looked across at him, something Sam couldn’t read behind his eyes before he offered him a dismissive shrug, that read along the lines of ‘girls right?’.

Sam didn't say a word to his brother. He just nodded, his face tight, and followed you into the house, leaving Dean alone in the baking heat of the yard.

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After the morning you’d had, not one of you had been in a particularly zoo-going mood. You’d hid in your room, trying to ignore the hammering of your heart, the ghost of Dean’s hands on your waist, and the hurt look on Sam’s face when you’d snatched your hand from his. You’d pretended it had taken you all that time because you were getting changed. Swapping your t-shirt and shorts for a nice sundress and sandals, putting on makeup to get rid of the sweat and shame. At least if you blushed now someone might think it was intentional.

Only when you had finally braved coming downstairs Sam, Dean, and Bobby were all sitting in Bobby’s study waiting for you. You’d asked what was going on but neither brother felt very chatty, so Bobby had been the one to inform you that he could spare a few hours and wanted to join in on the fun the three of you had planned, his treat.

You knew he was doing it to be kind. It was why he’d come out with you initially, making sure things got off to a jovial rather than juvenile delinquent start. Making sure that Sam didn’t get too put out, and Dean didn’t lose himself in ordering him about on John’s behalf. Who would’ve known it was you he should’ve been keeping an eye on? How he should’ve stayed outside to stop you losing yourself, acting like a damn fool.

You wondered if he would’ve seen it, that electric thing that passed between you and Dean that you couldn’t quite put a name to. You wondered if Sam had seen it, if he’d watched your gaze land on Dean’s lips, or noticed how Dean had touched your bare waist exactly the way he had done in secret less than a day ago.

As Bobby asked if you were ready to head out, you forcefully pushed the thoughts from your mind, following behind the two brothers as they marched out to the car, neither of them looking back at you.

It was funny, you thought on the drive to the zoo. That for all his bravado and big talk, and for the fact of him being an adult now, he still hadn’t said no. To John. To Bobby. He acted far too big for this town, far too mature for family outings, but he followed along anyway.

You didn’t say much on your walk around the park. You feigned fascination with the animals and moved slowly between exhibits to stretch time before you had to get back in that insufferable car. You let Bobby and Dean talk, mostly about hunting from what you could here, what they’d do if faced with a lion or a grizzly in comparison to a werewolf or poltergeist. You let Sam fall into step with you. He didn't bring up what had happened. Whatever raw openness the two of you had created in private seemed to fade back into that other, safer space. That quiet, guarded understanding. It was a pattern you realized was always brought on by Dean’s mere presence.

You didn’t like it, how he changed the gravity between the pair of you, but right now you were thankful Sam wasn’t direct. Instead, he quietly read the information from each plaque at every exhibit for you, adding little titbits of trivia that he’d memorized, his face lighting up when you offered him a genuine smile.

Sam had just left you, headed to go and get you a drink after you had complained about being thirsty one too many times. You’d felt bad the moment he’d offered but he’d insisted that the next stand wasn’t too far away and he needed the bathroom anyway, so he’d have to go at some point. You’d offered to go with him, but he’d waved you off meaning you’d had to follow Bobby and Dean into the crocodile house alone.

It was God awful inside. Hotter than Satan’s butthole and making you sweat your makeup off before you’d even lapped around the first side of the enclosure. Bobby was up ahead, watching as heads rose out of the water as he past before deeming him uninteresting and submerging deep into murky depths. You hung back near one of the wooden lookout posts for a second, trying to spot each one lurking below the surface. You were so lost in it you didn’t see Dean who been doing the same, watching you from up ahead.

He wasn’t stupid. He’d felt the change in you. He’d noticed it the day he’d landed and he’d found you weren’t that kid he knew last year. You were different. More grown up. Like Sam had gotten this year when he’d thinned out and shot to near his height. Only Sam he’d seen it happen in real time. You had been a shock to the system. The make-up, the hair, dressing like those girls he dated, those girls who didn’t mean anything, who he chased because he knew exactly what they wanted. You weren’t a girl like that.

And he didn’t like that you tried to make yourself like that. How fast everything was moving. How you’d all be grown up soon. How there wouldn’t be a reason for them to come back around anymore. How you wouldn’t need him around anymore.

So, he’d been clunky. Dismissive. Defensive.

He’d hurt your feelings, he knew that. And now you lived in this awkward and exhausting limbo. Everything between you felt wrong. He said something it pissed you off. You said something it pissed him off. Only he took it out elsewhere. Mandy. Jobs for Bobby. Just driving for miles until he was forced to come back.

Because somehow in the war you’d won Sam. Though he supposed he was thankful for that at least. That you weren’t left alone, even if it did hurt to see you two be friends like he was supposed to be with you. Even if he felt something dark flicker in his stomach when Sam had touched you, when his hand had lingered on your wrist.

He just missed how things used to be. That was all.

He just didn’t know how to make it right. But he had to try.

You froze when he stood beside you, pretending to look out at the shallow waters and fake jungle foliage splashed around the room. It was something you never would have done before, and it made his heart sad to feel it. He didn’t start with pleasantries or pretend he was there for any other reason. You were still friends. You were his best friend. So, he just dove in, like he always did.

‘Are you mad a me?’ he asked bluntly.

‘What?’ you asked, stalling for time, distinctly aware of his eyes on your face.

‘You seem mad at me,’ he said.

‘Why would I be mad at you?’ you deflected, finally conceding to look at him.

‘I don’t know. The sparring?’ he offered.

‘I beat you,’ you said with a shrug. Dean nodded and silence settled.

‘If you are, I don’t know what I did,’ Dean lied. You shifted, keeping your eyes locked on a crocodile sitting on a rock opposite you, mouth open, quiet, and still, entirely unnoticed by everything. You wished going still would work for you. That Dean would forget you were there or the ground would swallow you up. Dean sighed, ‘is it…is it about the clothes thing? Because if it is I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘I don’t care what you think about my clothes’ you said. It was dismissive and a blatant lie, but Dean just nodded.

Of course not, he thought, why would you? You weren’t doing it to impress him. He hadn’t even meant to sound mean, all he’d been trying to say was that you didn’t need it to impress anyone. You were pretty as is. Cute, though that had been the thing to set you off and he didn’t dare mention it again.

He thought you were cute now. Even sweating under the artificial heat lamps, with the humidity pulling the curls loose from your hair. Even when you looked up at him, with that lingering hurt swimming in your wide eyes, a hurt that he had put there. Self-consciously you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and Dean resisted the urge to do it for you, the memory of how soft your skin had felt beneath his fingers earlier flashing through his mind and making him straighten up, clearing his throat as he asked, ‘we good?’

‘We’re always good,’ you said. Again, it was another blatant lie but you couldn’t fight him anymore. Not after today, after what happened. If you wanted to keep anything sane you needed to have him in the mix, instead of pushing in at random times. Cold turkey wasn’t working. Maybe exposure therapy would. Maybe this way he wouldn’t displace Sam. You didn’t want him to. You couldn't let him.

‘Good,’ Dean smiled, he stood up fully and looked like he was going to head back to Bobby but then he paused, hesitating over whatever it was he wanted to say before he finally spoke, his voice low, ‘for the record…I don’t hate this new you thing.’

You didn’t say anything, you were pretty sure you couldn’t, your breath stuck in your throat.

‘And I never said you weren’t pretty,’ he finished softly. He offered you a tight, decisive nod before turning and striding off toward Bobby, who was waiting for the two of you to catch up.

As the breath you’d been holding finally made it out you turned and found that crocodile you’d been watching slink into the water. Displacing everything around it as it sank deep into the depths.

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supernatural/sam/dean tags

You knew when he was getting desperate, how he needed more whenever his hips started grinding against yours, his movements becoming sloppy until you took him in your hand. You knew how he was gentle with you and rough with himself. You thought about him being rough with you too. Obviously you knew he couldn't be. Bruises or hickeys, evidence of frantic desperation was just begging for someone to catch on. He knew how if he curved his fingers against that soft spongy spot inside you your legs shook. He knew how his hot, wet mouth against your neck made you whimper, and how your lips fell into a perfect, soundless ‘o’  when you finally came. That he’d thoroughly enjoyed figuring out. He’d had had you splayed out against him, your back pressed flush against his chest so he could watch everything you did to yourself first before he took over, the stuff he said in your ear diabolical enough to have you dripping.

But it was more than just the physical stuff. You’d always been friends, you never left him out when the two of them swung by, but he realised he’d always saw you as Dean’s friend first. Even though you were the exact same age, he had always felt like the third wheel around the two of you. If you and Dean liked something, Sam usually didn’t. Whatever Dean wanted to do, you were always quick to agree. But now, everything felt different.

Where he had once been quiet and reserved, Sam started talking to you. It was slow at first, then it became entirely effortless. He told you about school, about the endless rotation of towns and classrooms he’d been dragged through. He told you about how he was secretly looking at colleges, begging you not to tell a soul, and you promised you wouldn't. He told you about the escalating fights he’d been having with Dean. They’d always fought like cat and dog ever since they were little. They were both so different and yet so similar it caused nothing but constant bickering.

But now he said this felt different. Like it wasn’t just kid stuff, like Dean drinking the last soda or forgetting to pick him up from school. They argued about things that felt real. Like Sam being left behind and not taken on a hunt because Dean said he was too young. Like Dean defending their dad for missing yet another school thing of Sam’s and getting pissed off when Sam pointed out that it just wasn't the same with only Dean sitting in the audience. Then there was the one they’d had before they’d come here, when John had ordered Dean to drop him off here and come straight back, and Dean had told him he should stay with him. Sam said he had told him he wasn’t a baby, but his dad had already relented and agreed that Dean should, just for now.

Hearing about that was the first pang of guilt you’d felt since you’d started this whole thing. Because the bubble had been easy to live in. It had been easy not to think of Dean. You’d stopped crying yourself to sleep. You’d stopped thinking of what ifs and whys. You hadn’t even forced yourself to do it; it had just happened naturally. Sam completely dominated your thoughts now. You thought about him right before bed and the second you woke up. You made constant excuses to be wherever he was, just on the off chance the two of you could spy an opportunity to be alone.

But all that good had stemmed from him. From you taking his words and making the most of the summer. You were focusing your attention on someone who was so beautifully similar, yet entirely different, from his older brother.

No, you told yourself firmly. You weren’t using Sam. You wouldn’t, couldn’t, do that something that cruel to him. If anything, the two of you were using each other. Escaping the world together.

Still, the conversation left a bad taste in your mouth. That maybe you’d punished Dean long enough. Maybe you should let him in again. Be friends again. You could do that. You could handle that. You could be around him without it hurting anymore. Sam made it not hurt.

Besides, Dean wouldn’t notice a thing; you could be careful enough to ensure that. And even if he did somehow find out about you and Sam, you bet he wouldn’t even care. Why would he?

Hell, he’d probably be proud of Sam. Maybe show him some pointers, things he did with Mandy who he’ d seen at least twice since in the last week alone.

And, a little voice inside you whispered, maybe if you started being friends again, he’d stop hanging around with her so much.

So, when you came down on one blissfully warm Sunday morning, you’d set out to extend an olive branch. Bobby was locked away in his study, but the rest of the house was silent. As you made yourself a glass of water you noticed Dean out in the back yard working on his car and so you poured half of it down the sink and headed outside.

He was working deep under the hood when you approached, hovering quietly by the side of the car until he noticed you standing there. He looked warm and messy. Motor oil marks spattered across his grey T-shirt, dark damp patches stained the fabric under his arms, and sweat beaded across his brow. He wiped his forehead with the back of his forearm, dusting his grease-stained fingers off on his jeans when he looked at you.

‘Hey,’ you said softly.

‘Hey,’ Dean said, busying himself with finding another tool and not adding anything else. You didn’t either, feeling awkward in a way you didn’t anticipate. He must have felt it too because he looked up when you didn’t say anything, green eyes scanning over you before he muttered, ‘Sam’s not here.’

‘No, I know,’ you said, hesitating. You cleared your throat, trying desperately to steer the conversation into something light and easy as you asked, ‘what are you working on?’  

‘The car,’ Dean said, stating the obvious. You nodded, rocking back on your heels and trying to ignore how painful the air felt between you two. Last summer you would have been out here with him, sat on the cooler by his feet, handing him whatever tool he asked for and asking questions you didn’t care to know the answer to just because you liked anyway he got animated when you asked about stuff he knew about.

‘You gonna do that all day?’ you asked, instantly wincing when your tone came out sounding more accusing than you intended.

‘Don’t exactly have anything else to do,’ he said flatly.

‘We could do something,’ you offered. Dean hesitated, the wrench he’d got locked around something you’d forgotten the name of, despite Bobby’s endless drilling, stopping moving in his hand.

‘Like what?’

‘We could go to town. Rent a movie, get some snacks,’ you suggested. When Dean paused as if he were actually considering it, the silence made you nervous, so you quickly pushed further, ‘we could all pick one. If we leave once Sam gets up it’s only like a ten-minute drive into town.’

Dean watched you intently. He looked at you, then down at the open hood of the car before he finally shook his head and let out a cynical scoff. It made your heart sink but you didn’t know why. What you had done that was wrong.

‘I’m good,’ he said tightly, pulling out from the hood and tossing his wrench into the metal toolbox with a heavy clatter.

‘But-’

‘Sam’ll be up soon,’ he interrupted, ‘why don’t you just ask him? He likes all those chick flicks you do anyway.’

You opened your mouth to protest, but he turned his back to you and went right back to work, leaving you standing there utterly irritated all over again. You had extended a hand to him, and he had shot you down without a second thought. All because he was too cool for you. Because spending time with the two of you was somehow less appealing than fixing up the Impala that probably didn’t even need it. You must have completely misinterpreted what Sam had told you. Dean probably hadn’t even wanted to come here in the first place, let alone to look after Sam or see you. He probably just wanted one last summer out from under John’s watchful eye.

Fine. If that’s what he wanted, you would let him have it.

You stormed back into the house, finding Sam just as he was finally shuffling out of his room. You marched right past him, sharply ordering him to get dressed and get ready to go into town. True to form, Sam didn’t protest for a second.

You’d made it into town without issue though your bubbling irritation lasted you the entire journey. If Sam had noticed your quietness, he hadn’t said anything, but he’d held your hand on the walk in, only disbanding when you got to the edge of town and people and cars started to pass you.

After that you’d tried to put it out of your mind. You let yourself focus on the tasks at hand. You and Sam debated video rentals for what felt like hours before landing on two picks. You’d opted for Scream, and Sam a Jodie Foster flick called Contact he assured you would be good because he’d read the book. Then came the tiebreaker.

As you’d passed the wall of white, red, and pink cases, dubbed by Dean as chick flick alley last time you’d come here, Sam assured you that you could pick something like that if you wanted. You didn’t, you just told him you didn’t like them. It was a complete lie, but Dean’s mocking voice was ringing loudly in your head, pushing you as far away from that section as possible. You avoided the action section too, along with anything remotely comedic. Anything he might like. Instead, you marched over to the wall of new releases and grabbed the very first tape your hand touched.

‘Should we just get this?’ you asked, plucking From Dusk Till Dawn from the shelf and scanning over the cover. Sam leaned in over your shoulder.

‘George Clooney?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow as you looked up at him.

‘I just grabbed it randomly,’ you said, flushing at the insinuation. When Sam smirked, you elbowed him, ‘I did!’

‘Yeah, I believe you,’ he chuckled, his voice hinting the opposite. Still, it didn’t feel bad like Dean’s teasing had. It felt warm, safe. Teasing nothing more.

‘Do you wanna pick?’ you challenged, turning into him.

‘Nah, it’s fine, get that,’ he said, his hand ghosting softly down you back as he pulled away, ‘Dean will probably love it, anyway.’

You scanned the cover again and found he was probably right. Vampires in a bar. Chaos and explosions galore from the looks of things. Right up Dean’s alley. And you couldn’t put it back now, not now he’d agreed. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he’d want to watch it with you anyway.

But still it lay heavy inside you, like Dean was a rot, deep down in your core that you’d never get rid of. There, even when you were trying for him not to be. It wasn't like you hadn't made progress; your heart didn’t race when you thought of him anymore though your stomach felt weird being at odds with him. You didn’t deliberately place yourself in whatever room he was in, and you didn’t hang on his every word. And yet, he was still buried deep inside you like a language you were forced to unlearn.

Granted Sam was helping you do that. And yet you still felt yourself slipping up, muttering words that no one understood until you caught yourself. And that made you angry. When you left the video store you found yourself lost in your head like you had been on the walk into town. Downright pissed at yourself. And you realised on the walk around the grocery store you’d been taking it out on Sam who didn’t deserve it.

Which was probably why you’d found yourself trying to turn it around. In the only way you’d found you knew how.

You had gone down on him on the way back from the grocery store. Now granted it wasn’t great, or at least what you’d planned for it to be. It had been obscenely quick, partly because Sam had never had a blowjob before and partly because even while Bobby's house was hardly suburbia the stretch of woodland you were forced to walk through whenever no one could be bothered to drive you into town did have the occasional jogger or dog walker roll on through. And not wanting to get caught for indecent exposure was a hefty incentive for the pair of you.

Not to mention the pair of you weren’t exactly in pristine condition, the walk in the awful summer heat made him stick to his thigh before he started to come alive at your touch. Still, you were sure you did good given that Sam’s protesting and worries soon disappeared, his large hand fisted in your hair and pushing it all the way down to the back of your throat despite being far too big something you took as that a good sign. You’d even swallowed when he came because you’d seen in a magazine that guys liked that, and the prospect of spitting it out onto the dirty, twig-covered ground felt ceremoniously unkind.

And you realised as you got back to the house, you would’ve done it for Dean.

And at this point in the summer, Dean probably tasted like beef jerky and the cheap beer given that Mandy kept him in a steady supply of six-packs and liquor store snacks.

When you went inside he was laid on the couch, car now abandoned and sitting in the yard unused even though he’d refused to take you into town when Sam had asked, but his eyes trailed down your body, his gaze narrowing when he got to your knees.

‘The fuck happened to you?’ he asked, as eloquently as only Dean Winchester could. You glanced down to where he was staring only now seeing the dirt that you’d failed to brush off clinging to your knees, along with the small drip of blood where a thorn of an old bramble that had caught your skin just as Sam was shooting his load right down your throat. 

‘She fell over,’ Sam answered before you could speak. Not a hunter, not yet and still able to spin a lie better than you possibly could.

‘Yeah, I really wiped out,’ you lied. Dean looked at the pair of you. First at you. You and your stained knees and the curls that had come loose on one side where Sam’s fingers knotted through it before he smoothed it out. He’d been all tired apologies and ragged breathes but had still been clued in enough to help you up from the floor and look down at you with those thankful eyes as he ran his fingers through your tangled hair and let it hang on your shoulder. Then he looked at Sam, at the grocery bag gripped tight in his fingers as he waited to see if Dean bought it.

‘Yeah, well serves you right for wearing those stupid fucking shoes,’ Dean muttered, laying back down and turning the volume on the TV back up. You stomped off after that, said stupid shoes clomping against the wooden floor as you snatched the bag from Sam’s hand and headed to the kitchen. Dean said absolutely nothing, and Sam just let out a quiet sigh and followed you towards the kitchen.

You’d blown him again after that. Upstairs in your room after dinner when Sam had asked if Dean wanted to join you two watching movies and he’d said no and announced he was going out, where and with who all secrets apparently. 

Admittedly the two of you had come downstairs after you didn’t spend much time watching movies. You’d sat through his pick allowing him to explain nuances from the book that they’d missed. And you’d been intently watching yours until Sam had predicted the entire plot before the halfway mark, causing you to sigh and tell him he was far too smart for his own good. That was when you’d started to shift, scooting closer until your hand was on his thigh. By the time you’d swapped over to the last film, putting it on purely to keep the volume up so Bobby couldn’t hear you from the other room, you were all over him like a rash.

He knew it was risky.

That you normally waited until you were in the confines of your room or at least somewhere that wasn’t a few steps from Bobby’s study or worse the back door that Dean could burst through. But you’d been insistent.

That’s when he started to notice the pattern. Now admittedly Sam was no scientist, he knew that correlation did not causation make, but the data was certainly interesting. It was fascinating how any slight or rejection from Dean somehow resulted in Sam reaping benefits he hadn’t even dreamed of.

When Dean complained about something you’d cooked for dinner, you had sat across from them at the table in just a tank top and shorts, testing every ounce of Sam's willpower to keep his eyes locked on his plate or on Bobby, all while your bare foot slid slowly up his calf, making his knuckles turn white around his fork.

When the pair of you had a massive fight about Dean not listening to your instructions about oil covered jeans in the washing machine resulting in you dumping the wet pile of clothes he’s thrown in on a whim onto his bed claiming you weren’t his damn servant, Sam’s had been placed on his bed, washed and dried and neatly folded. In fact, the very moment Sam put his jeans on, his hand had brushed against a flash of dark blue lace hidden deep in his pocket. He had been forced to stuff his hand back into his pocket so quickly he was certain Dean would notice, but Dean had been far too busy bitching about you being ridiculous to pay any attention.

And whenever Dean mentioned Mandy's name, your jaw would instantly tighten, and you’d somehow find a second to be alone.

He’d never asked what had happened. He’d simply accepted the sudden switch up, your preference to him this summer, assuming it to be your choice because Dean was being a dick in general. Only now, he couldn’t help but wonder if that was actually the case.

And, as the two of you sat out on the back porch in the dark, your head coming to rest softly against his shoulder while he read aloud to you, Sam realized with a quiet, heavy ache in his chest that he very much hoped it stayed this way.

Even if Dean’s mood eventually changed back.

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supernatural/sam/dean tags

When you came downstairs the next morning, Sam wasn’t there yet, still fast asleep in bed. Dean was, though, and he was clearly still irritable about the sharp way you’d snapped at him the night before. Which couldn’t have been more inopportune because today was the day Bobby had decided he needed all three of you to help him. Bobby had never been one for tidy, but he knew where everything was and what he might need on hand. He always had a list of items he needed to go through, translate, cram into that noggin of his before whatever ancient book or paper he’d got it from could be stashed some place safe.

And he did that on a strict rotation, usually when he had two strapping young guys around to help him carry the heavy boxes rather than you, who complained so much he gave up forcing you to bother. Today, however, was not going to be one of those days. He already had a stack of cardboard boxes piled high in his study ready to go, and no doubt a list of items he wanted back in exchange.

‘First place is out near Sioux city, then I got another out in Omaha,’ Bobby explained, handing the piece of paper with the addresses of his storage lockers to Dean who scanned the page quickly, his jaw tight, ‘figure if you three leave in the next half hour you can be back by middle of the afternoon.

‘You’re not coming?’ you asked, looking up from where you were buttering your toast.

‘Why would I when I got you three idjits to go for me?’ Bobby snorted, taking a sip of his coffee. You hesitated, looking at Dean who met your eye briefly before he looked back to the paper, busying himself with his breakfast. You nodded and turned your attention back to eating, sucking the drip of butter than had gone on your finger off before you’d thrown your knife in the sink. Of course, Bobby would pick today of all days to send you out. The day when Dean wasn’t speaking to you, and you had just done a whole lot more than talking with his little brother. You couldn’t spend hours trapped in a car with them, hours of suffocating silence or, worse, arguing.

So, when Dean muttered something about going to wake Sam up you waited till he left, munching quietly on your toast which was discarded the second you heard his heavy footsteps hit the stairs. Then you darted into the study where Bobby was sitting, your voice hushed and frantic as you said, ‘can’t they go on their own? Does it really need three of us?’

‘They don’t know my system. You’ve been there before,’ he said dismissively, pushing the long list of books that he wanted brought back across his desk, all the little symbols and coded organisational descriptors you knew by heart from years of being sent to fetch and carry dotted down the sides of each title.

‘So? Sam’ll figure it out,’ you pressed.

‘You three have a falling out I don’t know about?’ he asked, looking up at you curiously.

‘No,’ you lied. Well not technically.

‘Then what’s the problem?’ he asked.

‘There isn’t one. It’s just me and Sam have been doing stuff,’ you said, swallowing when you heard your own words though they were sure not to mean anything to the older man, ‘we’ve got plans. Dean’s been running all the errands lately. Why can’t he just do it?’

‘Because I got three kids here, not just Dean,’ Bobby reasoned, ‘and you and Sam have spent your days just hanging around here.’

‘Doing stuff,’ you said, though reading, listening to cassettes, and playing games on Bobby’s ancient desktop computer were hardly activities that couldn’t go missed for a day.

‘Nothing that won’t be there for you tomorrow,’ Bobby countered, sitting back in his chair and watching you closely, ‘unless of course, the pair of you are hungover?’

‘What?’ you asked, your eyes narrowing as he just stared at you pointedly. You felt a hot flush of crimson rush to your cheeks, followed by a sharp flare of defensive anger in your chest as you realised, ‘Dean narced.’

‘Dean didn’t need to. Next time you decided to sink half a bottle of whisky in my yard make sure you clean up after yourselves,’ he said simply.

‘So this is punishment?’ you scoffed, folding your arms angrily across your chest, though you knew deep down you didn’t really have a leg to stand on.

‘Think of it as a teachable moment. You’re about to learn what a night of drinking feels like the next morning,’ he said, a thoroughly satisfied grin spreading across his face. You scowled and grabbed the list, ignoring his chuckling as you stomped towards the stairs.

Except you bumped right into Dean halfway up, completely blind to where you were going. You wobbled dangerously as you hit him full-on, forcing him to catch you on the narrow step. His large hand clasped tightly around your bare arm to steady you. It lingered for a beat, and your mouth tried to make itself work, to say thank you or something about last night but it didn’t come quick enough. Dean just let out a sharp huff, released your arm, and brushed past you, darting down the remaining stairs and back into the study.

You hurried up the rest of the steps, trying desperately to ignore the exact spot where his fingers had gripped your arm, and how incredibly warm your skin still felt. You changed quickly, fearing that if you took your time, it would only give you more space to spiral. You didn’t even pay attention to what you threw on. A dress and a pair of sneakers, the basics of which cut your morning routine down significantly.

But as you rushed out of your bedroom, you ran right into Sam, who was just stepping out of the bathroom. He looked startled and exhausted, taking a second to register that it was you. As he did, his hand instinctively reached out and clasped over the exact same spot on your arm where Dean's hand had just been, instantly erasing any trace of his brother's touch.

You looked up at him, how his face went soft when he looked down at you. How he looked where his hand was on your arm, a blush creeping onto his face like the memory of last night seem to hit him all at once. You felt your heartbeat quicken, pounding furiously against your ribs. You felt the weight of Bobby’s punishment, and Dean’s suffocating annoyance, and your own crushing embarrassment at the agonising potential of spending the entire day suffering in a crowded car.

And before you could stop yourself, you pulled him down and kissed him. It was brief and frantic, your fingers clutching at the soft cotton of his t-shirt and holding him in place before you let go and pulled back, watching as his lips unconsciously chased yours for a fraction of a second before he opened his eyes and offered you a bewildered, wide-eyed look.

You didn’t give him an answer. You didn’t say a single word. You just bolted down the hallway, leaving him standing by the bathroom door, utterly confused.

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As you had suspected the day was as much punishment as Bobby had intended for it to be. The interior of the Impala was baking hot, and the ride was long and mostly silent. Dean flatly refused to engage in any conversation, choosing instead to crank his music up to full blast and stare rigidly at the asphalt ahead. Sam was quiet too, looking mostly exhausted as he nestled his head against the passenger window to read his book. His eyes closed on occasion, though he tended to glance into the backseat every now and then, catching your eye for a fleeting second before you both looked away. The vivid memory of last night and, for some reason, this morning, settled heavily between you in the stagnant air, competing with the blare of Motörhead and Metallica.

You didn’t know why you’d kissed him again. You didn’t even know if he’d wanted you to. What if last night had just been a one-off thing, a product of proximity, and he was going to wake up today and ask you to completely forget about it? What if he just blamed it all on the booze? The spiralling thoughts didn't help your stomach. You weren’t exactly hungover, but your breakfast hadn’t done much to stem the rolling, queasy feeling you got every single time Dean went twenty miles an hour over the speed limit or took a turn a little too sharp.

Not that either you or Sam would dare say a word about it. Dean wasn’t exactly in a receptive mood. When you finally arrived at the first storage facility, he didn’t say anything at all, simply shoving Bobby's legal pad into your hand and letting you set to work. You didn’t bother explaining Bobby's filing system to either of them; it would only slow you down. Instead, you marched up and down the dusty shelves, locating the specific sections you needed, pulling the heavy volumes down, and handing them to Sam. He waited until he had a decent-sized stack before packing them into one of the cardboard boxes, which Dean then carted out to the trunk. Dean disappeared entirely once you had everything collected for the return trip, leaving you and Sam alone to go through the separate items Bobby wanted stowed away.

When you finished, you and Sam carried a couple of the remaining boxes back out to the car, ensuring you stuck to the plan of spreading everything out, for what reason you were never sure, and the gruelling cycle started all over again. You headed to the next place but there was more to get this time, so Sam asked you to go through it with him. You did, allowing him to scan through the notes and then take the second half of the page. He moved slower than you, taking this time to make sure that he had everything right before he moved them to the stack of books ready for taking home but eventually, he picked up the pace. Dean had just taken another box, huffing as he trudged out through the door. You’d stop paying attention to him, every huff and puff just like the last one, irritating you a bit further. You’d been focused on a shelf, looking for a book you knew should’ve been here, but you couldn’t find it. As your eyes scanned the top shelf again you spotted it. Right at the back, stuck behind a thick, heavy bible. You reached up for it but it was just out of reach, your fingers dancing across thick leather as it looked down at you mockingly.

You grunted in frustration, pushing yourself up onto your tiptoes, but it did nothing. You were just about to try jumping for it or climbing the metal shelving units when Sam suddenly appeared behind you. His long arm stretched effortlessly over your head, his fingers clasping around the spine of the book before he lifted it down and placed it gently into your waiting hands.

‘Thanks,’ you said softly, looking up at him and pulling the thing into your chest Sam nodded, and for a second, it looked like he was going to turn on his heel and go right back to work. But then, he took your face in both of his hands, leaned down, and kissed you. It was soft, deliberate, and quiet, nothing like your harried thing of this morning which didn’t make sense given that Dean was bound to be on his way back from the car by now.

But it felt better than you had ever though possible. It made the ride, Dean’s mood, and boredom of the day disappear. Only coming back when you heard Dean’s footsteps coming down the hall.

Sam pulled away and was at the other end of the aisle by the time Dean appeared.

‘You guys nearly done? I’m starving,’ he asked, the first time he’d spoken you properly all day.

‘Yeah,’ you breathed, still trying to catch up, the feeling of Sam’s thumb ghosting against your cheek still lingering, ‘not be a minute.’

Dean nodded and disappeared and you looked to Sam who smiled and returned to the looking for whatever book he was supposed to be after. You bit back a massive smile of your own, turned back to the shelf, and did the exact same.

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‘Sam,’ you breathed as you he sucked on a spot on your neck, his tongue pushing against pulse point in a way that made you shake. You moved your hand again, fiddling blindly with his belt buckle. But before you could undo it, Sam stopped you, his large hand clasping firmly over the top of yours as he gently detached himself. You frowned and looked at him, waiting for him to explain. He’d been completely fine kissing you; the two of you had been making out in your bedroom for nearly half an hour now. He’d been totally fine when your shirt had been discarded, his followed right after. He’d been fine touching you, though he hadn’t moved to take your bra off yet, his large hands merely dancing around the clasp while his lips pressed against the soft swell of your chest over the white cotton.

‘What?’ you said when he just looked at you, ‘is that…did I do something wrong?’

‘No, it’s just,’ Sam said, shifting awkwardly on the mattress and making you distinctly aware of your hand still plastered to the hard outline of him beneath his jeans. You moved it away, resting it awkwardly on your thigh, just above where Sam was still touching you his thumb still moving reassuringly against your bare skin.

‘I think we should probably talk,’ he said, wincing slightly as the words came out clumsy and stiff.

‘Talk?’ you repeated, your heart sinking instantly. You didn’t want to talk. You were fine with this, all of this. You were fine with the sudden kiss this morning and the softer one again at the locker. You were content with the glances over dinner and then you were happy with Sam appearing at your bedroom door, asking if you wanted to hang out. He was far too big for the space, his long legs dangling off the edge of your twin bed as you both sat against the wall in silence, waiting for the other to speak. But there had been no speaking.

There’d been a look and then you were in his lap, hands everywhere, mouths frantic and passionate.

No words. No talking.

Because talking meant thinking. Thinking about why you wanted this.

Why you wanted Sam.

And you didn’t want to look too deep into that.

You just wanted him. Sam.

Heart of gold, sweet, and thoughtful Sam.

Soft lips, dazzling hazel eyes, and frantic hands Sam.

The Sam who groaned out loud when you sucked on his bottom lip. The Sam who pushed up against you when you ground your hips down. The Sam who looked at you in slack-jawed awe when you took your shirt off, kissing you afterward like a man starved for oxygen.

‘Yeah, I mean this…us. We don’t exactly do this,’ he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, ‘it’s just...you know, before we do anything else…’

‘Do you want to?’ you interrupted softly.

‘Obviously,’ Sam said instantly, his hand finding your thigh again, ‘I just… I meant what I said the other day. About getting attached. I don’t want to start something and then end up hurting you because we have to leave.’

Your heart thudded heavily. Of course that was what he was wanted. To make sure you were okay before you did anything that might ruin your friendship.

‘Sam, you’re not gonna hurt me,’ you said. If anything, you’d been concerned about hurting him, those pesky thoughts encircling again like vultures forced down every time they surfaced, like they were now, ‘I’m not stupid. I know we’re not gonna go to prom together or have some tragic long-distance thing kept together by backdated postcards and a wing and a prayer.’

Sam chuckled softly.

‘It’s just like you said, right? You guys move around a lot, I’m not exactly the most normal kid around here,’ you said, Sam frowned, his hand instinctively, moving up and placing a hand on your neck, brushing the hair from it, his thumb tracing softly across your jaw line.

‘You said it’s hard to…build up to stuff,’ you said, ‘but we don’t need to. We already know everything about each other.’

‘Right,’ Sam said quietly, considering the thought. You could see the logic ticking behind his hazel eyes.

‘It’s like we’re in the sweet spot. We’ve done all the leg work, and we know exactly how it’s gonna end. The way I see it, we just get to have all the fun,’ you said. Enjoy the summer. Just like Dean had told you to.

‘Are you sure?’ Sam asked, his voice dropping an octave.

‘Sam if you don’t want to…’ you sighed, suddenly feeling incredibly self-consciously considering you were still sitting in his lap practically bare chested. But as you tried to shift off him, his grip tightened, pulling you firmly back against him.

‘I want to,’ he promised, ‘I just wanted to clear things up.’

‘Well, we have, right?’ you asked hopefully, moving your hand across the front of his jeans, palming him through his jeans.

‘Yeah,’ he breathed, his lip catching on his teeth as you undid his belt, pushing the denim and cotton out of your way. He was already hard, springing from where he’d been confined for so long. As you reached out your hand to take him, you hesitated for a fraction of a second.

‘Are you okay with this?’ you asked.

‘Very,’ Sam said quickly. You giggled softly and wrapped your fingers around him. He was a lot bigger than you’d anticipated. Granted, you didn’t have any real experience, but you were pretty sure it was impressive. It was softer than you’d been expecting too, and he felt incredibly warm, already leaking slightly from the tip. You ran your finger over the smooth head, coating him a little, and then moved your hand in a slow testing stroke. Sam shifted his hips, his breath hitching. But as your grip tightened and you started to move a bit quicker, his expression changed.

‘What, what is it?’ you asked frantically, you hand freezing in position around him.

‘Nothing just…a little rough,’ he said, an awkward blush colouring his cheeks.

‘Oh,’ you said nervously. You got what he meant and let go, dropping a quick glob of spit into your hand before you returned. It moved easier then, and Sam settled back, his eyes completely locked on your hand as it glided up and down his shaft. He could feel the pressure building rapidly. Like it had last night, the memory of you all over him and a tight ten minutes to himself before Dean had banged on the door and told him to hurry the fuck up because he needed to use the bathroom.

But this felt a thousand times better.

You weren’t as skilled as he was, you didn’t know what got him there quicker, how he liked to speed up and then pull back, edging himself a little, if he had time. But he liked how your hand fit around him, so small in comparison to his. He loved the way your brow pinched in deep concentration as you watched him twitch in your grip, and how his breath hitched every time you brought your other hand in to work them both against him. He liked the way it pushed your chest together, tits bouncing with every stroke. Better than any magazine or sketchy porn site he’d ever managed to sneak a peek at.

‘Am I doing okay?’ you whispered.

‘Yeah. Yeah, better than okay,’ he said, feeling that coil tighten in his belly into a tight knot.

‘You know you can show me if you want,’ you murmured, leaning in closer, ‘you could show me what you like.’

‘Yeah?’ Sam asked, his gaze finally snapping up from his lap to meet yours.

‘Yeah, I wanna make you feel good,’ you said, biting your lip. Sam gave a tight nod and then shifted your weight against him. You tucked your head into the warm crook of his neck, watching as his large, calloused hand clasped securely over yours so he could guide it. Leading you gently at first and then speeding up.

‘Fuck,’ Sam grunted, his fingers tightening on yours.

‘Does that feel good?’

‘Yeah, yeah…keep going,’ Sam said. You moved your hand faster, looking up at him and watching as his face grew tighter, his eyes closing and his breath coming rougher as his hips pushed up in short, desperate thrusts against your hand.

‘I’m nearly there…don’t stop,’ he ordered. You nodded, keeping your eyes on him, but right before the edge, he opened his eyes. He grabbed your face with his free hand and pulled you into a rough, bruising kiss, burying his loud moans directly into your mouth so they wouldn't spill out into the hallway in case Dean or Bobby decided to wander by.

He spilled out, covering your hand and sputtering against his stomach, thick ropes of cum catching on the skin before you could stop it. Sam’s head hit the wall, his breathing coming in ragged until he finally lifted it up, watching you for a moment, a small smile catching on his lips before he brushed them against yours.

‘That was hot,’ you giggled making him blush furiously as you pulled off him recaching for your discarded shirt and wiping your hand roughly on it before you brushed it against the damage on Sam’s front. He helped you, dusting it off before he tucked himself back in and brushed his hair from his eyes. You pulled yourself further off him, sitting beside him on your bed, your head on his shoulder, your arm linked through his as your heart rates finally came back down to normal.

Silence lingered for a minute, the only sounds being the distant groan of the pipes from someone using the kitchen downstairs, and the faint, familiar thud of boots on the floorboards below.

‘So,’ you said after a moment, glancing up at him through your lashes, ‘think we did enough building up?’

‘I’d say so,’ Sam said, a soft chuckle vibrating through his chest.

‘So…you wanna do this again?’ you asked hesitantly.

‘Yeah, I do,’ Sam said firmly, leaning down to press a warm kiss to your forehead.

‘Good,’ you said, looking up at him with a smile, ‘because I do too.’

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supernatural/sam/dean tags

‘Any connection?’ Dean asked.

‘Not that I can see. Both around the same age, both married, one has kids, one doesn’t,’ she said quietly, glancing over into the back seat making sure their talking hadn’t disturbed Sam who was sprawled across the seat, face smushed into his jacket against one door and legs bent against the other.

‘Okay so we grab some breakfast and then split up? Me and you can take one widower and sleeping beauty can take the other,’ Dean said, earning himself a smile.

‘Don’t be mean,’ she said, placing the papers down on the bench seat beside her.

‘I’ll stop being mean when he stops kicking me out of bed at the butt crack of dawn,’ Dean said, glancing at her.

‘He’s keeping busy,’ she reasoned. Dean rolled his eyes.

‘Yeah well he can do it at another hour of the day,’ he sighed, eyes fixed on the road as he grumbled, ‘didn’t even get a kiss good morning.’

‘From Sam?’ she teased, earning a glare which made her giggle. After that she moved, sidling over so she was flush beside him, her hand on his thigh which earned her a raised eyebrow. Then she leaned up, pushing down on the denim in a way that made her fingers curl around the muscle and Dean shift underneath it. But her lips didn’t make contact, they just hovered beside his ear, her voice low and sultry as she said, ‘if I kiss you, do you promise to be nice to Sam?’

‘Honey I’m always nice to Sam,’ Dean said, grunting as she squeezed his thigh.

‘You’re a tease you know that?’ he said, glancing at her to find her grin wide. Dean rolled his eyes and huffed, ‘fine.’

‘Good,’ she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek only he moved his head, his lips capturing hers for a good few seconds before she pushed him off, forcing him to look back at the road with a sharp, ‘Dean!’

Dean chuckled and settled back, eyes fixed on the highway in front of him though as she tried to scoot back over he grabbed hold of her, forcing her to stay put. Lainey smiled and sunk down beside him, locking her arm through his. Though as his hand found her thigh she looked up, a smile on her face as she asked, ‘worth the early wakeup call?’

‘Definitely,’ Dean murmured, kissing her temple though they both turned around, startled by grumbling from the back seat.

‘I swear to God if you crash this car because you’re too busy sucking face I’ll haunt your ass,’ Sam mumbled, eyes never opening as he shuffled into a more comfortable position. Lainey giggled and Dean rolled his eyes, looking back to the road with a muttered, ‘worth it.’

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Lainey was sweating, a deep clamminess that settled in the backs of her knees and made her thighs peel from the leather of the seat every time she moved which she couldn’t stop doing since the underwire of her bra had finally decided to give up the ghost, poking through the white lace and up into her armpit with every jostle of the car. She wasn’t surprised, it was a long-standing soldier, the only white bra she had with her that she wore every time they had to don their fed suits. She’d have to get another, or at least she’d have to try and remember to before they had to wear them again.

But her thoughts were pulled from the racks of Victoria’s Secret as Dean pulled up outside of a house. It was an old colonial style place, with deep red brick, shuttered windows, and pillars around the front door. The lawn was manicured but still damp from the sprinklers that had not long since finished despite the baking heat and there were bikes discarded beside the garage, like whoever had left them there had intended to go back but had forgotten. It made her heart pang though the pain of that was immediately rivalled by another stab to the armpit. As she shifted again Dean looked at her from the driver’s seat, asking without asking and answered without saying a word as she pulled the offending piece of metal out from her shirt and dumped it in the console.

‘Jesus,’ Dean chuckled.

‘What?’ Lainey said, a smile playing on her lips in anticipation.

‘I’ve seen skyscrapers held up with less scaffolding,’ he joked.

‘Careful, I’m very sensitive right now. She was a good soldier. Her loss will be very missed,’ Lainey replied.

‘Which one is it?’ Dean asked. Lainey pulled her shirt open, peeking a flash of white lace towards him as he sighed, ‘damn, I’ll miss her.’

‘You’ll just have to buy me another then huh?’ she mused.

‘Yeah?’ Dean smirked. She leaned forward, finger tipping under his chin as she grinned.

‘I’ll have to try on a few first, of course.’

‘Of course,’ he nodded, leaning closer, the glint in her eye sending a spark down his spine like lightning.

‘Maybe get a few colours,’ she said.

‘Whatever you want,’ he agreed. Dean watched her, his eyes flitting to her lips and then he leaned in, but before he could kiss her she was gone out the door and giggling to herself as leant down, watching him through the gap as she called, ‘c’mon. We’ve got a case to solve.’

He grumbled as he got out, suddenly feeling a lot hotter than it had been just a minute ago. But he forced it down, joining her on the path up to the house, his hand just hovering at the small of her back as they climbed the steps up to the front door though he forced himself to stop when she pressed the bell, sinking into step with him as a man appeared, looking weary as he opened the door with a, ‘yes?’

‘Mr Garner?’ Lainey asked, offering him a sympathetic smile.

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘I’m Agent Baez this is Agent Dylan,’ she explained as they flashed their badges, ‘we’re here about your wife. We have a couple of questions if you don’t mind.’

He looked back into the house and then nodded, slipping around the door so they could stand on the stoop instead of the hallway. It didn’t surprise her, her mind flitting back to the discarded bikes. The flashes of pink and tassels hinting that whatever ears might’ve been in the vicinity could only be little ones. She sighed, offering a hand on his arm which he just looked at, his smile unimpressed as he said, ‘what do you want to know?’

‘Mr Garner your wife passed away unexpectedly, correct?’ Dean asked, noting how Lainey pulled back her jaw tightening at the unaccepted sympathies.

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘And the doctors couldn’t explain it?’ Dean pressed.

‘She was healthy or at least she had been,’ he shrugged.

‘Had been?’ Lainey said, her brow furrowing.

‘Doctors said it’s like the life got sucked out of her. She was healthy one minute and then the next, major organ failure,’ he said his tone tinging on bitter as he said, ‘left me with two kids and a mortgage.’

‘And you didn't notice anything was wrong with your wife?' Lainey challenged, her arms folding across her as she eyed him, the disregard for his wife’s passing irking her. He just looked at her, unbothered by the way she’d tensed up as he shrugged.

'Of course, I mean not right away...it's hard sometimes,' he said, looking to Dean for understanding, 'you know, hormones and what not.'

'Heh, yeah,' Dean chuckled, though he shifted when he felt Lainey's gaze move to him, challenging him to look at her. He kept his eyes fixed on the man, his smile tight as he carried on, 'so, uh there really were no changes? No odd smells, weird sounds...'

'Not that I noticed. She was just tired and then cranky and then the next thing I knew,' he said, miming a cut-throat action. That was the final nail in the coffin.

‘Well, thanks for your time,’ Lainey said tightly, ‘I’m sure you’ve got plenty to get back to now you’ve not got someone picking up after you.’

And before the man could say anything she spun around and stormed off back to the car, Dean offering the man miniscule apology before following after her. She was already inside by the time he got in, arms folded and a scowl on her face as he started the engine and headed to the house they’d dropped Sam off at which would hopefully have got them something more. She didn’t know why she’d let it get to her, didn’t know why he got under her skin. She just felt her mood slip in an instant if not from the blatant disrespect but for the complete dismissal of anything woman.

Dean didn’t say anything as he pulled away, but he didn’t really focus on the road either, fishing around in his box of tapes until he found the one he wanted and pushed it in, the sounds of an old mix-tape Lainey had made for the car when they’d first been hunting together, echoing around the Impala.

She only came out of her head when she heard the softly plucked strings of Blue Bayou, her eyes flicking over to Dean who was tapping on the steering wheel, pretending that it was just a coincidence he’d picked this tape up. Lainey watched him painstakingly keeping his eyes on the road, unable to tell if his misstep with Mr. Garner had landed him in the doghouse. But she smiled as she watched him, tie loosened, fingers tapping to the beat, lyrics murmured under his breath though he’d swear blind her taste in music sucked. And as she did she felt her mood melt away, the sudden swing tilting back to normal in the space of five minutes which made her think that maybe the widowed idiot may have had a point on the hormone front.

Still, letting that slide wasn’t a good precedent to set and given she couldn’t say much to Mr Garner she decided to have a little fun. Dean didn’t look up when he heard the window roll down. Didn’t notice how she’d kicked her heels off or how she’d unbuttoned her blouse just a touch, until there was a peep of white lace hanging out. He didn’t look over until her feet landed in his lap, polished toes nudging the buckle of his belt.

When he looked over she wasn’t looking at him, her head flopped in the window which made the wind blow through her hair and ruffle the cotton of her shirt. Dean felt the response immediately, his brain going blank of anything but the image of her sprawled across the front seat. She only looked at him when he grabbed her ankle, forcing her foot to stay still so he could focus on the drive and pick Sam up in one piece. Dean looked away, trying to keep his focus on the road though he could feel her practically hum with smugness every time his breathing changed from the slightest movement of her feet.

When they pulled up outside the other house Sam just inside the doorway, still talking to someone they presumed was a, hopefully more bereft, husband. As he finished up Lainey sat up, pulling her legs from his lap scooting into the middle as she opened the door for him. It didn’t make Dean’s predicament any easier, not with her now pressed against him and her cleavage still on show but he was happy to let her enjoy it if it meant he’d got away with a minor indiscretion.

‘So,’ she asked as Sam turned to head towards them, ‘hormones huh?’

‘I was just trying to build a rapport,' Dean said assuredly, 'you know get more flies with-'

'Misogyny?' she challenged, her hand falling to his lap.

‘Sweetheart anything that gets you like this is worth it in my book,’ Dean teased, leaning forward to press a kiss to her cheek. She let him but as Sam climbed in she pushed him off, rolling her eyes as she sighed, ‘you’re lucky you’re cute Winchester.’

‘That’s what I’m countin’ on,’ Dean smiled.

‘What?’ Sam asked as he tucked himself into the car, the door squeaking shut beside him.

‘Nothing,’ Lainey sighed, turning her focus to him, ‘what have you got?’

‘Uh, not a lot really,’ Sam said, ‘vic was like we thought. Nice house, stay at home mom, clean bill of health until recently.’

‘Did her husband at least notice there was something wrong with her?’ Lainey asked, her voice tinged with residual irritation that Sam clocked, looking past her at Dean who shook his head not to press too hard.

‘Yeah, he, uh, he said it all started a month ago. Said she was fatigued and restless, hormo-’ Sam said, shifting under her scrutiny as Dean cleared his throat, ‘on edge. He said she’d started waking in the middle of the night and moved out of their bedroom into the guest room.’

‘And then she dropped dead?’ Dean asked.

‘Yeah, she was the first victim though. A full week before the other one,’ Sam said.

‘So where to?’ Dean asked, ‘morgue?’

‘Actually,’ Sam said, pulling a flyer from his pocket, ‘I was thinking we could go here.’

Lainey took it from him, a soft lilac coloured piece of paper boasting, ‘ALL LADIES BOOK CLUB! 2pm every Thursday at Scranton Community Centre!’

‘A book club?’ Dean asked, glancing at it before he looked back to the road.

‘A book club that both of our victims went to,’ Sam corrected, ‘and it starts in an hour.’

‘Yeah and it’s all women who are free on a mid-week afternoon,’ Lainey said, handing it back. Sam took it and tucked in into his pocket, glancing at Dean who was looking at her the same. Confused. Lainey looked between them both and sighed, ‘I don’t know what we’re dealing with, but my guess is it likes bored and lonely housewives.’

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The book club hadn’t brought much but it had confirmed their suspicions that something was going on. There had been about half a dozen women or so, gathered in an old back room attached to a church. They were all about the same age as the victims; a sea of slouchy purses and low-slung t-shirts. Chunky sunglasses nestled on top of even chunkier highlights, no longer hiding suspicious looks as the boys interviewed them. Lainey had hung back, hoping their charm would pull a more from them but they’d remained cagey, usually so.

So, she’d tried a different approach. When a middle-aged woman had appeared beside her at the refreshment table, pouring herself a large cup of coffee that did nothing to hide the noticeable bags under her eyes, Lainey had enquired about the book club. She had to manoeuvre around the truth, dismissing Dean as he’d turned towards her which he took in stride before heading out the door. She’d feigned innocence, that she’d come to see what it was like and met them at the door, hanging back until they were done because she didn’t want to intrude. Whether the woman bought it or not she wasn’t sure, she may have just been too tired to care, but she had boasted that the group was wonderful. How it had made her so many friends and kept her young, even if that was just the weekly trip to the bookstore.

‘Well a bit of retail therapy never hurt anyone,’ Lainey had smiled.

‘Oh, it’s so much more than that,’ the woman, Miranda, had replied. And that had been the final nail in the coffin. A tall, stern-faced red head had appeared at her side, redirecting her to the group and dismissing Lainey, telling her she’d have to come again next week as they needed to get on.

And that was how the three of them had ended up at Reverie Books, the logo that had been conveniently stamped on the bottom of the flyer as a ‘trusted partner’ of the club. It didn’t look much from the outside, a rented unit in the middle of a strip mall sandwiched between a Kohls and a Panera but inside had none of the soullessness of a big chain book store. The shelves were made of dark wood and crammed with books that were old and dusty, antiques that would rival those littering Bobby’s study. There were cosy couches and stained-glass lamps that Lainey thought could be Tiffany if anyone would go so far as to decorate a standard box shop in something so expensive. In any case it was a nice touch, the rich amber glow they flickered out more appealing than the switched off overhead fluorescents, as was the warm vanilla scent that coated the air, combined with old leather and book dust.

Lainey moved through the rows of shelves, smiling as she watched Sam’s attention be diverted by some of the names on the first one they passed. She perused too, keeping her eyes peeled for something that might appeal to Bobby and for the book she’d seen in Miranda’s hand back at book club. Dean stayed close behind her looking thoroughly bored like a toddler at the grocery store. He only perked up when they got to the end of the aisle, nudging her elbow and nodding his head towards the back wall.

‘What do you say that’s the inspiration for the book club?’ he said, his voice low and mocking. Lainey followed his gaze and found a man behind the counter. He was tall with chiselled features and a dark curtain of hair that was just a touch longer than Sam’s. But that wasn’t what had caught her eye, well for longer than it had Dean’s. It was the woman he was serving, the way she watched him completely enamoured. The way her hand gripped the top of her books when he spoke, a bright white smile catching the low light under supple lips.

‘I’m gonna check it out,’ Lainey murmured which made Dean nod and pick up a book, pretending to read as he moved to a seat closer to the counter. Still she didn’t move at once, trailing naturally along the shelves until she spotted it, the book Miranda had been holding laid out on a display by the counter. She picked it up, perusing the blurb. It was a romance, if one could call blatant cheating romantic, though Lainey supposed she could see the appeal for a group of bored housewives. So without much thought she tucked it under her arm and headed to the counter.

‘Just this please,’ she said, offering a smile as she placed it down on the hardwood. The man paused, glancing at the cover before he moved to the ancient register, a dull golden coloured chunk of machinery that clattered as he pushed the buttons and pinged when the drawer opened.

‘$7.99,’ he said, ‘good choice by the way.’

‘Yeah?’ Lainey asked as she opened her bag looking for her wallet.

‘Mmmhmm, popular at least,’ he said, ‘I believe it was the local book clubs most recent pick.’

‘Really?’ Lainey said, pulling a couple of bills from her wallet and handing them over, ‘you know I’d love to do something like that.’

‘Are you a reader?’ he asked as he reached for them. She had been going to offer some lie, to say that of course she was, but as their hands brushed she felt the words slipping from her mouth, replaced by the truth as a blush coloured her cheeks, ‘no…not really.’

‘Hmm,’ he said, stashing the money in the register and procuring a penny. Though he didn’t hand it over right away, he just leant against the counter, soulful blue eyes looking up at her, watching. Lainey felt herself move, coming closer and letting her fingers dance under his - waiting.

‘What?’ she asked, her voice breathy.

‘I don’t know,’ he murmured, pressing the coin into her palm, ‘I just would’ve had you pegged for the type.’

‘Well I write,’ she said hurriedly, curling her fingers around copper so she could savour the warmth of his palm.

‘Stories?’ he asked.

‘Songs…anything really. I journal rather than read,’ she replied.

‘I knew there was something,’ he said, his eyes flitting to her lips. Lainey blushed again but he pulled back, smiling as he said, ‘just a minute.’

She watched as he ducked down, fishing around under the counter until he produced a book. It wasn’t like the paperback he placed it on top of. It was old, dark leather with an intricate design stitched into its face around a deep blue gemstone, one that matched his eyes. Lainey ran her finger across it.

‘That’s beautiful,’ she said, ‘how much is it?’

‘Take it. It’s yours,’ he said. Lainey looked up, her eyes wide and jaw slack.

‘No, I couldn’t possibly,’ she said, pushing it across the counter but his hands clasped over hers, stopping it from moving. His fingers dancing around her wrist.

‘I insist,’ he said, pushing it back towards her along with her paperback, ‘think of it as a reward. For trying something new.’

‘I, uh, it’s awful kind of you,’ she said quietly, looking up and finding his eyes. Deep oceans of blue that made it impossible to think, well until Dean cleared his throat beside her. She hadn’t even felt him move but she found him watching, eyes flitting between her face and the grip he had on her wrist which she peeled herself out from under, grabbing both books and tucking them under her arm as she offered him a smile, ‘hey.’

‘Sam’s almost done,’ he said tightly, ‘you good?’

‘Uh, yeah,’ she said, glancing at the man, ‘I’ve got everything I needed.’

‘Great,’ Dean said, glaring at him one last time, ‘we’ll meet him at the car.’

Lainey nodded but before she could agree his arm found her shoulders, steering her gently away. It only dropped when they got outside, in fact Dean left her altogether, stalking off towards the Impala. And as the sunlight hit her face and the door slammed shut she came to.

She didn’t know what had happened in there, how time seemed to have stood still. She didn’t even remember what she’d said, just the feel of his hands against her skin, the weight of it like the book nestled against her arm. Enamoured. Just like the woman in front of her had been. But before she could dwell on it Sam appeared beside her on the sidewalk, a bag full of books swinging from his wrist and a confused look on his face when he found her still standing there.

‘You ready to go?’ he asked, frowning as she blinked herself back to reality, the dazed look on her face only going with a shaky, ‘uh, yeah. Of course.’

The ride back was painfully quiet, well bar Dean’s music which thudded against the upholstery, her mixtape switched for Black Sabbath and his knuckles white against the steering wheel. Lainey kept watching him, her gaze flitting to Sam who was buried in his book in the back seat and wise enough not to get involved.

In fact he only looked up as they pulled in a motel, the car stopping but not shutting off as Dean said, ‘you two go and get us some rooms.’

‘Where are you going?’ Lainey asked, receiving a scowl.

‘We need gas,’ he said.

‘I can come with you,’ she said though one look told her that wasn’t going to happen. As did the way Sam said, ‘I’ll just grab the stuff,’ before he shuffled out and headed to the trunk.

As Dean looked back out of the windshield she sighed, trying to think about how to approach it, though her words must have come out wrong as she started, ‘look I didn’t mean to make you jealous.’

‘Pfft, I’m not,’ Dean huffed, rolling his eyes as she looked at him pointedly, his voice dipping to a grumble as he picked at the steering wheel, ‘you always take free shit off of guys who flirt with you?’

‘Well you catch more flies and all that,’ she teased. When Dean didn’t smile she sighed and clambered onto her knees beside him, catching his jaw and forcing him to look at her. Even mad he looked so damn handsome and he couldn’t help but steady her, his hand grabbing hold of her waist, warm, strong, and tight enough that she couldn’t even picture the book shop guys face anymore.

‘Honestly I wasn’t trying to flirt, not like that,’ she whispered, leaning down until they were nose to nose. Dean pouted for a second before he offered a grumbled, ‘promise?’

‘Promise,’ Lainey breathed, brushing her lips against his before she pulled back, her finger dancing along his jaw as she said, ‘and if it makes you feel any better I don’t even like the thing that much. Yours is far prettier.’

‘You think?’ Dean said, his voice darkening.

‘Of course, it’s from you,’ she said.

Lainey squealed as he pushed forward, knocking her backwards off her knees until she was pressed against the bench, a smirk playing on his lips before he leant down and kissed her. She pulled him closer, fists buried in the cotton of his shirt as he sucked on her bottom lip, tongue fighting against his as she pushed her hips up with a groan. Dean shifted, but his elbow caught the horn, the short sharp beep startling them both to reality of them being in public.

‘Guess we should probably wait until Sam gets us a room huh?’ Dean chuckled as he sat back, offering a hand out to pull her up.

‘Probably,’ Lainey giggled as she leant over to wipe the tinge of ChapStick from his lips. Then she moved, brushing her now dishevelled hair from her face and fiddling with her ruffled blouse. Dean watched her before his gaze drifted past, noting Sam waiting by the reception doors, keys displayed in hand. He nodded and nudged her allowing her to follow his eyeline before he said, ‘you can come with me if you want.’

‘Nah it’s fine. We probably should do some research,’ she said, ‘don’t be too long?’

‘Back before you know,’ he promised.

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Lainey couldn’t think straight anymore. An afternoon of poring over the lore books Sam had bought and staring at the computer had sent her eyes square. And they weren’t any further forward. Sam had a laundry list of things that went for life force, things that would drain someone long enough to send them into multi-organ failure but nothing concrete. Nothing that they could see targeting a bunch of soccer moms. And it didn’t help that everyone was either oblivious or wilfully obstructive.

But it wasn’t just that. There was something about this case that was getting to her, something that niggled her though she didn’t know what it was. So when Dean volunteered to do a food run she decided that was her cue to also take a break. Sam stayed at it, hunched over an old lore book in the corner but she got up, stretched the tension from her neck, and then flopped down on his bed with both journals in front of her.

She hadn’t been lying when she’d said she liked Dean’s better. It was nicer and, she suspected, made especially for her even if he’d sold it as just another thing he’d picked up. But the other was nice too and too good to just throw away so she made use of it.

She littered the first few pages with important details, phone numbers, and coordinates – coded in case any one came snooping. And then she started making profiles, pages littered with everything you needed to know about the weird and wonderful, her very own hunters journal though a tad more concise than John’s. A tad less heartbreaking. Sam let her cross reference and she used her own too, pouring over the pages as she made notes from acheri to wraiths. But nothing caught her eye for what they might be up against, nothing caught her eye until she got one of the last entries in her own journal. Elizabethville Ohio, where the town had run amok and they’d lost Ritchie. She only noted it because it was the last time she’d felt jealous like Dean had today, the nerve the Braedens had hit had still been raw, clashing with the day before her period and making her a tad more vengeful than usual after watching him flirt with that possessed bartender.

That was why Mr Garner’s dismissiveness didn’t even make sense. At least hormones were a legitimate cause. Hell maybe that was what had her all over the place today, her mood swinging on all ends of the spectrum. Lainey checked the date on the entry.

Late June.

Only that couldn’t be right. They were deep into August now and she hadn’t had one since. She skimmed through the other entries, trying to find something that would jog a memory she’d missed but came up empty. Sam looked up as the journal pages flapped quickly, panic spreading through her chest as she found nothing.

‘Everything okay?’ he asked, pausing turning his page as he looked over at her.

‘What?’ Lainey breathed as she looked up at him, pulled from her thoughts as she said, ‘oh uh yeah fine.’

‘You find something?’ he asked hopefully.

‘No,’ she said, clambering off the bed and grabbing her phone, ‘I uh, I just realised I haven’t called Bobby in like over a week.’

‘Well I’m sure he’s alright,’ Sam chuckled, ‘I spoke to him like two days ago.’

‘Right, yeah… I just figured I should probably check in,’ she lied, heading to the door but forcing a smile, ‘can’t have you winning favourite child now can we.’

‘S’pose not,’ Sam chuckled, turning his eyes back to the page.

Lainey hurried out the door. It was cooler outside but it didn’t do anything to stop the warmth that had spread through her body in panic or her heart from thudding against her chest. She took a moment, closing her eyes and resting back against the wall as she tried to still her thumping heart. It was fine. She was just over-reacting.

‘Hey,’ she heard Dean call, coming into view a moment later as she opened her eyes.

‘I got your sandwich but I had to get it on rye,’ he said. Lainey said nothing, her mind still swimming with dates and maybes and no doubt a cocktail of those dreaded hormones that seemed to be making his words feel fuzzy. But he took her silence for disappointment, his face falling as he offered an apologetic, ‘it was all they had.’

‘No it’s fine,’ she said, forcing her face into something brighter. Dean frowned.

‘Everything alright?’

‘Yeah,’ Lainey lied.

‘Why are you out here?’ he said.

‘Just gonna call Bobby,’ she said, raising the phone in her hand as some kind of proof which worked, his acceptance visible as he headed to the door.

Though as his hand clasped on the handle she called his name, making him look to her expectantly as she asked, ‘you remember that case in Elizabethville right?’

Dean just looked at her, his face blank and his eyebrows raised waiting for her to continue.

‘Ohio? The demon making everyone and their dog go nuts for drugs and gambling,’ she continued though he still looked none the wiser.

‘Ritchie?’ she added finally making his face fall into recognition.

‘Oh, yeah,’ he nodded, ‘what about it?’

‘How long ago was that?’ she asked, though she was sure she knew.

‘I don’t know, a month? Maybe longer like the end of June?’ he said, his brow furrowing, ‘why?’

‘Just thinking that was the last time we went home right,’ she said, the cover coming smoother than she’d anticipated, ‘thinking we’re probably overdue a visit.’

‘Yeah probably,’ Dean said, smiling sympathetically like he’d figured out her worries, ‘missing the old bastard, huh?’

‘Something like that.’

'Well call him and tell him we'll be there after this case,' Dean said.

'Will do,' she nodded.

'And uh don't be too long,' he said, raising the bag of food. Lainey nodded and waited till he'd ducked inside to sink back against the wall hoping that Bobby would be just as easy to fool.

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Lainey was exhausted. And not just because she hadn’t slept properly. She hadn’t, her dreams too vivid and real for her to settle. They’d been fine at first. When it had just been Dean. His hands on her, his lips across her skin. The want, the need. She’d enjoyed it until she hadn’t. Until it wasn’t Dean anymore, his hands now paler, grappling at her skin. His hair turning dark as it splayed across the pillow. Green eyes turning ocean blue. But that wasn’t the worst of it. It was hands on a bump, strangers’ hands. Bottles and cribs. Crying that startled her awake and made her heart race when she woke in a cold sweat. It was the guilt that settled in her chest as she pushed the idea from her head. The betrayal that she felt when he’d rolled over and pulled her to him, his face buried in her hair as he unknowingly made sure she was okay.

She’d lain awake after that. Staring at the time on his watch as it ticked by too slow, waiting for it to be a reasonable hour for her to slide out and start her day without him noticing. She didn’t know if he had. She didn’t know if he’d noticed how tired she looked today or how she’d barely eaten anything, the thought turning her stomach. Or at least that was what she kept telling herself. Though there was no denying the wave of nausea that hit when Sam said, ‘I think we should head to the morgue,' 

'Yeah, good idea,' Dean replied, his mouth full of sausage.

'I uh, think I'm gonna head back,' she said, fighting through the queasiness that image, combined with everything else.

'Why?' Sam asked.

'I don't feel great,' she said, which wasn’t entirely a lie.

'Define not great?' Dean said, leaning over to touch her cheek before she could offer any excuses.

'Just tired,' she said, trying to seem upbeat, ‘I mean you two don’t need me to come do you?’

‘We should be fine,’ Sam said.

‘Yeah, we’ll be fine,’ Dean said, downing the rest of his coffee as she climbed out of the booth as he said, ‘I’m just gonna drive her back.’

‘No it’s okay,’ Lainey said quickly, stopping him mid-rise as he tried to climb out the booth. Dean frowned but she placed her hands on his chest, fixing the collar of his jacket as she said, ‘I think the fresh air might do me good.’

‘You sure?’ Dean asked. Lainey nodded.

‘Yep, I’ll do some more research,’ she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek, ‘drive safe?’

'Always do sweetheart,’ he promised and then he sunk back in his seat watching her as she toddled off down the aisle and out into the summer sun.

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Lainey didn’t know what she was doing here. She hadn’t even intended to walk this way but it was like her feet had dragged her, taking her at least a mile and half away from the motel. She didn’t know why, but she couldn’t stop.

She told herself it was because there was a CVS down the block. She could go and pick up a test and do it before the boys got back from the morgue. It was always better to deal with the monster you knew than the uncertain. But she hadn’t gone to the pharmacy. She hadn’t even made it past the strip mall before she was wandering towards it, through the door with a tinkle of the bell. It smelled the same; rich and powerful, settling her lungs and making her brain just as fuzzy as it had been yesterday.

Still she made an effort to peruse, to scan the shelves like she’d come in for a purpose. After all it was busier today. An older man was nestled in one of the armchairs, leafing through his book and licking his fingers with every page turn. And there were a couple of teenage girls deep in the back, whispering and giggling every couple of minutes. Lainey kept feeling her eyes flit their way so she didn’t notice him beside her until she turned.

'Ah, I thought I'd see you again,' he smiled, unfazed by how she’d startled, clutching at her chest as her heart hammered against her ribs, 'no boyfriend today?'

'He's busy,' she said, the following words coming quickly out of her mouth though she didn't want them to, 'he's mad at me I think. He thinks we flirted yesterday.'

'Ah, and did we?' he asked, leaning against the shelf as he watched her. Lainey felt herself blush.

'I told him you were just being friendly,' she said. He laughed, his eyes glinting as he leaned in, his voice low and gravelly as he asked, ‘and were you?’

Lainey felt her words catch in her throat, pushed further down as she swallowed deeply. She didn’t know what they were, what she wanted to say, but she didn’t get chance because from behind them came a very stern, ‘Oliver.’

It snapped her back to reality, making her drop the book she’d been clutching as he whipped around and found a woman watching them. Lainey recognised her, Miranda from the book club, only she looked awful. Deep purple bags had set in under her eyes and her face looked gaunt, sunken cheeks and dry lips.

‘Miranda,’ he breathed.

‘You didn’t come last night,’ she said, seeming to not notice or care Lainey was standing there. But Oliver did, offering Lainey a tight smile as he walked off, grabbing Miranda by the arm as he tried to tug her away. But she stayed firm, fighting him off as she said, ‘answer me.’

‘I was busy,’ he said, his voice low and tight. Lainey didn’t look at them, instead she dropped to her knees picking up the book and slotting it back in place as she pretended to keep looking for something.

‘With who? Is there someone else-'

'Not now,' he grunted.

'I won't be, you can't leave me like the others,' she said, trying to sound firm but only sounding desperate.

'You don't get to dictate that,' he said menacingly, 'now go.'

Miranda looked at him like she’d been slapped, tears welling in her eyes as she scuttled off, sniffles echoing around through the aisles until she disappeared with a tinkle of a bell. Once she was gone he straightened up, smoothing out the t-shirt she’d clung to before he turned back to Lainey. Only the aisle was now deserted, Lainey was gone.

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Lainey hadn’t meant to fall asleep. She’d been researching, poring over what little they had for something. But the room had gotten warmer and her eyes had gotten heavier with every minute she looked at the screen.

Still that was better than what she’d found inside her head.

It was dark in there. Blood and pain. A bump there but then taken. Her mouth screaming with no sound. And then he was there. Calm, collected, assured. She tried to hide from it, to find Dean but he was just there. Consuming every thought. Holding her, tighter and tighter until-

‘Woah there sleeping beauty,’ Dean chuckled, catching the fist that had almost clocked him as she startled awake. Lainey’s heart raced, her eyes coming into focus to find him standing beside the bed, a bemused smile on his face as he watched her, ‘you okay baby?’

‘Yeah, fine,’ she lied, brushing the drool from her cheek as she sat up properly and tried to focus on the room. She hadn’t left. It was all still the same. Sam was sitting at the table and Dean had perched on the bed beside her, making sure she was okay.

‘What time is it?’ she asked.

‘Just after four,’ Sam said, taking out the files they’d got from the morgue.

‘Four!?’ she said, grabbing Dean’s wrist to check his watch and finding it in agreement.

‘Guess you must’ve been more tired than ya thought,’ Dean chuckled.

‘Yeah, must have,’ she said, though her focus wasn’t how long she’d been out, trapped inside her own head, it was why they’d taken so long, ‘where have you two been?’

‘Morgue. I did leave a message,’ Dean said, leaving her so he could take off his jacket, ‘there was a call in when we were there. Woman in her early forties, dropped dead with suspicious circs.’

‘Who was it?’ Lainey asked.

‘You remember that woman you spoke to yesterday uh,’ Dean hesitated, pointing at Sam and the casefiles as he dropped into the chair opposite him. Lainey felt her heart speed up before he said it.

‘Miranda Hague,’ Sam said. Lainey jumped up and went over in a flash, surveying the file closely as he explained, ‘neighbours found her in her car in the driveway. Just dropped dead.’

‘So we headed to see the husband and it was about what you’d expect,’ Dean said.

‘Then we went back to the morgue with her, watched him open her up. Multi-organ failure but get this,’ Sam said, moving her hand gently out of the way so he could flick over the pages, ‘it was like they were pulverised. Which is different from the others. Like whatever it was-’

‘Just finished the job,’ Lainey said quietly.

‘Yeah exactly,’ Sam said. But he was too busy opening up his laptop. He didn’t see the look on her face, the fear. Dean did.

‘Lainey what is it?’ he asked, guilty brown eyes finding his. Sam hesitated, his screen half open.

‘I think I know what it is. Or at least who,’ she said.

┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄

‘Okay, Incubi are essentially demons who seduce women. Once they’ve done that they can visit them in their sleep and then drain their life force,’ Sam said, scanning through the page, ‘repeated visits cause the victims to progressively waste away, experiencing severe lethargy until eventually they have multi organ failure.’ 

‘And that’s this Oliver dude?’ Dean asked, looking at Lainey.

‘I checked the lease on the unit and it’s only been open a couple of months. But the company itself, Reverie Books? That dates back to the early seventies, it’s just moved around a lot. Here, Delaware, Connecticut, even Washington and California. And each town it hits has a string of unexplained deaths.’

‘But this dudes like what thirty at most?’ Dean said.

‘Yeah but the company has been owned by the same man. Orthias Vane,’ she said, showing him the list of deeds and leases made out to the same initials.

‘And he’s called Oliver right?’ Sam said, ‘original.’

‘So what he rolls into town, finds himself a group of bored housewives and says let’s start a book club?’ Dean asked, ‘why bother with the hassle of it, why not just move from victim to victim?’

‘When they feed continually it drains the host quicker. Probably figured out it was better to have a few to pick from rather than gorging himself. I mean think about it, thirty years is a hell of a long time to figure out a good play. These women need to feel something right; they sign up for a book club that means that every week they get to go and interact with a handsome guy who gives them attention that their husbands don’t. He gets his pick of the crop every night and he doesn’t burn through them half as quick,’ Sam said. Dean shrugged in agreement, ‘just doesn’t explain why he’d waste Miranda so quick, I mean she seemed fine yesterday.’

‘Who knows,’ Dean said, climbing out of his seat to head to the fridge. He returned a moment later, handing them both a beer.

But Lainey didn’t drink. She just stared at it, her mind swimming and then ever so softly she said, ‘I think it’s because of me.’

‘What?’ Dean asked.

‘I saw her today,’ Lainey said, looking away from his curious gaze to Sam, hoping he’d stay clearer headed as she spilled her guts, ‘after I left I headed to the store to get some stuff because I didn’t feel well but I didn’t end up at the store. I ended up at the book shop.’

‘What?’ Dean grit.

‘I don’t know why. I don’t know how it’s like my feet just went there and it was like he expected it…after last night,’ she said, her face guilty as she looked at Dean. He paused, like the idea hadn’t quite clicked and when it did his jaw tightened.

‘You had a sex dream about him?!’ he said incredulously.

‘Not about him,’ she protested, Dean scoffed, ‘not at first! But after.’

‘And you didn’t think to say?’ he huffed.

‘How the hell was I supposed to say that?’ she reasoned, ‘I didn’t think anything of it!’

But Dean looked away from her, angrily drinking his beer whilst Sam sighed and said, ‘okay, what exactly happened?’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, not meeting Dean’s gaze.

‘Last night you had a dream,’ Sam said, glancing between them awkwardly, ‘and then this morning you felt unwell. What happened after that?’

‘I don’t know really. It’s kind of a blur. I thought it was just tiredness or hormones or something you know. But when I was headed to the store my feet kinda just took me there, like he expected it. Only we didn’t speak much because Miranda came in looking distraught. Said something about him not showing last night, I just thought she meant like they were meeting up but maybe she meant in a dream which would make sense-’

‘If he was visiting you,’ Sam finished.

‘Yeah and then I fell asleep again,’ she said, gnawing on her lip, ‘but this time it was different. Worse.’

‘Worse how?’ Sam asked.

‘Darker,’ she said. Dean shifted, trying to digest everything before he opened his mouth, his voice coming out softer as he watched her shrink back in her chair. He could see it now, the bags under her eyes, the slight sunkenness to her cheeks that steered him back to concern rather than anger.

‘Okay I’m lost because I thought this thing had to seduce the chicks to get in their head,’ he said. Sam sighed, ‘it doesn’t mean literally, they just need to be invited in. This could be a question or-’

‘A gift,’ Lainey said, her mind flicking to his insistence. How she hadn’t felt able to say no. It sat on the desk between her and Dean, tucked under her other and just peeking out in a way that felt mocking. Dean glared at it and then cleared his throat.

‘Okay,’ he said, looking at Sam, ‘how do we gank this thing?’

‘Well according to the lore they aren't standard demons, they’re older. Iron slows them down, but to actually put one in the ground, you need pure silver straight through the heart,’ Sam explained.

‘Great so we drive over to this son of a bitches shop and I put five rounds in his chest. Sounds like a plan to me,’ Dean said.

‘It’s not that simple,’ Sam said, ‘these aren’t run of the mill demons Dean. They’re only vulnerable when they’re feeding or preferably in limbo.’

‘Limbo?’ Lainey asked.

‘Yeah,’ he said, shifting nervously as he explained, ‘if you kill it while it’s feeding you basically kill whoever it’s feeding on too. But if you wake them up you can kill it before it has chance to get back to its body at full strength.’

‘Okay but how do we know where it’s gonna go next. I mean if it’s treating these chicks like an all you can eat buffet,’ Dean reasoned.

‘You can make it, if you have something to tether them to a specific person,’ Sam said, his eyes drifting to the book on the table.

‘No.’

‘Dean,’ Sam warned. But Dean didn’t reply, he just looked at the hand that clasped over his, brown eyes wide and weary and enough to make him cave immediately.

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In the end it hadn’t been hard. Lainey had slept, fitful and haunted but they’d done it. There was no fanfare and fortunately no more bodies on their hands even if she had felt exhausted enough to crash throughout the night once Sam had got back and confirmed it was safe to do so. And Dean, well, he’d never left her. He’d been angry that she’d not told him, angrier still at the idea of using her as bait but he’d never wavered. He hadn’t grumbled when she’d insisted on doing a check in on the book club ladies. Hadn’t complained about taking her home. He’d even conceded to stopping instead of driving through the night, and he never said a thing when she’d climbed into his lap and curled herself into his chest, stroking her back as he watched TV until she fell asleep.

So it didn’t make sense why she still felt niggled. Why the pit in her stomach had stayed from the moment she’d woke up. It was still there now as she stood in the aisle of a gas station on the edge of Ohio hundreds of miles away from the cocktail of chaos she’d thought had been making her feel like this. Only deep down she knew it wasn’t. Now she could think, all she could think of was that date in her journal. The three weeks that seemed to expand decades in her mind with insinuation. The reason she was standing in the middle of the aisle, her eyes flitting to the boxes of pregnancy tests just a couple of shelves up.

But as she went to move towards them Dean appeared, making her stop in her tracks, her back between him and the offending item like he’d be able to connect her thoughts up with one look at her face.

‘I thought you were filling up,’ she said, far too accusatorily.

'I wanted jerky,' Dean said simply, reaching past her to pull a pack off the shelf. Lainey moved with him, keeping herself between him and the other shelves as she sighed, ‘I would've got you jerky.’

'How if you didn't know I wanted it?' he teased, his hand ghosting her waist and pulling her closer. Lainey took the packet from him, dropping it into the basket amongst the various other gas-station non-negotiables she knew to load up on.

'You always want something and you don't exactly have a refined palate,' she countered.

'Oh and you do huh?' he chuckled, leaning in and kissing her cheek. Lainey tensed though she forced herself to relax and smile when he pulled back and asked, 'are you ready to go?'

'Uh don't you wanna check if Sam wants anything?' she asked, her voice airy.

'Nah, get him all his usual boring stuff,’ Dean said, ‘since you know us so well.’

'You should check,' she said, pushing him back. Out of the aisle. Out of the store. Out of her head so she could think for a damn minute.

'Fine,' he grumbled, kissing her again before he detangled himself and headed off to find Sam.

Lainey smiled at him until he was out of the aisle, disappearing out from the fluorescent and linoleum lined prison she was trapped in. Then once she saw him go out the front door she moved quickly, grabbing a test from the shelf without so much as a second glance before she buried it beneath jerky and potato chips. There wasn’t a line, but that didn’t stop her from checking outside, the hood of the Impala just visible through the cracked glass doors. If she could just get outside she could think. Just get to the bathroom she could tuck it away, ready for when they got to Bobby’s.

But she didn’t get to the bathroom. She’d barely gotten a step outside, using the other doors that lead around that way before Dean’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

'Wow, lucky Sam didn't want anything,' he drawled.

'Dean,' she said, turning around to find him stood beside the door, arms crossed as he watched her, eyes narrowed on her face.

'You know since you paid up without waiting,' he said, leaning up and coming towards her. Lainey shifted, trying to make her voice normal.

'Couldn't wait, have to pee,' she lied. Dean nodded, letting her heart settle for a second but then he reached forward and grabbed the bag before she could grip onto it.

‘Dean!’ she protested but he wasn’t listening, he just pulled it open and stuck his hand in, fishing around until it clasped onto a box. Lainey watched him go still, his face falling as he realised what he was facing. Lainey couldn’t breathe. She wanted to, she wanted to get it out, to tell him everything about the last few days but the words wouldn’t come. Words barely left him, his voice scarcely audible as he whispered, ‘you…’

'I'm late...’ she said quietly, ‘three weeks.’

'But we're...’ he said confused, the words sounding rushed and hollow, ‘I mean we're always…’

'The pool,' she said. At least that was what she’d determined when she’d finally had time to think about it. When she couldn’t brush it off as some effect of the incubus or some mere coincidence.

'Oh,' he said.

'Yeah,' she murmured, coming closer, ‘Dean I was gonna tell you.'

'Oh yeah when?' he huffed, shoving the bag into her hands as he paced, his hands running through his hair and his jaw tight as his mind raced.

'Dean, I promise I was. I just wanted to know first before I... this is kinda big,' she reasoned.

'You're telling me,' he said sarcastically.

'Can we not?' she pleaded, moving closer.

'Why not?' he said, stopping just short of her, his jaw ticking, 'you had it in the damn bag Lainey. What did you think was going to happen? You just gonna hope when Sam grabbed a pickle he didn't get a damn piss stick-'

'I was gonna wait till Bobby's, tell you then but I freaked out,' she said. But then she could feel a lump in her throat, her eyes going glassy as she begged, 'please don't be mad at me.'

'I'm not,' Dean said harshly, deflating when he heard it, 'fuck I'm not mad, it's just a lot.'

'You think I don't know that?' she reasoned.

He pulled her to him then, his arms ensnaring her as she leaned into his chest, the rumbling thump of his hammering heart in no way soothing her nerves and neither did him saying, ‘we should do it now.’

'What?’ she asked, pulling back to look at him incredulously, ‘here?' 

'I mean where else? What are you gonna do, wait till Bobby’s? Hope him or Sam don’t pick up on something,' he reasoned, his hand coming to her cheek to reassure her, ‘besides I don’t think I’ll be able to think of anything else until we know.’

Lainey hesitated, gnawing on the inside of her cheek. He had a point. It wasn’t like she’d done anything else this morning. She didn’t know what she was waiting for other than time. Time of not knowing meant time before reality set in. And now it was gone.

‘Okay, let’s do it,’ she nodded. Dean sighed, taking her hand as he led her around to the bathrooms at the back of the gas station. There were only two, both handicap stalls which brought the blessing of not having to do this with any witnesses and the curse of getting caught both leaving the through the same door afterward.

'This is gross,' Lainey said as she entered, placing the bag on the countertop as Dean locked the door. It was dank and dingy, with only one barely working overhead light and green, yellow, and brown tiles – colours which seemed to track upwards onto what she presumed had been once white plaster.

‘Nah we’ve definitely seen worse,’ Dean quipped, but she just looked at him with disapproval as she peeled a couple of used paper towels off the side with pincer fingers and dropped them into the trash. Dean suppressed a smile and mumbled, 'I'll read the instructions.'

'I don't think you have to,' she sighed, pulling the box out and unlatching it.

'This not your first rodeo?' he asked, watching as the plastic stick clinked into her hand softly.

'I mean it's fairly simple right?' she said with a shrug. Dean just raised an eyebrow until she rolled her eyes, 'I was seventeen, he told me he had a latex allergy.’

As Dean snorted she shoved the box into his chest, a smile playing on her lips, ‘yeah, yeah. Let’s just say carrying it to school to hide in a trash can so that Bobby wouldn't see was enough to put an end to that.’

'I'll bet,' Dean chuckled before he turned his attention to the box in his hand. Lainey peered over his shoulder.

'So, uncap the test,’ he started, hearing a click and a clink as she threw it on the sink, ‘place it in stream for five seconds. Recap and lay it flat, wait two minutes-’

‘Do three,’ Lainey said, catching his eye as she shrugged, ‘I read somewhere that sometimes you can get a line later...don't wanna leave here with the wrong answer you know.'

'Three it is,' Dean nodded, placing down the instructions beside the cap and the box.

Lainey moved to the toilet hesitating as she got near, looking somewhat sheepish as she looked back at him. Dean waited, watching as she chewed on her cheek again before she said, ‘are you gonna watch?'

‘You really getting shy in front of me? I mean I’ve probably seen you do worse than this,’ he grinned.

'Yeah, I guess you have,' she chuckled, handing him the test whilst she unbuckled her belt and pushed her pants down. Dean handed it back once she was settled, perching himself on the handrail beside her. Lainey waited, her face hot from where he was watching her, waiting. But nothing came.

'No, you gotta turn around I can't focus,' she said.

'Fine,' Dean grumbled, standing up and facing the other way with a teasing, 'prude.'

'Oh, bite me,' she retorted.

'Now that's asking for trouble,' he chuckled.

It never failed to amaze her how he could be like that in situations like this. How, with their lives so precariously in the balance, he could still make her laugh. That he could make it feel like this wasn’t a nightmare.

How he still looked at her like he loved her. Even here in a disgusting gas station bathroom, hand covered in pee and a tiny fate decider sitting on a grime covered countertop. How he didn’t flap, just clicked a three-minute timer on his watch and waited whilst she washed her hands. Once she’d threw the paper towels in the bin she rested back on the counter, their shoulders bumping as the quiet descended. But it wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t tense. There was just something about it, accepting almost. Something, she realised, she’d always known. That nothing ever seemed that scary, not when she had Dean.

It was just the without him part that terrified her. As she thought about that she felt her breath hitch. Dean clocked it too, his eyes flitting worriedly her way as he said, ‘you know whatever it says it'll be okay, right?'

'Really?' she said, trying to ignore the newfound worries that had flooded her brain the moment she remembered that without Dean was not only a possibility but a reality.

'Yeah,' he said, his hand finding hers.

'Dean we don't know what's happening tomorrow let alone nine months from now,' she reasoned, the words starting to pour out of her 'and life on the road-'

'We've got options,' he said, pulling her into him. Anchoring himself to her as he saw her start to drift. He held her face, steady and sure as he promised, 'if not we'll make it work.'

'We?' she asked quietly.

Dean had been going to say yes, to promise her it would be fine but then it clicked and his heart sank. Because in all of this, he’d forgotten. He’d done damage control. He didn’t want to upset her, make her feel like it was her fault when it was his own stupid mistake. And then, for a second whilst he was facing away. He’d closed his eyes. He’d let himself imagine they weren’t doing this in some grimy old bathroom. That this wasn’t some panic driven thing. That they were people who could have something like this, that it could work.

But it was more than that.

He let himself be selfish. Just for a moment. That out of all the stupid shit he’d done and after all the ways he’d hurt her he could give her one good thing. A piece of him. That he wouldn’t leave her alone.

He was aware he hadn’t said anything but before he could his watch beeped and she pulled away though she hesitated, her hand hovering over the stick before she shook her head and looked at him, ‘I can’t do it.’

Dean nodded and moved to pick it up. It felt small in his hands, hollow and empty which was surprising given how much weight one of these things could hold. Lainey had turned around, looking at the wall as she waited for an answer.

‘Negative,’ Dean said quietly.

'Really?' she said, turning around and crowding him in a second, her hands over his as she looked at the one pink line staring back at her.

'Always was a lucky son of a bitch,' Dean joked weakly, 'you okay?'

'Yeah,’ she said, sounding more concrete as she nodded, ‘yeah… I just, a full day of panicking kinda spun me out.’

'Well no more. Nothing’s changed. We’re good right?’ he asked.

‘We’re good,’ Lainey said, taking it from him and throwing it in the trash can with a sigh of relief. Dean let her and then pulled her close, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck.

‘And we'll be more careful next time, promise,’ he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

‘Honey you’re marching your ass back in that gas station and stocking up right now,’ Lainey chuckled, leaning up to kiss him. And well Dean couldn’t argue with that.

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It wasn’t too late by the time they got to Bobby’s and given they’d spent most of the day cramped up in the car Lainey had capitalised on stretching her legs by taking over making dinner. She had however declared Bobby help her clean up, shooing Dean and Sam out to the back porch which they were more than happy to do. It was still warm out though the sun had started to dip below the horizon, casting the sky in a pink and orange hue that had rendered them both speechless when they’d noticed it, the pair of them taking a moment to just sit and enjoy the quiet with a beer in hand.

But Sam had been watching. He was watching Dean now, feet crossed in front of him, elbow propped up on his arm rest so that he didn’t have to move too far whenever he wanted a sip. He looked content but deep in thought. Quiet in a way that he never usually was.

He looked up when Sam cleared his throat, leaning forward to rest on his knees as he took a slow sip before picking at the label as he asked, ‘you two okay?’

‘What?’ Dean frowned, ‘yeah, fine…why?’

‘You’re both kinda quiet,’ Sam shrugged, ‘that’s never usually a good sign.’

Dean paused, sitting up in his chair and checking the door was closed behind where Sam was sitting before he dropped his voice low, not meeting Sam’s eye as he announced, ‘we, uh, we kinda had a mishap.’ Only when he looked up Sam was just looking at him none the wiser, making him shift as he said, ‘Lainey thought she might be…’

‘What? Are you serious?’ Sam said, sitting up immediately. The words hanging between them without ever being spoken.

‘She’s not,’ Dean said hurriedly, checking the door once more before he huffed, ‘don’t get your panties in a bunch.’

‘Jesus Dean,’ Sam sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face like he’d just been told he was the father.

‘I know alright,’ Dean huffed. As he settled back with a pout Sam softened.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, ‘just…came outta the blue.’

‘Yeah not just for you,’ Dean reasoned, taking another drink. Sam stayed quiet for a moment. Watching him, watching the way he didn’t seem entirely mortified.

‘Is she okay?’ he asked. Dean nodded, Sam swallowed, ‘are you?’

‘Yeah,’ Dean said, his voice higher than he’d anticipated, ‘I mean it’s not ideal is it? Our life…the road…my deal.’

Sam made a noise that resembled an agreement and they fell quiet for a second, until the words started to bubble inside him. He hadn’t said them in the gas station. Hadn’t let them claw their way out the entire drive. Not even when he’d walked into the kitchen earlier, when she’d caught him coming in and smiled at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered. But they came now.

‘But can I tell you something?’ he asked, apprehensively. Sam nodded, ‘for a little minute…I don’t know…it didn’t feel that bad, you know?’

Sam could see how his eyes lost focus, his gaze somewhere beyond the scrap yard where there were lawns and tire swings. Somewhere beyond the reality of motel rooms and travel cots squished in between Bobby’s lore books. But it went just as easily as it had come, with a sniff and a wrinkle of his nose.

‘I don’t know man, I guess it’s not the idea of leavin’, it’s the idea of leavin’ you two behind,’ he said quietly. Sam swallowed thickly, letting his jaw slacken to prevent the tears that had gathered in an instant, forcing them to ebb back.

‘A kid isn’t you, Dean,’ he reasoned. Dean looked at him ruefully.

‘No I know,’ he said, offering a minute smile.

Neither of them spoke after that, the silence stretching its way past the porch until the entire yard went still, no creaking metal or rustling gravel heard amongst their breathing and their own thoughts. There wasn’t a noise until the back door opened, Lainey appearing a moment later with a couple more beers in hand.

‘Here,’ she said, handing one over to Sam.

‘I’m good,’ he said, holding a hand up and a polite smile to stop her. Lainey nodded and placed it down on the small table in between them before she handed the other to Dean as she asked, ‘what are you two talking about?’

‘Nothing,’ Dean lied. Lainey narrowed her eyes but she let it slide, resting back against the fence. Only Sam got up, clearing his throat as he said, ‘here, you can have my seat.’

‘Oh no I’m good,’ she said.

‘Really, Bobby said he had some stuff he wanted to show me anyway,’ he said. Lainey nodded and watched as he scurried back into the house, waiting for the door to click closed before she looked at Dean and said, ‘you told him huh?’

Dean shrugged, leaning up in his seat, reaching for her hand, and pulling until she was sitting on his lap, her back against his chest as he laced his arms around her, his chin resting on her shoulder. Lainey sank back, going quiet for a moment as she danced her fingertips across his interlocked hands.

‘How did he take it?’ she asked quietly.

‘Nothing to take I guess,’ Dean said, only confirming her suspicions it hadn’t been well. Or at least it had been met with the black and white brand of Sam Winchester logic.

‘Yeah,’ she murmured, settling deeper, ‘though I suppose he can see things a little better than us. Eye of the storm and all that.’

‘Hmm,’ was all Dean replied.

‘If only I’d have waited a couple of days. Could’ve saved us all the worry,’ she said, peeling herself up from his grasp and turning so she was sitting across his lap.

‘Yeah?’ Dean asked. Lainey smiled sadly.

He watched as she reached out, fiddling with his amulet like she always did whenever she didn’t want to look at him. Whenever whatever it was felt too big to say.

‘You know what’s crazy?’ she said after a moment.

‘What’s that baby?’ he said, watching her closely.

‘This morning when I was thinking about it. I really did think,’ she said, finally looking his way, ‘I thought about sore boobs and stretch marks and watermelon sized heads coming out of not watermelon sized places.’

Dean chuckled.

‘I thought about screaming and poop and motel carry cribs. Long distance and…’ she paused, side-stepping the direction she’d been headed like it was an avenue they both knew not to go down, ‘and then I thought about not doing it. About having a piece of you and just giving it away…’

Dean felt her hand still, her thumb trailing along the ridges of the face on his necklace like she was touching something else entirely.

‘And after all that…I was still disappointed when you said negative,’ she said, scrunching her mouth tightly before she breathed, ‘just for a minute. Just until I remembered how terrible every decision would feel-’

‘Me too,’ Dean said quickly, his hand clasping around her wrist gently.

‘Really?’ she asked.

‘Lainey, I’m not scared of dying, I’m scared of leaving,’ he said, the words somehow feeling more real now he’d said them to her. He shifted, jostling her forward, but she didn’t slip down, didn’t tuck herself into his arms. She pulled him in, his head on her chest, her fingertips ghosting through his hair. Dean closed his eyes, listening to the steadiness of her heart, the feel of her - soft, sweet, and warm.

‘I guess it would’ve been nice…knowing you had something y’know…Sam thinks it’s insane,’ he murmured after a minute. Lainey took a deep breath, trying to keep herself steady.

‘Sam’s probably right,’ she chuckled softly. Dean sighed a laugh, but then he looked up at her with pleading eyes as he said, ‘Lainey promise me you’ll look after him.’

‘Dean,’ she sighed.

‘You’ve got Bobby. You’re his kid. Sam he’s,’ Dean started but he didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. She just nodded, giving him the silent vow he needed, and allowed him to sink back against her chest. She watched his eyes flutter shut in the fading twilight.

Because that was the ultimate truth of it. Through all the panic, the doubts, and the terrifying reality of their lives, there was one thing Lainey had never doubted for a single second: exactly how good of a dad Dean Winchester would have been.

┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄

Well I found a girl and we don't fit in here, Talk about how hard it is to breathe here, Even with the windows down can't catch a southern breeze here. One of these days gonna pack it up and leave here.

┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄

tags (dean/spn/lainey)

But you couldn’t help but be curious. When you heard the Impala leave the lot, a low rumbling chug that disappeared around the gates and came back around hours later without any hint or tell where it had been. When you heard Bobby send him on errands, old books and occult items that he needed picked up or dropped off for whatever or whoever he was helping. You wondered if he’d have let you come on those runs if you’d asked. Or if he would’ve looked at you and told you this wasn’t a job for a kid, that you should find Sam. Do something safe and boring.

You tried not to dwell on it. You were trying now as you listened to him on the phone, the landline cord bouncing against your back every time he moved deeper into Bobby’s study whilst the three of you stayed seated at the kitchen table, eating the meal he’d abandoned the second the phone had rung. Bobby hadn’t said who it was, just handed it over and let him take it into the other room which meant that you were straining to hear anything against the low murmur of Sam and Bobby’s conversation across the table. When he reappeared, brushing past you to re-hook the phone you finally looked up at him.

You didn’t ask him who it was or what they wanted, though you didn’t have to. As you asked, ‘do you want dessert?’ and started clearing the empty plates, he just said, ‘nah, can't. I’m going out.’

‘Out where?’ Sam asked. You grabbed onto his plate and pulled it away, taking the four of them to the sink as you listened.

‘Party,’ Dean said simply.

‘What party?’ Sam asked, his eyes narrowing. You could tell, even with your back to him.

‘Just this girl I know,’ Dean shrugged. You turned around then, letting the sputtering tap water fill the basin unattended as you asked, ‘what girl?’

‘Mandy,’ Dean replied.

‘From the liquor store?’ you and Bobby asked simultaneously. You knew Mandy. She was older than you, older than Dean if only by a year or so. She wore tight jeans and low-cut tops with the vest the liquor store manager gave them as a uniform tied tight around her waist so that the logo bunched up until it was practically unreadable. So much for not liking girls who dressed like you or rather worse than you. Though, you realised, she’d also been with half the guys in town so maybe that was the appeal. You felt a cold knot of disdain settle beneath your ribs.

‘Yeah,’ he said.

‘Why don’t we come too?’ you said, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them.

‘What?’ Sam asked but you didn’t look at him, just Dean who faltered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly before he said, ‘it’s not your scene.’

‘Why not?’ you said, folding your arms across your chest.

‘It’s college kids. Y’know, sex, drugs, rock ‘n’ roll,’ Dean joked, stumbling over his words when Bobby cleared his throats at the word drugs, ‘oh, you know what I mean. Besides it’s not even my party, can’t just invite anyone.’

You scowled and turned back to the dishes, turning the water that had no started to bob against the top of the basin off, not bothering to let any out before you dunked the first plate and angrily started scrubbing.

You could feel a heavy silence settle over the kitchen and then Dean murmured something about getting changed and you heard him disappear. Bobby retreated to his study soon after, whilst you scrubbed and scrubbed against the congealed remnants of Dean’s abandoned chicken pot pie. You only snapped out of your trance when you felt Sam stand next you. When you looked up, he had his hand extended, dish towel in his other, waiting for you to hand over the now thoroughly clean plate. He offered you a smile as you passed it over and you returned it, your mood mellowing just a little.

In fact, the two of you actually started enjoying yourselves after a minute, mostly because Sam started a war, flicking water up at you when you were distracted in conversation which made it spatter up onto your face without warning. You splashed him back and the kitchen counter was practically dripping by the time Dean waltzed downstairs, stopping the pair of your mid wrestle. He looked between the two of you then muttered a ‘don’t wait up,’ and left. You tried not to let it bother you. But it sucked the fun out of the room in a minute flat. You went back to the dishes and Sam started wiping down the counters, especially since Bobby had yelled from the other room that his kitchen better not be a mess. You weren't even sure how he knew since the door was pushed mostly shut.

Once the plates were clean and put away and the countertop was dry, he hopped up on it, watching as you emptied the sink, pushing the suds down into the drink.

‘We could do it too you know,’ he said after a minute.

‘What’s that?’ you asked, not looking up from where you were watching the water gurgle down the drain, before you forced a couple bits of onion down the garbage disposal from where they’d gotten stuck to the side of the basin.

‘Sex, drugs, rock n roll,’ he said snapping your gaze up, ‘well, some of it.’

‘What are you talking about?’ you frowned.

‘Well, you don’t have to go to a party to drink,’ Sam reasoned, his eyes trailing to the fridge. You felt a smile creep onto your face which only dimmed when you heard the creak of Bobby’s chair.

‘Quick, you go I’ll get some,’ you said, throwing the towel at him in a panic which made him chuckle and slide from the countertop, long legs barely dropping a foot before he hit the linoleum. As he disappeared you went to the fridge and grabbed a couple of beers, looking around for somewhere to stuff them. You grabbed Sam’s hoodie off the back the chair and shoved it on, tucking two bottles deep against where the elastic sat on your hips and then you grabbed another two, deliberately straightening your back when you heard the kitchen door roll over, heavy thudding footsteps coming closer as you stayed frozen.

'And what are you doing?' Bobby asked watching you stand frozen with two beers in hand.

'Getting you a beer,' you said, straightening up carefully so the bottom of the hoodie wouldn't gape and let the hidden bottles drop.

'You think I drink two at once?' he said, taking one from you and eyeing the other in your hand. You sighed.

'Oh, come on. Just one for me and Sam,' you pouted.

'No,' he said flatly, reaching out to take the second bottle from you.

'Why not? You let Dean drink,' you reasoned.

'Dean ain't my kid,' he said. You weren’t his either, technically, but you figured now wasn’t exactly the time to make that point. Bobby continued, 'and he's eighteen. If he can join the army and die, he can have a beer on my watch.' 

'So?’ you challenged, crossing your arms, ‘I mean, I could have a baby, but I can't have a beer?’

'You get pregnant and you can't have one anyway,' Bobby retorted easily, ‘and if you were pregnant, I’d need the whole case.’

'You're no fun,' you grumbled, shuffling out of his way so he could put the second back in the fridge, careful not to move to quickly so he couldn’t see the bulges at the side of your pockets.

'Ain't supposed to be,' he said, obliviously, ' besides, if you two wanted to drink, how come you didn't go with Dean anyway?'

‘He said no, remember?’ you said, trying to keep your face neutral.

‘Ain’t ever stopped you before. Hell, couple of pouts from you and he’d have probably folded like a cheap suit,’ Bobby chuckled, making that familiar wave of angst flow through you, making your throat feel tight.

‘Nah it’s fine,’ you said quickly, ‘Sam didn’t seem too fussed anyway.’

Your eyes spotted where he had placed the other down on the counter and you moved to block it with a theatrical sigh, ‘besides, we can always make our own fun. You know dark angsty music, moaning about our lives, drowning our sorrows…’

'Nice try,' Bobby said, reaching right around you and snatching it from behind your back with a satisfied smirk on his face.

'Ugh fine,' you huffed.

Fortunately, your dramatic acting worked like a charm, drawing attention away from the hoodie just as Sam reappeared in the doorway, looking between the two of you with a slightly red face.

'Mission failed,' you said, looking to Bobby, 'someone’s a total square.'

Bobby just rolled his eyes.

'It's alright,' Sam said, shrugging tightly.

'You know you don't have to let her corrupt you,' Bobby said, in the manner a guidance counsellor would use when they wanted you to tell them something. The one that came with the warning edge that they wanted it bad but not enough to force them to do too much work. Just enough that they felt validated for picking a career of listening to teenage angst.

'How do you know I'm the influence?' you baulked.

'Learned too much from Dean not to be,' Bobby said. And that was enough to finally shut you up. You could’ve made the point that Sam spent far too much time with Dean not to be more affected, hell that was evident in the fact that this whole thing had been his idea, but you decided not to push your luck. You decided not to let the conversation turn to how you and Dean were thick as thieves or how you use to follow him around like a lost puppy.

'I'm just going to the bathroom, be a minute,’ you said, nudging past Sam who nodded. You looked back at Bobby before you went with a challenging, ‘can we at least have the sodas old man?'

‘Help yourself,’ Bobby said sarcastically making Sam chuckle as he headed to the fridge.

You spent a while in the bathroom. You didn’t really know why. You were having fun with Sam. Sam made you laugh. And yet you could feel your mind wandering. To what the party was like. What Mandy was like. What Dean liked about her. Though when it got to that you shook it from your head, left the bathroom and headed out to the garage where you found Sam he was sitting in the cab of a truck, with the door propped open and radio on, emitting some fuzzy rock tune that you didn’t know which crackled every so often as the signal dipped. Now the sun was down it was slightly chilly out and it made you thankful for his hoodie wrapped around you, something he didn’t even mention as you clambered up in the cab beside him.

‘Hey,’ he smiled as you climbed inside, ‘thought you’d forgot about me.’

‘Me? Forget about the Sam Winchester? Pfft,’ you grinned, settling against the worn vinyl seat before pulling the two beers out from inside your hoodie.

‘Ta da,’ you grinned handing him one over, ‘could only get the one each. And I’ve no bottle-’

But before you could finish, Sam was already resting the edge of the bottle cap against a metal spindle on the steering wheel. With one hard, practiced downward push, he knocked the cap off in one fell swoop. Then he offered the open beer to you, exchanging it for the sealed one in your hand.

‘Opener…thanks,’ you said, settling back and taking a cautious sip. You’d had beer before, stolen sips every now and then. A couple at a party of some girl you didn’t really know. It never tasted any better.

'That's disgusting,' you winced, taking another sip just to make sure.

'Yeah,' Sam agreed though he downed a good chunk in one swig, leaving you with the feeling that he was just saying it to make you feel better. Then he sat up, reaching into the door for something.

You watched in surprise as he pulled out a pint-sized bottle of whiskey.

‘Where did you get that?’ you gasped, snatching it from his hands to inspect it.

‘Snuck it while you were arguing with Bobby,’ Sam said, a rare, mischievous glint in his eyes.

‘Awesome,’ you replied, placing your beer down in the footwell carefully before you cracked it open and took a deep swig. It scorched the back of your throat, but it didn't feel nearly as unpleasant as the warm beer.

‘We even have mixers,’ Sam said proudly, tapping the cans of soda he’d placed between you. For a while the two of you were focused on mixing your whisky into a soda can each, taking experimental sips until it was almost indistinguishable from soda itself and therefore easier to sink down. Once that was done, you settled back into the bench seat, enjoying your forbidden spoils and listening to the low hum of the radio. There wasn’t much to look at. The truck was angled straight toward the towering rows of shelves housing all of Bobby’s rusted tools, so you found yourself just looking around the cab, fiddling absentmindedly with the volume knob until your eyes finally landed on Sam. He’d been watching you quietly, in that heavy, observant way he always did.

‘What?’ you asked.

‘Nothing,’ he said softly. You nodded and sat back, tucking your spare hand in your pocket because it had gotten a little colder outside now. Only as you did you felt your fingers brush against a small rigid plastic cylinder which you grabbed and pulled out excitedly.

'I forgot, I got these too,' you said, handing him the pill bottle you’d pulled from the bathroom cabinet. Long forgotten somethings that Bobby wouldn’t notice but the reckless thrill of going a step further than Dean in the rebellion department had excited you for a split second, making you stash them away before coming outside.

'What are they?' Sam frowned, holding the bottle but not taking them from your hand as he scanned the label.

'Pain pills from Bobby's medicine cabinet,' you said proudly, taking it back and twisting the cap off, 'said he got 'em after a huntin' injury but they're from his knee surgery.'

‘You sure about this?’ Sam asked, his brow furrowing as you tapped two small white tablets into your palm and offered one to him.

‘They’re nothing bad,’ you shrugged, trying to sound indifferent. Sam hesitated for a moment, looking at the pill and then you, but then took one anyway. Both of you popped a tablet at the same time before you washed it down with a swig of beer. You knew deep down it wouldn’t do much. Hell, Bobby’s surgery had been so long ago they probably didn’t even work anymore but it felt better than nothing. Maybe it’d even work on heartbreak. You needed something to. You couldn’t keep moping forever.

Sam settled back against the driver’s door, turning his body toward you with his elbow resting on his knee as he cautiously picked at the edges of his beer label. As the radio announcer's voice faded out into another heavy grunge track, Sam cleared his throat, drawing your gaze back over to him.

'You know for the full effect we should probably be smoking,' he said.

'You’re right,’ you chuckled, ‘have you ever tried it?'

'Nah. Found a pack in my dad’s duffel once but I'd figured he'd notice one missing,' he admitted, 'you?' 

'Once. Coughed up a lung. It was horrendously embarrassing,' you giggled, taking another swig. Sam chuckled and took a drink himself. But then your mind started ticking. He hadn’t smoked. But he was better at drinking than you, comfortable even. You were still alternating between the soda and the beer, but he’d almost cleared through his bottle, his whisky untouched. And he hadn’t taken that much convincing to down one of the pills, even if it wasn’t doing much of anything for either of you, yet at least. But there was one thing you weren’t sure about.

'What about...' you started, hesitating when he looked at you curious for you to finish, ‘you ever… y’know?'

You took a swift swig of your drink, feeling a sudden, hot blush creep up your cheeks as he registered exactly what you meant. Sam sat up straighter, shifting his weight uncomfortably against the door.

'Oh. Uh, no. Not yet,' he said, taking a drink of his own just for something to do.

'Oh,' you said, a wave of awkwardness rushing through you, 'I just figured.'

'I'm not Dean,' he said, his voice suddenly sharp, a defensive edge clipping his words.

'No, I know,' you said hurriedly, trying to smooth it over. But he wouldn’t look at you anymore. He just settled deep into his corner of the seat and stared blankly out the dusty windshield, taking another heavy swig. You couldn’t tell if you’d genuinely upset him, or if you’d accidentally touched a nerve that you didn’t realise was there, 'Sam, I didn't say there was anything wrong with it.'

'Tell that to Dean,' Sam huffed. Of course.

Of course. Of course that was what it was. No doubt it was something he’d been relentlessly teased or tormented over by his older brother. The teenage Casanova. You knew it was just typical sibling bullshit, and you knew you would never fully understand the exact dynamic that went on between the two brothers, but for some reason, the realisation made you furious. The sheer idea of Dean being cruel or smug over something that didn’t concern him made a sudden, hot spark of anger flare up in your chest.

'Who cares what he thinks?' you said, the words surprising you when they came out. Sam chuckled softly, breaking the sudden tension between you two, but then he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

'It's just we move around a lot...kinda hard to you know build up to it I guess,' he explained quietly.

'Unless you just jump right into it like someone,' you muttered. After all, they’d been in town what? A week at most? And Dean was already off with Mandy. No doubt parked up somewhere like this rather than at the party like he said he would be.

'Yeah...' Sam said softly.

'I get it,' you said, pushing Dean from your mind, 'it's nice actually.'

'Nice?' Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Yeah. Most guys would see it as a positive. Have your fun, move on, you know?' you said.

'Yeah, I guess,' Sam said, dwelling on it for a moment before he looked up at you and asked, 'what about you?'

'What about me what?' you said, pretending you didn’t know where the thread of the conversation had gone.

'You know I'm not gonna fall for that right,' Sam challenged with a pointed look.

'Worth a shot,’ you chuckled, glancing down at your beer for a second before you shrugged, ‘no… I mean nearly. It’s not like I'm not a total prude or whatever. There was a guy last year I thought we might.'

'What happened?' Sam asked.

'He was just...not good,' you admitted, the memory of his sweaty hands and his clumsy, washing machine make out technique making you shudder, 'kept honking my boob like a dog with a chew toy.'

Sam burst out laughing.

'I'm serious!' you laughed, smacking him on the arm before the two of you settled into something softer. As the laughter died down you let out a quiet sigh.

'I didn't even really like him anyway. I figured when I finally did it, I’d wait for someone I actually liked,' you admitted. You didn’t dare think about what had actually made you want to wait. How when you’d been seeing that guy, letting him touch you like that you’d not only realised how terrible he was but how you wouldn’t have wanted him even if he was good. Because there was only one person you had wanted.

'Yeah, I get you,' Sam said.

Again, silence settled and you placed your bottle down before sitting back and watching him from the corner of your eye.

‘Do you ever think about it?’ you asked after a minute,

‘I’m a teenage boy,’ Sam said flatly. You rolled your eyes.

‘No, I just mean like…getting it over with. Just finding a person and ripping the band aid off,’ you said.

‘I guess,’ Sam shrugged, his voice dipping a little before he added, ‘Dean said I should.’

You waited for more.

‘He says it’s not a big deal. You don’t need to make it one. That only girls make it special or whatever… but I don’t know if he actually believes that. I just think he’s scared of getting attached,’ Sam said honestly.

‘Makes sense,’ you mumbled, though you refused to lean into that idea. That would only spark hope, and you were done with hoping. You wanted distraction. Something new to focus on. Something fun, enjoy summer. Just like he had told you to.

And before you knew what you were doing, before your brain could step in and stop you, you moved across the bench seat and kissed Sam.

It was gentle at first. Your lips caught his apprehensive ones, which stayed completely still for a terrifying, breathless moment until he suddenly sank into it. His hand came up, his long fingers touching your cheek. Surprised you pulled back quickly, both of your chests heaving as you just stared at each other in the dim light.

Then, with your heart hammering violently against your ribs, you moved forward again, pushing yourself right into his lap.

You heard a bottle fall somewhere, kicked over in your haste and spilling liquid into the footwell, but you didn’t look around. You were entirely too focused on your lips capturing his again, rougher this time, more desperate. Sam moved his body to accommodate your weight, his large hands falling naturally to your hips as you ran your tongue against his bottom lip, begging him to let you in.

He did, and you deepened the kiss, a thrill running through you as a soft groan escaped the back of his throat. His hands felt like pure fire, sweeping down your thighs only to find his touch blocked by thick denim. The only day you had conceded to wearing jeans created a stubborn barrier against his touch, forcing him to retreat upwards, sliding his hands right under your shirt. You groaned as his thumb traced a line along your bare belly, sucking on his bottom lip as your hips rolled instinctively against him. You could feel him hardening beneath you, his mouth moving down your neck and his hands gripping at your sides, holding you to him as you fiddled with the zip of his hoodie, trying to get it off.

‘Sam,’ you breathed, pushing against his shoulders so you could get the thing off. His hands helped, peeling the sleeves from your arms and throwing the heavy hoodie down onto the other end of the bench seat to act as a pillow for your head. The remaining soda cans were shoved completely out of the way as he moved you over to lie down beneath him, his lips barely leaving yours for a second.

‘Your shirt,’ you murmured against his mouth as he sucked on a warm spot right by your earlobe, your fingers pushing at the hem of his t-shirt. Sam hummed a response, the low vibration sending a shiver straight down your spine that made a small whine escape you. You wanted it off. You wanted to feel his bare skin on yours, wanting it to burn the way his mouth was.

Sam was just about to pull back to yank his shirt over his head when you heard it.

The unmistakable, low rumble of the Impala’s engine pulling into the salvage yard.

Sam froze instantly and you watched him with wide eyed panic before you pushed him up and off you. Sam flung himself into the other side of the bench and you worked to smooth your crumpled shirt out, Sam doing the same as you pulled the visor down and checked your face in the tiny mirror, finding the corners of your mouth smudged with cherry lip smackers. You looked across at Sam and pointed to his mouth, watching him frantically wipe his lips with the back of his hand just as the truck suddenly shook.

Dean appeared a second later. His head popped into the open back window of the cab, grinning from ear to ear, his green eyes glinting with a soft, buzzed warmth.

'What's up, losers?' he greeted. Sam scowled.

‘Are you drunk?’ you asked, watching as he swayed between the glass frames.

‘I’m buzzed,’ he corrected indifferently, his eyes immediately drifting down and latching onto the now empty beer bottle on the floor and the whiskey tucked down in the dash, ‘besides I could ask you guys the same question.’

Dean leaned a little further through the window, a smug smirk spreading across his face.

'You know if you didn't want to get caught, you probably should have turned off the headlights,' Dean said, nodding to the glowing shelves in front of you. Ones that had definitely not been lit before, not until you’d thrown yourself across into the driver’s side and apparently caught the switch with your foot. You and Sam looked at one another and immediately changed the subject.

'What are you doing home so early anyway?' you asked.

'Cops busted it. Figured I better get out of there before they start doing background checks,’ Dean said entirely unbothered, ‘what are you to up to anyway?’

‘Nothing,’ you both said quickly.

‘Right,’ Dean drawled, rolling his eyes, reaching in to grab Sam’s beer from him.

‘Hey!’ Sam scowled, pulling it back.

‘Oh, come on don’t be a buzzkill,’ Dean said.

‘He’s not being a buzzkill,’ you snapped, the words coming out sharp and biting, ‘don’t ruin our night just because yours went to shit.’

Dean’s smile vanished. He scowled, whatever easy buzz he had going instantly retreating at the sheer harshness of your words. But you didn’t back down; you just stared him right in the eyes, refusing to blink. He looked over to Sam for support but found absolutely nothing but a cold glare.

‘Fine,’ he grunted, stepping back and slamming the small window shut before he stomped off, shaking the truck as he hopped off the back of it and into the house.

Sam turned to look at you, his expression unreadable.

‘What?’ you said, grabbing your forgotten can of whiskey and coke from inside the door and taking a sip trying to get his eyes off you.

‘Nothing,’ Sam said slowly, ‘just…don’t think I’ve ever seen you two snap at one another like that.’

‘What can I say? Turning eighteen really seems to have brought out the best in him,’ you muttered bitterly.

‘You’re telling me,’ Sam said.

‘Whatever,’ you said, peeking through the window to make sure he was gone. Then you placed your bottle back on the dash, reached over, and forcefully flicked the headlight switch off, plunging the cab back into total darkness.

Sam watched you as you slid back into his space, his long arm naturally lifting to rest along the back of the vinyl seat. You hovered close to him, the smell of the whiskey and the cool night air hanging between you as your eyes flicked down to his lips.

‘What do you say we get back to our night?’ you asked. Sam's fingers brushed against the back of your neck.

‘Sounds good to me.’

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supernatural/sam/dean tags