Not Good Sir, True

Granted you still hadn’t gotten further than third base but neither of you felt like there was any rush to do more. At least until one late July morning when you came downstairs and found Dean perched on your uncle’s desk, talking to the man over it, his voice low and serious.

He looked up as you came in, stalling at the threshold, acutely aware that you’d walked in on something. But then he offered you a smile and said nothing, allowing you to head to the kitchen. Your suspicions heightened when Bobby came through, making himself a cup of coffee and watching you closely though he pretended he wasn’t.

But you didn’t know it was serious until Sam finally came downstairs. He was still half-asleep, dragging his feet the way he always did whenever he was forced out of bed before noon. Still, you couldn’t deny even sleep-ridden he looked devastatingly adorable. T-shirt wrinkled, pyjama pants hung low on his hips in a way that made you stare when he reached into a high cabinet for a bowl and a smile to bloom on his face when he caught you, too sleepy to tease but enough that you blushed and looked back to your cereal.

But then it changed.

Bobby came in and rested against the counter, followed by Dean who hovered by the doorway, like whatever he was about to tell you needed the opportunity of an open door.

‘Hey,’ Sam greeted, his voice rough. He had been reaching for the milk but before he could wrap his hand around it, he sensed the atmosphere in the room, looking between the two men for a second before he asked, ‘what is it?’

Dean hesitated, looking at Bobby who moved his shoulder the smallest inch in a shrug. Sensing he wasn’t going to get any help explaining, Dean sighed and said, ‘we’ve got a job.’

‘What?’ Sam asked.

‘Dad called, said he needs our help,’ Dean explained, his voice flat, ‘he got a call from another hunter who needs help up in Seattle, but he can’t cover it ‘cause he’s still working a job.’

‘So?’ Sam said, his jaw tightening.

‘So, he wants you to handle it,’ you finished for him. Dean looked at you and nodded.

‘Do you have to?’ you asked, feeling your eyes flick to Sam, watching his face go harder, before they landed back on Dean.

‘Yeah,’ Dean said. Of course. John called, Dean answered. The boys left. Sam left. But you still had summer, you still had time. You and Sam hadn’t even. You pushed that from your mind. It was something that didn’t seem to be registering with Sam anyway, he was lost in the cruelness of being pulled away again so soon.

‘Does Sam?’ you asked, feeling unbelievably selfish when you saw Dean’s face falter for a second.

‘Dad asked,’ he said, not an answer.

‘Yeah, but you’ve hunted on your own before, right?’ you reasoned. Sam let out a low sigh, murmuring your name in a warning tone, but you ignored him.

‘I’m just saying! We were supposed to have summer,’ you reasoned, looking at Dean who shifted guiltily, ‘all of us.’

‘You knew it might be this way hon,’ Bobby said gently from the sidelines, his voice gruff but not unsympathetic. You scowled deeply in his direction.

‘Yeah, but it’s not fair,’ you snapped.

‘When is it ever?’ Sam huffed. And for some reason that, the defeat in Sam’s voice, hit harder. You scowled at him and pushed your chair back with a heavy scrape along the floor.

‘Whatever. Just tell me when you’re leaving, I guess,’ you muttered bitterly. Sam sighed. Bobby closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. And Dean called your name softly and tried to grab hold of your arm as you passed by, but you kept it firmly out of reach, bolting past him and stomping upstairs.

You dropped straight onto the floor once you were in your room, pulling your knees tightly against your chest and resting your back against the mattress as you stared blankly at the opposite wall. You hated John Winchester. You absolutely hated the life he forced on them. You hated how those boys never had a real home, and how the closest thing they ever had to one could be ripped away from them on one man’s selfish whims. You hated yourself for being petulant. You hated yourself for wanting to sacrifice Dean for the task, using him like a tool to keep Sam close, the way he’d hated to be treated. And you hated Sam too, just a little bit, for not fighting harder to stay.

When the knock at the door came you didn’t answer. You just hugged your knees tighter. You knew you probably should answer it,  that if you didn’t come out then they would probably have to leave without you saying goodbye which you would regret forever. But fortunately manners weren’t the top priority of the knocker as evidenced by the fact they came right through it a second later. You’d expected Sam, an apologetic look in his eye that would only serve to make you feel guilty about being so hard on him when he wouldn’t want to leave in the first place.

But it was Dean.

He offered you a small, tentative smile as he poked his head around the door and a sigh as you looked away stubbornly. But he didn’t leave, he just came and sank down onto the floor beside you. Somehow, he managed to look bigger than Sam in your space though there wasn’t much difference between them. His shoulders felt broader, his frame more solid, his aura completely overwhelming as he looked at you with heavy, sad eyes.

‘You okay?’ he asked after a long moment of silence. When you finally looked at him, his eyes were soft and full of concern.

‘Yeah, I just…I don’t want you to go,’ you said quietly.

‘I know,’ he said softly. You sighed and he sat back, leaning his head against the mattress as the air settled in heavily around you. Then without thinking you found your head falling onto his shoulder, your hand slipping into the crook of his bicep, your voice low and uneven as you asked, ‘do you really have to?’

‘You know we do,’ Dean sighed. You sighed too and nodded against his arm.

Dean hated this. Hated that you two had just gotten back on track and he was being forced to leave. Hated that he’d spent the summer playing grown up and now it was time to be one he didn’t want to. Hated how he’d pushed you away so much you now wanted Sam to stay behind instead of him, if only because you knew he wouldn’t be able to get out of it.

You pulled back, looking up at him with those big sad eyes, ones that made Sam’s puppy dog look seem weak in comparison. Granted he hadn’t used them in the talk they’d had downstairs; Sam had been angry and despondent but he knew better than you that there was probably no point in fighting it. Still, it made Dean’s heart ache in his chest.

‘Sam can stay here,’ he said after a moment.

‘What?’ you breathed, your brow pulling down in that cute way it did whenever you got confused about something.

‘Sam can stay here,’ Dean repeated though he didn’t know why. He knew he probably shouldn’t. He knew his dad would raise absolute hell when he found out, but looking at you right now, he found he didn't care. Not if it made you stop looking so sad, ‘if you want. I’ll go alone.’

‘Dean,’ you sighed but he just pressed on.

‘Maybe even take Bobby with me. Then I’ll come back and we can do summer like we said,’ he said quickly.

‘But your dad,’ you said, the idea of it tugging at something deep in your chest. A spark of hope you didn’t dare let yourself have.

‘He just wants the case done, it’ll be done,’ Dean said dismissively, though it wasn’t as simple as that and you both knew it, then he shrugged, ‘he’s stuck out in Mesquite anyway.’

He didn’t say what that meant. Didn’t say how his dad would just dump it on them, expect them, him, to handle it. Didn’t talk about the careful manoeuvring it would take on his part to get around that. Hell, he’d probably need Bobby to help just with covering it up. Maybe he could lie, say the old bastard was concerned about whatever hunter it was that’s why he came along.

But whatever worrying he’d been doing he was pulled from as your face split into a hopeful grin.

‘Really?’ you asked.

‘Yeah,’ he smiled, ‘I meant what I said. You and Sammy deserve a summer.’

‘So do you,’ you countered softly, a twinge of guilt lying heavy inside you at how excited you felt about the prospect of a few uninterrupted days with Sam. About Sam not leaving.

‘Eh, it’s fine,’ Dean dismissed.

‘When you get back, we’ll do a day at the lake, just the three of us,’ you promised fiercely.

‘Alright,’ Dean nodded, his eyes locked on yours. You placed a hand on his thick bicep to help balance yourself as you stood up, and Dean’s fingers instinctively latched onto your elbow, guiding you upward as you began to ramble happily.

‘And we could go to the movies,’ you said, pulling him up after you. Dean allowed himself to be tugged upward, ‘there’s a new one out you’d like. We could have a full day there too, but we’ll have to drag Sammy outta bed early.’

‘Sounds good,’ Dean said, watching you closely. You paused the moment you felt the shift in the air, your happy rambling dying out in an instant. The space between you suddenly felt entirely too small again, and without thinking you moved forward and wrapped your arms around his torso, your head buried in his chest.

‘Thanks Dean,’ you said, into the cotton of his t-shirt. Dean felt his hands hesitate before landing softly on your back. He pulled you just a fraction closer, his eyes closing tight for a long beat as he rested his chin against your hair.

‘No problem sweetheart.’

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‘You’re sure you’re okay with this?’ Dean asked, watching the two of you on the porch. Bobby huffed from where he’d shoved his heavy duffle into the Impala’s trunk.

‘Isn’t that a question you should be asking me, not them?’ he called out.

‘Worried we’re going to throw a rager old man?’ you teased.

‘Nah, Sam would call the cops on you before he’d let that happen,’ Dean grinned, coming up the steps. Sam rolled his eyes.

‘How come he gets the reputation as the good influence?’ you complained looking at Sam. Bobby slammed the trunk shut with a heavy thud and looked at you, ‘are you telling me I shouldn’t trust you two alone here?’

‘Have you left your beers behind?’ you challenged, trying to ignore the way you heart flipped flopped at the insinuation and the way Sam moved imperceptibly closer to you, his hand brushing near your thigh, his face unmoving as he watched Bobby.

‘No,’ Bobby said flatly, walking toward the house.

‘Then you’ve nothing to be worried about,’ you grinned. Bobby rolled his eyes and came closer, trudging up the porch stairs, brushing his cap up a tad so he could eye you both properly.

‘You got the numbers?’ he asked.

‘On the fridge, exactly where you left them,’ you said.

‘And you know how to answer the phones, right? All the aliases,’ he said, though you’d done it a million times before.

‘Yep, and I’ll redirect anyone that needs you to your cell,’ you promised.

‘We’ll call with the motel number too,’ Dean added, stepping up onto the top step beside his brother. You folded your arms across your chest.

‘You know we have been left alone before,’ you said, looking between them.

‘Excuse me for worrying about two idjits in my house unsupervised,’ Bobby huffed, but then he leaned forward and pulled you into a hug. You let him, intentionally rolling your eyes for Dean to see which made him suppress a smirk before the older man pulled back. Bobby patted Sam on the shoulder and then pointed at you, ‘if you do throw any parties, at least make sure no one uses a damn shotgun, won’t you?’

‘I think you’re safe,’ you grinned. Bobby’s face turned serious, ‘no target practice, got it.’

When he turned away and headed for the car Dean stepped in his place, bringing Sam in for a hug which was more of a headlock and caused him to huff and push him off, muttering, ‘god, you’re annoying.’

‘I know. How will you cope without me?’ Dean mused, glancing his fist off of Sam’s jaw.

‘It’s character building,’ you teased, getting Sam to look at you as he batted his brother’s hand away, ‘how would you cope with me for a weekend without years of training beforehand?’

‘See? She gets it,’ Dean said, grinning when Sam did too. Then he turned his attention to you. He stepped back, lowering himself by one step so that you were basically eye to eye, his smirk softening to something less playful.

‘Look after him, won’t ya?’ Dean asked, half teasing, half not. You rolled your eyes and leant in to hug him, wrapping your arms around his neck, your cheek pressed to his as his hands skimmed your waist, holding you in place for a long second.

‘Sure will. A little water and a sun-facing shelf and he’ll be fine, right?’ you chuckled, the vibration of it humming against his jawline.

‘That’s the one,’ Dean laughed softly. Then he pulled back, letting you go. He looked at Sam and nodded and then at you and smiled before he turned and strode down the steps towards where Bobby was waiting in the car.

The two of you stood side-by-side on the porch, watching as Dean slid into the driver's seat and then started up the engine, going at a slower pace than you had ever seen the car go before he turned out of the edge of the lot and disappeared into the bright sunshine.

Now you would like to say that the Impala’s dust had not even settled before you and Sam had locked yourself away in your bedroom. You had fully expected to. You’d thought that the flash of those red tail lights disappearing around the bend would be the last thing either of you saw of the outside world for the next seventy-two hours.

But it wasn’t.

He didn’t grab your hand or pull you close. Sam just looked down at you and smiled, something you couldn’t register behind his eyes and then he headed into the house.

And then he didn’t avoid you as such, but you could feel something between you. It made you nervous, but you figured he might just be nervous now that the prospect of sex lay on the table. You knew if you were finally going to cross that line now was the ultimate opportunity. Before they came back. Before there were distractions and prying eyes. No Bobby in his study right below your bedroom. No Dean following you around, his big dopey head pushing between the two of you when you sat on the porch, sitting beside you and pretending he was interested in what Sam was reading aloud to you. Or him taking you into town before Sam pulled himself from bed, letting you put your feet up on the dashboard, waiting for you to notice his glare before he just rolled his eyes and turned the radio up louder.

It was just the two of you. But you didn’t want to push him.

So, you spent your afternoon as you normally would and then you made dinner, nothing fancy, just a couple of pizzas and the cookies that you had made yesterday when you and Dean had gotten back from town after a lot of pleading on his end. And then, you had just sat there, silent and watching the TV, the colours moving mindlessly in front of you, your hand resting gently between the pair of you on the couch cushions. Untouched.

You waited out the silence for as long as you could bear it. But eventually, a weird, hollow ache started to settle deep in your stomach and so you pushed yourself up, handing him the remote with a tight smile as you said, ‘I’m gonna go take a shower.’

‘Oh, okay,’ Sam said, taking it from you, a small curt nod following. You felt your stomach flip flop but nodded anyway and then headed upstairs.

You spent a long time in the shower, mostly standing under the steaming water debating whether or not you should shave. You figured you probably should, though you didn’t actually know if it made a blind bit of difference. Sam had never really seemed bothered by it before, and then you were struck with the idea of shaving letting him think that you had planned for it which somehow seemed worse. In the end you decided not to. You climbed out of the tub, careful not to wet your hair since you couldn’t be bothered to wash and dry it, and towelled off. You put on your pyjamas and then stood in the middle of your room, debating whether or not to go back downstairs.

Only before you could make a decision there was a knock at the door. Unlike his brother Sam didn’t barge straight in, he waited until you softly called for him and then poked his head around the door before finally moving into the room. His breath caught when he saw you. You had your hair up and were wearing a t-shirt he was sure used to belong to him and a pair of sleep shorts. Nothing like the new look you’d crafted for yourself and yet you still looked beautiful.

‘Hey,’ you said, offering him a soft, tentative smile.

‘Hi,’ Sam said, suddenly feeling nervous.

‘I was just about to come back down,’ you said, feeling the need to ease whatever tension had mounted.

‘No, I know I just…’ he trailed off, taking a slow, deliberate step closer to you. You didn’t move to him, you just watched, uncertain whether he’d take the lead or not. He stopped just short of you, his expression uncertain until he reached forward, fingertips tracing along your waist.

You stayed there, watching him, watching whatever battle was going on in his head. Whatever argument was winning out up there was immediately made clear when he leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours. It was gentle, just brushing against your lips and yet it made your heart hammer, your body pressing against him as you wrapped your arms up around his neck. He kissed you deeper then, pushing you back until your thighs met your desk. He lifted you up onto it without breaking the kiss, his lips moving quicker, his tongue probing yours as you tried to arch yourself into him. He only broke away when your hands went to the bottom of his shirt. He was breathless but so were you. His hands pressed to the top of the desk either side of your hips, trapping you though there was nowhere else you wanted to be. You let your hand trail across his jaw, and he watched you before he hung his head and pulled away.

‘Sam, what is it?’ you asked, your heart clenching in your chest when he looked out at your room and not at you, hands slung on his hips like he was thinking. You slid off the desk, your bare feet hitting the floor, and placed a gentle hand on his forearm. He stopped pacing, looking up at the ceiling as if he were trying to find God up in the drywall to explain whatever this was.

‘We don’t have to do anything,’ you promised, ‘I’m not expecting you to if you’re not ready.’

‘Do you like Dean?’ he asked suddenly, finally turning his head to look directly at you.

‘What?’ you breathed, your heart hammering loud enough you were worried he might hear it. Sam looked at you, watching every flicker on your face.

‘Are you...I mean…do you like Dean?’ he pressed.

‘Sam why would you even ask me that?’ you said, making your voice sound firm though you knew it wasn’t an answer. Sam just looked at you. No explaining, no questions. Silent communication the way you used to excel at.

The thing was you didn’t know.

You’d put the idea of Dean to bed. Your self-prescribed exposure therapy had worked to an extent; you didn’t fawn over him the way you used to when you were younger, but the dynamic between you had never quite settled into what anyone would consider a typical friendship. You wondered if it ever would, or if you just needed more time away from him. Time with Sam.

‘Me and Dean had an argument,’ you started slowly, trying to piece together the truth as much as you could, ‘a stupid fight about nothing, and I got pissed and petty, and I ignored him.’

Sam just watched you closely, his expression unreadable.

‘And I’m not going to lie, at first, I started hanging out with you more because I was avoiding him,’ you admitted, Sam's face didn’t change but his jaw clenched tighter, ‘but after that? Sam, I like you. I really like you. And I know it’s weird because we kinda never really noticed it before this summer. I know we said this was just fun, but…I really do like you.’

‘You sure?’ Sam asked quietly. You moved forward, placing your hands firmly on his hips. He didn’t immediately touch you in return; he just hesitated for a fraction of a second, a delay that made you feel physically sick with worry.

‘When me and Dean made up, I could’ve ditched you,’ you said, which felt harsh though it was true, ‘I mean it would’ve been a total dick move.’

Sam breathed a laugh.

‘And yeah, we could’ve carried on doing stuff and I could’ve just let us be friends again or whatever but…I didn’t want that,’ you said. Sam seemed to weigh it up, the quiet contemplation. He ran the calculation through his head and then he nodded at you. You immediately pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling his head down to kiss you.

Sam kissed you back fiercely, grabbing your face and holding you in place before he steered you to the bed. You flopped down onto it, scooting away from the edge and watching as he pulled his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. He was back over you in a second, groaning aloud as you ghosted your palms down his toned torso. He pulled back and looked at you, and you grinned and pulled at the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your head and tossing it somewhere into the room you couldn’t see because his mouth was already back on you.

His lips attacked your skin, his mouth moving hot and wet along the column of your neck, trailing down until his tongue swirled tightly around your nipple. You arched your back completely off the sheets, a loud groan escaping you as he took the sensitive peak slightly between his teeth. His large hand covered your other breast, squeezing it in perfect punctuation with his mouth.

‘Sam,’ you whimpered, your fingers knotting in the sheets. You had been expecting gentle. Restrained. Calculated. And it was calculated, but in a terrifyingly effective way. It was as if he’d been silently studying you for weeks, every single day a careful revision of exactly what you liked until he had the entire syllabus down pat. Now, you were an open-book test. Literally open, as his hands forced your knees further apart, his tongue dancing a hot path across your stomach until he pulled back just enough to tug your sleep shorts down your legs.

You would’ve thought you’d be nervous, even though he’d seen everything before it had been dark out in the truck and this felt dangerously exposing. Your nerves also stemmed from the fact that you knew it wasn’t stopping after that. That his cock, which was straining against the tight denim of his jeans was going to fill you and have you writhing underneath him. Sam smiled softly at the sight of you then he placed his hand over your core, using two fingers to gently spread you open, his eyes glinting as you glistened in the warm light. Then he shifted down, his hot breath brushing against your inner thighs.

You let your fingers go into his hair and watched as he looked up at you, a wicked smirk on his face before he dipped his tongue at your base. You felt him probe against your entrance, and then he dragged his tongue sharply upward, swirling it directly around your clit. You groaned loudly at the sheer intensity of it, your fingers tightening in his hair as he held you open, flicking his tongue against the sensitive bud before sucking hard and fast. It made you see absolute white. You had never been this wet in your life; you could feel the heat of yourself gathering with the moisture on Sam’s chin as he moved lower, his nose brushing your centre as he dipped his tongue inside you.

‘Sam, please,’ you whimpered as he pulled back, his fingers teasing you like the fucking menace you were finding him to be, ‘need them inside me. Need you inside me.’

‘Good,’ Sam said, chuckling when you smacked him on the side of the head for being mean. Then he obliged. Two thick, long fingers buried themselves all the way down to his palm, his mouth immediately going back to suck on your clit. You shook violently as he curled his fingers inside you, hitting that exact deep spot he’d learned about with every deliberate thrust, combining the friction with heavy licks and kisses everywhere else.

‘Oh god I’m already close,’ you gasped, that desperate ache in your belly pulling tighter.

‘That’s it,’ Sam hummed against your skin, the deep vibration of his voice delectable against your nerve endings.

‘Sammy.’

‘Come on, pretty girl,’ Sam said, before flicking his tongue against you once more. That was enough to send you over the edge, a sudden wave of wetness dripping around his fingers and your hips bucking up into his face on shaky legs that felt like jelly when it ebbed away, fleeing out through your limbs. You let out a weak protest as he pulled his fingers from you, dusting them on his jeans as he moved forward and leant down to kiss you, held in place by your hands on his face.

‘Thank you,’ you whispered against his lips. When Sam laughed you frowned, ‘what?’

‘Thank you?’ he questioned, his chest rumbling as he laughed harder, ignoring the way you smacked his shoulder, ‘I’m just saying, I’ve just made you cum with my mouth, not pass you the salt at the dinner table.’

‘Oh yeah?’ you challenged, pushing up and forcing him to kneel between your legs, ‘why don’t you get those damn pants off and I can thank you properly then?’

‘Yeah?’ Sam breathed, his lips hovering dangerously close to you. You dared a kiss and he let you, your smile wide when you broke apart, ‘yeah. Pants off Winchester.’

He nodded and stood up, his jeans discarded in a second but then he hesitated, hands on the waistband of his boxers as he looked down at you, practically salivating from the outline of him pressed against the cotton.

‘What is it?’ you asked, noticing his hesitation.

‘I need a condom,’ Sam said, the first seed of embarrassment blooming onto his face, ‘I’ve got some in my duffle…stole ‘em from Dean.’

‘You don’t need it,’ you said as he moved towards the door. Sam looked at you hesitantly, like he didn’t know if you were still lost in the heat of moment or more than likely he could hear Dean’s voice in the back of his head that you never risked it, no matter what the other party said. You rolled your eyes.

‘I’m on the pill, Sam,’ you explained. His entire posture settled immediately. As you watched him push down his boxers, his length hitting his stomach with a slap you thanked God you’d had the forethought to do so. Even if it had been a long bus ride and an awkward chat that you’d asked to remain anonymous so that Bobby would never be forced to think of you and birth control in the same sentence. But as you thought about that you thought about what had inspired you to go. Then you thought about the condoms sitting in the other room, stolen from the person you had planned this with.

But then Sam crawled back onto the mattress, and you forgot all about it. He kissed you again, softer this time, kneeling between your legs, hands on either side of your mattress beside your head. You could feel him nudging against your core with every jostle of the bed and you felt yourself grow needy, your hand pushing him back just a touch which made his face go inquisitive.

‘I’m ready,’ you explained. Sam nodded and pulled back, resting on his knees and you instinctively let your legs fall further to accommodate him. You watched sort of mesmerised as he fisted his cock a couple times, drawing out a bead of pre-cum that he deliberately teased through your aching heat. Then he stationed himself right at your entrance, looking down at your face one last time before he made his move. You gave him a small nod and he eased himself in, gentle at first and yet still bigger than what you were used to. It stung but you refused to let it show on your face because you didn’t want to ruin it. The deep, guttural groan that tore from his throat was like absolute music to your ears, vibrating through the quiet room until he finally bottomed out completely, his hips flush against yours.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked hesitantly. Thick and full and buried deep inside you but completely unmoving, waiting for your cue.

‘Yeah, I’m good,’ you nodded, ignoring the burn.

‘Are you sure?’ he asked, searching your eyes.

‘Sam it’s good. You’re good, just move slow, okay?’ you asked. Sam nodded and took a tentative roll of his hips, cock head dragging down your walls in a way that felt good but odd at the same time. Then he pulled back, sliding right out to the edge before plunging back in to the hilt. He watched your face carefully, noticing how your expression didn't look quite as blissful as it had five minutes ago, and he immediately set out to make it right. You felt like absolute heaven wrapped around him. All the lingering worries, competition, and doubts that had been running through his head all afternoon vanished entirely, especially when he reached down, wetting the pads of his fingers with his mouth quickly, and began to rub gently against your clit. You threw your head back against the pillow, your body reflexively clenching down around him in a tight, desperate squeeze that made him let out a loud grunt while you moaned into the empty air.

‘That’s it, keep doing that,’ you ordered breathlessly and Sam did as he was told. He timed it with each thrust, moving quicker as you started tilting your hips to meet him. Then he let his mouth wander. Your shoulder, your collar bone, your breast, each nipple, your mouth - anywhere he could get. He knew he wasn’t going to last long. Like the first time you’d blown him, and he’d cum embarrassingly quickly though you’d been polite enough not to mention it. But you were getting there too, a second orgasm rushing as he brushed his fingers roughly against your over-sensitive clit and sending you over the edge. Your nails dug deep into the muscles of his back, your mouth pressing hard against the side of his neck as you called his name into his skin.

Once you came down from it you watched him through hooded, exhausted eyes. He looked completely wrecked, his jaw clenched tightly as his hips moved at a furious, desperate pace.

‘That’s it, baby,’ you said encouragingly, ‘are you gonna cum for me?’

‘Yes,’ Sam said obediently, his eyes locking on you darkly, ‘gonna fill you up.’

‘Yeah?’ you grinned, ‘and Bobby says I’m the bad influence.’

‘You are,’ he grunted, ‘kissed me first.’

‘You wanted me to,’ you challenged.

‘Yeah, I did,’ Sam admitted.

‘Kiss me again,’ you commanded. Sam leant down and obeyed, a moan escaping him as you clenched around him, chuckling into his mouth.

‘Do that again,’ he breathed against your lips. You squeezed around him intentionally, and suddenly Sam was cumming, hot, thick and deep inside you, fucked back into you with a couple pathetic thrusts of his hips before he pulled out, a warm mix of the two of you seeping from your abused pussy onto the cotton sheets below. Neither of you seemed to notice or care about the mess. Sam fell heavily against the mattress, barely letting you move your leg before he crushed it, squeezed between the wall and you, his arm slung over your stomach, his face smushed into one half of the pillow, his breathing heavy.

You giggled as you watched him, tracing your finger along nose which made him open his hazel eyes and finally look at you.

‘What a way to rip the band aid off, huh?’ you asked after a beat. Sam chuckled, still a bit breathless and pressed his lips to your hand. Then he shuffled onto his side to face you properly. You did the same, allowing his hand to settle on your waist, yours on the back of his neck, playing with the sweat-slicked hair back there.

‘Yeah,’ he said with a grin. Then he leaned forward and kissed you gently. You let him but when he pulled back you went quiet for a second, your hand slipping down from his neck to lie flat over his heart, feeling the steady, rapid thudding beneath his ribs. Sam watched you in silence, waiting patiently for whatever it was you wanted to say.

‘I’m glad it was you,’ you said after a moment. You hadn’t been looking at him when you said it, but when you finally did, he was watching you closely. You didn’t know if he knew just what you meant. That even though your head didn’t really know what you were doing your heart felt this was right. You didn’t want to think too much beyond that, to allow the thoughts to creep into this space between you that felt so wonderful. But Sam just nodded, his hand locking over the top of yours sealing it against his chest.

‘Yeah,’ he said softly, ‘me too.’

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supernatural/sam/dean tags

But he hadn’t been living in quiet recently, not since Lainey had come to live with him. Granted he hadn’t been living in raucousness either but he now stood in the in between. When he’d hear a noise he’d have to remind himself there was someone else in the house. She’d make conversation but only on her terms, letting his attempts at questions fall flat if she didn’t want to talk before she scurried back upstairs.

She’d changed since she’d been with John - since her dad had passed. When she’d stayed with him before, on Patrick’s whim, she’d been quiet then but after a day or two they’d found their footing. He let her be what she wanted. Now it was like she didn’t know what she was. Like the box she’d been forced to contain herself in every time her dad picked her up had been discarded and she was too big to rein herself in. She went from deep, immovable silences to slamming doors and eye rolls. She bit back but not when expected, like she was pre-empting being bit herself. He supposed he didn’t blame her; it was hard to lose one parent, let alone two, no matter how flawed they were. But then she’d lost the only stability she had, as stable as a life with the Winchesters could be.

Not that Bobby blamed himself for losing his temper, he didn’t blame himself for almost laying John out either; even if it had cost him seeing the boys in the process. Because it had been the right thing to do, even if the pair of them were now living in this weird limbo. Not quite settled, not quite ready for either of them to leave one another. Like silence with an occasional rattle of a leaky pipe.

Except this wasn’t a leaky pipe or a creaky floorboard. This wasn’t even sharp word or an exasperated huff. It was sheer force, the slam of a car door and boots on gravel. The thud of the back door hitting the wall and the stomp across hardwood. Bobby had been washing dishes, waiting for Lainey to get home from school but she’d passed him in a flurry of denim and pink, disappearing down the hall before he could say a word. Before he could register the presence of a police officer peeking their head through the wide-open back door.

‘Officer Mills,’ he said, running his hands through a dish towel as she stepped in, her smile apologetic at the intrusion though he was sure he was the one who probably ought to have been apologising.

‘Jody. She yours?’ she sighed, pointing the way Lainey had disappeared. Bobby sighed.

‘Well, it was hard to get a look at her but the stompin’ sounds about right,’ he said, beckoning her further in with a weary, ‘what did she do?’

‘Caught her shoplifting,’ she explained.

‘What?’ Bobby said. That wasn’t Lainey, not the one he knew at least. The one who held onto the cart at the store. The one who helped him cook dinner. The one who wouldn’t say boo to goose, well unless the goose was named Dean Winchester.

‘Yeah, she walked in, picked a load of stuff off the rack, got changed and left in the new stuff. Mall security chased her down and held her till we-’

‘They what?’ he grit, the idea of some middle-aged, ham-fisted mall cop curling his hand around her arm flaring anger in his chest.

‘She did shoplift Bobby,’ Jody reasoned.

‘She’s thirteen,’ Bobby bit back making her sigh and offer him a pointed look. Bobby fought the urge to roll his eyes and instead rested against his kitchen cabinet, arms folded across his chest as he huffed, ‘they pressin’ charges?’  

‘I talked ‘em out of it given that she’s thirteen,’ Jody said, a wry smile crossing her lips, ‘however you do owe me.’ 

Bobby watched as she ducked back towards the door, producing a paper bag which she handed over before handing him a receipt, ‘I bought what she stole,’

‘Why did you do that?’ he asked, his brow furrowing as he took it from her.

‘Well I figured this wasn’t a frivolous issue,’ Jody shrugged. When Bobby frowned she rolled her eyes, ‘when teenage girls shoplift it’s usually for fun. Lip gloss, nail polish, something they can stick up their sleeve.’

‘What’s your point?’ he asked.

‘She stole herself a whole new outfit. One that doesn’t look like it just rolled out of her older brother’s closet,’ she said nudging the bag. Bobby peeked inside and found the clothes she’d left in nested at the bottom. A pair of jeans, a plain black t-shirt, and a hoodie he was sure he’d seen Dean in once though the logo had been faded and there were holes in the sleeves then and that was a while ago. But he hadn’t thought anything of it. Hell she hadn’t even mentioned it; she’d spent the summer walking around in jeans and a t-shirt even when it had been touching the high 80s.

But he wasn’t someone she needed to impress. A room full of seventh graders however.

‘Hey from what I hear you’re doing a good thing here Bobby,’ Jody said, patting his shoulder with a reassuring smile, ‘just try and factor in the female,’

Bobby nodded, and reached for his wallet to pull the bills out and hand them over. Though as Jody took them another door slammed upstairs, rattling the shutters outside the kitchen window.

‘You don’t want to stick around do ya? Maybe help me, what was it - factor in the female?’ he asked jokingly, though there was a tinge of a plea in his voice.

‘I’m good,’ Jody chuckled before she headed to the door. Bobby followed her but she paused, a twinkle in her eye as she mused, ‘count yourself lucky you’ve got another couple years ‘til boys.’

‘Don’t remind me.’

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Lainey didn’t come out of her room. Not for dinner, not even for the bathroom from what he could tell. And he didn’t go up there. Didn’t storm upstairs and shout at her. Didn’t demand they go back to the store and apologise or ground her, not that she went anywhere to ground her from. He just sat and thought about what Jody had said. He was thinking about it when she came down, boots quietly thunking down the stairs, her backpack trailing along every step as she trudged into the kitchen. He watched as she made herself a piece of toast, her gaze fixed on the motions rather than on him. When it was done she turned, nibbling on it quietly as she fixed her eyes on stuffing her lunch into her backpack should they dare make eye contact.

‘Got everything?’ he asked, watching as she zipped up. She looked up, like she’d expected something else to come from him. Uncertain but resolved to her fate like she had whenever her dad had rolled back into town.

‘Yeah,’ she mumbled.

‘Hey, uh, I was thinkin’ maybe I could pick you up tonight after school,’ he offered, leaning against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest.

‘Why?’ she asked, the half-eaten piece of toast clamped between her lips as she slipped her bag onto her back and untucked her hair. He hadn’t noticed it before. How long it had gotten, trailing down by her hips. How her eyes looked dark, heavily lined in a way that looked smudged and messy. Black fingernails poking out from her hoodie sleeve as she pulled the bread from her lips. Now that he had it only made his plan more certain.

‘I thought we could celebrate, you know, since you made it through your first couple of weeks,’ he said.

‘You don’t have to, s’long as you’re not gonna pull me out and send me to another one next week, we’re good,’ she shrugged. Bobby stayed quiet but it only made her nervous, her words coming out quick as she asked, ‘Is this about last night? Am I in trouble?’

‘No, I just wanted to do somethin’ nice for ya for Pete’s sake,’ Bobby said, watching her visibly relax, ‘out front three fifteen?’

‘Whatever,’ she said though Bobby didn’t miss the small smile that graced her lips as she headed out the door for the bus.

He didn’t do much with his day after that. Got lost in some lore books, helped Rufus when he called after going in half-cocked against a Lamia and almost getting his fool head ripped off. Still it was enough to whittle down the time and Lainey had seemed in a better mood than she had been when she’d left. She’d even given him not one but two bits of information about what she’d done in her day which was a resounding result in comparison with the frequent ‘nothing exciting’ and ‘don’t remembers’. And he kept her buoyed by letting her have control of the radio, some old country station that crackled every so often but kept her tapping her feet to the beat.

Her mood only changed when he missed the exit towards the house, when she saw the obnoxiously large sign for the mall and sunk back in her seat, her arms folded across her and a scowl on her face. Bobby noticed it but said nothing, pulling into a space and cutting the engine before he said, ‘out with it.’

‘So I am in trouble,’ she huffed.

‘No,’ he said.

‘Then why would you bring me here?’ she scoffed.

‘Well, if you’d stop poutin’ and listen, I might be able to tell ya,’ he reasoned. Lainey rolled her eyes, sinking deeper into her seat but she didn’t say anything to stop him. Bobby sighed, rubbing under the rim of his hat suddenly feeling nervous though he brushed it off.

‘Now I could lecture ya about how we don’t steal,’ he said, though that only made her eyes trail his way, pointed and knowing, ‘but I figure that’s not exactly the way to go. However, what I will say is that we break the law unless we have to.’

As Lainey snorted he raised his voice, trying to keep some semblance of authority as he decreed, ‘a means to an end. And needing a new outfit isn’t that.’

She softened then, looking sheepish. Bobby shifted, feeling awkward himself, enough that he didn’t look at her, his gaze out the parking lot which was starting to pick up traffic as he mumbled, ‘because all ya had to do was tell me,’

‘What do you mean?’ she said, looking at him. Bobby looked back.

‘If you didn’t like your clothes I would’ve bought you new ones,’ he said.

‘Really?’ she asked, like the thought had never occurred to her. Like she’d never thought of asking for something she might want over what she might need. Not that she communicated her needs much either though that had gotten better over the time they’d known each other. She at least told him when she was hungry now instead of waiting to be fed and almost taking his hand off in the process.

‘I may not be a fashion savant but I do understand kids need new stuff every once in a while. So here,’ he said, reaching back to pull his wallet out of his jeans pocket and producing a few twenties that he handed across her. Lainey hesitated, staring at the crumpled bills in his closed fist. Bobby wiggled them, ‘unless you’d rather me go and pick ya some stuff out?’

‘I’m good,’ she smiled, taking them from him and stuffing them in her pocket. As she unlatched the door Bobby settled back in his seat, arms folded across his chest grumbled, ‘yeah well don’t be expecting me to be following you around. My ass will be parked right here until you’re done.’

‘Noted,’ she giggled, climbing out though he called her name, making her stop and dip so she could see back in through the door, her face expectant.

‘Try not to get yourself banned from anywhere else?’

Lainey rolled her eyes and disappeared from view only appearing an hour later with several bags in hand that she stuffed in the back, brushing him off about what they contained but seeing as there had been no sirens when she’d come skipping out he’d opted not to push her. And it was just as well because sitting on his desk the next morning was a brand-new hat. And though it might not have been spoken aloud, but he heard the apology cut crisply through the silence.

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End of August 2007

Of all the places Dean had ever woken up, Lainey's bedroom had to be his favourite. He liked the way the sun would creep in ever so slowly, nudging him awake unlike how he usually awoke to slamming doors or noisy neighbours. He loved the soft (clean) mattress and the even softer pillows. He loved how the smell of her, floral perfume and fruity shampoo wrapping around him and taking the sting out of pastel sheets. Though the thing he loved most was waking up next to her. The feel of her wrapped around him a drug he'd never tire of even if the side effects landed him with a dead arm and face full of hair.

He knew she didn't sleep well, that she woke in the night or early, bothered by all the thoughts running around in her brain but he didn't say anything. He didn't need to. He said it when he pretended not to hear her slip back in beside him. He said it in the way he pulled her close, lips pressed to her temple until he was sure she'd settled and he could pretend to wake up.

Which was why mornings like these always made his heart race, when he'd shift, his hand sliding across the bed only to find the sheets cold and empty. But he could feel her. The sound of movement nearby, her gentle hum which as he listened closer he found to be Zeppelin and not some country tune making him smile that he may enforce taste on her yet.

When he opened his eyes he found her sitting cross legged on the floor. Her duffels were empty and she was surrounded by piles of clothes. Her drawers hung open and her closet door was ajar, revealing far more empty hangers than he'd anticipated. 

‘What are you doing?’ Dean yawned, propping himself up on his elbow as he watched her hold up a t-shirt and inspect it thoroughly before she folded it up and placed it on one of neat piles. 

‘Sorting out my stuff,’ she said simply.

‘Now?’ he asked.

‘When else,’ she said. Dean glanced at his watch and found it to be just before ten which was a late start in her book. And he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised given she'd taken the last few days easy, or at least easy by Lainey standards, after the whole incubus debacle. Dean stretched burying his back into the soft sheets as she carried on.

‘I figured since we don’t know when we’ll be back I can swap all my summer stuff for my winter stuff. And I’ll need a full restock of everything so I’ll probably need to go to the mall. What about you, do you need anything?’ she asked, looking back with a smile. Dean shuffled down to her end of the bed, face hovering over her shoulder before he pressed a soft kiss into it and murmured, 'honey what part of me makes you think that I've got winter and summer wardrobes?'

‘Well you might want a slightly thinner t-shirt under a flannel one day,’ she mused, settling back as he reached to hold her around her waist though she continued to wriggle, pulling another item from the pile for inspection as she said, ‘besides that’s not what I mean.’

‘What do you mean?’ he asked.

‘I mean like holes and rips. Blood stains, yours or miscellaneous,’ she said, looking back at him, ‘you need new boots I know that.’

‘I can pick up boots anywhere,' Dean dismissed.

‘And you can get them at the mall,’ she challenged, a teasing brattiness lacing her voice as she said ‘don’t you wanna come with me? See me in all my pretty dresses?’

‘Except it won’t be dresses, will it? You’ll be bundled up for this deep freeze you’re preparing for,' he retorted, pulling away and leaning up on his elbow once more as he watched her. He knew it was probably pointless to argue but he just couldn't help himself.

‘Fine,' she sighed, folding another pair of jeans before she placed them in yet another pile, 'if you don’t wanna come, I'll go alone. Maybe I will buy a new coat.'

‘Hmm,’ Dean said with a smirk growing on his lips as she turned around, clambering onto her knees so that she was eye level with him on the bed, her finger dancing along his bare chest as she teased, 'a real big one, ooh maybe like a raincoat, no, a trench coat. Neck to ankles for the next six months.'

‘The only way you’re wearing a trench coat is if you’ve got nothing underneath it,’ Dean said leaning in to kiss her but she turned her head and folded her arms as she reasoned, 'then you’re gonna have to come with me to stop me buyin’ one aren’t ya?’

‘Ugh fine,’ he huffed. 

Lainey smiled and pulled him in by the amulet, her lips moving softly against his but gone before he could grab a hold of her, his hands slipping past soft cotton and short denim. He flopped back as she started pulling piles of clothes into her arms, a sea of bright colours and flowy fabrics now placed on her dresser contrasting the pile of denim and dark material stacked beside her duffels. He only looked up when she headed to the door.

‘Where you going?’ he asked.

‘I washed everything in your duffel so I can go through it to see what can be trashed,’ she said, hovering by the door. Dean sat up and found she was right, his duffle which had been stuffed on the small window seat now missing, replaced by a lone outfit that she'd laid out for him like a child. Lainey smirked.

'Don’t worry. I left your personal possessions right where they always are,' Lainey teased, making Dean’s mind flit to the magazine buried beneath first aid kits and toiletry bags that was now lonelier than he'd been on the nights he'd used it.

‘Hey you want me to throw it out, I'll do it,’ Dean mused, ‘I just need some replacement material first.’

‘Let me get my trench coat first huh?’ she winked before she headed out of the door, Dean sighed and flopped back on the bed, suddenly more on board with the idea of a mall trip.

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It was late when Sam trudged downstairs, his eyes stinging and his sock covered feet shuffling along the floor as he headed for coffee. Lainey was already up, stationed at the kitchen table with two big baskets of laundry by her side, frowning at Bobby who was trying to ignore her as he made his breakfast. As Sam entered the kitchen, she held up an old grey sock and buried her hand down inside it, poking her finger through the sizable hole in the toe as she said, ‘another one?’

Bobby didn’t look up from where he was tipping eggs onto his plate.

‘Jesus Bobby, you got toes or talons down there?’ she said, tossing the offending item into the trash bag by her feet before she noticed Sam, a smile gracing her face as she beamed, ‘mornin’ sunshine.’

‘Morning,’ Sam yawned as he headed to the coffee pot, tapping the side to find it still wet and warm which was good enough in his book. He poured himself a cup and turned to lean against the counter, watching as she surveyed every item like a sniffer dog, before it was placed into a basket or a trash bag. Sam took a sip and then asked, ‘what are you doing?’

‘Bein’ a pain in the ass,’ Bobby grumbled, finally turning as he took his breakfast through to the other room.

‘Least I don’t have feet like an eagle,’ she called after him, continuing her work as Sam took a seat opposite her.

‘I’m going through everyone’s stuff, see what needs replacing. Though some people seem outrageously sentimental about ratty old underwear,’ she said, her voice still loud enough to travel as evidence by Bobby’s retort of, ‘some of that underwear’s older than you.’

‘Not the brag you think it is old man,’ she replied. Sam watched as she tugged out a t-shirt of Dean’s from the pile and pulled it up to her face, eyeing the minute stain just by the hem. He watched as she picked at it, whatever it was coming off in dark flakes and seemingly enough to satisfy her so that it didn’t meet the fate of those in the bag.

‘So, what do you think, you, me, Dean - mall say around one?’ she asked once it was placed neatly in the basket of clean laundry.

‘You’re getting Dean to go to a mall?’ Sam snorted.

‘Love does funny things to a man,’ she grinned. Sam looked like he had been going to reply but his phone buzzed and distracted him, his gaze flitting to whatever was on screen that she couldn’t see from this angle, though given the three likely candidates for sending him anything were all under this roof, two within spitting distance, it piqued her interest, her voice suggestive as she said, ‘you don’t have to come. I know your size; I can pick you up anything you want.’

‘Uh, no,’ Sam said, prying his eyes from his screen and stuffing it back in his pocket, ‘I will.’

‘You sure?’ she asked.

‘Yeah but you’ve gotta promise you’ll drag Dean around every store,’ Sam said, grinning into his coffee cup.

‘Oh sweetheart,’ she smirked, ‘that’s the plan.’

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The mall was crowded, with harried mothers and bored looking kids flooding every store and corridor with a franticness that only came with a late august Saturday afternoon as the threat of back to school loomed over everyone. Actually, Lainey was convinced that a looming sense of dread was a prerequisite for shopping on a day like today though she hadn’t quite succumbed to the levels of the woman she’d seen storming out towards the parking lot, dragging a sobbing child behind her. But their little posse had sunken into teenage behaviour though admittedly there was a significant disparity between how her two children were acting. Sam picked things quietly and speedily from the shelves and Dean huffed about every shirt or pair of jeans and how they could get them cheaper elsewhere. In fact, he’d only warmed up when he and Sam had met back up with her after buying new shoes and he had spotted the Victoria’s Secret bag swinging from her hand.

But as time whittled on and the shops they needed started to dwindle in comparison to hers she could feel them both getting antsy though granted Sam was more polite with it and didn’t huff as they stepped out and headed to the escalator.

‘What?’ Lainey asked, looking back at Dean as she stepped on.

‘I’m just looking for the sign on me that says pack mule,’ he said, the bag she’d just handed him swinging in his hand along with all of the others which were growing at a rapid pace.

‘Right next to the sign that says loving boyfriend right Sam?’ she teased only when she looked at him he was staring out, down the vast expanse of the mall like he was somewhere else entirely.

‘Hmm,’ he said, only just realising she was talking to him, ‘oh yeah.’

‘Sorry are you bored?’ Lainey asked sympathetically.

‘Him, what about me?’ Dean whined, Lainey rolled her eyes and stepped off the escalator, pulling them into a huddle by the side of it as she said, ‘okay, how about we split up? Round up what stores we wanna go in and meet back near the fountain in say an hour?’ 

‘Sounds good to me,’ Sam nodded.

‘Where are you going?’ Dean asked, suddenly put out like he hadn’t just been complaining about being dragged around.

‘I think I’m gonna get a manicure,’ she said simply.

‘Sammy?’ Dean asked.

‘Think I saw a Barnes & Noble back the other way,’ Sam shrugged.

‘What am I gonna do?’ Dean whined.

‘Find a bench?’ Sam suggested, chuckling and clapping his brother on the shoulder before he headed off towards the bookshop.

‘I saw some massage chairs down the hall,’ she said, leaning up onto her tip toes to kiss him, ‘just don’t take your eyes off my stuff.’

And then she was gone too leaving Dean to entertain himself.

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Lainey knew it wouldn’t take long. That for all his huffing and puffing Dean would find his way to one of them, unable to be on his own for too long. Like the boredom or the quiet was too much. They were alike in that way, but where she’d find something to keep herself busy he seemed content as long as there was someone in the room. It had taken her a while to piece together. How she could be in the middle of anything and he’d appear. He’d have an excuse. A question. Something to help her. And then he’d just stay. He’d watch her fold laundry or play her guitar. He’d sit with Bobby while he read, the TV on low so he didn’t disturb him. He would drive a thousand miles with Sam curled up in the passenger seat so long as they were together.

It was why she wasn’t surprised when she saw him step into the salon, sans bags which given the time hinted that taking them to the car was the only thing he’d done before he came looking for her. It was why the smile on her face matched his as he scanned the room and spotted her, apologizing to the woman at the counter as he made an excuse to come over.

‘Hey,’ he smiled, hovering by the arm of her chair.

‘Hi,’ she smiled, looking up at him. Dean glanced at the woman down by her feet and offered her a curt and awkward smile before he cleared his throat.

‘You nearly done?’ he asked hopefully. It was odd to see him here, amongst soft pink walls and dramatic lights. It made him look more rugged, his hand feeling twice the size of hers as he took it when she offered it up and said, ‘my hands are, like ‘em?’

‘Pretty,’ he smiled, ‘you’re getting your toes done too?’

‘No thought I’d go barefoot just for Lynn here,’ Lainey mused. Dean rolled his eyes.

‘Is this your boyfriend?’ Lynn said, looking up from where she’d been filing, Lainey’s foot pressed against her thigh.

‘Yeah,’ Lainey replied.

‘Is he paying?’ Lynn asked, an eyebrow raised as the pair of them looked up at him. Dean rolled his eyes, ‘yeah go on.’

He took a seat after that, pulling one of the other stylist’s stool towards them so he could sit beside her. But she could feel him lose focus as her conversation with Lynn drifted to things he wasn’t interested like town gossip or what the hell was going on with Britney Spears. She felt it in the way his fingers drummed against the leather of her armrest. How he spun on his stool. How the keyring of nail shades twizzled around his finger until she called his name, curt and warning until he placed them down.

‘You know we’re nearly done,’ she said as Lynn toddled off to grab a top coat from the wall of polishes.

‘Cool,’ he said.

‘Sam’s probably finished too,’ she hinted.

‘Yeah probably,’ he said.

‘I mean if you wanted you could meet him in the food court,’ she said, finally making him click on to what she was going on about.

‘Fine,’ he grumbled, standing up and pulling a few bills from his pocket that he handed to her. Lainey clasped her hand around his, pulling him down to kiss her to stop him from pouting which apparently worked since he had a smile on his face when he pulled back and mumbled, ‘yeah, yeah. See you in a bit.’

Lainey giggled as he walked off, settling herself down as Lynn reappeared asking if they’d finally bored him to tears. Fortunately it didn’t take long to finish up after that but as she got outside she realised the hour hadn’t passed yet so she wondered if Sam had finished. As she headed down to the food court she pulled out her phone and called him, to redirect him from the fountain down at the other side of the mall to their new meeting spot.

‘Hey,’ she said as it finally clicked on.

‘Uh hey,’ Sam said.

‘So uh change of plans we’re meeting at the food court if you’re done,’ she explained.

‘Yeah nearly, be like five minutes,’ Sam said.

‘Want me to get you anything?’ Lainey asked.

‘What?’

‘To eat? That way it’ll be ready by the time you’re here. I mean I’ll have to fight Dean off but you’re worth it,’ she chuckled.

‘No, it’s fine,’ he said flatly. Lainey hesitated.

‘You okay?’ she asked.

‘Sure, see you in five,’ he said.

‘See you then,’ she replied. Only the line didn’t click off like she thought it would. She could hear rustling, Sam manoeuvring it in his hand before he held it back to his ear.

‘Sorry about that it was Lainey,’ she heard Sam say to someone else. Lainey had been going to reply, to tell him he was still on the line with her.

‘Ruby?’

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'You leave anything for anyone else?’ Bobby asked, as Dean came through the study, weighed down by bags with Lainey trailing behind him

'Nope, cleared out the lot,' she said smugly, tapping Dean on the shoulder to stop him so she could detangle one of the bags from his hand.

'Guess that was a teenage habit I shouldn’t have expected you to grow out of,’ Bobby said as she un-wove the strings from Dean’s fingers and handed it over to Bobby, a smile on her lips. He took it and peered inside, finding a brand-new hat nestled at the bottom. One that lacked holes and stains but looked good all the same. Bobby cleared his throat and nodded, placing it on the desk beside him as he pushed the rush of sentimentality down with a, ‘though the folks you run around with these days are a lot bigger and stupider.’

'Oh and you're not?' Dean retorted. Though as Bobby geared up to spar Lainey’s eyes drifted past Dean, watching as Sam disappeared upstairs, her mind on the phone call that she’d been trying to keep from her mind.

‘Here let me take those,’ she said, pulling them from his hands as she headed for the stairs. Up to Sam. Up where she could ask him what the fuck was going on. But Dean followed, scoffing, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘What?’ Lainey asked, pausing with one foot on the stairs.

‘You’ve just had me trailing around after you like a servant and now you can carry ‘em,’ Dean said.

‘Mmhmm,’ she said, stepping up until they were face to face, her arms going around his neck, bags clunking against his back as his hands ghosted along her sides. Lainey leaned in, dropping her voice so it wouldn’t carry beyond the hall, ‘and as a reward I’ll show you everything I bought.’

‘Now?’ Dean said, his eyes glinting.

‘Later,’ she promised, pressing a kiss to his lips before she dashed upstairs leaving him and Bobby to resume their quibbling.

It didn’t take her long to stash everything in her room and a quick search of the bags gave her the excuse she’d been looking for as she found a couple of grey t-shirts Sam had picked sitting amongst the rest of Dean’s. She pulled them out and tucked them under her arm before she headed to his room, knocking gently on his door before she pushed it open.

He was unpacking the other stuff he’d bought when she walked in, new books stacked next to the old ones on his night stand, his new sneakers sitting in the box on his bed.

'Hey,' Lainey said, holding up the t-shirts like she needed to explain what she was doing here. Like this wasn’t an ambush. Like her mind hadn’t been swimming with what ifs and maybes.

'Hey,' Sam said.

'I uh, I'm gonna throw all our new stuff in the wash if you want in,' Lainey said, making him furrow his brow. Lainey chuckled nervously, ‘you don't wanna know how many gross, sweaty people try shit on and return it to the hanger.'

'Probably the same people who stay in cheap motels,' Sam chuckled, 'I think my immune system can handle it.'

'True,' she said, placing the t-shirts down on the bed. Sam was busy pulling more stuff from a bag so he didn’t notice her at first, lingering by the door. The words on the tip of her tongue that she couldn’t force out.

'You good?' he asked. She watched as his face turned concerned. How he looked like the Sam she knew. Not the one who snuck around. Not the one who lied. Not desperate to work with someone they didn’t know if they could trust.

'Sam why were you talking to Ruby?' she said. As his face fell instantly Lainey continued, 'I heard you, after you thought you'd hung up.' 

'Lainey,’ he sighed.

'We agreed-’

'No, you said what you thought,' he said firmly. Lainey hesitated, trying to remember the conversation. The one she’d assumed they’d put to bed because it was ludicrous. But now that she thought about it, really thought about it now that her mind wasn’t thinking of whatever the hell was up with Dean she realised he hadn’t agreed. She’d talked and he’d nodded. But he hadn’t agreed.

'Yeah and after Noah-'

'This is different, you had a connection to Noah,' he huffed, taking the shirts off the bed and turning around to stuff them in his duffel, the zip tugged harshly across the canvas.

'That wasn't what made him dangerous. You don't know her,' Lainey reasoned.

'I know she can help Dean and I don't know why you'd want to stop that,' Sam said.

'Of course I don't but-'

'But what? I can't exactly sit back and do nothing. I don't have the luxury of being the fun one Lainey,' he said, finally turning back to look at her, his face angry, ‘Dean's dying and it's my fault. And he doesn't seem to care about anything other than-’

'Me?' she whispered, the look in his eyes more than enough to clue her in.

'Look I get where he's coming from, he hurt you and he feels bad about it but rectifying the mistake doesn't mean anything unless he's around to see it!’ Sam said.

When Lainey just stared at him he grew self-conscious, turning back to carry on packing. But she didn’t know what to say. Because he was right. But it was more than that. She could see it in his eyes, the anger, the irritation. Like he’d had with her that day in the diner. When he’d told her devastation wasn’t getting them anywhere.

And it wasn’t that she’d stopped feeling those things, that the hurt didn’t lie deep within her, it was just that Dean had been right. Clinging so tightly to it was getting them nowhere. But maybe he had a point. Maybe she had taken her eye off the ball, hadn’t pulled her weight when it came to helping find something to get him out this. But she was sitting in the middle. Dean convinced it would only end up with Sam in the ground, a fate worse than death for him. And Sam growing more desperate and frustrated with them dragging their heels.

But this? Trusting Ruby?

It didn’t feel right. More to the point it didn’t feel like a Sam move which confused her even more.

'And what, you think this chick is the way to do it?’ she challenged, moving towards him to stop him ignoring her, ‘randomly seeking you out, an interest in you? That doesn't sound suspicious-'

'I know it does but we don’t have a lot of options here,' Sam reasoned, 'look I know what I'm doing-'

'Then why haven't you told Dean?' she said, 'if this is fine and you know what you're doing-'

'Because he'll say no,' Sam said, his jaw ticking when she rolled her eyes.

‘Because he thinks that him wiggling out of the deal will kill me but what if he doesn't have anything to do with it? If it's just me then he can't be held accountable-'

'This your lawyer brain talking or Ruby's?' she said angrily. Sam sighed.

'Look I'm not asking for your permission or Dean's. I'm just asking you to trust me,’ he said, looking at her. Lainey shifted, dropping her gaze as he reached to hold her hand, ‘can you?'

┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄

It'll all come out, all come out in the wash, Every little stain, every little heartbreak, No matter how messy it got, You take the sin and the men and you throw 'em all in, And you put that sucker on spin

┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄

tags (dean/spn/lainey)

‘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.

─────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─────────

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.

─────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─────────

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