Chapter Text
Author's notes: Sam is keeping a secret , one that has followed him since early adolescence.
Sam tossed down his duffel bag and saw the muted colors on the bedspread blending together into Southwest sludge. That was the pattern’s name, he imagined, because orange and violet with tints of sickly turquoise could not be anything better. He was stripping off his jacket, the material stiff with blood and dirt, when Dean entered the hotel room. Despite having been right beside Sam during the butchering of the gakI, Dean looked clean. Which was why Dean was the one to rent the room in the hotel office and afterwards go for food. Sam saw a certain smile on his brother’s mouth and felt part of his gut twist in reaction. Because few things made Dean smile like that and the biggest reason? Made Sam want to break things.
Oblivious to his younger brother’s brooding frown, Dean dropped the greasy paper bags of food on the table, thinking the girl at the drive-thru window was a knockout and then- you add smelling like cheeseburgers? Aphrodisiac. He peeled off his jacket and threw it over a chair before commenting.
“Dad called.”
Sam wasn’t sure if he was supposed to pretend to be happy and have the Look from Dean that said he wasn’t fooled- or just skip ahead to saying little to nothing at all. He settled for being quiet. Besides he hurt all over and needed a shower. Not even the scent of red meat was drawing him out of needing to bathe. Too bad the Impala wasn’t a Winnebago. With a shower inside. Real beds. But Dean would never be caught dead driving a Winnie around, even if he was saving lives. Since Dean was eating French fries in bundles, Sam sighed.
“What’d he want?”
Dean lifted a golden brow at the minimal interest from Sam and downed some Coke before replying, “Checking in. Wants to meet up with us in Abilene. I told him we’d be there by tomorrow night.”
“Long drive.”
Dean shrugged at the soft words. “I’ll sleep when we get there.”
As Dean turned away, he missed the flash of dread in Sam’s eyes and the way his brother’s lips tightened over his teeth. Sam was up and in the shower before Dean could say anything else. He cleaned the grime and gore from his tawny skin, his mind a million miles away. He tried to think of some feasible reason they could not make it to Abilene. An out that would make Dean agree and they could high-tail it to fucking Nova Scotia instead. Sam wanted to see John Winchester about as much as he wanted a root canal. His stress level did not seem to translate the same to his body though. He was half hard and that made him lean to the tiled wall. Eyes closed, head bent under the spray of water, Sam bit down on a yell that wanted to rip free.
This would be the first time he saw his father where Dean might be incapacitated. By sleep. It never took much for John to take a chance. To make a move. After all, Sam was never going to tell and it was convenient. It was vengeance for a secret that he loved to whisper in Sam’s ear. Hearing that Dean would crash made Sam coil within, like a snake. He heard a booming knock to the door along with a kick for good measure before his older brother was yelling past the wood.
“Shake it off and let’s go, Sammy! I want some hot water too… goddamn princess…”
Sam glared and rinsed off, being sure he was soap and shampoo free before drying off. He ignored his arousal and dressed in the bathroom, the steam making his clothing cling to him like it was painted on. He let Dean have the bathroom and ate what was left of the food. Eating was an automatic thing. He was raised being told to finish what was in front of him. Keep the body fueled and that was that. When he had first left for college, Sam had a bitch of a time learning to eat slowly. Not just wolf down his plate and go.
All those little hunter quirks had tripped him up a few times before he got it down. Pretending to be normal. Not always looking in the dark for monsters or imagining he was going to live his whole life in a car. Until something too big or vicious came along and tore him to pieces.
Sam went back into the bathroom and brushed his teeth, ignoring Dean’s hisses when he sparingly used the cold water in the sink. Dean could just suck it up since he was so gung-ho about seeing John. Petty, but Sam wasn’t feeling very giving in the moment. He was in bed when Dean came back in the room, lying under a blanket he had brought out of the Impala.
“Never shoulda let you watch that Dateline about hotel rooms.”
Dean said the words teasingly but still used his own personal blanket Sam had tossed onto his bed. He noticed Sam was looking morose and sat down to have a smoke before asking, “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
Dean half nodded at the minimal answer, one hand lazily waving in a circle.
“Well enough about you, Sam.”
“Sorry…just tired.”
Sam sighed and hid half of his face with the convenient pillow. He did better at these conversations if he did not have to look directly at his brother. Feigning sleep was Plan B, if necessary. It wasn’t. Dean turned on the tv and his compelling green eyes were locked to the bluishly glowing screen. Sam snuck a glance to see what Dean was watching so closely and had to hide a laugh. Why Dean liked ‘Clean House’ was beyond Sam. He finally had to ask, “What is it with you and this show?”
“Stuff.”
Dean glanced to his brother and back to the screen.
“I can’t get over how much stuff people have. I mean…Christ. There are boxes on top of piles. It’s crazy. I only ever had what I can carry. I guess it’s just like watching footage from Mars for me. Did it weird you out staying in one spot for school like that? Living with someone?”
“I can live with anyone after living with you.”
Sam said the words on a yawn. He was so not going to talk about living with Jessica. How great it had been. A chance at having normalcy. A real address, phone number, group of casual friends. Not a sawed off shotgun in sight. Sam dropped off to sleep with the sound of Dean chuckling over something on the television.
Dean turned his head once Sam’s breathing evened out. He wondered over the sudden shifting gears of Sam’s mood but he could hardly keep up with it. Sam was mercurial at the best of times. If you actually threw him a real curve ball? Batten down the hatches because Hurricane Sammy was coming, with torrential emo in the forecast. He saw the delicate flickering of Sam’s eyelids and knew his brother was dreaming. Dean tapped out another smoke from his pack and lit up, sitting back to the headboard and wondering what was going on in that giant head over there. He shrugged it off and turned back to the television, finishing his smoke before flipping over to watch some low budget porn. He fell asleep to some nice ‘unh-unh’ sounds, smiling at his version of white noise relaxation.