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They're not even a mile out of Ankeny when Sam sam drops his bombshell. “What did you mean back there?” he asks. “When you said we could stay?”
Dean, for his part, doesn’t even flinch. He just shrugs and doesn’t take his eyes off the road. “Figured we could stick around a little while. You could, uh, ‘comfort’ Lori some more.”
Sam’s eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dean gives him a smug look. “C’mon, you telling me you two didn’t get your mack on?” Sam’s silence told him enough. “That’s what I thought. Thought it’d be good for you. You haven’t even so much as looked at a girl in weeks. And she likes you, man.”
“So what?”
“So what? It’s called living in the moment. Uh, you know, carpe dium.”
“It’s carpe diem.”
“Whatever, nerd. The point is, it’d be good for you.”
Sam goes quiet, eyes drifting back to the passing landscape. Dean means well. He’s got the subtlety of a brick to the face but he’s trying. It’s annoying though how his brother thinks he knows exactly what Sam needs when Sam doesn’t even know himself. The piercing hole in his chest since Jess’s death refuses to vanish, though it has changed shape over time. Killing things frustrates him more than helps with Jessica’s killer at large, and kissing Lori only makes the hole inside him echo, a cruel reminder of its existence.
Eventually, he sighs. “She didn’t want me.”
Dean shoots him a disbelieving glance. “What are you talking about? She was all over you. And you had that whole, you know, college thing in common.”
If Dean ever stops sounding snarky or bitter saying the word “college” it’ll be a miracle. “She was scared and confused and angry,” Sam says. “She didn’t want me. She just wanted a distraction.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not?”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with taking comfort where you can,” Dean says, always the backroads philosopher. “S’what keeps you from goin’ nuts.”
“That why you hook up with everything on two legs?” Sam snarks. Dean, of course, only grins.
“Not everything,” he protests. “They have to be hot.”
It’s crass and obvious but the snort Dean’s obviously angling for bubbles out of Sam anyway. “I dunno, man. I can’t just do the ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’ thing you do.”
There’s more to it than that, of course. It’s not like he’s morally opposed to hookups. He just finds them unappealing. Maybe something to do with his general distaste for transience. The truth is though, he’s still in mourning for Jess. And when he’s not mourning her he’s enraged about her death. And if he’s not feeling either of those two things... he’s not sure what’s left.
“I don’t love them.”
Dean throws the fact out casually but it makes something in Sam’s brain sit up and pay attention; as though Dean tried to slip a whole other sentence underneath that one without Sam noticing. “What?”
“It’s more like ‘do ‘em and leave ‘em’ if you know what I mean,” Dean adds with a lascivious smirk. But there’s something there, lingering, behind his eye. Sam’s stomach twists.
“I guess I just can’t do that,” Sam replies and Dean’s smile falters at his honesty. “I can’t get close to someone like that just to take off the next day.”
Dean’s mouth twists. “Takes practice,” he grunts. “You get used to it. Besides, don’t be so dramatic. I’m not ‘getting close to them.’ I’m just--”
“Getting close to them,” Sam interrupts dryly.
“Physically,” Dean clarifies forcefully. “Very physically, when you’re doing it right.”
“And this works for you?”
Dean shrugs. “Well enough.”
Sam’s heart cracks for his brother. He can’t say so, of course, and Dean would take offense at any implication that his coping mechanisms were anything but healthy. He should say something about him being a pig or a caveman, make some crack about his intelligence that he doesn’t actually believe (Dean was all over the research with this case; makes him realize that he probably would have done well in college if he’d only had the chance--) to diffuse the tension. Instead, another thought occurs to him which slips out before examining it like he should.
“You haven’t been with anyone since you got me,” Sam blurts.
Dean shifts (squirms) in place. “No need to rub it in.”
“I’m not,” Sam protests. “I was just saying--” What is he saying? He feels like he’s digging them into a pit and isn’t sure how or why. “It’s not like you haven’t had the opportunity,” he settles on.
“Not with you cockblocking me all the time I haven’t,” Dean gripes. And Sam opens his mouth to protest--
--And then snaps it shut. Because it’s true. It’s absolutely true. He went along with watching over Lori because he felt empathy for her, but if it got Dean out of that frat house, all the better. And this wasn’t the first time either. He’s snipped and snapped at the flirtations with every waitress, front desk employee, and bartender Dean’s made eyes at in the past four months.
Why would he do that? It doesn’t make sense. Jessica is a raw wound, but he’d never stoop to interfering his brother from having sex. The idea of Dean getting intimate with strangers bothers him, sure, but he’s been this way forever. Why would it bother him now? (Or, maybe it always has, and travelling with Dean again just reminds him of the fact.) It can’t be jealousy, Sam thinks wildly. That doesn’t even--
“Sorry,” Sam gasps dumbly. “I didn’t even realize--”
He’s waved off. “Forget it. I’m sure me being a total chick magnet hasn’t been easy on you.” Dean side-eyes him with a hint of trepidation. He’s talking about Jess, probably, in that side-stepping way of his, letting Sam know it’s alright. “I’ll live.”
“You sure?” Sam asks. It comes off far more seriously than he intends.
Dean rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. Jeez. Besides, who needs the ladies when I’m riding around with your girly ass, huh?”
Dean means it, Sam understands in an instant. He’s trying to joke but he means it. He’s perfectly happy with just the two of them, crisscrossing the country killing evil sons of bitches and knocking back a cold one every once and a while. It’s all he really needs. Because he doesn’t love them. But he does love--
Sam clears his throat. “Good thing you have me then, huh?”
“Good thing,” Dean echoes dryly.
“Do they...” Sam falters. This is a stupid risk he’s taking. Dean didn’t mean to admit what he did. But warm contentment unfurls in his chest at Dean’s accidental admissions (Dean only needs him) and makes him stupid. “Do they just have to be hot?”
Dean doesn’t answer right away and Sam’s sure he’s blown it. But Dean then leans way back and throws his arm over the back of the seat. Classic move. Pretty sure Dean taught him that one in sixth grade. Or he’s just stretching.
“Helps if they can string a sentence together,” Dean says lightly. “But yeah, hot’s a pretty important qualifier.” He tilts his head. “And availability.”
Sam plays it as cool as he can when he’s pretty sure he’s started flirting with his brother. “Too bad I’m the only one around,” he offers with a shrug.
Dean laughs. His arm slides off the back of the seat, resting over Sam’s shoulders instead. “That suits me just fine, Sammy,” he says. “That suits me just fine.”
Later, he’ll ask if that means Dean admits that he’s hot. For now, he knows not to push his luck.