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“Geez, Sammy, don’t you know you’re supposed to be the one giving the girl the hickeys?” Dean asked, eyeing the bruises on Sam’s neck that were barely hidden under the collar of a button-up, conspicuously buttoned all the way up.
“Huh-? I, uh… yeah.” Sam said, trying to go for casual and missing by about a million miles. “Yeah, I know, she’s just-“ He shrugged, setting down his backpack and getting out a folder, probably pull of homework that he was actually going to do on time.
“Just what? A vampire?” Dean asked, rolling his eyes and turning his attention back to the boring-ass infomercial playing on the grainy TV screen.
“Sure.” Sam said. “I mean, uh- no. Whatever.” Sam moved a few papers and newspaper clippings and maps from the hotel’s tiny desk, making room to spread out his assignments.
There were a few minutes of quiet, interrupted only by the transition to an overly-enthusiastic commercial for laundry soap.
“Sammy?” Sam didn’t look up, just sort of grunted in acknowledgement that he was listening.
“That is just, like… an overenthusiastic girlfriend, right?” Sam looked over at Dean when he heard the obvious discomfort in his voice.
“Yeah? Look, I don’t need you to warn me about using protection or whatever, okay?” Sam snapped, probably more defensive than the situation called for.
“That’s not what I- well, okay, yeah. Use protection. Stay safe, and shit. But…” Dean muted the commercial, unable to hold a conversation with the obnoxiously smily chick trying to sell him insurance.
“But what? I can take care of myself, Dean.” Sam punched a few numbers into his calculator, and scribbled down an answer.
“I know. Just- look, it’s not just your neck that’s got bruises, lately.” Dean said, finally breaking the ice into what he was trying to bring up. “You know I’ve noticed that, right?”
Sam shrugged, still not looking at Dean, but able to feel Dean’s gaze against his back. “I guess. Like you said. She’s overenthusiastic.” Sam said, hoping Dean would let the subject drop even when he knew Dean wouldn’t let it go that easily.
“Then what’d you split your knuckles on?” Dean asked, seeing the sloppily-applied bandages on Sam’s right hand.
“Nothing.” Sam still hadn’t looked up, but he wasn’t working on the next homework problem, either. “Look, are you just gonna interrogate me, is there something you’re trying to get at here?” Sam snapped, knowing full well that he was probably the one that was overreacting.
“No. Maybe.” Dean was quiet for a moment, and Sam wished he hadn’t muted the TV, because the lack of background noise made it hard to think of ways to avoid the conversation. “Look, if you’re getting hurt, or if she’s making you do stuff…” Dean didn’t know how to approach this tactfully, or if he was even on the right track at all.
“She’s not making me do anything, Dean, just drop it!“ Sam said, hostility obvious in his tone. Defensiveness, too, which was exactly what Dean had hoped he wouldn’t get.
Sam was still looking down at his paper, but none of the numbers were processing in his mind. “C’mere.” Dean’s voice was gentler than Sam had expected it to be, and sort of drew him out of his trance.
Sam didn’t know exactly why he was doing what Dean asked, but he got up, walking over to sit ungracefully on the edge of the bed Dean was lounging on. Dean sat up, looking a little closer at Sam.
It wasn’t as casual and easy for them to be so close now, not like when they were younger. Sure, Dean was just examining the bruise on his neck, but Sam was hyperaware of being able to feel Dean’s breath against his skin.
‘Is that even a bite? Just looks like a normal bruise, and a nasty one, too…” Dean observed. Sam looked down, not moving further away but still making it clear that the conversation was teetering closer to completely uncomfortable.
“Don’t see why it matters.”
That was all the confirmation Dean really needed, that there was far more going on than Sam had said. “Of course it matters, you- where else are you hurt?” He asked. Maybe a few bruises weren’t reason for so much concern, maybe Sam was right and he really could handle himself.
But even though they’d pretty much outgrown it, or at least outgrown so obviously showing it, Dean couldn’t help being fiercely overprotective. “Where else are you hurt?” Dean asked, not giving Sam much opportunity to respond before saying, “just- don’t say ‘nowhere’. Please. Show me.”
It didn’t count as begging, not quite, but it was close. Sam had been distant lately, and of course Dean had noticed that, and now that he knew at least the beginnings of the reason why, he wasn’t about to let it go.
“Show- uh, show you?” Sam was seventeen, still settling into his body and not exactly in the mood to be scrutinized. Dean wouldn’t say anything beyond probably teasing him a little, but Sam was the one who couldn’t help comparing them, if he caught sight of Dean shirtless. He knew full well just how undeveloped and scrawny he looked.
That didn’t even matter at the moment, though- or at least, it definitely wasn’t what Dean would be focusing on. Sam begrudgingly pulled his hoodie over his head, then his t-shirt.
The bruises weren’t nearly as severe as some that he had gotten from hunting, but they were prominent against his skin, and he felt like he was sitting under a spotlight, or on an examining table.
“Sammy, geez…” Dean mumbled, not reaching out to touch him but looking almost like he wanted to. “And this is all- from some girlfriend?” Sam shrugged. It was, technically, all from the same girl. And they’d slapped the label of ‘together’ on themselves, for whatever that was worth, so Sam supposed that was technically right.
“Yeah. So what?” He asked defensively, “Not like it matters, I’ve had worse before.”
“You’re just… letting her hurt you? Look, man, if this is some kinda kinky thing or whatever then I’m not gonna get into it, but- kinda doesn’t look that way. Looks a hell of a lot more like you’re getting hit.” Dean was still looking at the bruises, as if by staring at them hard enough he could make them vanish from Sam’s skin.
“Looks a hell of a lot like it’s none of your business.” Sam said, reaching for his discarded shirt. “I can handle it. Hell, probably deserve it.” He said, a sort of offhand comment.
“Deserve- okay, wait, what?” Dean was thoroughly confused by that, and shook his head a little. “You think you deserve to get hurt?” He asked, frowning in concentration as his mind tried to process that.
Sam got up from the bed after he’d finished tugging his shirt back on, but the room was too small for him to really have anywhere to retreat to. He was used to that, used to tiny hotel rooms, but the tension in the air now was new and foreign and more than a little uncomfortable.
“No, hey, wait- hey. Sam. ” Dean got up as well, grabbing Sam’s arm as though he was about to bolt if not kept in place.
“What?” Sam asked, and his voice wasn’t as aggressive as before- it sounded small, uncertain, in a way that didn’t fit Sam’s usual demeanor lately at all.
“Y’know, you don’t deserve to get hit. Like- I don’t care if she’s your girlfriend, she shouldn’t be doing anything that’s gonna leave that kinda bruises on you.” Dean said, sighing.
“Like I said. I deserve it. Just leave me alone, Dean-“ Sam was stubborn and avoidant, while Dean was stubborn and confrontational. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to clash too badly before reaching a resolution, this time.
“Did you do something, then?” Dean asked, “Do you owe her somehow? Do something to piss her off that you feel guilty for? You- hell, you didn’t knock her up, did you?”
Sam shook his head, not meeting Dean’s eyes. “Nothing like that. Nothing to do with her, like that.”
“Then, what- you think you did something to deserve it?”
“I said that.” Sam said, even though he really hadn’t not exactly. “And, yeah. Yes. I guess you could put it that way.”
“No chance you might… tell me what the hell that is, that you think you did? I mean- seriously, Sammy, you can’t just-“
“I can.”
“Or you could let me help you.” Sam scoffed.
“I thought you didn’t do emotional crap.” He said, his facade of nonchalance near-perfect to anyone else, but Dean could see straight through it.
“Then here’s the exception.” Dean said, letting go of Sam and walking back over to sit down on the edge of the bed, gesturing for Sam to sit on the other. Sam had always been the exception for him, and Dean knew that full well. Whatever this was, he was ready to at least listen. He still had no idea what the hell the whole problem could be, though.
Sam sat down on the other bed, slumped forward a little and picking at a loose piece of skin at his cuticle. “I like someone.” He said after a long moment of silence. Well, that hadn’t been what Dean was expecting, at all.
“Uh- okay? Someone besides the crazy girlfriend you’re staying with for some reason?” Dean asked. “Break up with her and go for who you like. Quit being a walking punching bag and go for someone better, I’m not really seeing the problem-“
Sam shook his head, and took yet another long moment to think of something else to say. The quiet between words was too thick and suffocating, made it hard for Sam to find the right words.
“I can’t.” He said, “it’s not someone I can just- go for.” Sam’s finger had started to bleed, a little, but he barely felt the dull sting of it.
“Okay, but… still.” Dean said, feeling a little helpless and almost like the space between the two beds was growing wider and wider by the moment. He wasn’t good with feelings and emotions, and looking at the awkward, nervous teenager across from him, he couldn’t help feeling completely at a loss for what to do.
“It’s someone I shouldn’t like.” Sam said, and Dean was glad Sam had said something and was apparently willing to continue with an explanation, because Dean was still so lost that he wouldn’t even know what questions to ask. “Someone I really shouldn’t like, so- it doesn’t matter. I’ll get over it.”
“C’mon, Sammy, don’t be like that.” Dean said, “You don’t really know you don’t have a chance, I mean- you’re pretty cute as far as awkward high schoolers go.” Maybe that wasn’t exactly helpful, but Sam managed a small smile that came across as more bitter than amused.
“I don’t have a chance.” Sam repeated, firmly.
“You gonna tell me who this person is, then?” Dean asked, aiming for casual and missing by about a million miles.
“I shouldn’t.”
“We’re leaving down in a couple weeks, not like I even know anybody from your school to know who it is you’re talking about.” Dean said, trying to actually bring some logic into the discussion.
“Well- yeah, but-“ Dean waited for Sam to continue, and after nearly another two minutes of the pressured silence, he caved in. “It’s not someone from school. Not… someone I’m never gonna see again.”
Sam hoped he wouldn’t never see the person again, at least. He really hoped not.
“Well, spill it, then.”
“You.” Sam said, quickly, like the sooner he’d said it the sooner everything would be over with. “I- I mean, uh-“
“…Oh.”
Sam had thought the quiet of the room was suffocating before. It was like a blanket had been thrown over the whole room, trapping in the heat and silence and tension and pressure.
“Oh?” Sam had no clue what the hell that meant, what that could possibly mean. “You’re, uh- you’re gonna have to say something else, besides that, because-“ He panicked, assuming the worst when Dean didn’t say anything immediately.
“Breathe, Sam, jesus christ…” Dean said, sounding far more calm than the situation called for. Sam hesitated, not sure what Dean was thinking or how he could possibly react. “Just- c’mere.” He said, patting the space on the bed next to him.
Sam was wary, hoping that if Dean were going to yell at him- or attack him- he would have just out and done it already. Sam had planned on yelling and disgust and horror if Dean ever found out this secret, and it wasn’t helping his panic at all that Dean didn’t seem to be reacting like that.
Sam got up, though, and crossed the few feet that felt like miles between his bed and Dean’s, sitting where he’d been instructed to and looking over at him uncertainly. “So, um-“
Dean didn’t answer, or at least, not with words. After a moment’s hesitation he leaned in, giving Sam plenty of chance to pull away before pressing their lips together.
Sam definitely didn’t pull away, partially because he was too frozen in place to really react at all, until he hesitantly kissed back.
It was light, and chaste, and uncertain- both of them doubted if it was the right thing to do, but neither wanted the moment to end.
“Um-?“ Sam said, a small, uncertain sound that was a million questions wrapped into one.
“Just saying, I wasn’t joking about you ditching that girl you’ve been seeing. She’s bad news.” Dean said, and that didn’t really answer anything that Sam was wondering, but it was enough of a confirmation that Dean really did feel the same way and want this, too.
“What, and you’re much better?” Sam asked, taking the risk to make a joke and glad that Dean knew not to take it seriously.
“Can it, bitch, or I’m not gonna kiss you again” Dean teased right back, grinning.
“Yeah, you are, jerk.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”