Sure Got a Dirty Mouth Chapter 23: What Are You Looking At?

[justinedelarge]

Title: Sure Got a Dirty Mouth Chapter 23: What Are You Looking At?

Author: justinedelarge
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing(s): Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Warning: Wincest (Sam is a few months shy of legal age)
Word Count: 1500
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just for fun.
Summary: Ever wonder how Dean started talking dirty? The genesis is in the way Sam and Dean make their feelings for each other physical. This story has dirty talk, all the feels you can handle, infinite love and even a plot that develops into a nail-biting narrative, with the best kind of hurt/comfort.
Chapter Summary: Reggie takes Sam and Dean for burgers. He learns something unsettling. Sam does not have an easy time with his first public outing since he was kidnapped.Dean confronts Bobby. John takes the first steps toward trying to atone.
Request: Comments and encouraging feedback are really appreciated. If you read my fics and like them, please take a moment to let me know. This will encourage me to write more for you. If I don't respond to each comment personally, please understand that I read and cherish ALL OF THEM, and that I'm just trying to get through an incredibly busy time of year, and still write more chapters of this story in what little free time I have.

Dean stayed right alongside Sam, moving in unison, as they walked into Dickie’s Burger and BBQ. Reggie held the door for them.

Dickie’s was the kind of place where the burgers were smoked on a firepit, the silverware was stuck into a old, clean coffee can on the table covered with a vinyl tablecloth, and cold drinks were served in Mason jars.

“Whatever you want.” Reggie gestured to the menu on the paper placemats before each of them. “Except beer. Civilians wouldn’t understand.”

After a few minutes, their waitress, a thin young woman with dyed red hair, brought them three Mason jars filled with ice water. “You boys know what you’d like?”

Reggie said, “I’d like the rib combo and a Pabst.”

The waitress stared at Sam’s face, her eyes going wide. “And what would you like?”

Sam blinked, a bit confused by her expression. “Um, I’d like a turkey burger with Swiss, fries, and a strawberry shake.”

The waitress turned toward Dean.

“Smokehouse burger with bacon and cheddar, extra onions, hold the pickle, onion rings—“

The waitress cut in. “Bag or basket?”

“Basket. And a chocolate malt.”

“Got it.” Giving Sam another lingering look, the waitress walked toward the kitchen.

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean. “What, no onion shake?”

“Onions are awesome.” Dean chewed on an ice cube.

Sam’s mouth pursed. “Make your breath stink.”

Dean unconsciously ran his tongue over his teeth. “I do know how to use a toothbrush.”

The restaurant was warm, so within a few minutes, both Sam and Dean shed their flannel overshirts, Dean helping Sam slide his over his cast.

“Ouch.” Reggie glanced at the cast. “How’d they do that one?” His voice was casual, like it was no big deal.

Dean watched Sam’s face. Sam hadn’t told him exactly how his arm got broken.

“When they dragged me into the warehouse. I was pretending to be out of it. They went to tie me up, and I made a break for it.” Sam made a face. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Reggie took a sip of water, letting Sam continue in his own time.

“The older guy got hold of a piece of pipe. Tried to hit me in the head. I blocked.”

Reggie whistled. “That’s gotta hurt.”

Under the table, Dean squeezed Sam’s thigh, his face going hard and closed off.

“Not as much as him working my ribs over with it after.”

Both Reggie and Dean winced.

“Any idea what they wanted? Why they took you?”

Dean froze.

Sam shrugged. “Wanted to hurt me. Hurt Dad. I guess he got too close to them, and they wanted to send a message.”

Dean relaxed slightly. But only slightly.

The memory must have trigged pain, remembered or current, in Sam’s arm, because he pulled his arm into his side, just as Reggie reached across to grab silverware out of the coffee can next to Sam. Right then, waitress approached, carrying two plates on her left arm and the large platter of ribs in her right hand.

She gave Reggie an odd look. “Ok, the rib combo for you, the smokehouse burger and onion rings for you, and the turkey burger for you…” She put the plates down in front of each of them, staring at Sam’s arms. Every visible inch of skin not covered by the cast was covered in bruises.

Sam snatched his arms back and put them under the table.

“Um, I’ll be right back with your drinks.” She scurried away.

Reggie gave Sam a warm look. “Happens all the time. Gets kind of fun after a while, making up new stories to explain the marks.”

Sam gave a weak smile.

“Gotta drain the lizard. Be right back.” Reggie walked toward the restaurant, favoring his left leg slightly in a manner than indicated it was a longstanding limp, and not something temporary.

Sam and Dean tore into their food, eating like they were starved. Dean took a bite of his burger, and didn't even bother repressing a groan.

Sam took equal pleasure in his turkey burger and fries, licking the salt off his fingertips.

A kid at the table across from Sam was staring at the bruising on his face, his black eye and still-swollen eyelid. “Hey. What’s wrong with your face?”

The boy’s mother gasped, and said, “Jimmy!” in a scolding tone.

Sam glared at him. “I asked a stranger too many rude questions.”

The boy’s mouth dropped open, and his mother pulled him close, shooting Sam a dirty look.

“Your kid started it, lady.” Dean bit into an onion ring. The woman put cash on the table and hustled little Jimmy out.

Sam put his flannel back on.

The waitress came back with the two shakes and Reggie’s beer. She looked around, not seeing him anywhere, and then bent down to speak to Sam. “Look, this is none of my business, I know, but… if your dad is hurting you, there’s people in town that can help, ‘cause you don’t have to put up with that, I mean, my daddy used to beat the living tar out of me, so I know, and you know… just uh,  just nod or something, and I’ll get you somewhere safe…”

Sam was mortified.

Dean should have been annoyed. But he was surprisingly moved.

He laid his hand on her forearm. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

She blinked, falling silent.

“But it’s nothing like that. He got jumped.”

She stammered, embarrassed. “Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry. I just… it looked like you were scared of your dad, and, oh my goodness,  I wish I could just sink into the earth and disappear.”

Dean gave her his best smile. “It’s ok. You were just looking out for my little brother. That was real brave of you, to speak up like that. I mean, he could have been—it could have been the way you thought. And you were going to step in and help him. Thank you.”

It worked like a charm.

She calmed down, and beamed at Dean like she was just told that her life had meaning.

However, she still scooted away quickly when Reggie rejoined them.

Sam’s expression gave away that he was upset.

“What’d I miss?”

“Probably shouldn’t have tried leaving the house so soon.” Sam took a bite of French fry.

Dean explained what had happened. Reggie patted Sam’s hand. “Maybe we should have gotten our food to go. I’m sorry. I meant to do something nice for you. And get to talk to you a little.”

Sam assured him that it was fine. And it was. Having lunch with Reggie Beaumont. It was awesome.

Still, Sam’s mood had soured with the unwanted attention and fairly understandable assumptions. They ate quickly, Dean relieved at how many calories Sam was able to get into him, chewing without so much discomfort that he pushed the plate away after a few bites, like every meal so far.

“Jaw feeling better?”

Sam nodded, chewing his burger.

“Yeah, but not as much as my ribs. That was just so weird.”

Reggie glanced up, barbeque sauce staining his moustache. “What?”

“Day before yesterday, I could barely breathe. My ribs hurt so bad, and my lungs just felt… rotten. And the doctor came by at night with these antibiotics, and I took one and the next morning, I felt like 90% better.” Sam took a sip of shake, closing his eyes. “God that’s good. Anyway, so yeah, my lungs were better, and my ribs felt better, but everything else still hurt just as bad.”

Reggie wiped his moustache with a handful of paper napkin and took a deep swig of beer. “Now that is weird.”

A shiver went up Dean’s spine. It had been weird. They were right. And that dream…

“Dean? What’s up?”

“I had a dream that night.”

Sam took another deep drink of strawberry shake. “Yeah, said he dreamed of fire.”

Dean didn’t say anything. Sam focused in on his expression. “What.”

“Not just a fire. I dreamed of mom. The night…the night she burned.”

Reggie pushed his beer away. “Describe it?”

Dean rubbed his mouth. “It was vivid. Really vivid.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I could hear it. Feel the heat on my face. Smell—“ He stopped. Wasn’t going to describe what he smelled. Suddenly, he felt sick to his stomach, and pushed the plate with his half-finished hamburger away from him.

“Were you little, in the dream, like you were when it happened? Or the age you are now?”

“Like I am now. Actually.”

“What did it smell like?”

Dean shook his head. “Like… burning flesh. And…” Dean thought about it. “Rotten eggs.”

Reggie sagged back in his chair..

“Was it just you in the dream, and your mom? Was there anyone else there?”

Dean closed his eyes again and tried to remember.

“Eyes. In the corner of the room.” Dean shivered. “Yellow eyes.”

Comments

[deansdirtybb.livejournal.com]

Love you, love this story, love the generous fan.
And Sam saying “I asked a stranger too many rude questions.” made me actually literally lol...which got me some strange looks from my family.