justinedelarge | Sure Got a Dirty Mouth Chapter 38: On the Run

Title: Sure Got a Dirty Mouth Chapter 38: On the Run

Author justinedelarge
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Warning: Wincest (Sam is a few months shy of legal age)
Word Count: 1823
Disclaimer: I don't own what I don't own. But I DO own the parts that I own
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/comfor
Chapter SummarySam and Dean sneak out and hit the road. Their absence is discovered.

Author’s note: My story, Cat’s out of the Bag, was just plagiarized by Supercest fanfiction.net, who posted it word for word as their own story titled Naked Accidents. If you see anyone doing this with my stories on any site, I’d really appreciate it if you let them know they’ve been caught plagiarizing, report them if that's an option (as it is on fanfiction.net) and let me know immediately. Thank you.

Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam as they neared the Impala. Sam shook his head no. “We can’t.” He whispered. “They’ll hear.”

Dean pursed his lips, nose wrinkling. Sam was right. Any car crunching down the gravel would rouse the hunters still keeping watch on Bobby’s house just in case. Bobby and John had told them they didn’t need to stick around anymore, but they refused to leave just yet.

No, the only way they had been able to get out of the house undetected is no one expected to keep guard against Sam and Dean sneaking out, on foot, in the bitter cold.

So Dean regretfully let Sam lead him past the Impala, looking back over his shoulder to take in one last lingering glance.

They walked quietly onto the road that passed in front of the salvage yard.

Dean sniffed, cheeks flushed pink in the freezing cold. “What’s the plan, Sam?”

Sam laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. “The plan? The plan is running away from home.”

“You don’t take a shower without a plan.”

Sam stopped dead. “I just… I don’t have a plan, ok? I-“ Sam blew out a breath, white mist pouring from his mouth. “I had to get out. I just need to be away from him. From them. Just for a little. So I can think.”

Sam was getting more agitated. Dean threw his arm around Sam, pulling him into motion again, to keep the blood moving. “S’ok. We’ll come up with something.”

Overhead, a large black bird perched on the telephone wires squawked and rose into the air, beating its massive black wings.

“I thought we’d hitch a ride outta here. Anywhere. If we don’t have any idea where we’re going, they can try to figure out where we’ve gone, and they’ll never get it right.”

Dean nodded. For a total lack of a plan, that wasn’t a half-bad plan.

“We can get to a truck stop, get someone’s wallet. Find a car. And then… just drive somewhere. Find a motel. Hole up for a couple of weeks.”

Dean wiped the back of his sleeve across his nose. “Sounds good.”

Sam wrapped the scarf around his neck tighter. “Cars come along here all the time.”

No cars were anywhere in sight, in either direction.

They walked further, faster. Eventually, they came upon an abandoned car on the side of the road, a newer model four-door. Dean’s face lit up. He poked around under the hood until he discovered something that stole all the hope from his expression and he shut the hood again with a loud sound. “Well, that’s not going anywhere.”

They started walking again.

“This was a really bad idea, huh.” Sam stole a glance at Dean, bravely trying to mask his discomfort in the cold.

“S’alright. Someone’s bound to drive by any minute now.”

Sam shook his head, the sight of Dean so cold blasting through his own desperate need to get far away from his father and Bobby. “I’m sorry. This was stupid. Let’s just go back. They won’t have even noticed we’re gone. It’s freezing. And there’s no one out. We’re never going to find a ride—“

They didn’t hear the white sedan until it was nearly upon them, slowing and pulling onto the side of the road. An old lady that looked like one of those rosy-cheeked apple dolls rolled down her window and poked her head out. “What the heckfire are you two boys doing out in the weather like this? Get in!”

Dean guided Sam to take the passenger seat, and he got in the back with the duffels.

The woman turned the heat up higher. “Can you feel that in the back?”

Dean nodded, grateful for the warmth. Sam held his hands in front of the vent.

“I’m Laura.” The woman smiled broadly.

Sam stuck out his hand. “I’m Scott, and this is Wyatt.” Sam could feel Dean’s eyes boring into the back of his skull.

“Nice to meet you. So, like I said, what the heck were you two doing out in the cold?”

Dean spoke up from the back. “We, uh, had some trouble with the guy who was giving us a ride.” Dean played it up beautifully, stammering like he was deeply uncomfortable, but making eye contact with the woman like being truthful was just the most natural and moral thing in the world for him. “It was better to get out and walk and hope someone else came along than… well, ma’am. I’d rather not say.”

Laura’s pink mouth formed into a tight moue of disapproval. “It’s a dangerous thing, hitchhiking. There are some bad people out there. You two were sure lucky I came along.”

Sam nodded.

Laura pulled back out on the road. “So, I’m driving out to Wall. Where are you boys headed?”

Dean’s face lit up. Wall, South Dakota was right on the edge of the Badlands. It was also the home of the famous and massive Wall Drug roadside attraction, with its fiberglass jackalope, the giant green dinosaur with eyes that lit up, a rock shop, everything a little boy could dream of. And it was huge, with tens of thousands of people visiting it every day. It would be easy to swipe someone’s wallet, and maybe even to snag a car.

“Wall would be perfect.”

It was about 300 miles to Wall. The boys settled in, letting the warmth from the car heater seep into their bones. The old woman was a retired math teacher, she said, going to visit her brother who was on his deathbed. She’d driven all night.

The boys let the soft sound of her voice lull them just a bit, but neither of them slept. Dean reached his right hand between the seat and the side of the car and held onto Sam’s arm. Eventually the woman stopped talking and fell into an easy silence.

Reggie woke with a start.

Nothing in particular had woken him. No sound, no motion. Just…something was wrong.

The fire had gone out, and it was cold in the living room, but that wasn’t it.

He put his hand on his knife reflexively. The house was quiet, with morning light spilling in through the windows.

He looked around the room, unable to place his growing sense of unease.

Then he noticed something. After the boys came back in without a word the night before and locked themselves in their bedroom, a grim-faced Bobby had helped a distraught and stumbling John to his room. Before Reggie passed out on the couch, there had been a nearly full bottle of top-shelf bourbon on the side table.

It wasn’t there now.

The feeling of something being wrong was getting stronger.

Reggie stood up, and went upstairs. Bobby was snoring like a brigadier general. John’s door was ajar, and he was asleep, face down, still fully dressed.

Reggie tapped lightly on Sam and Dean’s door. “Hey y’all.”

No response.

He tried the door, expecting the knob to turn but the door to remain closed, with the deadbolt engaged from the other side.

The door swung open.

John was startled into panicked wakefulness by Reggie’s shout and fell out of bed.

Bobby came stomping down the hallway wearing an honest-to-god red flannel union suit, shotgun in his hands. “What is it? What is it?” He bellowed.

They found Reggie sitting on the empty bed, Sam’s note clutched in his hand.

John took it from him and read it. His fingers opened and the paper fell out. Bobby caught it before it hit the ground and read it.

Dad,

I had to go away for a little while. I need to figure some things out and I just can’t be around you or Bobby right now. When you’re done being mad, I think you’ll understand why. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be ok. Dean’s with me.

We’ll call you in a couple of days.

PS Tell Reggie we took our knives with us.

John ran down the stairs and outside, with Bobby and Reggie not far behind. Bosie came out from the motor home and laughed audibly at the sight of Bobby in his red flannel onesie, but the laughter soon faded as she saw the expressions on their faces.

“Did you see them?” Bosie was baffled. Zach came out and stood next to her. Big Lou heard the commotion and came out as well.

“See who?” Zach asked.

“The boys. They’re gone.”

Bosie turned pale.

“It was quiet. I didn’t see anything. You’re sure they’re gone? We’d have heard a car start up.” Zach looked horrified.

Bobby scanned the salvage yard. His face fell. “That’s because they didn’t take any of the vehicles.”

Reggie sucked air in through his teeth. “They just walked out? It was zero degrees last night.”

John shook his head in an unceasing motion. “All my fault. This is all my fault.”

“Come on, let’s get inside.”

John wouldn’t stop shaking his head.

“John. Inside. Coffee. Then we saddle up and go look for them.” Bobby

Big Lou had already sprung into motion, getting ready for the hunt.

Reggie closed his eyes. “We never had a chance to tell them what Spivey said.” Sam Winchester is not to be touched.

A bit after 11 am, Dean sat upright and tapped Sam’s shoulder. “Look!” It was the giant dinosaur on the side of the freeway. Not long after, Laura’s white sedan pulled into the Wall Drug parking lot.

“Here you go. You boys stay safe.” They piled out of the car and slung their duffels over their shoulder.

Dean grabbed Sam by the hand and pulled him forward. “Ok, first, breakfast. Then the T Rex. And then the Rock Shop?”

Sam couldn’t help but smile at Dean’s enthusiasm. On every road trip, every hunt, Dean practically begged to stop at the roadside attractions. He loved the Rock Shops with their glinting chunks of fool’s gold, the drive-through trees, the mystery spots and fiberglass dinosaurs. And John never let them. “Next time, son.” And there never was a next time.

So Sam was going to make sure Dean got all his roadside attraction hunger taken care of. He deserved it.

They ran for the Wall Drug Café, grinning like all the horrible events of the past month had never happened.

Nobody noticed the old woman with the face like an apple doll watching them run, eyes gone solid black, or see her slump over, a thick stream of black smoke pouring out of her mouth