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justinedelargeTitle: Sure Got a Dirty Mouth Chapter 67: He Ain't Heavy
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
justinedelarge
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Warning: Wincest, come play
Word Count: 5400
Disclaimer: I don't own what I don't own. But I do own what I do own, such as my original characters and my plot.
Summary: They bring Bobby into the Sanctuary. Sam experiences some fallout from his new expression of powers. Keeping the facade up in front of Bobby takes its toll on both Sam and Dean, bringing out Dean’s possessive side when they’re finally alone again. Reggie tends to an injured Bobby.
Master post of all chapters here
Inside the lobby, Reggie shifted Bobby in his grasp and tapped Dean on the shoulder. “Go ahead. Let ‘em know we’re coming.”
Dean gave Bobby a helpless look. Bobby smiled. “Go on. He’s got me.”
Dean jerked his head toward Sam to follow him and they ran ahead down the long hallway.
“I’ll yell at you later. Just don’t say anything in front of the others, wouldja?” Reggie kept his voice calm, but it was clear he was angry. “I don’t even know how we’re gonna play this one.”
Reggie’s mind was racing. What if Danny or Juliane made a comment about Sam and Dean being together? What if Bobby let it slip that he was their father’s friend, exposing their true relationship?
“Don’t worry about me,” Bobby groaned. “I’ll play dumb.”
~
Past the curtain of iron beads that hung right before the door leading into the common room, Dean stopped, holding onto Sam’s hand. The momentum pulled Sam around in a half circle and brought Sam staggering into his arms. He kissed Sam, quickly so Bobby couldn’t see. “You saved me,” he whispered. “Again.” Sam kissed Dean back, like he was suffocating and needed Dean’s lips on his like air. They both stiffened and stepped back from each other at the sound of Reggie and Bobby shuffling toward them down the hall.
Dean opened the outer door to the common room. It was still empty. They ran inside, boots thumping on the floor. “Hey! We need help!” Dean called out.
Juliane opened her bedroom door and emerged, still clad in her pajamas. Danny was right behind her, also still wearing pajamas. Sam and Dean pulled up short, looking surprised. Juliane ignored the looks, but her cheeks took on a hint of color. Danny ran his hand through his hair, looking flustered.
“A friend—another hunter—came here, but he got hurt, they hit him—“ Dean babbled, not sure how to say what happened, or how to introduce Bobby.
Reggie brought Bobby, bleeding and not putting much weight on his left leg, into the room. “This is Bobby. He’s with us.” Juliane came to him. “What happened?” She looked up at Reggie.
“Demons,” Reggie spat. “They didn’t want him to get in here to Sam and Dean. Rammed his car.”
“Oh, that’s not even the half of it.” Bobby muttered. Reggie, Sam and Dean stared at him, eyes wide. “I’ll fill you in later.”
Danny and Juliane exchanged a worried glance. “They did this to him to keep him out?” Danny rubbed his hands along his pajama bottoms, a gesture that betrayed his anxiety. “They’re… blockading us? Because of you guys?”
Sam flinched, a guilty look flashing across his face, a small reaction that only Dean noticed.
“You aren’t under siege,” Bobby said. “They just wanted to keep me away from these two. Keep me from helping them.”
Juliane snapped on a pair of latex gloves, and kept her focus on Bobby’s injuries. “We’ll talk about all that later. Let’s get you taken care of first.” She looked over her shoulder to Danny. “Help get him on the table.”
“I’d just as soon not be laid out like a Christmas turkey where you all eat,” Bobby protested. “I’m fine. Mostly. Just got a little cut on my head and banged up my knee.”
“Let me be the judge of how hurt you are. Table. Now.” She gestured to Danny and Dean, who cleared off the books and put a reluctant Bobby on the table.
Bobby looked up at Dean, taking in his stitches and the fading bruises on his face. “Hell, son. You look worse than I do.”
“You should have seen the other guys,” Dean quipped.
Bobby brought his hand to Dean’s right cheek. “Good to see you again, Dean.”
“Good to see you too, Bobby.” Dean gripped Bobby’s wrist.
Bobby turned his gaze to Sam, standing next to Dean. “Sam.” His face softened, and he reached for Sam’s hand. “How are you—ow!” He was interrupted by Juliane swabbing the blood from the cut on his forehead.
“Hold still, please.”
“You ok? Sam?” Bobby persisted. Sam swallowed hard and nodded his head yes. Bobby breathed a sigh of relief, and let go of Sam’s hand, patting it. His eyes dropped down, and he blinked as he noticed the ring on Sam’s finger, identical to the one Dean always wore.
Sam didn’t notice, as he was looking at Dean, standing just a few inches away but not touching him. He kept his face perfectly calm, but Dean wasn’t fooled. He turned toward Sam, blocking Bobby’s line of sight. “Sam?” He formed the word with his mouth but did not speak it.
Sam was paler than when he first entered the room. He nodded again, shoved his hands in his pockets, and took a step back from Dean, as though he was afraid to stand too close to him for fear of giving it all away, eyes darting to Bobby.
Reggie watched the entire exchange.
“I’m fine.” Sam’s voice was weak, with none of the command tone and strength he’d shown just moments before. His shoulders hunched forward, making him look young, vulnerable. Dean wanted nothing more than to take Sam in his arms, hold him tight, brush the hair out of his face, kiss him soft and sweet, ask him what he needed, say he’d get it, he’d do it, whatever.
But he couldn’t. There was Bobby, stretched out on the table, complaining about what Juliane was trying to do next. “Those are perfectly good jeans. You don’t need to cut ‘em up.”
Juliane held a pair of black-handled scissors in her hand.“But I need to look at that leg.”
Sam, who had walked into a clutch of demons and pulled Bobby to safety, who had just somehow shoved a demon away without touching him and saved Dean’s life, stood apart from the others, miserable and trembling. Unable to touch Dean.
Dean stood there, helpless, caught between Sam and a bleeding, wounded Bobby, not knowing what to do first.
Sam solved the dilemma for him. He swayed, eyes glazing over, and went down, legs folding under him like the string holding him up had been slashed. Dean caught him before he hit the ground. “Sammy? Sam!” He cradled Sam in his arms, bringing him safely to the floor, and grabbed Sam’s face. “Talk to me!” Sam did not respond.
Juliane grabbed a penlight from her desk and came to Sam. Reggie stepped in to mind Bobby. Juliane pressed her fingers against Sam’s carotid artery. “Pulse is steady.” She put her hand on his chest and established that he was breathing. “Sam. Can you hear me?” Sam did not respond. She shot a questioning look at Dean.
“He… he did something. One of them was about to use me for target practice. He stopped it. With… his mind.” Dean waved his left hand in the air, mimicking Sam’s motion.
“Sam moved the demon away without touching him,” Reggie clarified.
Bobby sat up on his elbows, mouth falling open in surprise.
“Telekinesis? Has he ever done anything like that before?” Juliane opened Sam’s eyelids one at a time and shone the light at them.
“No.” Dean would not let go of Sam.
“Pupils are equal and responsive.” Finally, Sam stirred, turning his head away from the light in his eyes.
“Sammy?” Dean’s voice was hoarse.
“Can you hear me?” Juliane gave Sam a sweet smile.
Sam blinked and tensed, disoriented, then focused on Dean. When he realized Dean had him, he relaxed visibly, going loose and trusting in his arms. Dean closed his eyes and blew out a long breath.
“What happened?”
“You passed out. What year is it?” Juliane watched Sam’s face to see the muscles worked the same on both sides.
“1998. Wait… 1999.” Sam smiled weakly.
Juliane finished checking Sam over. He confirmed that no body parts were tingling and that his vision wasn’t blurry.
“Is he ok?” Dean’s eyes pleaded with Juliane to say yes.
Juliane helped Sam sit up. “He’ll be fine. He’s just depleted. What happened out there took a lot out of him. He needs to rest and refuel.” Dean rubbed his hand over his face, careful to avoid his stitches. Juliane rose to her feet, peeled off her gloves, and went to the kitchen. She came back with a bar of dark chocolate. “Take him back to your place. Get him to eat this. All of it. Give him something warm and sweet to drink and get him to lie down and sleep if he can. We’ll take care of your friend. ”
Dean helped Sam to his feet, pulled Sam’s arm over his shoulders and held onto his wrist, his other arm wrapped around Sam’s back and gripping him at the waist, holding him up on his unsteady feet.
Bobby nodded at both of them. “I’m ornery. I’ll be alright. Go take care of Sam.” His expression changed into something Dean didn’t know how to read. “Take as much time as you need. You come find me when you’re both up to talking.”
Dean scrutinized Bobby’s face, trying to read it.
“I didn’t dodge demons for 800 miles because I had some kind of time-sensitive message to give you. I came because there’s something going down, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let—“ Bobby stopped himself from calling them his boys. “—you two face it without me next to you giving ‘em hell.”
Sam, pale, exhausted and barely able to stand even with Dean’s support, leaned in and put his palm on Bobby’s chest, on his blood-spattered flannel shirt. Bloodied in his quest to get to them. To Sam. Sam squeezed his eyes shut. Bobby had gotten hurt because of him, risking himself to protect him. Could have died, because of him. He stayed there, swaying on his feet. “You’re a good man.” He patted Bobby’s chest.
Bobby put his hand over Sam’s and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping no one would see him cry. “Go get some rest. Go.” With his eyes, he said thank you.
Dean walked Sam out the door, Sam slumped forward and hanging off Dean.
~
Juliane went back to Bobby and took his hand. “So. Here’s the part where we do the formalities. Do you want sanctuary?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bobby said emphatically.
“Ok. Then I need you to do what I say, so I can help you.” She glanced at his legs. “If you don’t want me taking the scissors to those? Get your pants off.”
Bobby debated making a joke about it being a long time since a pretty woman said that to him, but he got the distinct feeling that a comment like that would be disrespectful. Instead, his face turned red.
“What, it’s been a while since someone said that to you?” Juliane winked.
Bobby just blushed deeper, and he scrabbled with clumsy hands to unbuckle his belt.
~
As soon as they were in the hallway, Dean stuffed the chocolate bar in his back pocket of his jeans, and hefted Sam in his arms. He protested weakly. “Dean. I can walk.”
“Shhh. I got you.” Sam let his head fall against Dean’s neck. Dean carried Sam down the hall and over the threshold into their apartment. He brought Sam to the couch and laid him down. Sam’s arms were suddenly around him, holding him tight. Dean stroked Sam’s hair, gripping him as tightly as he could without hurting Sam.
“I can’t stand it.” Having to pretend. Sam didn’t have to explain himself. Dean understood.
“Me neither.” He kissed Sam’s neck, his cheeks, his forehead. “You’re mine. My Sammy.”
Sam shook in his arms, the after-effect of the adrenaline that flooded him when he faced the demons. “Dean,” he whispered. And again. “Dean.”
“Never gonna let you go, Sam.”
Sam shook harder. “What if I hadn’t—“
“But you did.” Dean pulled back. “What you did. To save me. I—“ Dean was at a loss for words. He pressed his forehead to Sam’s.
“I’d have been all alone, Dean.” With the whole world full of friends, family and allies, none of it would have mattered to Sam. Without Dean, he was alone.
“Never gonna happen, Sam. I’m not leaving you.”
Sam shivered. Dean squeezed his hand. “Hang on.” He ran to the bedroom and came back with a pillow and a blanket. He settled the pillow behind Sam’s head and draped the blanket over him. He tore open the chocolate bar, paper wrapper making a crisp hiss, peeled back the foil and snapped off a small square.
“I’m not hungry.” Sam pursed his lips together.
“Work with me here. You need it.”
Sam’s brow furrowed in frustration. Dean closed his eyes, nodding, understanding suddenly. Sam had just gotten better, functional, and he was back to being helpless like a child again, even if only for a little bit. And Sam didn’t like it.
Dean put the square of chocolate between his teeth, bent down, and insinuated the outer edge between Sam’s lips. “Mm-mm,” he murmured. Open.
Sam’s lips parted almost without volition. Dean slipped the square of chocolate into Sam’s mouth, chasing it with his tongue, making sure it went all the way in. Their teeth clicked together.
Sam made a soft sound of pleasure, and slid his hands up Dean’s arms to rest on his shoulders. They kissed, chocolate softening, melting on his tongue. Dean pushed the square deeper into Sam’s mouth. “Swallow it.”
Sam reached his hands around to press against Dean’s back, and swallowed, throat muscles working. Dean licked the taste of chocolate from the roof of Sam’s mouth.
Sam laughed. “That tickles.”
“Come on, Sammy. Open up.” Dean snapped off another square. “Gotta feed you this whole thing. Doctor’s orders.” He set the chocolate between his lips and bent over Sam once more.
He fed Sam the entire bar, piece by piece. By the time Sam swallowed the last of it, they were both gripping each other’s flannel shirts, panting into each other’s mouths. Dean held Sam’s cheeks in his hands and kissed him harder, not caring about opening his lip back up. “Mine.” Dean nipped Sam’s lower lip, his jaw line. “You’re mine.”
Sam’s breath came faster, but his eyelids were heavy. “Dean. I want to. But I’m so tired.”
Dean sat back immediately. “You want to stop? We can stop. Or do you want me to do all the work?”
At the second suggestion, Sam smiled.
Dean had his hands on Sam’s belt before he took in his next breath, buckle clinking as he undid it, and had him undone and in his hands, heavy and hard.
He looked down, hefting the weight of it. “Mine.”
Sam’s cock jumped in his hands. “Yours,” he breathed.
Hearing Sam’s response, Dean’s mouth twitched. “Fuckin’ mine.” He slid his hand slowly along Sam’s length.
“Dean. I gotta… you have to go faster. I can’t…” Sam was torn between wanting Dean and desperately needing to close his eyes and sleep.
Dean ran into the bedroom and came back with the bottle of massage oil Sam had picked up at the grocery store. Sam was still awake, laying across the length of the couch, his need for Dean keeping him hanging on. Barely.
Dean stripped off his shoes and undid his pants. He eyed Sam on the couch, calculating, and shrugged. He pulled off his jeans and underwear, and tugged his shirt off. He straddled Sam, who remained completely clothed with just his cock free.
Sam moaned at the sight and feel of Dean, completely naked, thighs stretched open over him. Dean drizzled massage oil into the palm of his hand and slicked up Sam’s cock, then his own. “Who do you belong to?” He rubbed his thumb over his initials on Sam’s lower abdomen.
“You.”
“’S right, baby boy. I marked you. And I’m not giving you up. Not for anything.” He pumped his hips, gripping their cocks with both hands, holding them together, undersides rubbing against each other. Sam gasped. Dean gritted his teeth, trying not to come on the spot.
“Dean…” Sam’s eyelashes fluttered. He rested his hand lightly on Dean’s arm. He tried to move his hips to help, but Dean steadied him.
“Just lie there. I’ll take care of you.” Dean kicked it into gear. “I want you to come for me, Sammy. Fast and hard. Fast as you can. Can you do that for me?” He pumped his hips faster, sliding his oil-slicked cock along Sam’s, not using his hands now. He pressed his palms down on the pillow on either side of Sam’s face, and licked into his mouth, soft and silken and tasting of chocolate. Sam’s hands slid down Dean’s back, caressed his ass, stroked the backs of his thighs, rose back up his flanks, drifting along his sides to his ribs, touching him, reveling in the touch of his bare skin, moving ceaselessly over Dean’s nakedness, moaning into his mouth.
And Dean loved it, loved his nakedness against Sam’s clothing, loved how wanton and needy it made him feel. “Mine,” he whispered again, needing to claim Sam, needing it so bad he would have branded Property of Dean Winchester on Sam’s chest in that moment if Sam would have let him.
“Always,” Sam whispered.
“Come for me, Sammy.” Dean rubbed against Sam faster. “Come on my cock. Get it all wet.”
Sam blew out a shuddering breath, hands clutching at Dean’s ass, and he did it, did what Dean told him, came for him, the first droplets of come blurting out, coming right against Dean’s cock, warm and wet. “Yeah, Sammy. Come all over me.” Dean talked Sam through his orgasm, sliding his shaft against Sam’s, making sure Sam came all over his cock.
Sam chanted Dean’s name, shivering like electricity was snapping through him. Dean rubbed against him, bringing himself off, but he saw Sam wince as the contact became too much for him, as he became hypersensitive after orgasm.
Sam tugged at Dean, urging him to move up. “In my mouth,” he said softly.
Dean swore and moved up, settling his knees alongside Sam’s chest, feeding Sam his cock. Sam suckled on the head eagerly, looking up at Dean, those big hazel eyes wide, taking Dean in his mouth, moaning at the taste of his own come on Dean’s cock, sucking it off, sucking Dean clean.
“Ah. Ah. Jesus. Sam. Sammy…” Dean slapped his palm on the wall right behind the couch, gripped Sam’s long hair with his other hand, and shivered and bucked, flooding Sam’s mouth.
Sam swallowed it all except for a rivulet that leaked out of the corner of his mouth. Dean slid back down, holding Sam’s face still, rubbing his thumb against his jaw, drinking in the pleasure and love in Sam’s eyes, the gleaming streak of come on his cheek. “So beautiful,” he breathed. Leaning in, he licked the droplets of fluid from Sam’s face, scooping it up on his tongue. Sam opened his mouth, urged Dean closer with the pressure of his hands, urged to do it. Dean fed the last drops of his come to Sam. He moaned as his tongue entered Sam’s mouth, tasting himself and Sam and that dark, sweet chocolate. They licked the taste out of each other’s mouths, sharing it all, nothing taboo or dirty between them, everything made pure by the love underlying it all.
Dean kissed Sam until his eyes fluttered shut, his hands falling to his side, finally succumbing to his desperate need for sleep. And then he kissed him once more. He slid down onto the couch, wriggled back into his clothes, always keeping one hand on Sam, and sat cross-legged on the floor, holding onto Sam’s hand as he slept.
~
Sam slept like a dead man for two hours straight, not moving or even snoring. Dean finally roused himself to use the room, and get a giant bowl of chocolate pudding. He inhaled the entire thing in minutes, and was still hungry.
When Sam awoke, he was ravenous.
Dean had never seen Sam that hungry. He went straight for the chocolate pinwheel cookies, inhaling four of the fat, chocolate-coated marshmallow cookies. Then he ate an entire can of smoked oysters with half a box of Stoned Wheat Thins, and half a can of jumbo black olives (Dean eating the other half), along with two cans of ginger ale. When he started gnawing on a stick of salami, Dean stepped in. “Maybe some actual food?” He made pastrami sandwiches on rye, with the fancy beer mustard he’d picked out himself, piled high with meat, Swiss cheese, onions and lettuce. Sam ate his quickly, along with another ginger ale. Dean downed his with a 7-Up.
Dean whipped up a saucepot full of hot chocolate, and that finally slowed Sam down. He drank the first mug all and asked for seconds. Dean obliged. That finally satiated the bottomless pit of Sam’s stomach. He emitted a loud burp and patted his distended stomach.
“Gotta say, Sam, even I’m impressed.”
“I was really hungry.” Sam looked a little embarrassed.
“It’s ok, Sam.” Dean softened. “Guess that took a lot out of you. What you did.”
Sam looked down at the table.
“What?’
Sam could barely meet Dean’s gaze.
“Look, after everything we’ve seen? So you could move something with your mind. So what?”
“So what? Dean, I… that’s not normal!”
“No. But what part of our lives is normal? When has it ever been normal?”
Sam braced his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands.
“Dude. I’m grateful you’re not normal. Stopped that fucker from playing pin the tail on the donkey with me, right?”
Sam nodded, but he didn’t seem comforted.
Dean stopped talking and just looked at Sam’s face. He thought, and watched Sam.
“You’re not a freak.”
Sam jumped like Dean had read his thoughts.
“Look. We’ve seen it. Read about it. Heard about it. No one knows why, but there’s some weird shit out there. Demons. Vampires. Ghouls. And there’s some weird shit out there that’s good. That helps people. Psychics. People who can do things. Like…well, like you.”
“But why me, Dean? You can’t do this stuff.”
“How do we know?” Dean puffed his chest out a little. “Maybe I’m a late bloomer.”
That got Sam laughing.
“You’re not a freak, Sam. You’re not a monster. It’s just like you’ve got six toes or a tail.”
“You wish I had a tail.”
Dean frowned, then his face got stuck on his I’m thinking setting. His eyebrows went up and he pursed his lips, cocking his head to the side. “Actually…”
“Ok, you’re the one who’s not normal.”
“Come on. You love it.”
Sam smiled. “Yeah I do.”
“See?” Dean slapped Sam’s back. “You just made my point for me.” He grabbed two beers out of the refrigerator, popped the caps, and slid one across the kitchen table to Sam. “Drink up. We gotta go talk to Bobby.”
Sam’s face fell. He reached for Dean, twining his fingers in his belt loop, pulling him close. Dean bent down and kissed the top of Sam’s head, resting his left hand on Sam’s shoulder.
“I don’t know if I can do it.”
“Do what?”
“Hide.” He gestured with his hand between them. “This.”
“I know.”
“Wanna run away with me? We could join the circus. Change our names. I’m sure I’ve got skills they could use.” Sam’s smile was sad.
“It’ll be ok, Sam.”
“I mean it.” Sam was suddenly clutching at Dean’s shirt. “I don’t want to live the kind of life where I have to pretend this isn’t happening. Dean. I don’t. I can’t.”
“You don’t have to. We don’t have to.”
Sam’s head rocked back, and he looked at Dean like he’d just called Sam stupid.
“It’ll be ok, Sam. I promise. We’ll be ok.”
Sam blinked rapidly, then nodded his head in that resigned way he had when faced with something bad that he didn’t think he deserved to have go a different way.
You’ll see. It’ll be ok, Dean stroked Sam’s hair, and took a deep pull on his beer, steeling himself for what was to come.
~
Juliane finished with Bobby.“My best guess is nothing’s broken, but I’d feel a lot better if you had a proper medical evaluation in a hospital.”
“That’s not an option. We’re not taking him out of here. No telling if we could get him back in.” Reggie turned back around, now that Bobby had pulled his jeans back on over his Betadine-swabbed, bandage-wrapped knee.
Bobby patted gingerly at the bandaged cut over his left eyebrow.
“Here.” Juliane passed Bobby a small bottle. “You’re a grown man. You know the drill. You can drink, or you can take pain pills, but you can’t do both.”
“Yes ma’am. Thank you.”
“I’d like him to stay in my room. At least at first.” Reggie came back from the kitchen with two glasses of water.
“That’s smart. Easier to keep an eye on him.”
Bobby took his glass of water and swallowed a pain pill, then pocketed the bottle.
Reggie eyed Bobbie sidelong. “Do I have to wake him up every hour?”
Juliane shook her head. “Medical myth.”
“Good.” Reggie’s voice was grit and gravel, but warm.
“Anyway, he doesn’t show any signs of a concussion so far. His pupils react normally, he’s not confused, and other than that knee and being banged up, he walks fine.” She smiled at Bobby. “Sleep is the best thing for you right now, actually.” She fussed with her ponytail, and turned her attention to Reggie. “Just to be safe though, when he wakes up, ask him his name, what year it is, something like that. If he makes sense, that’s good. If he’s confused, come get me.”
Reggie nodded, and helped Bobby to his feet. “Thank you.”
“Yes, thank you,” Bobby added. “I’m more grateful than I can say.” He eyed the library. “Is that…Erlandsdottir’s Compendium Daemonii?”
Danny’s eyebrows shot up. “The translation. You’ve heard of it?”
“I have the companion text.”
“The one by—“
“Gideon Bohak.” They both spoke at the same time.
“I’d love to see that.” Danny smiled, and went to put his hands in his pockets, then realized he was still wearing his pajamas.
“I was about to say the same thing about yours.”
“You can borrow it. Any of these books.” Juliane gestured. “That’s what they’re here for.”
“Do you have any works on, um… apocalyptic prophecy?” Bobby sucked his teeth nervously.
Danny tilted his head, the worry surging again. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“You shouldn’t.”
Juliane chimed in.”I think we have a few things. I’ll pull a few books for you. If you promise to go get some sleep and get off your feet.”
“I’d like that.” Bobby reached for the compendium in Danny’s hands, but Juliane laid her hand over his, gently stopping him.
“If I let you take that with you, you’ll just start reading it, and won’t get any sleep at all.”
Reggie reached for the book. “I’ll hold onto it, and make sure he takes a nice nap first, after some warm milk.” Bobbie gave him a look. Reggie’s mustache twitched.
Bobby let Reggie put his arm around him and walk him to the door. “Thank you again,” Bobby called over his shoulder as they left.
The room finally empty, Juliane turned to Danny and put her arms around him. “I’m scared.” Her voice was soft, but not weak. “I’m really scared.”
“We’re safe. Nothing can get to us in here.” Danny kept the fear out of his voice.
She took a deep breath, and squeezed him tighter. “I’m not scared for us. I’m scared for everyone out there.”
~
Bobby resisted when Reggie made it clear he intended for Bobby to take the bed, but Reggie would have none of it. “We both know sleeping on a damn couch when you’re beat to hell just gives you a stiff neck.”
Bobby pointed toward the recliner. “That’s what I need. Keep my knee bent a little. Besides, the best sleep I ever got was in a recliner.”
Reggie relented.
“Hey, could you do me a big favor and get my stuff out of the car?”
Reggie nodded. He got Bobby settled on the recliner and loped down the hall, through the common room where Danny (now wearing regular clothes) joined him and down the sigil-festooned passageway. When he emerged into the cold air of the parking lot, the bell on the glass door jangled, startling him. Behind him, Danny flipped a switch, turning on the No Vacancy light. He did not see any demons outside the salt line. None at all. Still, he shivered, and not from the cold, as they hauled Bobby’s bags from the battered Chevelle and brought them inside.
Back in the security of the Sanctuary, Reggie insisted that Bobby put on clean, soft, non-bloody clothes. Bobby made him leave the room, and swore like a sailor with a scorching case of herpes as he tried to wrestle himself out of his outfit.
“Just…shut up.” Reggie came back in the room and took the flannel pajama bottoms away from Bobby. “Sit your ass down.”
Bobby braced his arms on the recliner and lowered himself into it.
Reggie pulled his boots off, and tugged at the right leg of Bobby’s jeans. Bobby tensed up. “For Christ’s sake, Bobby, it’s not like I’m going to be powerless to resist your masculine charms.”
Bobby rolled his eyes. “It’s not that. I just don’t like people seeing me in my underwear.” His mouth worked for a moment. “It’s a matter of dignity.”
“You can be dignified in your pajamas in a minute, if you’ll just stop fighting.”
Bobby allowed Reggie to remove his pants and put his pajama bottoms on, carefully tugging them up Bobby’s stark-white thighs while turning his head to the side and looking away, trying to preserve Bobby’s dignity. He struggled to pull them over Bobby’s hips, tugging hard as Bobby tried to raise his butt up to give Reggie room to work. Reggie swore and yanked, and finally started laughing, cheekbone pushing hard against Bobby’s shoulder.
Bobby snorted, and then erupted in a full body laugh that sputtered into cries of “Ow, my neck, dammit to hell,” and more helpless laughter.
Ultimately, Reggie got the pajamas all the way up. “Alright,” he rumbled. “Time for the top half.”
Bobby went to pull his t-shirt off, but winced, muscles in his back already stiffening up from the shock of the impact. He muttered, “Balls,” and raised his arms up so Reggie could take the shirt off for him.
When he was finally dressed again, Reggie brought him a blanket and a glass of water. “Unless you really do want warm milk.”
“I’m not too old and broken to kick your ass.”
Reggie smiled. “I’d truly love to see you try.” He lay the blanket over Bobby.
Bobby took a drink, and blew out a sigh, as the pain medication began to take effect. “I do have masculine charms. For the record.”
Reggie raised a single eyebrow.
“Gay men love me, I’ll have you know.” Bobby nodded emphatically.
Reggie sat on the couch and took a deep drink of whiskey from the half-full tumbler he’d left on the coffee table.
“I believe they call me…a bear.”
Reggie spit his whiskey out in a fine spray.
“It’s a thing.” Bobby nodded knowingly. “Bears.”
Reggie coughed until his lungs cleared, and put his palm over his forehead.
Bobby set his water glass down on the coffee table. “As you know, I’ve never been attracted to men, myself. Especially…what are they…cubs?”
Reggie choked.
“But it’s nice to be appreciated.” Bobby’s voice was slurred.
“You should get some sleep. Papa Bear,” Reggie intoned.
Bobby smacked his lips. “I do believe you’re razzing me.”
“I might be. Now go to sleep.”
Bobby’s eyes had already closed.
Reggie took Bobby’s ball cap off and set it on the coffee table. “Glad you’re ok, old man.” He put his feet up, picked up the Compendium Daemonii and began to read.
Author:
justinedelargeFandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Warning: Wincest, come play
Word Count: 5400
Disclaimer: I don't own what I don't own. But I do own what I do own, such as my original characters and my plot.
Summary: They bring Bobby into the Sanctuary. Sam experiences some fallout from his new expression of powers. Keeping the facade up in front of Bobby takes its toll on both Sam and Dean, bringing out Dean’s possessive side when they’re finally alone again. Reggie tends to an injured Bobby.
Master post of all chapters here
Inside the lobby, Reggie shifted Bobby in his grasp and tapped Dean on the shoulder. “Go ahead. Let ‘em know we’re coming.”
Dean gave Bobby a helpless look. Bobby smiled. “Go on. He’s got me.”
Dean jerked his head toward Sam to follow him and they ran ahead down the long hallway.
“I’ll yell at you later. Just don’t say anything in front of the others, wouldja?” Reggie kept his voice calm, but it was clear he was angry. “I don’t even know how we’re gonna play this one.”
Reggie’s mind was racing. What if Danny or Juliane made a comment about Sam and Dean being together? What if Bobby let it slip that he was their father’s friend, exposing their true relationship?
“Don’t worry about me,” Bobby groaned. “I’ll play dumb.”
~
Past the curtain of iron beads that hung right before the door leading into the common room, Dean stopped, holding onto Sam’s hand. The momentum pulled Sam around in a half circle and brought Sam staggering into his arms. He kissed Sam, quickly so Bobby couldn’t see. “You saved me,” he whispered. “Again.” Sam kissed Dean back, like he was suffocating and needed Dean’s lips on his like air. They both stiffened and stepped back from each other at the sound of Reggie and Bobby shuffling toward them down the hall.
Dean opened the outer door to the common room. It was still empty. They ran inside, boots thumping on the floor. “Hey! We need help!” Dean called out.
Juliane opened her bedroom door and emerged, still clad in her pajamas. Danny was right behind her, also still wearing pajamas. Sam and Dean pulled up short, looking surprised. Juliane ignored the looks, but her cheeks took on a hint of color. Danny ran his hand through his hair, looking flustered.
“A friend—another hunter—came here, but he got hurt, they hit him—“ Dean babbled, not sure how to say what happened, or how to introduce Bobby.
Reggie brought Bobby, bleeding and not putting much weight on his left leg, into the room. “This is Bobby. He’s with us.” Juliane came to him. “What happened?” She looked up at Reggie.
“Demons,” Reggie spat. “They didn’t want him to get in here to Sam and Dean. Rammed his car.”
“Oh, that’s not even the half of it.” Bobby muttered. Reggie, Sam and Dean stared at him, eyes wide. “I’ll fill you in later.”
Danny and Juliane exchanged a worried glance. “They did this to him to keep him out?” Danny rubbed his hands along his pajama bottoms, a gesture that betrayed his anxiety. “They’re… blockading us? Because of you guys?”
Sam flinched, a guilty look flashing across his face, a small reaction that only Dean noticed.
“You aren’t under siege,” Bobby said. “They just wanted to keep me away from these two. Keep me from helping them.”
Juliane snapped on a pair of latex gloves, and kept her focus on Bobby’s injuries. “We’ll talk about all that later. Let’s get you taken care of first.” She looked over her shoulder to Danny. “Help get him on the table.”
“I’d just as soon not be laid out like a Christmas turkey where you all eat,” Bobby protested. “I’m fine. Mostly. Just got a little cut on my head and banged up my knee.”
“Let me be the judge of how hurt you are. Table. Now.” She gestured to Danny and Dean, who cleared off the books and put a reluctant Bobby on the table.
Bobby looked up at Dean, taking in his stitches and the fading bruises on his face. “Hell, son. You look worse than I do.”
“You should have seen the other guys,” Dean quipped.
Bobby brought his hand to Dean’s right cheek. “Good to see you again, Dean.”
“Good to see you too, Bobby.” Dean gripped Bobby’s wrist.
Bobby turned his gaze to Sam, standing next to Dean. “Sam.” His face softened, and he reached for Sam’s hand. “How are you—ow!” He was interrupted by Juliane swabbing the blood from the cut on his forehead.
“Hold still, please.”
“You ok? Sam?” Bobby persisted. Sam swallowed hard and nodded his head yes. Bobby breathed a sigh of relief, and let go of Sam’s hand, patting it. His eyes dropped down, and he blinked as he noticed the ring on Sam’s finger, identical to the one Dean always wore.
Sam didn’t notice, as he was looking at Dean, standing just a few inches away but not touching him. He kept his face perfectly calm, but Dean wasn’t fooled. He turned toward Sam, blocking Bobby’s line of sight. “Sam?” He formed the word with his mouth but did not speak it.
Sam was paler than when he first entered the room. He nodded again, shoved his hands in his pockets, and took a step back from Dean, as though he was afraid to stand too close to him for fear of giving it all away, eyes darting to Bobby.
Reggie watched the entire exchange.
“I’m fine.” Sam’s voice was weak, with none of the command tone and strength he’d shown just moments before. His shoulders hunched forward, making him look young, vulnerable. Dean wanted nothing more than to take Sam in his arms, hold him tight, brush the hair out of his face, kiss him soft and sweet, ask him what he needed, say he’d get it, he’d do it, whatever.
But he couldn’t. There was Bobby, stretched out on the table, complaining about what Juliane was trying to do next. “Those are perfectly good jeans. You don’t need to cut ‘em up.”
Juliane held a pair of black-handled scissors in her hand.“But I need to look at that leg.”
Sam, who had walked into a clutch of demons and pulled Bobby to safety, who had just somehow shoved a demon away without touching him and saved Dean’s life, stood apart from the others, miserable and trembling. Unable to touch Dean.
Dean stood there, helpless, caught between Sam and a bleeding, wounded Bobby, not knowing what to do first.
Sam solved the dilemma for him. He swayed, eyes glazing over, and went down, legs folding under him like the string holding him up had been slashed. Dean caught him before he hit the ground. “Sammy? Sam!” He cradled Sam in his arms, bringing him safely to the floor, and grabbed Sam’s face. “Talk to me!” Sam did not respond.
Juliane grabbed a penlight from her desk and came to Sam. Reggie stepped in to mind Bobby. Juliane pressed her fingers against Sam’s carotid artery. “Pulse is steady.” She put her hand on his chest and established that he was breathing. “Sam. Can you hear me?” Sam did not respond. She shot a questioning look at Dean.
“He… he did something. One of them was about to use me for target practice. He stopped it. With… his mind.” Dean waved his left hand in the air, mimicking Sam’s motion.
“Sam moved the demon away without touching him,” Reggie clarified.
Bobby sat up on his elbows, mouth falling open in surprise.
“Telekinesis? Has he ever done anything like that before?” Juliane opened Sam’s eyelids one at a time and shone the light at them.
“No.” Dean would not let go of Sam.
“Pupils are equal and responsive.” Finally, Sam stirred, turning his head away from the light in his eyes.
“Sammy?” Dean’s voice was hoarse.
“Can you hear me?” Juliane gave Sam a sweet smile.
Sam blinked and tensed, disoriented, then focused on Dean. When he realized Dean had him, he relaxed visibly, going loose and trusting in his arms. Dean closed his eyes and blew out a long breath.
“What happened?”
“You passed out. What year is it?” Juliane watched Sam’s face to see the muscles worked the same on both sides.
“1998. Wait… 1999.” Sam smiled weakly.
Juliane finished checking Sam over. He confirmed that no body parts were tingling and that his vision wasn’t blurry.
“Is he ok?” Dean’s eyes pleaded with Juliane to say yes.
Juliane helped Sam sit up. “He’ll be fine. He’s just depleted. What happened out there took a lot out of him. He needs to rest and refuel.” Dean rubbed his hand over his face, careful to avoid his stitches. Juliane rose to her feet, peeled off her gloves, and went to the kitchen. She came back with a bar of dark chocolate. “Take him back to your place. Get him to eat this. All of it. Give him something warm and sweet to drink and get him to lie down and sleep if he can. We’ll take care of your friend. ”
Dean helped Sam to his feet, pulled Sam’s arm over his shoulders and held onto his wrist, his other arm wrapped around Sam’s back and gripping him at the waist, holding him up on his unsteady feet.
Bobby nodded at both of them. “I’m ornery. I’ll be alright. Go take care of Sam.” His expression changed into something Dean didn’t know how to read. “Take as much time as you need. You come find me when you’re both up to talking.”
Dean scrutinized Bobby’s face, trying to read it.
“I didn’t dodge demons for 800 miles because I had some kind of time-sensitive message to give you. I came because there’s something going down, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let—“ Bobby stopped himself from calling them his boys. “—you two face it without me next to you giving ‘em hell.”
Sam, pale, exhausted and barely able to stand even with Dean’s support, leaned in and put his palm on Bobby’s chest, on his blood-spattered flannel shirt. Bloodied in his quest to get to them. To Sam. Sam squeezed his eyes shut. Bobby had gotten hurt because of him, risking himself to protect him. Could have died, because of him. He stayed there, swaying on his feet. “You’re a good man.” He patted Bobby’s chest.
Bobby put his hand over Sam’s and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping no one would see him cry. “Go get some rest. Go.” With his eyes, he said thank you.
Dean walked Sam out the door, Sam slumped forward and hanging off Dean.
~
Juliane went back to Bobby and took his hand. “So. Here’s the part where we do the formalities. Do you want sanctuary?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bobby said emphatically.
“Ok. Then I need you to do what I say, so I can help you.” She glanced at his legs. “If you don’t want me taking the scissors to those? Get your pants off.”
Bobby debated making a joke about it being a long time since a pretty woman said that to him, but he got the distinct feeling that a comment like that would be disrespectful. Instead, his face turned red.
“What, it’s been a while since someone said that to you?” Juliane winked.
Bobby just blushed deeper, and he scrabbled with clumsy hands to unbuckle his belt.
~
As soon as they were in the hallway, Dean stuffed the chocolate bar in his back pocket of his jeans, and hefted Sam in his arms. He protested weakly. “Dean. I can walk.”
“Shhh. I got you.” Sam let his head fall against Dean’s neck. Dean carried Sam down the hall and over the threshold into their apartment. He brought Sam to the couch and laid him down. Sam’s arms were suddenly around him, holding him tight. Dean stroked Sam’s hair, gripping him as tightly as he could without hurting Sam.
“I can’t stand it.” Having to pretend. Sam didn’t have to explain himself. Dean understood.
“Me neither.” He kissed Sam’s neck, his cheeks, his forehead. “You’re mine. My Sammy.”
Sam shook in his arms, the after-effect of the adrenaline that flooded him when he faced the demons. “Dean,” he whispered. And again. “Dean.”
“Never gonna let you go, Sam.”
Sam shook harder. “What if I hadn’t—“
“But you did.” Dean pulled back. “What you did. To save me. I—“ Dean was at a loss for words. He pressed his forehead to Sam’s.
“I’d have been all alone, Dean.” With the whole world full of friends, family and allies, none of it would have mattered to Sam. Without Dean, he was alone.
“Never gonna happen, Sam. I’m not leaving you.”
Sam shivered. Dean squeezed his hand. “Hang on.” He ran to the bedroom and came back with a pillow and a blanket. He settled the pillow behind Sam’s head and draped the blanket over him. He tore open the chocolate bar, paper wrapper making a crisp hiss, peeled back the foil and snapped off a small square.
“I’m not hungry.” Sam pursed his lips together.
“Work with me here. You need it.”
Sam’s brow furrowed in frustration. Dean closed his eyes, nodding, understanding suddenly. Sam had just gotten better, functional, and he was back to being helpless like a child again, even if only for a little bit. And Sam didn’t like it.
Dean put the square of chocolate between his teeth, bent down, and insinuated the outer edge between Sam’s lips. “Mm-mm,” he murmured. Open.
Sam’s lips parted almost without volition. Dean slipped the square of chocolate into Sam’s mouth, chasing it with his tongue, making sure it went all the way in. Their teeth clicked together.
Sam made a soft sound of pleasure, and slid his hands up Dean’s arms to rest on his shoulders. They kissed, chocolate softening, melting on his tongue. Dean pushed the square deeper into Sam’s mouth. “Swallow it.”
Sam reached his hands around to press against Dean’s back, and swallowed, throat muscles working. Dean licked the taste of chocolate from the roof of Sam’s mouth.
Sam laughed. “That tickles.”
“Come on, Sammy. Open up.” Dean snapped off another square. “Gotta feed you this whole thing. Doctor’s orders.” He set the chocolate between his lips and bent over Sam once more.
He fed Sam the entire bar, piece by piece. By the time Sam swallowed the last of it, they were both gripping each other’s flannel shirts, panting into each other’s mouths. Dean held Sam’s cheeks in his hands and kissed him harder, not caring about opening his lip back up. “Mine.” Dean nipped Sam’s lower lip, his jaw line. “You’re mine.”
Sam’s breath came faster, but his eyelids were heavy. “Dean. I want to. But I’m so tired.”
Dean sat back immediately. “You want to stop? We can stop. Or do you want me to do all the work?”
At the second suggestion, Sam smiled.
Dean had his hands on Sam’s belt before he took in his next breath, buckle clinking as he undid it, and had him undone and in his hands, heavy and hard.
He looked down, hefting the weight of it. “Mine.”
Sam’s cock jumped in his hands. “Yours,” he breathed.
Hearing Sam’s response, Dean’s mouth twitched. “Fuckin’ mine.” He slid his hand slowly along Sam’s length.
“Dean. I gotta… you have to go faster. I can’t…” Sam was torn between wanting Dean and desperately needing to close his eyes and sleep.
Dean ran into the bedroom and came back with the bottle of massage oil Sam had picked up at the grocery store. Sam was still awake, laying across the length of the couch, his need for Dean keeping him hanging on. Barely.
Dean stripped off his shoes and undid his pants. He eyed Sam on the couch, calculating, and shrugged. He pulled off his jeans and underwear, and tugged his shirt off. He straddled Sam, who remained completely clothed with just his cock free.
Sam moaned at the sight and feel of Dean, completely naked, thighs stretched open over him. Dean drizzled massage oil into the palm of his hand and slicked up Sam’s cock, then his own. “Who do you belong to?” He rubbed his thumb over his initials on Sam’s lower abdomen.
“You.”
“’S right, baby boy. I marked you. And I’m not giving you up. Not for anything.” He pumped his hips, gripping their cocks with both hands, holding them together, undersides rubbing against each other. Sam gasped. Dean gritted his teeth, trying not to come on the spot.
“Dean…” Sam’s eyelashes fluttered. He rested his hand lightly on Dean’s arm. He tried to move his hips to help, but Dean steadied him.
“Just lie there. I’ll take care of you.” Dean kicked it into gear. “I want you to come for me, Sammy. Fast and hard. Fast as you can. Can you do that for me?” He pumped his hips faster, sliding his oil-slicked cock along Sam’s, not using his hands now. He pressed his palms down on the pillow on either side of Sam’s face, and licked into his mouth, soft and silken and tasting of chocolate. Sam’s hands slid down Dean’s back, caressed his ass, stroked the backs of his thighs, rose back up his flanks, drifting along his sides to his ribs, touching him, reveling in the touch of his bare skin, moving ceaselessly over Dean’s nakedness, moaning into his mouth.
And Dean loved it, loved his nakedness against Sam’s clothing, loved how wanton and needy it made him feel. “Mine,” he whispered again, needing to claim Sam, needing it so bad he would have branded Property of Dean Winchester on Sam’s chest in that moment if Sam would have let him.
“Always,” Sam whispered.
“Come for me, Sammy.” Dean rubbed against Sam faster. “Come on my cock. Get it all wet.”
Sam blew out a shuddering breath, hands clutching at Dean’s ass, and he did it, did what Dean told him, came for him, the first droplets of come blurting out, coming right against Dean’s cock, warm and wet. “Yeah, Sammy. Come all over me.” Dean talked Sam through his orgasm, sliding his shaft against Sam’s, making sure Sam came all over his cock.
Sam chanted Dean’s name, shivering like electricity was snapping through him. Dean rubbed against him, bringing himself off, but he saw Sam wince as the contact became too much for him, as he became hypersensitive after orgasm.
Sam tugged at Dean, urging him to move up. “In my mouth,” he said softly.
Dean swore and moved up, settling his knees alongside Sam’s chest, feeding Sam his cock. Sam suckled on the head eagerly, looking up at Dean, those big hazel eyes wide, taking Dean in his mouth, moaning at the taste of his own come on Dean’s cock, sucking it off, sucking Dean clean.
“Ah. Ah. Jesus. Sam. Sammy…” Dean slapped his palm on the wall right behind the couch, gripped Sam’s long hair with his other hand, and shivered and bucked, flooding Sam’s mouth.
Sam swallowed it all except for a rivulet that leaked out of the corner of his mouth. Dean slid back down, holding Sam’s face still, rubbing his thumb against his jaw, drinking in the pleasure and love in Sam’s eyes, the gleaming streak of come on his cheek. “So beautiful,” he breathed. Leaning in, he licked the droplets of fluid from Sam’s face, scooping it up on his tongue. Sam opened his mouth, urged Dean closer with the pressure of his hands, urged to do it. Dean fed the last drops of his come to Sam. He moaned as his tongue entered Sam’s mouth, tasting himself and Sam and that dark, sweet chocolate. They licked the taste out of each other’s mouths, sharing it all, nothing taboo or dirty between them, everything made pure by the love underlying it all.
Dean kissed Sam until his eyes fluttered shut, his hands falling to his side, finally succumbing to his desperate need for sleep. And then he kissed him once more. He slid down onto the couch, wriggled back into his clothes, always keeping one hand on Sam, and sat cross-legged on the floor, holding onto Sam’s hand as he slept.
~
Sam slept like a dead man for two hours straight, not moving or even snoring. Dean finally roused himself to use the room, and get a giant bowl of chocolate pudding. He inhaled the entire thing in minutes, and was still hungry.
When Sam awoke, he was ravenous.
Dean had never seen Sam that hungry. He went straight for the chocolate pinwheel cookies, inhaling four of the fat, chocolate-coated marshmallow cookies. Then he ate an entire can of smoked oysters with half a box of Stoned Wheat Thins, and half a can of jumbo black olives (Dean eating the other half), along with two cans of ginger ale. When he started gnawing on a stick of salami, Dean stepped in. “Maybe some actual food?” He made pastrami sandwiches on rye, with the fancy beer mustard he’d picked out himself, piled high with meat, Swiss cheese, onions and lettuce. Sam ate his quickly, along with another ginger ale. Dean downed his with a 7-Up.
Dean whipped up a saucepot full of hot chocolate, and that finally slowed Sam down. He drank the first mug all and asked for seconds. Dean obliged. That finally satiated the bottomless pit of Sam’s stomach. He emitted a loud burp and patted his distended stomach.
“Gotta say, Sam, even I’m impressed.”
“I was really hungry.” Sam looked a little embarrassed.
“It’s ok, Sam.” Dean softened. “Guess that took a lot out of you. What you did.”
Sam looked down at the table.
“What?’
Sam could barely meet Dean’s gaze.
“Look, after everything we’ve seen? So you could move something with your mind. So what?”
“So what? Dean, I… that’s not normal!”
“No. But what part of our lives is normal? When has it ever been normal?”
Sam braced his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands.
“Dude. I’m grateful you’re not normal. Stopped that fucker from playing pin the tail on the donkey with me, right?”
Sam nodded, but he didn’t seem comforted.
Dean stopped talking and just looked at Sam’s face. He thought, and watched Sam.
“You’re not a freak.”
Sam jumped like Dean had read his thoughts.
“Look. We’ve seen it. Read about it. Heard about it. No one knows why, but there’s some weird shit out there. Demons. Vampires. Ghouls. And there’s some weird shit out there that’s good. That helps people. Psychics. People who can do things. Like…well, like you.”
“But why me, Dean? You can’t do this stuff.”
“How do we know?” Dean puffed his chest out a little. “Maybe I’m a late bloomer.”
That got Sam laughing.
“You’re not a freak, Sam. You’re not a monster. It’s just like you’ve got six toes or a tail.”
“You wish I had a tail.”
Dean frowned, then his face got stuck on his I’m thinking setting. His eyebrows went up and he pursed his lips, cocking his head to the side. “Actually…”
“Ok, you’re the one who’s not normal.”
“Come on. You love it.”
Sam smiled. “Yeah I do.”
“See?” Dean slapped Sam’s back. “You just made my point for me.” He grabbed two beers out of the refrigerator, popped the caps, and slid one across the kitchen table to Sam. “Drink up. We gotta go talk to Bobby.”
Sam’s face fell. He reached for Dean, twining his fingers in his belt loop, pulling him close. Dean bent down and kissed the top of Sam’s head, resting his left hand on Sam’s shoulder.
“I don’t know if I can do it.”
“Do what?”
“Hide.” He gestured with his hand between them. “This.”
“I know.”
“Wanna run away with me? We could join the circus. Change our names. I’m sure I’ve got skills they could use.” Sam’s smile was sad.
“It’ll be ok, Sam.”
“I mean it.” Sam was suddenly clutching at Dean’s shirt. “I don’t want to live the kind of life where I have to pretend this isn’t happening. Dean. I don’t. I can’t.”
“You don’t have to. We don’t have to.”
Sam’s head rocked back, and he looked at Dean like he’d just called Sam stupid.
“It’ll be ok, Sam. I promise. We’ll be ok.”
Sam blinked rapidly, then nodded his head in that resigned way he had when faced with something bad that he didn’t think he deserved to have go a different way.
You’ll see. It’ll be ok, Dean stroked Sam’s hair, and took a deep pull on his beer, steeling himself for what was to come.
~
Juliane finished with Bobby.“My best guess is nothing’s broken, but I’d feel a lot better if you had a proper medical evaluation in a hospital.”
“That’s not an option. We’re not taking him out of here. No telling if we could get him back in.” Reggie turned back around, now that Bobby had pulled his jeans back on over his Betadine-swabbed, bandage-wrapped knee.
Bobby patted gingerly at the bandaged cut over his left eyebrow.
“Here.” Juliane passed Bobby a small bottle. “You’re a grown man. You know the drill. You can drink, or you can take pain pills, but you can’t do both.”
“Yes ma’am. Thank you.”
“I’d like him to stay in my room. At least at first.” Reggie came back from the kitchen with two glasses of water.
“That’s smart. Easier to keep an eye on him.”
Bobby took his glass of water and swallowed a pain pill, then pocketed the bottle.
Reggie eyed Bobbie sidelong. “Do I have to wake him up every hour?”
Juliane shook her head. “Medical myth.”
“Good.” Reggie’s voice was grit and gravel, but warm.
“Anyway, he doesn’t show any signs of a concussion so far. His pupils react normally, he’s not confused, and other than that knee and being banged up, he walks fine.” She smiled at Bobby. “Sleep is the best thing for you right now, actually.” She fussed with her ponytail, and turned her attention to Reggie. “Just to be safe though, when he wakes up, ask him his name, what year it is, something like that. If he makes sense, that’s good. If he’s confused, come get me.”
Reggie nodded, and helped Bobby to his feet. “Thank you.”
“Yes, thank you,” Bobby added. “I’m more grateful than I can say.” He eyed the library. “Is that…Erlandsdottir’s Compendium Daemonii?”
Danny’s eyebrows shot up. “The translation. You’ve heard of it?”
“I have the companion text.”
“The one by—“
“Gideon Bohak.” They both spoke at the same time.
“I’d love to see that.” Danny smiled, and went to put his hands in his pockets, then realized he was still wearing his pajamas.
“I was about to say the same thing about yours.”
“You can borrow it. Any of these books.” Juliane gestured. “That’s what they’re here for.”
“Do you have any works on, um… apocalyptic prophecy?” Bobby sucked his teeth nervously.
Danny tilted his head, the worry surging again. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“You shouldn’t.”
Juliane chimed in.”I think we have a few things. I’ll pull a few books for you. If you promise to go get some sleep and get off your feet.”
“I’d like that.” Bobby reached for the compendium in Danny’s hands, but Juliane laid her hand over his, gently stopping him.
“If I let you take that with you, you’ll just start reading it, and won’t get any sleep at all.”
Reggie reached for the book. “I’ll hold onto it, and make sure he takes a nice nap first, after some warm milk.” Bobbie gave him a look. Reggie’s mustache twitched.
Bobby let Reggie put his arm around him and walk him to the door. “Thank you again,” Bobby called over his shoulder as they left.
The room finally empty, Juliane turned to Danny and put her arms around him. “I’m scared.” Her voice was soft, but not weak. “I’m really scared.”
“We’re safe. Nothing can get to us in here.” Danny kept the fear out of his voice.
She took a deep breath, and squeezed him tighter. “I’m not scared for us. I’m scared for everyone out there.”
~
Bobby resisted when Reggie made it clear he intended for Bobby to take the bed, but Reggie would have none of it. “We both know sleeping on a damn couch when you’re beat to hell just gives you a stiff neck.”
Bobby pointed toward the recliner. “That’s what I need. Keep my knee bent a little. Besides, the best sleep I ever got was in a recliner.”
Reggie relented.
“Hey, could you do me a big favor and get my stuff out of the car?”
Reggie nodded. He got Bobby settled on the recliner and loped down the hall, through the common room where Danny (now wearing regular clothes) joined him and down the sigil-festooned passageway. When he emerged into the cold air of the parking lot, the bell on the glass door jangled, startling him. Behind him, Danny flipped a switch, turning on the No Vacancy light. He did not see any demons outside the salt line. None at all. Still, he shivered, and not from the cold, as they hauled Bobby’s bags from the battered Chevelle and brought them inside.
Back in the security of the Sanctuary, Reggie insisted that Bobby put on clean, soft, non-bloody clothes. Bobby made him leave the room, and swore like a sailor with a scorching case of herpes as he tried to wrestle himself out of his outfit.
“Just…shut up.” Reggie came back in the room and took the flannel pajama bottoms away from Bobby. “Sit your ass down.”
Bobby braced his arms on the recliner and lowered himself into it.
Reggie pulled his boots off, and tugged at the right leg of Bobby’s jeans. Bobby tensed up. “For Christ’s sake, Bobby, it’s not like I’m going to be powerless to resist your masculine charms.”
Bobby rolled his eyes. “It’s not that. I just don’t like people seeing me in my underwear.” His mouth worked for a moment. “It’s a matter of dignity.”
“You can be dignified in your pajamas in a minute, if you’ll just stop fighting.”
Bobby allowed Reggie to remove his pants and put his pajama bottoms on, carefully tugging them up Bobby’s stark-white thighs while turning his head to the side and looking away, trying to preserve Bobby’s dignity. He struggled to pull them over Bobby’s hips, tugging hard as Bobby tried to raise his butt up to give Reggie room to work. Reggie swore and yanked, and finally started laughing, cheekbone pushing hard against Bobby’s shoulder.
Bobby snorted, and then erupted in a full body laugh that sputtered into cries of “Ow, my neck, dammit to hell,” and more helpless laughter.
Ultimately, Reggie got the pajamas all the way up. “Alright,” he rumbled. “Time for the top half.”
Bobby went to pull his t-shirt off, but winced, muscles in his back already stiffening up from the shock of the impact. He muttered, “Balls,” and raised his arms up so Reggie could take the shirt off for him.
When he was finally dressed again, Reggie brought him a blanket and a glass of water. “Unless you really do want warm milk.”
“I’m not too old and broken to kick your ass.”
Reggie smiled. “I’d truly love to see you try.” He lay the blanket over Bobby.
Bobby took a drink, and blew out a sigh, as the pain medication began to take effect. “I do have masculine charms. For the record.”
Reggie raised a single eyebrow.
“Gay men love me, I’ll have you know.” Bobby nodded emphatically.
Reggie sat on the couch and took a deep drink of whiskey from the half-full tumbler he’d left on the coffee table.
“I believe they call me…a bear.”
Reggie spit his whiskey out in a fine spray.
“It’s a thing.” Bobby nodded knowingly. “Bears.”
Reggie coughed until his lungs cleared, and put his palm over his forehead.
Bobby set his water glass down on the coffee table. “As you know, I’ve never been attracted to men, myself. Especially…what are they…cubs?”
Reggie choked.
“But it’s nice to be appreciated.” Bobby’s voice was slurred.
“You should get some sleep. Papa Bear,” Reggie intoned.
Bobby smacked his lips. “I do believe you’re razzing me.”
“I might be. Now go to sleep.”
Bobby’s eyes had already closed.
Reggie took Bobby’s ball cap off and set it on the coffee table. “Glad you’re ok, old man.” He put his feet up, picked up the Compendium Daemonii and began to read.
