RockStarPeach

Okay, so.

I don't so Sam/Dean complete AU, so rather than that this is future!fic. Hope that's okay, honey!



Sam takes a seat on the left hand side at the back. It's his usual spot and he scans the crowd like he usually does, nods and smiles at Carrie and Tim and Dave. He's still wearing a slight, vacant smile when his head turns ninety degrees but it drops in a flash when he sees the guy sitting at the other end of his row. His stomach sinks and he can't find his next breath, because no. No, it can't be what it looks like.

Not that Sam doesn't think his big brother should absolutely be here, because if anybody needs group therapy wrapped up in donuts and coffee it's Dean, but they parted ways years ago, Sam with a broken heart and Dean with a promise that he was better off without him. Sam looks away like the right side of the room is on fire.

Dean's seen him, Sam's sure he has because he may be out of the game but he's still got his instincts and as hard as he fights not to look over at Dean for the next hour, focus all his attention on Kelly and the story he shares and the next five, six, seven people after that, Sam can feel eyes on him.

Sam doesn't share that day, passes when it's his turn.

To Sam's surprise, Dean smiles and nods his thanks and gets right up in front of twenty seven complete strangers, and he does share.

It's vague, what he says. Talks about loss and living with it every day and how he tries to keep going. His words are too precise, though, too raw and new and he can't be here for the same reason Sam is. He isn't here because he lost his father and his brother and his girlfriend and so many friends, so much like family.

It's something else, something Sam doesn't know. Dean is something Sam doesn't know, not anymore.

And Sam's angry. The reason they left each other was to leave all that hurting and loss behind but Dean clearly didn't. He's still losing people, he's still hurting and if that's the case then why isn't Sam there, why can't they lose people together?

He's still sitting in his seat at the end of the session, staring forward where Elias used to be, still hearing echos of how he planted a tree in honour of his wife. People are standing up around him, making their way to the refreshment table and Sam's about to join them, he is. He's about to join them and find Dean and punch him in the face but then there's a hand on his shoulder, strong and forceful and Sam has to struggle so much to stand up that it's not worth it.

Not much is, these days.

“Problem, officer?” Jensen asks, winding down his window and cocking his head, smiling widely.

The cop smiles back at him, wide teeth and dimples and smooth, tanned skin and Jensen Junior jumps a little in his pants. Wow, he really hopes this guy is gay, but even if he's not, he's going to play that card. A little bit of flirting has never failed to get him out of trouble, even with the straight ones.

Especially with the straight ones. They're always afraid of their innate attraction and they're quicker to go running in the opposite direction, leaving Jensen ticketless and happy.

“Any idea how fast you were going?” the cop asks and Jensen doesn't miss the way he looks Jensen up and down before he does.

“About as fast as you were when you pulled me over. Sir.”

The cop coughs, swallows. He sticks a finger into his collar and loosens it a little. Jensen smiles wider.

“I clocked you at sixty-five, in a fifty,” he says, blinking over and over as he pulls his ticket pad out of his belt. He hasn't opened it. Jensen's noticed.

Gay, Jensen's pretty sure. Gay and flustered. He can work with that.

“Guilty,” Jensen says, with a smile.

The cop looks at him, confused.

“I'm guilty. I was speeding, officer...”

“Jared Padalecki.”

“Officer Jared. I was speeding, I know that. It's a major city street and an overpass with no sidewalks, so it was a safe place to speed, relatively. So, if you could hurry up and give me my ticket, I could hurry up and ask for your home number.”

Officer Jared takes his pad out from his belt, flips it open and clicks his pen before he blinks, flinches and closes his pad again.

“Wait... what?”

“Ticket? I'm happy to pay it. But please tell me I can at least get your number?”

Jared blinks a few more times before he flips his ticket book shut. He shakes his head and licks his lips, fingers drumming against the pen in his pocket.

“Why don't you let me buy you a drink, officer?” Jensen offers. He doesn't normally do that. Doesn't normally do any of the things he's thinking about doing with officer Jared. Getting out of tickets is a pretty easy gig but God damn if he wouldn't actually tarnish his record for this angel-faced son of a bitch. “There's a bar just around the corner... When are you off duty?”

“You can't fuck your way out of this ticket,” Officer Jared tells him, all stiff shoulders and scowls.

Jensen laughs.

“Wouldn't dream of it. I'll pay my ticket,” he promises and waits for Jared to nod his agreement, write it out and hand it over.

Jensen takes it, folds it, puts it in his pocket. He smiles up at Jared as he nods down the road, cocks his head in the direction of a pretty decent dive bar.

“I won't fuck my way out. I'll fuck you after.”

So... This is kind of what you asked for. I suck at wincest these days, I'm sorry!


It's not easy. It should have been, he thinks but it's not.

Ignoring Sam's pleas, the way he begs Dean to let him help, the way he cries sometimes, quietly when he thinks Dean's not there. Pretending he doesn't see Sam as he passes him by, that he doesn't hear him when Sam calls his name. Pretending he's not hungry when Sam offers him a burger.

There's a whole lot of shit that Dean doesn't care about, anymore. The entire world can basically go fuck itself for all he cares – and surprisingly little of that is down to Dean's shiny new demon blood – but if there's one thing he can't get out from under his skin, one feeling he can't shake, it's this twisted, messed up, deep, abiding love he has for his little brother.

It's not easy to know that Sam is sleeping one room over, less easy to keep himself from going to him.

Sam's hurting, Dean can see that, he can feel it. It's Dean's fault and once upon a time that would have broken his heart. Now, the feeling twists and curls inside him, wraps around his heart and his belly and makes him warm. Satisfied. Sam is hurting and Dean did it and Dean likes it.

He wants to hurt Sam some more, hurt him in other ways, physical ways. Sexual ways. He wants Sam to cry louder at night, cry when Dean's right there beside him because fuck if his brother isn't one pretty son of a bitch, especially when he's all emo and shit. Especially when he's beaten all to Hell.

It's not easy to keep that part of himself secret, to make like he doesn't want to punch Sam until he's bruised and bloody and then fuck him hard in the mess. It's not easy to pretend he doesn't give a shit, to pretend that being a demon means he has no feelings at all, but he has to.

He has to hate Sam, because if he loved Sam like he wants to, Sam would hate him.

***

Wrath of Khan is half over by the time they get inside. Dad's still out – God knows where – and Sam's in his room glued to his Gameboy. Dean's turned the lights down and he's popped some popcorn and he's poured them both a glass of grape juice and Charlie is lounging on the couch next to him, occasionally tossing kernels into the air and catching them in her mouth. Once in a while she'll throw one at Dean. He never misses.

He's looking at her more than the crappy TV, inching closer, then away again. She's pretty, she is. Dean likes her and he likes girls in general now, but he can't help thinking this might be a little easier with somebody - anybody - else.

It's about half an hour later when Charlie finally turns to him, heaves out a frustrated breath and says, “well? Are you gonna kiss me, or just pussyfoot around it all damn day?”

Dean blinks, momentarily stunned by the outbursts. He's not used to being put on the spot, not about things like this. Hell, he's not used to things like this at all, but he quickly shakes it off and smiles. It's better now, he thinks. It's only been one afternoon, only a few tries (and he'll practice more later, when Charlie's gone home for the night) but he's pretty sure he's actually flirting, by this point. His smile feels good, confident.

“Never make a lady ask twice, that's my motto,” Dean tells her. At least, it is now.

He leans in. Charlie doesn't, but that's okay. Dean's the guy, he can do most of the work.

Dean closes his eyes, Charlie does too and when their lips meet, it's... nice. It's nice and then it's awkward when they just stay there, frozen. Neither of them moves, mouths pressed together, bodies stiff with Dean's hand clamped around Charlie's shoulder and her hands pressed flat to the couch at her sides.

It's awkward until Sam comes into the room, a good thirty seconds later.

“Gross!” he says. “Jeeze, Dean. I'm telling dad!”

Dean and Charlie break apart, laughing a little nervously as they retreat to their separate spaces.

“Whatever, loser,” Dean says, over his shoulder to where Sam's getting a soda from the fridge. “You want to watch with us? We got popcorn.”

“Star Trek?” Sam asks, scrunching up his nose.

Dean and Charlie pointedly ignore the dig, but Sam joins them anyway.

***

Four hours later and well into The Voyage Home (turns out there was a marathon) and Sam's asleep on the second couch. The popcorn is gone and so is the grape juice and the space between Dean and Charlie has completely disappeared. She's curled up under his arm, leaning against his side while he twirls her hair around his fingers and holds her close.

Fuck, he's going to miss her. She's the best friend he's ever had.

“It's late,” Dean says.

“Mmmm,” Charlie agrees.

Dean doesn't let go and Charlie only snuggles in closer.

“I don't think my Dad's coming home.”

“Mmmm.”

“You could... stay if you want? I don't mean... No making out, or anything, just....”

“You're warm,” Charlie fills in and Dean smiles against the top of her head.

Dean pulls the throw blanket from the side of the couch and drapes it over Charlie and they're both quiet.

When the credits to The Final Frontier start to roll they're both mostly asleep. Dean thinks about turning the television off, but he doesn't want to let go, wants this night to keep going for as long as it possibly can. He doesn't want to leave town, this time.

“Hey Dean?” Charlie mumbles sleepily, as Dean shifts to get a little more comfortable.

“Mmm?”

“I think moving sucks, too.”

http://rockstarpeach.livejournal.com/173291.html

this was harder than you'd think.

http://rockstarpeach.livejournal.com/173951.html

Here you go!