Work Text:
1
“Sammy! I said don’t wait up for me.”
Dean’s drunken greeting barely registered to Sam as he continued scanning backdated newsprint for mentions of the haunted house they were investigating. Three people were dead because of this ghost and he didn’t want another body to drop because he couldn’t focus on his research.
He spared Dean a glance and a mumbled greeting, wrinkling his nose against the scent of alcohol and cologne.
Wait, cologne?
Sam looked up again, jolted out of his concentration by the unfamiliar scent. Dean never wore cologne. His brother was shedding his coat, sending a stronger waft of the stuff toward Sam. In the uncompromising motel light, he could see hickies forming on both sides of Dean’s neck.
“Wow. She really liked you,” Sam commented, strangling down a touch of unease. Dean was never shy about his love life, which was gross on several levels.
“What? Who’re you talking about?” Dean asked, dropping gracelessly onto the bed. He frowned vaguely in Sam’s direction.
“You’ve got bruises up and down your neck, dude.”
“Oh. Yeah! That was a good time.” He grinned the usual lecherous smirk and laughed.
Sam expected him to follow up with way too many details about how hot the girl had been, but Dean only mumbled a goodnight and closed his eyes. Within moments, he was snoring quietly.
“That was weird,” Sam said to himself, just to have it on record. Since when did Dean clam up when given the chance to brag about his latest accomplishment?
He shook his head to clear it and went back to scrolling for information. He’d have plenty of chances to catch Dean at whatever he was trying to hide; this ghost would only get more vicious the longer they took to track it down.
2
“Sam, we’ve been here for three hours. Do you really think we’re getting somewhere?”
As expected, Dean was reaching the end of his rope. Sam resisted the urge to heave a sigh and fixed his brother with a look.
“Yes. I’ve managed to find enough reference materials to translate the message left at the scene and I’m close to finishing the translation. Just give me another hour and we’ll know what the killer wanted to say so badly.”
He had a feeling this murder had been something pagan-related, given the fact that he was sitting in a university library, translating an obscure Germanic dialect that had been scrawled in the victim’s blood, but without any other evidence, he only had suspicions.
“Great for you, but I am bored out of my freaking mind,” Dean complained.
“Go hit on the librarian, then.” Ordinarily, Sam wouldn’t have encouraged that kind of behavior, but his head ached from hunching over the books and from the vision he’d had that morning.
“Hey, there’s an idea.”
Dean walked away. Sam spared a moment to mentally apologize to the librarian and kept turning pages.
Forty-five minutes later, Sam sat back in his chair to finish re-reading the translated message. It wasn’t as revealing as he had hoped, but at least now he had a name to research and an idea of why the victim had been targeted.
“Hey, you done with the nerd stuff?” Dean asked, leaning around a bookshelf.
“Yeah, finally. I still need to look up the details, but we’re dealing with a god killing.”
“Awesome. Here, take Baby back to the motel and keep doing what you’ve got to do. Or maybe take a nap. You look like crap. I’ve got a thing.”
Dean tossed him the keys and vanished off again without waiting for Sam to reply. He shook his head. The librarian must have been lonely. Packing up his belongings, he carried the books he’d pulled down to the front desk, which was mysteriously vacant.
It wasn’t until he got back to the motel and pulled the curtains closed to block out any light that he remembered the nameplate on the librarian’s desk had read Steven.
3
“If you can remember anything else about what your sister was doing that night or who she was with, don’t hesitate to call,” Dean said, handing over a business card.
Sam carefully kept his face blank as the witness, Charles, brushed his fingers along Dean’s to take the slip of paper.
“Sure, Agent. I really appreciate that you’ve come out here to help us. Gracie meant so much to the whole family. I can’t believe this happened.”
Dean patted him on the shoulder, coaxing out a shaky smile.
“Don’t worry. We’re going to figure out what happened to your sister and make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else.”
Was it just his imagination, or did Dean’s voice drop a fraction of an octave? Sam knew he wasn’t imagining just how much Dean was staring or the faint flush spreading along Charles’ cheeks.
He’d heard that line before too, when Dean was insensitive enough to hit on some poor girl they had to interview because she had witnessed something horrible.
It was weird enough he had to ask as they got back in the Impala.
“Dean, were you hitting on the witness back there?”
“What? No! Why would I hit on the witness, Sam?” Dean protested. He jammed the key into the ignition and cranked it harder than necessary.
“You got me, but that’s what it looked like. It was kind of weird to watch.”
Sam didn’t miss the fact that Dean was turning red or that he looked like he desperately wanted to change the subject.
“I just wanted to reassure the guy that we would find whatever horrible, bloodsucking thing murdered his sister, okay? There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I never said there was,” Sam replied. It was a struggle not to smile or try to pry further. Whatever Dean had or hadn’t been doing, he clearly wasn’t ready to talk about. Sam could wait, particularly when he was getting a good idea of what he’d stumbled onto.
“Good! Now let’s get to work,” Dean said gruffly.
4
“Damn it, Lex, you moron!” Dean snarled at the TV.
Sam paused in the doorway, raising an eyebrow. He was used to coming back from a coffee run to find Dean complaining at whatever he was watching, but that was a little different. He came over and passed Dean his coffee without comment, sitting on the edge of Dean’s bed to see what he was watching.
Credits were rolling, but Sam actually recognized the show for a change.
“You’re watching Smallville? I didn’t think you’d find it interesting.”
“Clark’s a sexy bastard and I refuse to apologize for that,” Dean mumbled, rummaging through the bag of breakfast materials Sam had set down next to him. “God, why does Lex have to be so dumb about it?”
“Probably because they’re enemies in the making,” Sam answered, struggling to keep his voice casual. He’d been suspicious for a while that Dean was bisexual and this was his biggest piece of evidence yet. “You can’t have much of a tragic storyline about friends turning against each other if they fall in love instead.”
“It’s more tragic to become enemies with someone you used to love,” Dean said around a mouthful of egg and biscuit. His eyes suddenly became very round.
Sam shrugged and went to the table where his laptop sat, pretending they hadn’t been having a deeply revealing conversation. It stopped Dean from launching into panicked and useless denials, which would have ruined everyone’s morning. Inwardly, he couldn’t help laughing. Now that he was paying attention, Dean was hardly doing anything to hide his orientation.
5
“They’re both so pretty, Darius. How could we ever choose which one to turn?” the female vampire purred, rubbing her face against her mate’s. His eyes never wavered from Dean.
Sam considered that an advantage, as it meant neither of them were paying attention to him. He’d finally wrenched a nail out of the post they’d lashed him to and was digging slowly through the ropes. As long as the vampires stayed distracted, he could get free and reach his machete.
“Dude, get your eyes off me,” Dean complained. Sam kept watching everyone to keep them from suspecting he was up to something and didn’t miss how the male vampire sneered.
“Once I’ve turned you, it won’t matter how I look at you. You’ll beg me to do more than look when the change is over,” he drawled, reaching down to run a grimy hand along Dean’s jaw.
“Touch me again and I’ll kill you,” Dean snapped. Ice had slithered into his voice, the way it always did when he was truly serious. Sam felt his spine stiffen slightly from fear and it wasn’t even directed at him. That always happened. He loved his brother, but Dean could be downright terrifying when he tried.
The nail slipped, gashing open his wrist. Sam swore mentally and worked faster. There was enough fresh blood splattered around from the couple they’d arrived too late to save that the vampires might not notice, but he couldn’t count on it. He had to end this hunt before something went wrong.
Darius the vampire crouched, setting both hands on Dean’s thighs. “You remind me of Perseus,” he purred. “Doesn’t he, Diana? It’s been so long since he was taken from us.”
“Perseus reborn. Finally, we’ll be whole once again,” she agreed, voice absolutely dripping sensuality. “You’re right, Darius. He’s the only choice. Shall I kill the other one?”
“Save him. Once we’ve turned our new little one, he’ll be parched. He’ll need something to feed on.”
The ropes finally gave way. Sam lunged forward, managing to get his machete before the vampires descended. A handful of breathless moments later, he decapitated them both, though he wasn’t totally sure how. Dean stared at him.
“Let’s not add you to some vampire threesome, okay?” Sam said, stepping over to cut him loose.
+1
“Hey, Sammy. I need to talk to you about something.”
Sam looked up from his laptop, alarmed by the uncharacteristic seriousness in Dean’s voice. He appeared intensely uncomfortable and refused to look directly at Sam.
“Sure. Let’s talk,” he replied, shutting the computer and setting it aside. Cas stood by the door, looking equally ill at ease. That was normal for the angel, but Sam had a feeling this was slightly different from usual.
“Well, um, there’s something about me that you don’t know. I’ve never really told anyone. Well, not anyone who really knew me. But the world’s coming to an end and we’ve got no plan for stopping it. You deserve to know the truth.”
That wasn’t ominous at all. Sam didn’t say anything snarky, though. He could feel Dean wavering on the edge of his courage and refused to make it harder for him. He’d screwed up enough for one lifetime. Instead, Sam did his best to look attentive and empathetic, which was easy since it was the same thing he did when interviewing witnesses.
Then again, interviewing witnesses wasn’t so unintentionally hilarious. He was pretty sure he already knew what Dean was working so hard to tell him.
“Dean, whatever it is, you can tell me. We’re brothers. I’m not going to freak out,” he promised.
“Okay. Um- Sam, I realized a whole bunch of years ago that I wasn’t exactly like everybody else. It was hard to come to terms with and I didn’t want to tell you because it was personal and weird, and I had no idea how you would take it.” He broke off to pull out his flask and take a long drink from it. “What I’m trying to say is – son of a bitch, this is harder than it should be.”
“Just say it, Dean,” Sam said as compassionately as he knew how. It was for the best he’d sensed that teasing Dean was a terrible idea if this was how he felt about mentioning the truth.
“I swing both ways,” Dean blurted. He heaved a long sigh of relief. “I love women, but dudes are awesome. The point is, Cas and I are together, and I felt you should know before you walk into anything.”
Sam nodded, unable to help a grin. “Thanks for telling me, Dean. I’m really happy for you. For both of you,” he added, turning his smile on Cas. The angel smiled awkwardly back and stepped forward to rest a hand on Dean’s shoulder.
“You already knew, didn’t you?” Dean said, looking embarrassed.
“Yeah. It’s not like you ever went to any great lengths to hide it. Don’t worry, Dean. This didn’t change a thing.”
Now a matching grin spread across Dean’s face.