Dean felt his stomach rumble and he rolled over, curling up onto his left side, shut up, you’re not getting any more. You went 300 calories over today.
His stomach growled again defiantly, and he let out a sigh, the sooner you fall asleep, the sooner you can wake up and eat.
He snaked one hand over his stomach, squeezing it lightly, tip he’d read a few months ago popping into his head. After a few moments, he let out a surprised breath as the noise stopped, huh.
Now that it was quiet, his mind began to wander… could he keep this up as long as he needed? How much shit would he be in if John found out? What would he say if Sammy called him on one of his lies?
And, oh God, what would he do once holiday season started?
Dean shook his head and rolled over onto his back, I don’t have to figure that all out right now. He absently listened to the crickets out the window, just try to get through the rest of this week. You’ll have time to make a long-term plan when Sammy’s gone on Saturday.
He let out another sigh and felt his body finally start to relax into his mattress, just 60 more pounds to go.
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“Damn it, Dean!” Sam stomped through the door to their motel room, angrily throwing his school bag onto their shared bed, “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me!”
“That black eye you’re sporting begs to differ,” Dean followed him, closing the door behind them. He gave his brother a pointed look, “I’m not just gonna stand by and watch my kid brother get pummelled.”
Sam turned in the doorway to the bathroom, narrowing his eyes, “Now everyone at school thinks I’m a wimp.”
“Pfft, come on,” Dean waved a dismissive hand and made his way over to sit on the bed, “Everyone who was watching saw that fight wasn’t fair. There were four guys on you!”
“It doesn’t matter,” Sam turned on his heel, slamming the bathroom door behind him.
Dean shook his head, did he seriously expect me to not jump in and save his ass? He laid himself down on the bed, it’s not even like he couldn’t of taken those guys, but he wasn’t! He was foetal, just letting them kick him in the stomach!What kind of big brother would I be if I didn’t jump in? Dean brought one arm up to rest it across his eyes as he let out a deflated sigh, I don’t understand why didn’t just-
Dean bolted up as his mind replayed him the crowd that’d gathered around the fight, of course! He made the short trip over to the bathroom door, knocking softly on it, “I’m sorry I embarrassed you in front of that hippie chick.”
He heard the groan float through the door, “Not everything’s about a girl, Dean!”
“True,” The eldest leaned himself against the wall beside the door, crossing his arms over his chest, “But this was… right?”
“Ugh!” Sam let out an annoyed groan and pulled uselessly on the untied tie hanging around his neck, “Come on!”
He stomped a foot in agitation and frowned down at the piece of fabric. Surely tying a tie wasn’t supposed to be this hard? His eyes flicked up to the clock on the wall and he groaned again, I don’t have time for this.
Not wanting to be late, the teen shoved the stupid article of clothing into his pocket before grabbing his suit jacket off the back of his chair. He shrugged it on and took one last look at himself in the mirror, here goes nothing.
“Whoa, Sammy!” Dean came running out of the kitchen, mayo-ed knife nearly slipping from his grip as he leaned himself against the front door, blocking the youngest, “Where’s the fire?”
“Move, dude.” Sam pulled on his brother’s arm in a failed attempt to get him off the door, “I’m already late.”
“You’re such a nerd.” Dean settled against the hunk of wood and raised an eyebrow, “Haven’t you ever heard of being fashionably late?”
“I don’t want Gabriel to think I stood him up.” Sam tugged on his brother’s arm again, harder this time, “Come on, Dean!”
The whiny tone did nothing but make the blonde laugh. He gave his brother a once over before letting out a low whistle, “How come you never dress this spiffy when we go out?”
“Because I don’t care about you.”
“Ouch,” Dean placed the hand holding the knife over his heart and stumbled away from the door a few feet, “That hurt, Sammy.”
Sam let out a breath as he finally managed to rip the door open, bolting down the driveway, “I don’t care!”
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How stupid does he think I am? Sam was dressed way too nicely to be ‘hanging out’ like he claimed to be. Not to mention his face was as red as the time he caught him with a Playboy – but if Sam didn’t want to tell his brother he was going on his first date, he wasn’t gonna push.
Dean just couldn’t help but feel a little insulted. Don’t get him wrong, he understood why he wouldn’t want the girl to meet John – Dean himself had hid many girls from their father – but what he couldn’t understand was why Sam didn’t want him to meet her?
—
“H-hey,” Sam nearly dropped his phone with relief as his date walked up, “You made it.”
“You thought I wouldn’t?” His eyes were sparkling even though he raised an eyebrow.
“No! No, I just, uh,” Sam slipped his phone back into his pocket, eyes diverting to the sidewalk, “I wasn’t sure if you were gonna change your mind.”
“Change my mind?” He brought a hand to the brunette’s chin, gently lifting his face so they were face to face, “I would never change my mind about going out with you, Sammich.”
Originally written for the SPN Amino’s Pride Bingo 2020, for the Cross-dressing square.
“… Need any help?”
“No, it’s-” he heard another thump before the youngest let out a heavy sigh, “I… actually yeah. But you can’t tell anybody.”
What are you doing in there? Bobby scrubbed a hand down his face in worry and nodded, “Who would I tell?” He waited a moment, hand hovering over the door knob, “… Can I come in now?”
He heard some rustling, before another crash, and suddenly the youngests’ voice was closer to the door, “Promise you won’t tell Dad?”
Why do you sound… scared? Bobby barked out a laugh, “This may surprise you kid, but I don’t tell John everything.”
“O-okay,” he heard the lock on the door turn before it opened a sliver, youngest rushing back away from the door as Bobby entered. He turned as he saw Bobby enter and pointed, eyes wide, “Close the door!”
Bobby closed the door immediately and turned to survey the room. There was a broken lamp, clothes thrown all over and the youngest Winchester standing there in a pair of pantyhose that were sliding down his leg, and an ill-fitting evening gown hanging off his thin frame, looking like a deer in the headlights. Bobby took in a deep breath as his brain caught up to the situation, and he had to resist the urge to smile, “Well… I can see why you don’t want me to tell John.”
He starred down at the red string tied around his wrist in annoyance, seriously? You had to pick this week? As if the blonde didn’t have enough to deal with, now his stupid ‘red string of fate’ chose to become brighter.
According to the lore, that meant he and his ‘true love’ were getting closer – the brighter it gets, the better chance you have of running into your fated other half. It could happen any time, any age, and was supposed to be a celebratory thing – you finally finding your other half out there in the big wide world.
Dean thought it was closer to a crock of shit then some fairytale. People were way too obsessed with finding their ‘love’, some would travel to every corner of the world they could in desperation, and the girls at school? They hooked up with pretty much any guy they could get their hands on – some of them thinking the fated love needed to be ‘activated’ – only to end up running around the room gathering their clothes, never to speak to the guy again when the strings didn’t glow intensely.
No, it was much better in Deans’ opinion to leave well enough alone and go about your own life – if the stories were true and you were fated to be together, you’d run into each other at some point, regardless of if you went searching for them, right?
“Dean!”
The shout from downstairs startled the blonde, and he quickly buttoned the sleeves on his shirt, no need making a big deal out of this.
He trooped downstairs to see John standing at the base, holding Sam by the collar.
“How many times do I have to tell you to keep an eye on your brother?”
“Sorry, Sir,” Dean grabbed his brother by the wrist – not missing the cut over his eye that was most definitely not there this morning – all but pulling him into the banister.
“I was in the middle of a fucking important job! Y’know, the kind that puts food on the table for your sorry asses!”
“It won’t happen again,” Dean roughly shoved his brother up the stairs, behind him.
“It better not,” the brunette turned on his heel, picking the half-drunk bottle of Jameson up from the coffee table, “He better have that homework done by the time I finish.”
“Yes, Sir,” Dean watched as his father collapsed on the couch before he turned back up the stairs, following his brother. Once they were in the privacy of their bedroom, he turned to his brother, “What happened?”
Sam sighed, deflating as he sat on his bed, “I was just trying to go out for a run,” he ran a hand through his hair, sleeve pulling down revealing his own red string, it was glowing too, “I didn’t turn the light on because I didn’t want to wake him. I got all the way to the door when I accidentally kicked over an empty bottle.”
The blonde let out a breath, running a hand through his hair as he swallowed down the lump in his throat, “They weren’t at the curb?”
“He said he needed to save them for a ‘project’,” he gave his brother a pointed look before flopping backward onto the bed, shirt lifting slightly revealing angry, red lines across his too-thin hips, those look fresh, “How much longer?”
“Not long,” Dean crossed the room, kneeling beside the bed to pull out the box of cash he’d been saving, “Just a few more weeks.”
“You’ve been saying that since I was 6, Dean.”
“Why do you think I never say a number?” He cocked an eyebrow at the upside-down smile his brother was giving him, “Just hang on a few more months. Once I’m 18 I can become your guardian and we can finally get outta here.” He replaced the lid and put the box in the closet, he made sure to keep it’s location rotating, just in case. He made his way over to the bed sitting beside his brother, tilting his head trying to get a better look at the cuts, “How much longer until you stop this, huh?”
Sam quickly pulled his shirt down and sat up in one fluid motion, sly smile on his face, “Not long. Just a few more weeks.”
Dean let out a dry chuckle and shook his head, “Deal.”
