Gnome Such Thing - Chapter 7
Dean sat in the center of Bobby's yard, knees pulled up loosely, his hands, palms up to catch the falling rain. The same rain that had wet the grass that tickled the back of his legs and soaked through the knit cotton of his boxer briefs. The same fresh summer rain that sent a delicious chill up Dean's back and convinced him that he'd found the sure-fire method that would cleanse him; would purify him.
Dean reached down to grab a hold of the elastic of his shorts and then slid the waist band down, lifting his hips to accommodate their removal. He kicked his legs free of the drenched fabric, balled the shorts up and pitched them out into the dark night.
The yard lights had blown out during the lightning strike, leaving the entirety of the property plunged into darkness. Maybe this is why Dean found the rain so fascinating.
He pressed his hands into the soft ground behind him and leaned back, letting his head tip over his shoulders. Dean looked up into the dark sky and watched the large raindrops careen towards him, splashing off of his face, torso and legs. Each drop, illuminated as if by magic, shone outwardly like a beacon of light, bathing Dean and his surroundings in millions of crystal white lights, soaking into his skin like water on sand, lighting him up from within.
Dean let himself fall back into the soft bed of grass beneath him. It was an assault on his senses. The grass, too long and going to seed, was poking and scraping softly into his skin, while the rain whispered and kissed across his exposed body. Like pin pricks of electricity, the rain ignited all his nerves and Dean gasped at the giddy feeling surging through himself.
A giggle bubbled up in his chest, escaping his throat and Dean sank fully into the sensation, pulling his arms, one at a time, above his head, swimming through the long grass.
"You're gonna have to go out there and fetch him."
Sam's head snapped around to stare wide-eyed at Bobby.
"Why me?" he asked, his voice breaking into an entirely new octave.
"S'your brother," Bobby retorted. The answer had seemed obvious enough to him, but Sam wasn't going down without a fight.
"Last time I got anywhere near Dean, he leveled me with a crowbar."
Bobby frowned at the younger man, shaking his head. He raised a hand in Dean's general direction.
"Do you see a crowbar on him now? Hell, he hasn't even got anywhere to hide one. Go get him 'fore he catches himself a cold."
Sam rolled his eyes skyward, his mouth moving over silent complaints, making Bobby smile as he was reminded just how much the two boys were actually alike.
"Get goin'. I'll go get a fire started, case we need to warm him up."
A quick smirk passed over Bobby's face as he ducked back into the house, leaving Sam to stand on the porch trying to scrub the tension out of his neck. With an exasperated huff, Sam rolled his shoulders loose and then stripped out of his over shirt. No way in Hell was he gonna be escorting Dean anywhere in his current state of undress.
Several deep breaths and a deciding nod of his head and Sam was running down the stairs into the pouring rain, his boots splashing heavily in the waterlogged yard.
"Hey!" Sam called, his voice warbling through the saturated atmosphere. "Dean!"
Mid-stroke, Dean lifted his head and turned in the direction of Sam's voice, a big, cheesy grin plastered across his face. He raised a hand to give Sam a loose wave and then continued swimming.
"Dean, come on, man. Time to go."
"Where we goin', Sammy?"
"Inside. Dude, it's pouring out here and you're…" Sam waved his hand airily about Dean's naked form. "Just come on."
Sam reached a hand down to Dean, who accepted it and together they pulled him to his feet, Dean stumbling into his brother. Sam immediately tensed, throwing both his hands and his eyes up to avoid any possible unwanted touching or looking.
"Jesus, Dean. Put this on."
Dean was handed Sam's over shirt which he agreeably put on and for a moment his chilled fingers struggled with the buttons, before Sam pushed his hands away.
"Here, let me."
Watching his little brother make quick work of the buttons, Dean smiled, sighing contently. At the sound, Sam glanced up from beneath his bangs.
"What?"
"You're a good brother," Dean answered in a lazy drawl. "I don't tell you that enough."
"Uh, okay. Thanks, I guess. There. All done. It's wet, but at least it's long enough to cover…almost everything. Now, can we go inside? I'm soaked."
Dean nodded, still smiling, and let himself be steered in the direction of the house. Sam pushed and prodded Dean up the porch stairs, inside and then again up the stairs to their shared bedroom.
This situation was just too ridiculous, made even more so, by Dean's almost childlike appearance, the round of his bottom peeking out from beneath Sam's extra long button down. And Sam choked down the laugh that threatened to escape while trying desperately to avert his eyes from the overly white backside leading the way up the stairs.
Once inside the room, Sam used a heavy hand to sit Dean down on the bed, then the younger Winchester rounded the bed, squatting down beside the open duffel on the floor. He grabbed out a full change of clothes for Dean and a dry t-shirt for himself.
"Get dressed, Dean," he said handing his brother the fresh clothing.
Sam turned away and walked to stare out the window, giving Dean a little privacy so he could strip out of Sam's shirt.
"You're mad at me?"
It really wasn't so much a question as it was a statement and Dean's tone pulled at Sam's heart so that he released a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding.
"I'm not mad," Sam replied quietly. "I'm frustrated and I'm really tired."
"Sound mad."
Sam rubbed a hand across his tired eyes. "I don't mean to sound pissy but I'm exhausted, alright? Chasing after you…it's like having a dozen full time jobs."
Sam glanced at Dean's reflection in the window. His older brother sat motionless, leaning back against his hands and appeared for once to actually be listening. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Sam continued.
"I know you're in the middle of the Magical Mystery Tour, but seriously, Dude, you gotta settle down or something. These gnomes or whatever it is that you think you're hunting…they're not real. You understand that, right?"
Dean responded with a soft 'yea' and Sam relaxed just a little. He reached over his back and pulled his wet t-shirt up and over his head. "You get that you're hallucinating?" Sam tossed the dripping fabric on the floor and shook the excess water from his hair.
"And that you're gonna end up hurting yourself? Hell, Dean. You hit me with a crowbar. I can't take many more hits like that."
Sam slipped his arms into the dry shirt and in one fluid motion, tossed it over his head and pulled it down over his lean torso.
"…the head," Dean gasped.
"That's right, my head, Dean. I mean we could be talking permanent brain damage, here."
"That's right," Dean repeated, his voice soft and intense.
Sam's brow furled and he glanced in the window again. He was slightly surprised to see Dean still naked on the bed.
"Why aren't you getting dressed? Get movin'. Bobby's already threatening to tie you down."
"Oh yea, right there," Dean groaned, breathily, "that's so good."
Sam stilled, his shoulders stiffening. He looked up toward the ceiling, dreading what he was going to see when he turned around. Very slowly, he pivoted on the spot.
And it was all so much worse than Sam had imagined.
Dean was leaned back across the mattress, both hands fisted in the clean sheets of the newly remade bed. His head was thrown back, face lightly flushed. His chest rising and falling rapidly as he gasped, his entire body humming with pleasure.
"Son of a bitch," Sam cursed beneath his breath as a cry of ecstasy tore out of Dean's throat and both Dean and the clean sheets became soiled.
I'm not cleaning that up! He can go screw himself…or well…you know what I mean, whatever."
Sam came charging into the kitchen where Bobby was cutting into the pie that he had just managed to save from over-baking. Bobby recoiled slightly, putting the knife he had been using between himself and the boy's flailing body.
"What's the matter with you now? I swear, Sam. You're actin' like a petulant child. Go back up there and help your brother. We've gotta get him restrained before he goes and does some other fool crazy act."
"You don't get it, Bobby. He already has. He came."
"Came where? Wait…what?"
"Exactly. He came. Ejaculated? All over himself. And I refuse, man. I ain't doin' it. Next you'll tell me that I have to wipe his…"
"Was he…ya know?" Bobby made a crude hand gesture down in front of his own groin.
"No, he wasn't. Dean was just sitting there with it all hangin' out there in the breeze and next thing I know he's…talking. Like…'talking'. And it's gonna take a gallon of bleach and a pound of steel wool to scrub that image from my brain. I mean, thank God I was clear across the room!"
"Musta been one Hell of a breeze."
Bobby had meant the comment to be funny and it was. Sam laughed softly, the corners of his mouth pulling, making his dimples stand out. But then he sagged, all the fight and energy draining out of him.
"You gotta handle this, Bobby. I just…can't right now."
Sam turned abruptly, going for the nearest exit, but the quick movement caused his jarred brain to slosh just enough to make him unsteady. Luckily for him, Bobby caught him by the arm, helping to steady his feet. Unluckily for him, Bobby caught him period.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, just wait a minute. Hey! Look at me."
He waited until he had Sam's full attention and then seeing just how wrung out and exhausted the kid was, Bobby eased off what would have been a lecture and used a lighter touch.
"I know things ain't been easy lately. You and I…it's hard is all I'm sayin'. Scary, the thought of losing him. I know you're hurtin'. But we still got him. Right this minute, we got him. So, don't go walkin' off just cuz you can't deal with this little bit of craziness. Things are bound to get a lot crazier the closer we get…to…ya know."
"Yea, I know."
Sam took a deep breath and then made the conscious decision to go back up to his brother, nodding his confirmation. Bobby patted him encouragingly on the shoulder, giving the kid a heartfelt smile. Sam was about to return the smile, but pulled up short.
"Just so you know," he started, "I'm still not cleaning that up."
Bobby had the decency to wait until Sam was out of the room and up the stairs before he burst out laughing.
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