Be the Girl, 1/4, R, Sam/Dean
Okay. So. Once upon a time, my muse was a bitch, and gave me a Wincest plot bunny. And I, the brave and fantastic person that I am, fended her off as best as I could, but she wouldn't leave me the hell alone about it. All else failing, I finally decided to let her do it.
And this came from it.
This is a ONE TIME ONLY deal. There will NOT be any more Wincest from me after this fic (at least, I'm hoping not; I like doing gen! And I'm not good with Wincest! *whines*) If you enjoy Wincest on top of gen, though, I hope you enjoy my meager offering.
Title: Be the Girl
Chapter: 1 of 4
Rating: R for language and sexual situations
Spoilers: General season 2 spoilers.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warnings: Incest, gender!swapped!Sam, romance, schmoop, angst, hurt!Sam (duh), sexual situations (but no sex!)
Disclaimer: I don't own them, thank god, or I think they'd kill me.
Summary: Sam gets turned into a girl by his own thoughts. The only way back is to be calm and to admit what he wants. Since that's Dean, he's a little stuck. As a girl, though, maybe he can have Dean for a little bit, since Dean doesn't know it's him. As his luck generally goes, though, he gets more than he bargained for...
Beta: umbralillium. You rock my socks.
A/N: I see a lot of angsty (well written) Wincest fics where it's all about the sex, which, c'mon, it's hot, okay? But I wanted a romance. So I wrote one. Even though Dean doesn't know it's Sam.
When Sam woke up as a girl, there was a slight freaking out. Obviously. Because going to bed with a dick and waking up minus one was scary enough as it was. Never mind the ample breasts that were now on his chest.
He hurried to the bathroom, being as quiet as possible. Dean was still asleep in the next bed, snoring loudly. Out for drinks all night and hustling had taken their toll well. Dean wasn't getting out of bed for another five hours, minimum.
The mirror showed that his face had changed in the process. His entire body had changed: he looked nothing like the Sam Winchester he knew. No, now he was a petite brunette with hair that went down past his shoulders and a wave that flowed through naturally. A pointy little nose, framed by rosy cheeks and kissable lips, and eyes that sparkled a mix of green and brown underneath full, lush lashes. His t-shirt that had been tight the night before was baggy and loose, and his pants were hanging low on his hips.
He looked cute. He looked fuckable.
Sam bit back a groan and brushed stray strands from his face. Of course this would happen to him.
And of course this would happen several days after he'd figured out that he had a crush on Dean.
Sam let his head fall back against the wall. “Fuck,” he muttered, and then rolled his eyes. Even his voice was adorable, soft and sweet.
Dammit.
He was gonna roast that fortune teller.
He hurried back out to the room and shoved everything into his bag, as quietly as he dared. He left his room key on the table near Dean, then gazed down at his slumbering brother for a moment. Dead to the world, and either way Sam did this, he was going to wake up to panic and worry.
Sam was not going to stick around, though. He had to get to that fortune teller, had to have her help explain how to get turned back into a guy. And fast.
He wasn't even afraid of the ammunition this would give Dean for teasing. No, Sam was only afraid of Dean finding out that Sam had a crush on him. That was something he didn't think he could take.
This was good. This was better. Leaving was better.
He hefted the bag over his shoulder and quietly stepped out of the room.
The fortune teller was no help at all. “But I-”
“Of course you're not supposed to be a girl, dear, but I didn't do it,” she said, raising her hands. “When you and your brother came in for your fortunes, you asked a specific question. You asked who you were going to be.”
Sam winced and slid down in the chair. It was a lot easier to do when he was smaller. “Because I need to know. About my destiny, about what I'm going to become.”
The fortune teller clucked her tongue against her teeth. “Child, you didn't say 'what', you said 'who'. It makes a difference.”
“Still not explaining how this-” he waved a tiny, slender fingers in desperation at his body. “Happened. At all.”
“You ever heard of wishing and wanting something so hard, you make it happen?”
Sam froze. “This must be part of who you wanted to be,” the fortune teller said, wincing. “My crystals aren't just random objects; they focus on what you send out, and child, you must've been sending out something massive for this to have happened.”
“But-”
The fortune teller shook her head. “If you want to reverse this, you're going to have to come to terms with who you are. What it is you truly want. Your thoughts are a jumbled mess. Meditation will help clear your mind and make your goals easier to see.”
“So...what, focus new energies? Send out a different message of 'I'm happy with myself'?” Sam asked incredulously, and hated that his voice got high and squeaky.
“Simply put, but yes, something to that effect. But there either needs to be complete peace or a complete and full want, a dedicated wish, for you to become who you were before this. In the meantime, since I can tell just by your aura that neither of those is going to happen anytime soon, I'd try finding some new clothes. I have some old things in the back you can have for the time being. Long enough to get yourself to a store.”
Sam managed a small smile and followed her back to her private rooms. He picked a simple outfit, a tank top and worn, paint-covered jeans. “Thank you,” he said, sighing. “For everything.”
“Good luck,” was all she said, before she left him to get dressed.
His cell phone rang twenty minutes after he left the fortune teller. Dean. Sam put it away in the pocket of his jeans and kept going down the street.
Three minutes later, Dean called again. Thirty seconds after that, Dean called again. There was a five minute interval, and then Dean called four times in a row.
Sam took a seat on a nearby park bench and sighed, hanging his head low. He hated doing this to Dean, when his brother was obviously going batshit insane over Sam being missing, but he couldn't go back. There was no way he was going to be able to figure out how to make himself go back to being a guy when Dean was around.
But he couldn't leave Dean hanging, either.
“Sam?”
Sam jumped and gazed around. Dean was there, right there, hurrying down the path. His eyes darted each and every different way possible, and he looked panicked. “Sam?!” he called again, desperation in his voice.
Guy had to be fighting a hangover, and he'd still come running out to save Sam. Sam tucked his backpack underneath the bench and hurried over.
Then stopped. What the hell was he doing? If he did this, he'd never be able to calmly figure out what the hell he was supposed to want.
Especially when what he wanted was crossing the street, heading towards Sam, eyes everywhere but on him.
He thought fast for a moment, then moved forward again. “Sam?” Dean almost shouted, and Sam winced when his voice broke.
“Excuse me, sir?” he asked, and Dean's head whipped around to lock on him. “Are you all right?” Sam asked, and damn was it disconcerting to have to look up at Dean again.
Dean was forcibly fighting back a glare. “No, but thank you.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Sam offered quickly as Dean went to move on. “You're looking for someone, right? So maybe I can help.”
Dean paused again, glancing over at Sam, seemingly fighting with himself for a moment. When he finally turned back to Sam, there was something akin to honest to god terror in his eyes “Yeah. My brother, Sam. Taller than me, brown floppy hair, gangly legs, and the biggest ass knack for getting into trouble you can imagine.”
Sam mentally cringed. For Dean to be this honest, this open to outside help, he had to be fucking desperate. “He sounds pretty easy to spot; who do I contact if I find him?” he said instead.
“Dean. Dean Winchester, hotel on the corner near the highway. Room twelve.” Dean finally blinked, and confusion and suspicion flooded over the fear briefly. “And you are...?”
“Amelia Henry,” Sam said promptly. “I usually go by Emmy, though.”
“Emmy. Right. Thank you,” Dean said, already moving on. His eyes darted left and right, and Sam watched him go, wishing he was walking beside him.
Too late to go back now, though. And honestly, he hadn't really had a choice. He had to find a way to get this crush out of his HEAD, and then things would be okay.
He had to set Dean's mind at ease somehow. Doing it here wasn't going to work, though. And if Sam turned his phone on, then he'd leave himself open to Dean being able to track him.
He was going to have to do something, though. And fast.
Maybe Sam just needed some outside help of his own.
When he saw Dean next, Dean didn't look worried anymore.
Dean looked pissed. And still slightly worried.
The message had been received, then. Good to know.
Sam was, himself, sitting in the diner, with an untouched sandwich in front of him. He'd been lost in his thoughts, sporadically munching on fries just to give himself something to do. No amount of thinking, though, had given him anything close to a solution.
Dean moved to the diner's counter, clenching and unclenching his fists again and again. “Hey, uh, Dean, right?” Sam called out, watching Dean's glare get full on transferred from the counter-top to him. Sam resisted the urge to swallow. “Any luck?”
Dean snorted and shook his head. “No. You can call off your own search, Amelia. 'Preciate it, though.”
“It's Emmy,” Sam found himself saying, raising an eyebrow at him. “And are you going to sit up there by yourself, or are you gonna come sit and explain to me?”
Dean blinked, the glare falling away. “Explain?”
“About your brother.” Sam looked pointedly at the open seat on the other side of the booth, then back at Dean. “C'mon, man: come sit with me.”
Dean raised his eyebrow but stood and made his way over to the booth. In between Dean rising from the stool to sitting in the booth, Sam had made an impressive mental list of why this was a bad idea. This could lead to something potentially dangerous.
“And you're interested why?” Dean asked as soon as he was seated.
Sam shrugged. “Because I helped look for him this afternoon.”
“And speaking of, why did you-”
“Because...because I know what it feels like to lose someone. And honestly? I had nothing better to do with my afternoon.”
Dean stared at him for a moment before a grudging smile began on his face. “Emmy, right?”
Sam nodded.
“You're not bad,” Dean admitted, before looking down at the sandwich. “When were you going to eat that? An hour ago?”
Sam could feel his cheeks heating and discovered that girls blushed a lot more readily than guys did. It was also a lot easier, too. “I had things on my mind,” he brushed off, before he leaned in. “Now, what's going on with your brother?”
Dean sighed. “Finally got a text from him, said he was okay. Something's...happened, and he had to head for a friend of ours. Most I can tell, he's okay. I called the friend, and he said that Sam was on his way. Wouldn't tell me what was going on, though.” His gaze narrowed, and the anger and worry were both there to see. “He's such a dumbass sometimes, I swear.”
Ow, and thanks, Dean. Sam bit his lip. “Maybe he's afraid you'll think something's wrong with him. He might just be afraid of your reaction to...whatever it is he's gotten into.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “That's probably the case. Kid's a nut like that. He seems to keep forgetting that as the older brother, there's a lot that gets ignored in light of the fact that he's okay. You gonna eat your fries?”
Sam slid the plate across in answer. Dean gave him a happy grin and started munching, eyes on the food for a few moments at least. Thank god. Sam needed time to slow his pulse and get the longing out of his eyes. If Dean could stop being so good looking and handsome for two point five seconds, Sam would've considered going with him earlier.
Now, though, he was Amelia Henry, which, okay, cute inside joke concerning guns. Now there was no turning back until he'd, well, turned back. Now-
Sam sat up straighter in his seat. Now he could indulge himself for a little bit. Now he could honestly actually have a crush on Dean. He could like Dean all he wanted. He could have-
Okay, maybe going a little too far. But this was an opportunity.
Maybe he'd just realize that crushing on Dean was stupid, and this would be the thing to snap him out of it. Or maybe he'd be satisfied with just this little piece of Dean and then be back to normal.
Sam could work with this.
Sultry, though, wasn't his thing. He didn't do seduction, had flopped the few times he'd tried with Jess. Apparently, he did adorable and sweet and charming. Not 'make you burn where you sit' like Dean did.
And man did Dean do it.
“You gonna go after him?” Sam asked as Dean practically demolished his fries.
“Probably tomorrow,” Dean said after he'd swallowed the fries down, and Sam's heart dropped. “Chase after the geek and give him hell.” And make sure he's okay was the unspoken finishing thought, one that Sam heard loud and clear.
“No!” Sam burst out, and Dean's head jerked towards him in surprise. His cheeks turned bright red again under Dean's bewildered gaze. “I-I mean, why? He ditched you; don't you deserve a holiday, some time on your own?”
Dean's eyebrow was edging towards his hairline. “Just a thought,” Sam mumbled, pulling the plate back and shoving one of the random fries that had survived in his mouth. Maybe if it was full he'd shut up.
“...Like what?”
Sam raised his eyes up towards Dean, who looked...slightly amused. Still worried, but a small grin was growing on his face. “A few days to, I don't know, pig out on the local cuisine, wander the town, do random things...”
The grin slid into a regretful one. “As much as I'd love to, and with such extremely fantastic company at that...I can't. The kid's my only family anymore.”
“I thought you said he was a dumbass,” Sam said, and was he pouting?
“He is, but...” Dean sighed. “It's kinda long and complicated. When we were kids, I saved his life. Pulled him out of a fire, and I haven't stopped looking after him since. He doesn't make it easy, either: kid's way too nice for his own damn good. He's good looking, he's got that whole 'I'm an abandoned puppy, take me home' thing going on for him, and he's got too big a heart. And way too big a brain: he overthinks and worries about everything, which is where I come in. Him disappearing like this? Not normal. Something's wrong, and I intend to find out what it is.”
Sam blinked and blinked again, then realized Dean had finished speaking. “Really?” was all he managed, before he stuttered, “I-I mean, who talks about their brother like that? You've gotta be a pretty awesome brother yourself, then.”
Dean, thank goodness, was looking more amused than anything else. “'Course I am. Big Brother of the Year award and everything.”
Sam chuckled, or at least tried to. He was fairly certain that the sound coming out of his mouth could only be classified as a giggle. God.
“So thank you for looking, which was really nice of you, and thank you for the cold fries, and...” Dean paused, looking for the right words, then shrugged. “See you around.” He slid out of the booth and was almost at the door before Sam figured out how to make his feet work.
“At least today.”
Dean stopped and glanced back. Sam stepped forward a little more, swallowing and suddenly more nervous than he'd ever been in his life. “You weren't leaving until tomorrow, right? So take a holiday. Today. With...with me.”
His heart was suddenly hammering in his chest as Dean gazed at him, all while his mind was silently pleading with him to stay. C'mon, do something for yourself, for me. Please don't go. Let me have today, and I swear I'll be happy. Just today, which would only really be a half day, and I'll be-
“Okay.”
Sam blinked and refocused on Dean, on the small smile that was growing on his face. “Okay,” Dean repeated again, softer than the first time. “Why not? Gimme a tour of the town.”
Sam slowly began to grin. Finally, finally, something was going his way.
Chapter 2
--------------------------------------
For the inside joke about the name, Henry was the name of the rifle that was replaced by the Winchester. *is all geeky*
Please tell me what you thought? *is all exceedingly nervous*
~Nebula
And this came from it.
This is a ONE TIME ONLY deal. There will NOT be any more Wincest from me after this fic (at least, I'm hoping not; I like doing gen! And I'm not good with Wincest! *whines*) If you enjoy Wincest on top of gen, though, I hope you enjoy my meager offering.
Title: Be the Girl
Chapter: 1 of 4
Rating: R for language and sexual situations
Spoilers: General season 2 spoilers.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warnings: Incest, gender!swapped!Sam, romance, schmoop, angst, hurt!Sam (duh), sexual situations (but no sex!)
Disclaimer: I don't own them, thank god, or I think they'd kill me.
Summary: Sam gets turned into a girl by his own thoughts. The only way back is to be calm and to admit what he wants. Since that's Dean, he's a little stuck. As a girl, though, maybe he can have Dean for a little bit, since Dean doesn't know it's him. As his luck generally goes, though, he gets more than he bargained for...
Beta: umbralillium. You rock my socks.
A/N: I see a lot of angsty (well written) Wincest fics where it's all about the sex, which, c'mon, it's hot, okay? But I wanted a romance. So I wrote one. Even though Dean doesn't know it's Sam.
When Sam woke up as a girl, there was a slight freaking out. Obviously. Because going to bed with a dick and waking up minus one was scary enough as it was. Never mind the ample breasts that were now on his chest.
He hurried to the bathroom, being as quiet as possible. Dean was still asleep in the next bed, snoring loudly. Out for drinks all night and hustling had taken their toll well. Dean wasn't getting out of bed for another five hours, minimum.
The mirror showed that his face had changed in the process. His entire body had changed: he looked nothing like the Sam Winchester he knew. No, now he was a petite brunette with hair that went down past his shoulders and a wave that flowed through naturally. A pointy little nose, framed by rosy cheeks and kissable lips, and eyes that sparkled a mix of green and brown underneath full, lush lashes. His t-shirt that had been tight the night before was baggy and loose, and his pants were hanging low on his hips.
He looked cute. He looked fuckable.
Sam bit back a groan and brushed stray strands from his face. Of course this would happen to him.
And of course this would happen several days after he'd figured out that he had a crush on Dean.
Sam let his head fall back against the wall. “Fuck,” he muttered, and then rolled his eyes. Even his voice was adorable, soft and sweet.
Dammit.
He was gonna roast that fortune teller.
He hurried back out to the room and shoved everything into his bag, as quietly as he dared. He left his room key on the table near Dean, then gazed down at his slumbering brother for a moment. Dead to the world, and either way Sam did this, he was going to wake up to panic and worry.
Sam was not going to stick around, though. He had to get to that fortune teller, had to have her help explain how to get turned back into a guy. And fast.
He wasn't even afraid of the ammunition this would give Dean for teasing. No, Sam was only afraid of Dean finding out that Sam had a crush on him. That was something he didn't think he could take.
This was good. This was better. Leaving was better.
He hefted the bag over his shoulder and quietly stepped out of the room.
The fortune teller was no help at all. “But I-”
“Of course you're not supposed to be a girl, dear, but I didn't do it,” she said, raising her hands. “When you and your brother came in for your fortunes, you asked a specific question. You asked who you were going to be.”
Sam winced and slid down in the chair. It was a lot easier to do when he was smaller. “Because I need to know. About my destiny, about what I'm going to become.”
The fortune teller clucked her tongue against her teeth. “Child, you didn't say 'what', you said 'who'. It makes a difference.”
“Still not explaining how this-” he waved a tiny, slender fingers in desperation at his body. “Happened. At all.”
“You ever heard of wishing and wanting something so hard, you make it happen?”
Sam froze. “This must be part of who you wanted to be,” the fortune teller said, wincing. “My crystals aren't just random objects; they focus on what you send out, and child, you must've been sending out something massive for this to have happened.”
“But-”
The fortune teller shook her head. “If you want to reverse this, you're going to have to come to terms with who you are. What it is you truly want. Your thoughts are a jumbled mess. Meditation will help clear your mind and make your goals easier to see.”
“So...what, focus new energies? Send out a different message of 'I'm happy with myself'?” Sam asked incredulously, and hated that his voice got high and squeaky.
“Simply put, but yes, something to that effect. But there either needs to be complete peace or a complete and full want, a dedicated wish, for you to become who you were before this. In the meantime, since I can tell just by your aura that neither of those is going to happen anytime soon, I'd try finding some new clothes. I have some old things in the back you can have for the time being. Long enough to get yourself to a store.”
Sam managed a small smile and followed her back to her private rooms. He picked a simple outfit, a tank top and worn, paint-covered jeans. “Thank you,” he said, sighing. “For everything.”
“Good luck,” was all she said, before she left him to get dressed.
His cell phone rang twenty minutes after he left the fortune teller. Dean. Sam put it away in the pocket of his jeans and kept going down the street.
Three minutes later, Dean called again. Thirty seconds after that, Dean called again. There was a five minute interval, and then Dean called four times in a row.
Sam took a seat on a nearby park bench and sighed, hanging his head low. He hated doing this to Dean, when his brother was obviously going batshit insane over Sam being missing, but he couldn't go back. There was no way he was going to be able to figure out how to make himself go back to being a guy when Dean was around.
But he couldn't leave Dean hanging, either.
“Sam?”
Sam jumped and gazed around. Dean was there, right there, hurrying down the path. His eyes darted each and every different way possible, and he looked panicked. “Sam?!” he called again, desperation in his voice.
Guy had to be fighting a hangover, and he'd still come running out to save Sam. Sam tucked his backpack underneath the bench and hurried over.
Then stopped. What the hell was he doing? If he did this, he'd never be able to calmly figure out what the hell he was supposed to want.
Especially when what he wanted was crossing the street, heading towards Sam, eyes everywhere but on him.
He thought fast for a moment, then moved forward again. “Sam?” Dean almost shouted, and Sam winced when his voice broke.
“Excuse me, sir?” he asked, and Dean's head whipped around to lock on him. “Are you all right?” Sam asked, and damn was it disconcerting to have to look up at Dean again.
Dean was forcibly fighting back a glare. “No, but thank you.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Sam offered quickly as Dean went to move on. “You're looking for someone, right? So maybe I can help.”
Dean paused again, glancing over at Sam, seemingly fighting with himself for a moment. When he finally turned back to Sam, there was something akin to honest to god terror in his eyes “Yeah. My brother, Sam. Taller than me, brown floppy hair, gangly legs, and the biggest ass knack for getting into trouble you can imagine.”
Sam mentally cringed. For Dean to be this honest, this open to outside help, he had to be fucking desperate. “He sounds pretty easy to spot; who do I contact if I find him?” he said instead.
“Dean. Dean Winchester, hotel on the corner near the highway. Room twelve.” Dean finally blinked, and confusion and suspicion flooded over the fear briefly. “And you are...?”
“Amelia Henry,” Sam said promptly. “I usually go by Emmy, though.”
“Emmy. Right. Thank you,” Dean said, already moving on. His eyes darted left and right, and Sam watched him go, wishing he was walking beside him.
Too late to go back now, though. And honestly, he hadn't really had a choice. He had to find a way to get this crush out of his HEAD, and then things would be okay.
He had to set Dean's mind at ease somehow. Doing it here wasn't going to work, though. And if Sam turned his phone on, then he'd leave himself open to Dean being able to track him.
He was going to have to do something, though. And fast.
Maybe Sam just needed some outside help of his own.
When he saw Dean next, Dean didn't look worried anymore.
Dean looked pissed. And still slightly worried.
The message had been received, then. Good to know.
Sam was, himself, sitting in the diner, with an untouched sandwich in front of him. He'd been lost in his thoughts, sporadically munching on fries just to give himself something to do. No amount of thinking, though, had given him anything close to a solution.
Dean moved to the diner's counter, clenching and unclenching his fists again and again. “Hey, uh, Dean, right?” Sam called out, watching Dean's glare get full on transferred from the counter-top to him. Sam resisted the urge to swallow. “Any luck?”
Dean snorted and shook his head. “No. You can call off your own search, Amelia. 'Preciate it, though.”
“It's Emmy,” Sam found himself saying, raising an eyebrow at him. “And are you going to sit up there by yourself, or are you gonna come sit and explain to me?”
Dean blinked, the glare falling away. “Explain?”
“About your brother.” Sam looked pointedly at the open seat on the other side of the booth, then back at Dean. “C'mon, man: come sit with me.”
Dean raised his eyebrow but stood and made his way over to the booth. In between Dean rising from the stool to sitting in the booth, Sam had made an impressive mental list of why this was a bad idea. This could lead to something potentially dangerous.
“And you're interested why?” Dean asked as soon as he was seated.
Sam shrugged. “Because I helped look for him this afternoon.”
“And speaking of, why did you-”
“Because...because I know what it feels like to lose someone. And honestly? I had nothing better to do with my afternoon.”
Dean stared at him for a moment before a grudging smile began on his face. “Emmy, right?”
Sam nodded.
“You're not bad,” Dean admitted, before looking down at the sandwich. “When were you going to eat that? An hour ago?”
Sam could feel his cheeks heating and discovered that girls blushed a lot more readily than guys did. It was also a lot easier, too. “I had things on my mind,” he brushed off, before he leaned in. “Now, what's going on with your brother?”
Dean sighed. “Finally got a text from him, said he was okay. Something's...happened, and he had to head for a friend of ours. Most I can tell, he's okay. I called the friend, and he said that Sam was on his way. Wouldn't tell me what was going on, though.” His gaze narrowed, and the anger and worry were both there to see. “He's such a dumbass sometimes, I swear.”
Ow, and thanks, Dean. Sam bit his lip. “Maybe he's afraid you'll think something's wrong with him. He might just be afraid of your reaction to...whatever it is he's gotten into.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “That's probably the case. Kid's a nut like that. He seems to keep forgetting that as the older brother, there's a lot that gets ignored in light of the fact that he's okay. You gonna eat your fries?”
Sam slid the plate across in answer. Dean gave him a happy grin and started munching, eyes on the food for a few moments at least. Thank god. Sam needed time to slow his pulse and get the longing out of his eyes. If Dean could stop being so good looking and handsome for two point five seconds, Sam would've considered going with him earlier.
Now, though, he was Amelia Henry, which, okay, cute inside joke concerning guns. Now there was no turning back until he'd, well, turned back. Now-
Sam sat up straighter in his seat. Now he could indulge himself for a little bit. Now he could honestly actually have a crush on Dean. He could like Dean all he wanted. He could have-
Okay, maybe going a little too far. But this was an opportunity.
Maybe he'd just realize that crushing on Dean was stupid, and this would be the thing to snap him out of it. Or maybe he'd be satisfied with just this little piece of Dean and then be back to normal.
Sam could work with this.
Sultry, though, wasn't his thing. He didn't do seduction, had flopped the few times he'd tried with Jess. Apparently, he did adorable and sweet and charming. Not 'make you burn where you sit' like Dean did.
And man did Dean do it.
“You gonna go after him?” Sam asked as Dean practically demolished his fries.
“Probably tomorrow,” Dean said after he'd swallowed the fries down, and Sam's heart dropped. “Chase after the geek and give him hell.” And make sure he's okay was the unspoken finishing thought, one that Sam heard loud and clear.
“No!” Sam burst out, and Dean's head jerked towards him in surprise. His cheeks turned bright red again under Dean's bewildered gaze. “I-I mean, why? He ditched you; don't you deserve a holiday, some time on your own?”
Dean's eyebrow was edging towards his hairline. “Just a thought,” Sam mumbled, pulling the plate back and shoving one of the random fries that had survived in his mouth. Maybe if it was full he'd shut up.
“...Like what?”
Sam raised his eyes up towards Dean, who looked...slightly amused. Still worried, but a small grin was growing on his face. “A few days to, I don't know, pig out on the local cuisine, wander the town, do random things...”
The grin slid into a regretful one. “As much as I'd love to, and with such extremely fantastic company at that...I can't. The kid's my only family anymore.”
“I thought you said he was a dumbass,” Sam said, and was he pouting?
“He is, but...” Dean sighed. “It's kinda long and complicated. When we were kids, I saved his life. Pulled him out of a fire, and I haven't stopped looking after him since. He doesn't make it easy, either: kid's way too nice for his own damn good. He's good looking, he's got that whole 'I'm an abandoned puppy, take me home' thing going on for him, and he's got too big a heart. And way too big a brain: he overthinks and worries about everything, which is where I come in. Him disappearing like this? Not normal. Something's wrong, and I intend to find out what it is.”
Sam blinked and blinked again, then realized Dean had finished speaking. “Really?” was all he managed, before he stuttered, “I-I mean, who talks about their brother like that? You've gotta be a pretty awesome brother yourself, then.”
Dean, thank goodness, was looking more amused than anything else. “'Course I am. Big Brother of the Year award and everything.”
Sam chuckled, or at least tried to. He was fairly certain that the sound coming out of his mouth could only be classified as a giggle. God.
“So thank you for looking, which was really nice of you, and thank you for the cold fries, and...” Dean paused, looking for the right words, then shrugged. “See you around.” He slid out of the booth and was almost at the door before Sam figured out how to make his feet work.
“At least today.”
Dean stopped and glanced back. Sam stepped forward a little more, swallowing and suddenly more nervous than he'd ever been in his life. “You weren't leaving until tomorrow, right? So take a holiday. Today. With...with me.”
His heart was suddenly hammering in his chest as Dean gazed at him, all while his mind was silently pleading with him to stay. C'mon, do something for yourself, for me. Please don't go. Let me have today, and I swear I'll be happy. Just today, which would only really be a half day, and I'll be-
“Okay.”
Sam blinked and refocused on Dean, on the small smile that was growing on his face. “Okay,” Dean repeated again, softer than the first time. “Why not? Gimme a tour of the town.”
Sam slowly began to grin. Finally, finally, something was going his way.
Chapter 2
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For the inside joke about the name, Henry was the name of the rifle that was replaced by the Winchester. *is all geeky*
Please tell me what you thought? *is all exceedingly nervous*
~Nebula