look me in the eye and tell me that I'm satisfied

[wegotwork]

Sam needs some air. The past few days have been claustrophobic at best between him and Dean, though at least now they've upgraded to a room with two beds instead of being forced to share the one. Between Dean's sudden aversion to all meat and his own rather fond attitude towards clowns (which he discovered upon seeing one in a window display and

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[thehandsomeone]

Dean doesn't really know what to do with himself when Sam isn't around. The only reason he managed solo before were the jobs keeping him busy. And now - now, he isn't so sure what it would mean to go home, anyway.

Things aren't perfect between them; they never were. Sam still glares at him every time Dean turns his music up too loud, still gets impatient with Dean's inability to sit still for any extended period of time, but now there's that added element. There's still something Sam isn't telling him, something that makes Sam look guilty any time he gets too irritated with Dean. Dean keeps meaning to ask about it, but he chokes every time. So Dean gets it, that Sam needs space, but - and he hates to admit it - it makes him fucking nervous to have Sam too far away from him. He's barely driven in the car since they arrived, what with the diner in walking distance from their hotel, and although he misses the road underneath him, the wind blowing through his windows, he stays close

[wegotwork]

Sam knows how much Dean misses the open road, the sound of the Impala rumbling under his feet, the feel of warm air ghosting over his face, the long stretch of highway in front of him taunting him with the temptation to press down on the gas pedal and get the car up to one hundred miles per hour.

So the fact that he's stuck here - that they're both stuck here - is adding an entirely second level of frustration and tension to their interactions. Hence the avoidance, which so far today has mostly succeeded. At least he has the books to distract him.

The bench across from him sags from the sudden weight of Dean, and Sam's eyes snap upward to his brother's face as Dean starts to push some of the books aside. "Fine, I'll move 'em," he mumbles, shutting the books and stacking them on top of each other to create more surface room on the table.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," Sam adds.

[thehandsomeone]

"Just followin' my stomach," Dean says easily, trying not to let Sam's obvious annoyance get to him. The waitress steps over, her heels clacking on the tile floor, and Dean orders the vegetarian omlette (he has to keep his protein up somehow), as well as a milkshake and a large slice of pie. As soon as Sam orders and the waitress walks away - and Dean watches her go; her legs go on for miles and she has this walk that - Dean turns back to Sam. He spreads his hands out on the now-cleared table and asks with false cheer, already knowing the answer, "Any news?"

[wegotwork]

Sam doesn't want to respond with bad news, but so far, he's come up with absolutely nothing, and he can't tell if he's more frustrated with himself for not being able to find anything yet or with the texts he's resigned to reading for the past five hours. Maybe food will help him to not only feel better, but in the process of taking a break from his research, an idea will suddenly occur to him.

"Nothing yet," he replies, making an apologetic face. "Sorry."

[thehandsomeone]

Dean can't really reach to pat Sam on the shoulder, so he nudges him under the table again instead. "Hey," he says, "we'll figure something out." He doesn't know if he believes it, but he knows that one of them has to have some kind of optimism here. Otherwise, they'll go crazy. And if Dean wishes, with every passing day, that Dad or someone was here to help them out - well, he'll keep that to himself.

They sit quietly for a while, Dean slurping obnoxiously at his milkshake and keeping half an eye on the cute waitress, but before their food arrives Dean says, "Listen, why don't you give it a rest for tonight? We could go out. Get plastered. Somethin'," he finishes with an easy smile, settling back against the booth.

Actually, their already-limited funds are running out and Dean isn't sure how well credit card scams will work in a world he doesn't know, but still. Sam looks like he needs some kind of break from all of this. If the books looked worn out before, that's nothing compared to the way they look now.

[wegotwork]

"Yeah," Sam says quietly, looking down at his food as if his eyes will bore through the plate and the table itself. "I know. But the truth is, he doesn't know, and he's feeling more and more frustrated by the day that he can't come up with anything. And all of a sudden Dean's decided to be the team cheerleader, which is kind of weird in itself.

"Maybe," he adds, slightly perking up at the mention of alcohol, though the raging hangover he just went through is almost enough to keep him away from drinking for a long, long time. Maybe if he takes it slow this time, the recovery won't be so bad. His mind goes to the money issue, too, and when a thought suddenly occurs to him, he blurts it out.

"One of us might actually have to take an honest job."

[thehandsomeone]

When Sam says it, Dean chokes a little, but he tries to cover it up by scratching at the stubble on his chin. "You might be right, Sammy," Dean says after he clears his throat. "I'll check things out tomorrow. See what I can find." Sam didn't explicitly say it, but Dean's not about to let Sam be the one to get a job. Dean feels useless enough as it is, lately, and anyway - he always sucked at research. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time he took a real job - it'd just be the first time since Sam left. "Too bad we can't charge people for savin' their lives," he adds with a wink.

He stabs at his food with his fork, finishes off the rest of his plate in a matter of minutes, then says, "Tonight, though, we're having some fun. You deserve it," he says, smiling at Sam. He isn't sure if alcohol is the best idea after last time, but right now he'd do just about anything to get that look off Sam's face.

[wegotwork]

Out of the two of them? Sam's been the only one who's actually managed to carry somewhat of an honest job, or an attempt at one. There'll probably be another disagreement over who should take one when he finds out Dean's side, but for now, he nods and digs into his food and the two of them eat in silence for a while.

"I deserve it, huh?" he asks, flashing the first time he's shown in, well, a couple hours. "As much as I'm dying to question your reason for getting me drunk, I don't think I'm going to complain."

[thehandsomeone]

Suddenly, Dean can't really look at Sam, and he really doesn't want to think about that. "You're less cranky when you're drunk," Dean tries to tease, but it sounds how it is, entirely forced, so he throws in, "Besides. We've been here for a bit now and I haven't had a chance to check out any of the local girls, really. That's a crime, especially if more of them look like her," he says with a smirk, indicating where his favorite waitress, Gina, is bending over to set down a few steaming plates a few feet away. "In fact," Dean says, chancing a glance back at Sam now that he's in full-on denial mode, "it's downright unhealthy for you to spend this much time in front of the books when there are cute girls around. You do this at college, too?"

[wegotwork]

This is more like the Dean he remembers, talking about the combination of booze and girls - but mostly getting with girls. It's enough to make him grin again, and he shakes his head slowly, back and forth, almost like a swinging pendulum in a clock. His gaze follows Dean's to Gina and he scoffs quietly. "College is all about research and books," he adds, "and besides, I had Jess."

[thehandsomeone]

"Maybe for you," Dean teases. "If I'd gone, I -" but Dean cuts himself off, and he feels a bit guilty at bringing up Jess. He knows it's somehow been years, for Sam, but he can tell it must have hit Sam hard. He feels a surge of relief, again, that the thing that killed Sam's girlfriend - and Dad, and Mom - is gone. Even if this him didn't kill it. "Right," Dean says, trying to keep up the banter, "Jess. Well, at least you weren't a complete monk at that place."

[wegotwork]

It's been a long time since Jess died, which means the pain isn't as fresh as it used to be. When he talks about her, he doesn't get that bitter taste in his mouth anymore, and the nightmares aren't coming back to haunt him. Azazel is gone, and all the confusion his presence brought with him - or most of it, anyway - died the moment Dean killed him. Some of the confusion is still there. "Far from it, actually," he says teasingly, feeling emboldened all of a sudden. "She was... well..."

[thehandsomeone]

The waitress comes by to take back their plates, and Dean grins as he digs his wallet out of his pocket. "That's my boy," he chuckles, tossing a few bills down on the table. He looks back at Sam, waiting to see if he'll share more. Sam has told him pieces of what happened over the last few years in his world, but so far there hasn't been much time for detail. Dean still feels like he missed out on a lot, but this - this is easy.

[wegotwork]

"You met her, actually," Sam adds, letting his fork fall onto his plate with a clatter before the waitress comes to take it all away. "Just the one time, though. Before we left to go find Dad, and then she... you know." Maybe actually mentioning the death itself is still a sore subject, and one he's not up to getting into detail on.

"But yeah, you met her. Hit on her too, if I remember correctly."

[thehandsomeone]

"Really?" he asks. Dean snorts. It sounds about right. "She must've been a pretty one, then, huh?" The waitress brings back their change, and they stand up. "Must be hard having such a good-looking older brother," he says with a sigh as he grabs half the pile of books and they start to head out. "One look at me, and -" he nudges Sam in the ribs and gives his most ridiculous I am irresistible face.

[wegotwork]

Sam returns the nudge without hesitation, practically rolling his eyes. At the very least, a face gets made in his brother's direction. "She was pretty, alright? Why is it so hard to believe that I could get a pretty girl?"