Jan 18, 2015 15:55
Hey, this is what you wanted, isn't it?
My boots thudded loudly against the concrete stairs, the sound echoing all around me. I hadn't felt like taking the elevator.
I mean, it's all going according to plan.
I ran my fingers through my hair, which had dried funny without me combing it. I guess I'd been too busy with Sam to pay any attention to my morning routine.
Like hell it is! The "plan", if you could even call it that, was just supposed to end up with Sam getting fat, so he couldn't hunt anymore. I wasn't supposed to start wanting to bone him!
Apparently, my inner voice didn't have a reply for that.
With that temporarily silent, I stepped off the last stair, pushing open a door into the lobby of the hotel. There weren't a lot of people around. I kept my head down and didn't talk to the ones that were.
As I passed the front desk, the blonde from yesterday looked up with a bright smile.
"How are things going with your boyfriend?"
"Great," I snapped, trying not to gag. "Fan-freaking-tastic."
I shoved open one of the double doors that led outside, maybe a little harder than was necessary. It nearly smashed into the plate-glass window that its frame was set into. I kind of wished it had shattered it.
It had occurred to me, halfway down the stairs, that I hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday. I was used to eating on a "when we can" basis, but being hungry was getting old. And no way was I eating anything that came out of the Golden Heart Inn's kitchens.
I walked into the first restaurant I came across, ordered a salad, and then spent about fifteen minutes scraping the junk out of it. What I had left after that was nothing but a very small, pathetic pile of lettuce leaves. I stared at it, brooding.
It had been a stupid idea from the start. Maybe I'd had good intentions, but if I'd managed to pull it off, I wouldn't just be forcing Sam to live a relatively normal life. I'd also be making him defenseless if anything nasty came his way. And with our luck, something nasty'd be breaking down his door within a week.
Of course, that wasn't to say I didn't love the idea of him getting bigger and softer and-
I closed my eyes and pushed my thumbs against them, rubbing. We had to get out of here. Maybe there was something in the water, or the food. Maybe things'd go back to normal once we'd left and I could actually be in the same room as Sam without...feeling...like this, or wanting...certain things.
Yeah, okay, I could hold onto that.
He was awake when I finally got back to the room. I considered turning around and going back out, but I didn't really have anywhere else to go. So I just crossed the room without making eye contact and stared out the window, shoving my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket.
Sam cleared his throat. I glanced at the ceiling. "What?"
"It happened again," he said, his tone carefully neutral.
"Yeah, you're right. It did."
There was an awkward silence that stretched on for way too long. He finally broke it.
"Is there something you want to tell me, Dean?"
I took a deep breath. God, I hated that concerned, understanding tone he had-especially when it was directed at me.
"I've seen you fight," I said evenly, trying to match his tone.
"What?" I could practically hear the gears stall in his head.
"I said, I've seen you fight," I repeated, turning around. I didn't look at him. "You could have dropped me in one, maybe two punches."
"...so?"
"So? So, why didn't you?" I threw my hands up, still refusing to look at him. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
I turned back to the window.
"What's wrong with me?" he exclaimed incredulously. "You just barely get through with some sort of creepy, twisted BDSM scenario or...whatever the hell that was, and then you run off for two hours, and now you want to know what's wrong with me?"
I was about to reply when I heard the crinkle of plastic. Running a hand through my hair again, I looked back at him. His belly was still swollen, but not as much. He'd been able to pull his shirt down over it, though it didn't look comfortable. And his mouth was full.
"What are you eating?"
"Uh...Snickers," Sam said, picking up the wrapper from his bedside table.
"Where'd you get it?"
"Well, I woke up, and you were gone, and I went down to the lobby. There were vending machines. It's not that big of a deal."
I stared at him for a minute, then clenched my jaw.
"Pack up. We're leaving."
"Leaving? What about the case?" Sam swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, with a little grunt of effort.
"Yeah, about that." I grabbed yesterday's clothes off the back of a chair, folding them into a bundle. "I lied."
"What-"
"Now's not really the time, okay?" I shoved the door open and headed for the stairs, not checking to see if he was behind me.
Once we reached the lobby, I threw my keys to Sam and sent him out to start the car. I strode over to the desk and tossed the room key down onto it.
"We're checking out," I said abruptly.
The pretty blonde frowned up at me. She was wearing a frilly top that showed off her cleavage in a way that barely seemed legal, and it did nothing for me. My lips twitched halfway into a grimace of frustration and self-disgust before I got a handle on my emotions.
"That was fast," she remarked, not reaching for the key. She leaned forward, and I got an even more spectacular view that, again, did absolutely nothing. "Someone said they heard yelling coming from your room. Did your boyfriend figure out what was going on and convince you to leave?"
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to ten before I responded. "No. No, actually, I-"
Behind me, the door opened, and I glanced back over my shoulder. Sam was standing half-in and half-out of the building, holding his folded coat awkwardly over his stomach to hide the bulge there.
"Dean, did you move the car?"
"Uh, no," I replied, turning the rest of the way around. "I didn't. Is there, uh, any particular reason you ask?"
"Yeah, actually. It's gone. I can't find it."
"What do you mean, it's gone?" I repeated, leaving the desk and all but running outside.
"Just that. It's gone."
I made a beeline for where I'd parked the Impala. He'd been right-it wasn't there. There were no tracks in the dust that lay in a thin layer over the blacktop of the parking lot, the only footprints were Sam's, and there wasn't so much as a ransom note.
Hey, it's a nice car, all right? Somebody might pay a lot of money to get it back.
"Oh, you have gotta be kidding me," I groaned. "Who-who would do something like this?"
"Okay, calm down. I'm sure they have security cameras in the parking lot. We can just ask to see the tapes, and then we'll find out who took your car," Sam said. He raised his hand to pat me on the shoulder, then hesitated, and awkwardly lowered it. I noticed his reluctance to touch me, but I had bigger things to worry about at the moment.
"No, I'm sorry, there aren't any security tapes," the blonde girl at the desk said apologetically.
"Well, that is just friggin' great," I snapped, lacing my fingers together behind my head and taking a few steps away.
Sam bent down a little. It must have been hard, considering how full he still had to be. "Sorry about him. He's...kind of under a lot of stress."
"No, it's fine. We get a lot of anxious feeders in here," she replied with a smile in her voice.
I tensed, but Sam just gave a careful, "Uh-huh," in response before moving on. "So, did you see anything?"
"No, I didn't. Sorry."
"That's fine. And you said the town doesn't have its own police force?"
"No, the nearest station is almost fifty miles away. It's not worth it, trust me."
"Alright. Thank you. Just...tell us if anything turns up."
"Of course!" She handed the room key back to him. "So I guess that you'll be staying here a little longer?"
Sam glanced at me. I kept my expression blank. "I don't think we have a choice."
"Alright, we've gotta figure out what's going on here." I paced back and forth across the room, my arms folded over my chest. "Any ideas?"
"Uh..." Sam, sitting on his bed, shrugged. "No. I don't know."
"C'mon, think." I stopped in front of him. "I could be possessed, right? I could have moved the car without remembering, and some of these demons are pretty messed up, so that would explain...everything else."
"Cristo," Sam replied. When I didn't react, he shook his head. "You're not possessed."
"Then what's wrong with me?" I muttered, turning away and rubbing the back of my neck.
"Okay, listen. I think you should just try to calm down." He stood up, and laid a hand on my shoulder, with no hesitation this time.
"Calm down? How the hell am I supposed to calm down?" I snapped without looking at him. "My car's gone and...God, I don't even want to think about what's going on with us. This is the weirdest freaking hunt I've ever been on, and I just stumbled right onto it."
"Maybe it's not a hunt," Sam suggested, taking his hand off my shoulder. I glanced back at him.
"What?"
"Maybe someone just stole your car." He shrugged. "It happens, Dean. There might not be anything supernatural about it."
"So, what about..." I swallowed. "...the other stuff?"
"Okay, that, I can't explain," he admitted.
"And why are you so calm about this all of a sudden?" I turned around to face him. "What happened to you freaking out and yelling at me about assaulting you or whatever?"
"Well, to be honest, I think we have bigger things to worry about," Sam replied. "This is weird, yeah, but it's not hurting either of us. We're not doing anything illegal, for once."
I stared at him. The muscles in my throat worked, but I couldn't get the words that I wanted out-that it would hurt him in the long run. So I said something else.
"Are you telling me I should try to enjoy this?" I asked quietly.
When had he gotten so close to me? His proximity made my skin crawl, and not in a bad way. My breathing got a little more rapid as his eyes flicked over my face, before he finally made eye contact with me and held it. I stared up at him, and bit my tongue as hard as I could, trying to use the pain to return to reality.
"I swear, Sam, if you try to kiss me right now, I will punch you hard enough to shove your nose up into your brain," I murmured, my voice husky.
That broke the sexual tension (thank God). He laughed and went back to sitting on the bed.
"So." I coughed. "We just hang out here until someone finds the car."
"Yep." Sam rested his elbows on his knees, then looked pointedly up at me. "Hey. Dean."
"Yeah?"
"I'm hungry."
With those two words, a thrill shot through me. It was like getting a model's phone number or that moment when you finally manage to unhook a girl's bra. It was so out of place it almost made me dizzy, but it was followed by an immediate need that threw reason and logic out the window.
Okay. This wasn't normal behavior for either of us. Something was definitely wrong here, and it was affecting us in some pretty personal ways. This wasn't right, and these urges weren't actually mine. The smart thing to do would have been to get ahold of myself forget about what I wanted, and try to think about what to do next in a calm and rational manner.
But since when had I ever reigned in my impulses?
"Stay here," I told Sam, turning towards the door. "I'll be back in a minute."
wincest,
weight gain,
stuffing,
feeding,
spn,
sam/dean,
supernatural