SPN fic: And Still So Many Things I Want To Say (gen)
Title: And Still So Many Things I Want To Say
Author: chash
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Dean and Sam.
Rating: PG.
Warnings: Spoilers for the whole fourth season.
Word Count: 2192 words.
Summary: Coda to 404; two times Dean gave Sam a haircut.
Notes: Last night, inarticulate and chibimazoku and I were discussing how Sam's hair was, uh. Kind of unfortunate. (Oh Sam, I love you. But. Your hair.) And then we discussed the possibility that Dean usually cuts it for him. And then I woke up and wrote this. Also, the title is from Billy Joel. That's right.
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.
When he's six, Sam starts braiding his hair to keep it out of his face, and Dean thinks it's awesome. Sam's already kind of small and on the weak side, and Dean loves ragging him about it, so braiding his hair? It's the best fodder ever. Dean starts stealing nail polish and My Little Ponies for him, because that's what older brothers do. Sam gives him angry looks and pouts a lot, but Sam does that all the time anyway, so Dean can't bring himself to care.
But then Sam gets home from school on a Wednesday with his hair a mess, a black eye, dirt all over his clothes and skin, holding a tooth in his hand.
He cries on Dean for about ten minutes, and Dean wishes Dad was home to help with this. Not that he probably would, but it reassures Dean to have someone around so he could ask questions, if he needed to. He can't, though, so he strokes Sam's back and lets him let it out, doesn't ask anything until Sam's quiet in his arms.
"What happened?" he finally says, brushing Sam's hair straight and smooth with his fingers. The elastic's gone somewhere, probably lost in the fight, and if he wasn't so worried about Sam, Dean would be mad enough to kill someone. Anyone who'd do this to his brother.
Sam sniffles. "Guys at school. Making fun of me for being a girl," he says.
Dean's grip tightens, because no one is allowed to make fun of Sam for being a girl except for him.
"I hate my stupid hair," Sam mutters. "I want to get it all cut off but Dad won't give me the money. Says it's unnecessary and too expensive."
It is expensive, Dean knows; he's been cutting his own hair since he was eight. Dad was only willing to do it before then because Dean wouldn't pull it back and it got in his way during training. But Sam doesn't get trained.
"Who was it?" asks Dean.
"Bobby Thomas and Peter Sinclair and Mike Reese," says Sam, still sniffling. He's getting snot all over Dean's shirt, but Dean can't bring himself to care. Those guys beat up his brother, and Dean's not going to let any of them get away with it. They're a year below him, big guys, but Dean's had a marine training him to fight almost his whole life, and there's no way they can take him out.
Dean nods. "Okay." He lifts Sam up, puts him on his feet easily. "Come on, Sammy, let's get you cleaned up."
He hasn't given Sam a bath since Sam started school, figured he was too old for it, but Sam's still shaking and so unhappy it makes Dean's hands itch for something to do, so he starts running the water and helps Sam out of his shirt. He can see red marks on Sam's chest that are going to turn into impressive bruises, and he's going to murder those guys.
Sam's hand is clutched tight around his tooth still, and Dean eases it out.
"Will the Tooth Fairy still take it?" asks Sam. "Even though it didn't come out on its own?"
Dean has a couple quarters he was going to use for the arcade on Saturday, but he can put them under Sam's pillow instead. "Yeah," he says. "I bet she will."
Sam brightens at this, puts the tooth on the sink and gets rid of his pants. He's got a couple more spots on his legs, looks like he got kicked too, but overall the bottom half of his body is in better shape than the front. Dean turns off the water and helps Sam in, dunking him under so he can wash his brother's hair. Anyone at school found out, even he probably wouldn't be good enough to beat off all the bullies, but no one's going to know. Sam needs someone right now, that's the important thing, and unfortunately Dean is the only person around for him.
Sam's hair really is ridiculously long, and even if he doesn't go hunting, it's really completely unnecessary. "Tell you what," says Dean. "When you're all clean, I'll cut your hair short, okay?"
Sam blinks up, eyes wide. "Really?"
"Yeah. If you want."
"Yeah!" says Sam, enthusiastically.
"I'm gonna go get my stuff," says Dean. "Don't drown while I'm gone."
"I'm not gonna drown," says Sam, scrubbing dirt off his arms. "I'm six."
"Yeah, whatever," says Dean, waving his hand.
He takes a while in his room, breathing deeply and trying to calm down. Leaving Sam alone so he can go beat the crap out of those guys isn't going to help his brother, and they'll still be assholes tomorrow. For now, what he can do is give Sam a haircut, maybe teach him to take a punch, definitely teach him to throw a punch. He's been putting it off because he thinks maybe that will save Sam; if he never teaches him to fight, then maybe he'll never have to. He won't have to find out where Dad goes, what Dad does.
But Dean forgot there's more ordinary evil in the world.
"Dean?" Sam calls. "I'm done."
Dean realizes he's been there for a while, clutching the sides of the dresser, breathing heavily.
"Coming!" Dean calls. "Get your pants on and put a towel around your shoulders."
He grabs his scissors and Sam's comb and a chair. Sam's got the bath drained and he's waiting expectantly, looking excited, like Dean's giving him the best present ever.
"It's just a haircut," Dean says, putting the chair in the tub. "It's not a big deal."
"I've never had one before," Sam points out, and Dean considers this. It's probably not totally true, but it really has been a while. Huh.
"Yeah, well, just sit still. Or I'll cut your ear off."
Sam's grin doesn't even falter, and Dean sighs, gets to work. Cuts Sam's hair short, like he cuts his own, spiky and a little jagged. It flops back down immediately, looks kind of ridiculous on Sam, and Dean wonders if he can convince Dad they need hairgel so that Sam won't look like a tool.
Probably not. That's what the five-finger discount's for.
"Next time I'll do it a little longer," Dean says finally, snipping off a few last long hairs and surveying his work. Sam looks...still not really manly, but he's clearly a boy now, and his face looks stronger, better, more legitimate. Dean nods once, pulls the towel off and shakes it in the bath, brushes the loose hair off Sam's shoulders.
Sam's grin is blinding, dimples deep in his cheeks, and Dean can't help grinning back. He lifts his brother up so he can look in the mirror, and as soon as he's put him down, Sam wraps his arms securely around Dean's waist. They don't really hug much and it's kind of weird, but Dean just awkwardly ruffles Sam's hair before pushing him lightly away.
"Come on, Sammy. Time to learn how to take a punch."
Sam pulls on his shirt and trots after him like a faithful puppy, and Dean can't help the flush of pride in his chest.
*
The ride is tense, of course, but the rides have been tense since Dean found Sam with Ruby, maybe even before then. Dean's having trouble wrapping his brain around a Sam who doesn't want to talk everything out, a Sam who denied the chick-flick moment. Sam loves that shit.
Sam used to love that shit, a traitorous voice in his mind tells him. But you don't know Sam anymore, do you?
It's ridiculous, thinking like that. Because Sam--it's Sam. It's not like Sam only just got demon blood in him. It's been there his whole life, so he's the same person he always was. Dean just keeps telling himself that, reminding himself that Sam wanted to do the right thing. Wanted to help people.
He didn't know God was pissed off at him.
They get to the motel and Sam goes for the shower without a word. Dean wants--he wants to tell Sam he doesn't care, but he doesn't want to lie. He wants to tell Sam he understands, but he doesn't. He wants to do something so much it's making him twitchy, making his fingers itch. Hunting something might help, except then Sam might start projecting his issues all over it again, and that's no good.
Dean remembers the guy on fire, remembers the look on Sam's face.
When push comes to shove, it's still Sam. He still does what he has to.
Sam comes out of the bathroom toweling off his hair, and Dean snorts, unable to stop himself.
"What?" asks Sam, his voice unreadable. Dean remembers when it wasn't possible for Sam to hide stuff from him.
It's been a while since then.
"Your hair looks like ass, dude."
Sam glares at him. "Yeah, because that's what I was concerned about when you were in hell, Dean. Haircare."
"Well I'm not in hell now, princess, so what's your excuse?"
"I've been kind of busy," says Sam, but there's a little warmth there, and Dean grins.
"All right, Sasquatch. Get in the bathroom."
"What?" asks Sam. He looks genuinely baffled.
Dean hasn't cut Sam's hair since Sam was eleven and they both decided he was old enough to do it himself, but it feels like something now. It's not talking, but it's the two of them, something he did before, something he did because Sam's his brother and he loves him.
That's what Sam needs reminding of right now. And if he doesn't want to talk, fine. Dean won't talk to him.
"You need a haircut, dude."
"I can cut my own hair, Dean," Sam points out, but he lets Dean shove him.
"You can, but you're clearly not," Dean points out. "Don't get me wrong, I love being the hot brother, but you really don't need to drag the family average down this much."
Sam grumbles and pulls off his shirt while Dean shoves a chair into the tiny bathtub. Sam's grown to such epic proportions that he barely fits in there, but Dean makes do.
The only sound for a while is breathing and the snick of scissors, but finally Sam says, "I didn't want to tell you about the demon blood because you don't have it, Dean."
"I know, Sammy," says Dean.
"No, you don't," says Sam, letting out a long breath, and Dean tightens his grip on Sam's head to keep it still. "It's--it's blood, Dean. That's what we've got. I'm your brother, and you'd never hurt me, but if I've got this--if the demon's in me, in my blood, then maybe we're not," Sam's breathing is ragged and so fucking loud. Dean stops cutting, can't keep it going with the way his hands are shaking. "Maybe it was enough for me to stop being your brother. For me to be..."
Dean can't say anything for a long minute, and then he smacks the back of Sam's head, lightly. "God, you're an idiot."
"Dean!"
"Dude, I could find out you were secretly, I don't know, Bobby and Ellen's kid and it wouldn't matter! You're always going to be my brother, Sam. I don't care whose blood you have."
Sam's quiet for a long time, and Dean slowly starts cutting his hair again, needing to do something. He's so fucking twitchy.
"Bobby and Ellen?" Sam says finally. "That's who you come up with?"
"Shut up," says Dean.
"Seriously, I'm going to have nightmares about that."
"Come on, Bobby deserves a little loving too."
"Yeah, but not from Ellen."
"Oh, what, you think she's too good for him?" asks Dean.
Sam laughs, and for the first time since they fought--maybe even for the first time since he came back--it sounds real and light, like Sam's not weighed down by all the world's emo.
"Okay, you're done," says Dean, unable to keep from grinning, and Sam shakes his head like a dog, spraying water and bits of loose hair on Dean. "Gross! This is the thanks I get?" He hauls out of the tub and Sam grabs his arm.
From his look, Dean thinks Sam probably wants to hug him again, like after the first time Dean cut his hair, but he doesn't. He just smiles a little, shyly, like he's relearning the expression.
"Thanks, Dean," he says.
Dean shrugs, trying not to feel uncomfortable. "Hey, what are brothers for?"
Sam laughs again, looking down. "Based on years of experience? Bullying and mocking."
"Ingrate."
"Jerk."
"Bitch," says Dean, grinning, and Sam grins back.
For the first time since he came back, he doesn't dream of hell; he dreams of Sam, knob-kneed and toothless, chubby and covered in acne, Sam laughing, driving, crying. Sam with his eyes black, Sam with his eyes closed, pulling a demon out of a man, just Sam, everything he is, and Dean isn't letting anything in heaven or earth take him away.
Not ever.
Author: chash
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Dean and Sam.
Rating: PG.
Warnings: Spoilers for the whole fourth season.
Word Count: 2192 words.
Summary: Coda to 404; two times Dean gave Sam a haircut.
Notes: Last night, inarticulate and chibimazoku and I were discussing how Sam's hair was, uh. Kind of unfortunate. (Oh Sam, I love you. But. Your hair.) And then we discussed the possibility that Dean usually cuts it for him. And then I woke up and wrote this. Also, the title is from Billy Joel. That's right.
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.
When he's six, Sam starts braiding his hair to keep it out of his face, and Dean thinks it's awesome. Sam's already kind of small and on the weak side, and Dean loves ragging him about it, so braiding his hair? It's the best fodder ever. Dean starts stealing nail polish and My Little Ponies for him, because that's what older brothers do. Sam gives him angry looks and pouts a lot, but Sam does that all the time anyway, so Dean can't bring himself to care.
But then Sam gets home from school on a Wednesday with his hair a mess, a black eye, dirt all over his clothes and skin, holding a tooth in his hand.
He cries on Dean for about ten minutes, and Dean wishes Dad was home to help with this. Not that he probably would, but it reassures Dean to have someone around so he could ask questions, if he needed to. He can't, though, so he strokes Sam's back and lets him let it out, doesn't ask anything until Sam's quiet in his arms.
"What happened?" he finally says, brushing Sam's hair straight and smooth with his fingers. The elastic's gone somewhere, probably lost in the fight, and if he wasn't so worried about Sam, Dean would be mad enough to kill someone. Anyone who'd do this to his brother.
Sam sniffles. "Guys at school. Making fun of me for being a girl," he says.
Dean's grip tightens, because no one is allowed to make fun of Sam for being a girl except for him.
"I hate my stupid hair," Sam mutters. "I want to get it all cut off but Dad won't give me the money. Says it's unnecessary and too expensive."
It is expensive, Dean knows; he's been cutting his own hair since he was eight. Dad was only willing to do it before then because Dean wouldn't pull it back and it got in his way during training. But Sam doesn't get trained.
"Who was it?" asks Dean.
"Bobby Thomas and Peter Sinclair and Mike Reese," says Sam, still sniffling. He's getting snot all over Dean's shirt, but Dean can't bring himself to care. Those guys beat up his brother, and Dean's not going to let any of them get away with it. They're a year below him, big guys, but Dean's had a marine training him to fight almost his whole life, and there's no way they can take him out.
Dean nods. "Okay." He lifts Sam up, puts him on his feet easily. "Come on, Sammy, let's get you cleaned up."
He hasn't given Sam a bath since Sam started school, figured he was too old for it, but Sam's still shaking and so unhappy it makes Dean's hands itch for something to do, so he starts running the water and helps Sam out of his shirt. He can see red marks on Sam's chest that are going to turn into impressive bruises, and he's going to murder those guys.
Sam's hand is clutched tight around his tooth still, and Dean eases it out.
"Will the Tooth Fairy still take it?" asks Sam. "Even though it didn't come out on its own?"
Dean has a couple quarters he was going to use for the arcade on Saturday, but he can put them under Sam's pillow instead. "Yeah," he says. "I bet she will."
Sam brightens at this, puts the tooth on the sink and gets rid of his pants. He's got a couple more spots on his legs, looks like he got kicked too, but overall the bottom half of his body is in better shape than the front. Dean turns off the water and helps Sam in, dunking him under so he can wash his brother's hair. Anyone at school found out, even he probably wouldn't be good enough to beat off all the bullies, but no one's going to know. Sam needs someone right now, that's the important thing, and unfortunately Dean is the only person around for him.
Sam's hair really is ridiculously long, and even if he doesn't go hunting, it's really completely unnecessary. "Tell you what," says Dean. "When you're all clean, I'll cut your hair short, okay?"
Sam blinks up, eyes wide. "Really?"
"Yeah. If you want."
"Yeah!" says Sam, enthusiastically.
"I'm gonna go get my stuff," says Dean. "Don't drown while I'm gone."
"I'm not gonna drown," says Sam, scrubbing dirt off his arms. "I'm six."
"Yeah, whatever," says Dean, waving his hand.
He takes a while in his room, breathing deeply and trying to calm down. Leaving Sam alone so he can go beat the crap out of those guys isn't going to help his brother, and they'll still be assholes tomorrow. For now, what he can do is give Sam a haircut, maybe teach him to take a punch, definitely teach him to throw a punch. He's been putting it off because he thinks maybe that will save Sam; if he never teaches him to fight, then maybe he'll never have to. He won't have to find out where Dad goes, what Dad does.
But Dean forgot there's more ordinary evil in the world.
"Dean?" Sam calls. "I'm done."
Dean realizes he's been there for a while, clutching the sides of the dresser, breathing heavily.
"Coming!" Dean calls. "Get your pants on and put a towel around your shoulders."
He grabs his scissors and Sam's comb and a chair. Sam's got the bath drained and he's waiting expectantly, looking excited, like Dean's giving him the best present ever.
"It's just a haircut," Dean says, putting the chair in the tub. "It's not a big deal."
"I've never had one before," Sam points out, and Dean considers this. It's probably not totally true, but it really has been a while. Huh.
"Yeah, well, just sit still. Or I'll cut your ear off."
Sam's grin doesn't even falter, and Dean sighs, gets to work. Cuts Sam's hair short, like he cuts his own, spiky and a little jagged. It flops back down immediately, looks kind of ridiculous on Sam, and Dean wonders if he can convince Dad they need hairgel so that Sam won't look like a tool.
Probably not. That's what the five-finger discount's for.
"Next time I'll do it a little longer," Dean says finally, snipping off a few last long hairs and surveying his work. Sam looks...still not really manly, but he's clearly a boy now, and his face looks stronger, better, more legitimate. Dean nods once, pulls the towel off and shakes it in the bath, brushes the loose hair off Sam's shoulders.
Sam's grin is blinding, dimples deep in his cheeks, and Dean can't help grinning back. He lifts his brother up so he can look in the mirror, and as soon as he's put him down, Sam wraps his arms securely around Dean's waist. They don't really hug much and it's kind of weird, but Dean just awkwardly ruffles Sam's hair before pushing him lightly away.
"Come on, Sammy. Time to learn how to take a punch."
Sam pulls on his shirt and trots after him like a faithful puppy, and Dean can't help the flush of pride in his chest.
*
The ride is tense, of course, but the rides have been tense since Dean found Sam with Ruby, maybe even before then. Dean's having trouble wrapping his brain around a Sam who doesn't want to talk everything out, a Sam who denied the chick-flick moment. Sam loves that shit.
Sam used to love that shit, a traitorous voice in his mind tells him. But you don't know Sam anymore, do you?
It's ridiculous, thinking like that. Because Sam--it's Sam. It's not like Sam only just got demon blood in him. It's been there his whole life, so he's the same person he always was. Dean just keeps telling himself that, reminding himself that Sam wanted to do the right thing. Wanted to help people.
He didn't know God was pissed off at him.
They get to the motel and Sam goes for the shower without a word. Dean wants--he wants to tell Sam he doesn't care, but he doesn't want to lie. He wants to tell Sam he understands, but he doesn't. He wants to do something so much it's making him twitchy, making his fingers itch. Hunting something might help, except then Sam might start projecting his issues all over it again, and that's no good.
Dean remembers the guy on fire, remembers the look on Sam's face.
When push comes to shove, it's still Sam. He still does what he has to.
Sam comes out of the bathroom toweling off his hair, and Dean snorts, unable to stop himself.
"What?" asks Sam, his voice unreadable. Dean remembers when it wasn't possible for Sam to hide stuff from him.
It's been a while since then.
"Your hair looks like ass, dude."
Sam glares at him. "Yeah, because that's what I was concerned about when you were in hell, Dean. Haircare."
"Well I'm not in hell now, princess, so what's your excuse?"
"I've been kind of busy," says Sam, but there's a little warmth there, and Dean grins.
"All right, Sasquatch. Get in the bathroom."
"What?" asks Sam. He looks genuinely baffled.
Dean hasn't cut Sam's hair since Sam was eleven and they both decided he was old enough to do it himself, but it feels like something now. It's not talking, but it's the two of them, something he did before, something he did because Sam's his brother and he loves him.
That's what Sam needs reminding of right now. And if he doesn't want to talk, fine. Dean won't talk to him.
"You need a haircut, dude."
"I can cut my own hair, Dean," Sam points out, but he lets Dean shove him.
"You can, but you're clearly not," Dean points out. "Don't get me wrong, I love being the hot brother, but you really don't need to drag the family average down this much."
Sam grumbles and pulls off his shirt while Dean shoves a chair into the tiny bathtub. Sam's grown to such epic proportions that he barely fits in there, but Dean makes do.
The only sound for a while is breathing and the snick of scissors, but finally Sam says, "I didn't want to tell you about the demon blood because you don't have it, Dean."
"I know, Sammy," says Dean.
"No, you don't," says Sam, letting out a long breath, and Dean tightens his grip on Sam's head to keep it still. "It's--it's blood, Dean. That's what we've got. I'm your brother, and you'd never hurt me, but if I've got this--if the demon's in me, in my blood, then maybe we're not," Sam's breathing is ragged and so fucking loud. Dean stops cutting, can't keep it going with the way his hands are shaking. "Maybe it was enough for me to stop being your brother. For me to be..."
Dean can't say anything for a long minute, and then he smacks the back of Sam's head, lightly. "God, you're an idiot."
"Dean!"
"Dude, I could find out you were secretly, I don't know, Bobby and Ellen's kid and it wouldn't matter! You're always going to be my brother, Sam. I don't care whose blood you have."
Sam's quiet for a long time, and Dean slowly starts cutting his hair again, needing to do something. He's so fucking twitchy.
"Bobby and Ellen?" Sam says finally. "That's who you come up with?"
"Shut up," says Dean.
"Seriously, I'm going to have nightmares about that."
"Come on, Bobby deserves a little loving too."
"Yeah, but not from Ellen."
"Oh, what, you think she's too good for him?" asks Dean.
Sam laughs, and for the first time since they fought--maybe even for the first time since he came back--it sounds real and light, like Sam's not weighed down by all the world's emo.
"Okay, you're done," says Dean, unable to keep from grinning, and Sam shakes his head like a dog, spraying water and bits of loose hair on Dean. "Gross! This is the thanks I get?" He hauls out of the tub and Sam grabs his arm.
From his look, Dean thinks Sam probably wants to hug him again, like after the first time Dean cut his hair, but he doesn't. He just smiles a little, shyly, like he's relearning the expression.
"Thanks, Dean," he says.
Dean shrugs, trying not to feel uncomfortable. "Hey, what are brothers for?"
Sam laughs again, looking down. "Based on years of experience? Bullying and mocking."
"Ingrate."
"Jerk."
"Bitch," says Dean, grinning, and Sam grins back.
For the first time since he came back, he doesn't dream of hell; he dreams of Sam, knob-kneed and toothless, chubby and covered in acne, Sam laughing, driving, crying. Sam with his eyes black, Sam with his eyes closed, pulling a demon out of a man, just Sam, everything he is, and Dean isn't letting anything in heaven or earth take him away.
Not ever.