Tell Me You Understand (Excerpt) 1/?broken_cindersNovember 9 2017, 17:12:03 UTC
Hi there! I bet you thought I had forgotten you, but never fear. Since this has turned into a plot yeti (it's a novella now and has completely overtaken my original nano project), I thought I'd leave a snippet here. It's still a little rough around the edges. Thanks for the awesome prompt! Hope this was something like you were looking for.
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Dean paused in the entry hall, watching Sam. He was sitting at the table with his nose stuck in a book, a notebook on the table in front of him. Dean assumed it was an assignment to get him caught up in time to start at the new school. Apparently they were miles ahead of his last school. Looking at him now, Dean could tell he’d lost weight. Not that it was surprising. He’d barely eaten in the last couple of months, picking at his food until it was barely recognizable, only managing to eat a few bites at any one meal.
His father wanted him to get to the bottom of whatever was making Sam so weird lately, although Dean doubted he meant the scant eating. Sam had entered the awesome phase of teenage angst where he couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge his family and John was about to lose his mind over it. At first it was little things like ignoring Dad’s order to collect the weapons bag out of the trunk, or “misunderstandings” where he’d do just the opposite of what he’d been asked. Lately though, it’s just seemed like he was on a completely different planet. John had threatened to take the belt to him if he didn’t straighten out. It was Dean’s job to see that it didn’t come to that.
Shaking himself from his thoughts, he moved on into the apartment. “Sam,” Dean said as he stripped out of his jacket and hung it on the rack in the hall. “Hey, Sam.”
Sam continued to read and ignore him. “Sam!”
Sam jumped and turned to look at him, eyes wide. “What’s up?”
Dean could tear into him now, demand some answers, but he had a feeling confrontation wasn’t going to yield any progress. Instead he nodded his head at the kitchen. “Wanna help make dinner?”
Sam gave him a little smile and shrugged. “Whatever you want.” He turned back to his book and was immersed before Dean could say anything else.
He frowned. Sam never, ever just gave Dean what he wanted. Sam seemed to have no intention of putting his book down, either. Dean cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s get to it then.”
Sam nodded his head without looking up. “Mhm. That sounds good,” he said distractedly.
Dean took a steadying breath, then walked around the table and grabbed the book out of Sam’s hands.
“Hey! That’s my homework!”
Dean shrugged. “It can wait till after dinner.” He moved off into the kitchen and set the book on top of the refrigerator. “Set the table while I get this started.”
Sam stared at his back for a minute before he finally swept up the notebook he’d been working in off the table and followed Dean into the kitchen. He snatched the book down from its perch. “I changed my mind. I’m not hungry.” He stomped off to his room and shut the door.
Dean stared at the door, debating. He knew Sam was angry at them for moving again and trying to catch up at this new school. He started on Friday and he’d already begged the teachers for the current assignments so he could be prepared when he got there.
He let himself deflate a little. They had a week to get to the bottom of this. If Sam wanted to spend the evening studying then so be it. Dean would let him cool off and try again tomorrow.
RE: Tell Me You Understand (Excerpt) 2/5broken_cindersNovember 9 2017, 17:17:25 UTC
The next day Sam only deigned to emerge from his room to spread all of his work on the coffee table in the living area without even a good morning. Dean shrugged it off and moved back to his own room to sort through his clothes in anticipation of having to make a run to the laundromat. He heard the phone ring around lunch time, but knew Sam was closer and would get there first. Except the phone kept ringing. By the third ring, Dean was storming from his room. “Sam! The phone!”
When he made his way into the living room, Sam had spread out in the floor and was ignoring the phone all together. “Dude!”
Sam turned around at Dean’s tone and shot him a questioning glance as Dean answered the phone, but went back to working.
“Hello?”
“Where the hell were you? I thought it was going to ring out.” John Winchester was not pleased.
“Sorry, I was sorting clothes, didn’t hear the phone.”
“And where was Sam?” He asked, exasperated.
“Working on homework. Probably listening to music or something.” Dean wasn’t sure why he was covering for Sam, except for the fact that he wanted yelling rights when this phone call was over.
“I’m at the Heritage Inn in Berwyn. Phone number’s 308-555-4584.”
Dean scribbled it down on a scrap sheet of paper and tucked it in his pocket. “Got it.”
“Put Sam on the phone.”
“He’s working on his schoolwork, Dad. Want me to pass on a message?”
“I want you to put your brother on the phone.”
Dean sighed and flicked a paper ball at Sam’s head. When he turned to glare, Dean held the phone out. “Dad wants to talk.”
Sam looked a little panicked. He got up slowly and took the phone. “Dad?”
Dean couldn’t hear what was being said, but Sam stayed pretty quiet, interjecting a ‘No, sir’ or ‘Yes, sir’ at intervals. He seemed calm, if a little wary and his tone never wavered towards sarcastic, so Dean jumped a little when he heard their father start shouting on the other end of the line. Sam’s eyes grew wide and he slammed the phone down in the cradle.
Dean jumped forward a second too late to stop him. As Sam retreated to his room again, Dean stood debating whether to call their father back or not. Eventually he decided that if John needed them, he knew how to reach them.
Instead, he counted down from ten and made his way to Sam’s room. He knocked gently on the door. When he didn’t get an answer, he tried the door knob. It clicked open to reveal Sam chucking his notebook across the room. It fell short of the wall and fluttered to land in disarray on the comforter of the bed. Sam was muttering furiously and swiping at his eyes. Dean wasn’t sure what to say. If it were him, he’d want to be left alone, at least until he’d collected himself.
He backed quietly out of the room and turned to rest against the wall beside the door. He was so out of his depths here.
It was early evening by the time Dean finally worked up the courage to go back and try to oust Sam from his room. This time he just barged through the door. Sam’s head snapped up and he frowned. “Don’t you know how to knock?”
Dean grinned at him. “Nope. Missed that lesson.”
“You get a view of my naked ass, it’s all on you then.”
Dean snorted. That was mild, compared to what he was braced for. “Noted,” he said.
“Did you need something?”
“Was thinking about a movie night. Come on. Pizza. Night of the Living Dead. I’ve even got some gummy worms I won’t be sharing. We can poke fun of the zombies.”
Sam smiled. Like magic, it seemed Dean had his baby brother back. He set aside his notebook and stood up. He voluntarily set up the VCR and tossed Dean the phone so he could order them some grub. It was a little disconcerting after the marathon skulking of the last few days.
The only thing remotely odd was Sam's request that the light to stay on.
“Come on, Sammy. You know it’s always better with the lights off. Gives it atmosphere.”
“Please, Dean?”
“You’re not wimping out on me, are you?”
“Nah, just got a bit of a headache.”
Dean shrugged, but didn’t argue. Sam was quiet through the movie, although he laughed at the really ridiculous parts and smacked Dean when he started making zombie noises. By the end, he was slumped down in his seat on the sofa looking as relaxed as Dean had seen him in months.
RE: Tell Me You Understand (Excerpt) 3/5broken_cindersNovember 9 2017, 17:23:28 UTC
The next morning, Dean woke with a resolve to get down to business. No more distractions. He got up and had oatmeal ready by the time Sam stumbled out of his room. Sam grunted a greeting at him and dug into his food while Dean nursed his coffee.
Finally, Dean worked up his courage to say, “We need to talk.”
“Huh?” Sam glanced up at him, sleep still thick in his eyes.
“We need to have a chat, Sam.”
Sam seemed a lot more awake when he spoke again. “What? Why? Did something happen?”
Dean leaned back a little. “You tell me.”
Sam gave him a bewildered look. “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it. I swear. I’ve been studying all week.”
Dean frowned. “Whoah. Back up. You’re not in trouble. But things have been hard lately and you’ve been really distant.”
Sam shrugged. “Just a lot going on with school and stuff.”
“Yeah, I get that. But you’ve been ignoring me and Dad. Brushing us off. It’s not like you.”
“I haven’t been ignoring you.”
“And the other day with dinner was what?”
Sam’s shoulders slumped. “I told you, I wasn’t hungry.”
Dean plowed on. “I’m worried about you. You know you can talk to me about whatever.”
Sam shrugged. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Dean felt his temper beginning to rise. “Don’t lie to me Sam. Something’s going on.”
Sam jumped to his feet. “I told you. I’m starting another school and I’m behind already and I just want to be left alone so I can get this work done!”
“And that’s why you’ve been giving us the cold shoulder for months? Are you really that pissed off at us?”
“What? I’m not pissed at anyone.”
“Bullshit.”
“Fine, don’t believe me. I’ve got work to do.” With that, he snatched his bowl up and fled back to his bedroom, but Dean wasn’t done.
He stormed to Sam’s door. “Sam, open up!” He pounded on the flimsy wood and, when he tried the knob, found it was locked. He considered digging out his picks, but recognized that might be a little crazy.
Dean didn’t see Sam for the rest of the day. Not for food. Not for anything. The next day was Friday, and Sam’s first day of school. Sam came out, fully dressed with his backpack slung over a shoulder and a determined look on his face. He stalked towards the front door, but Dean intercepted him. “You can be mad at me if you want, but I did promise you a ride.” Sam frowned but waited while Dean collected his keys and jacket.
The drive to the local high school was downright frigid. The only sound to be heard was the Metallica Dean had cranked up to cover the silence. Sam seemed perfectly content to stare out the window, finger thumping against the speaker in the door in time with the music.
Dean, realizing this wasn’t exactly an auspicious way to start at a new school, reached forward to turn the volume down. Sam’s eyes followed the movement, but he didn’t say anything, just sighed as the music dropped to a more manageable volume and turned back to stare out the window again, dropping his head against the glass.
“If you get your greasy face print on that window, you’ll be washing the whole inside of my car,” Dean said hoping to lighten the mood, but he sounded waspish even to himself. Sam ignored the threat, pressing his face more squarely against the glass.
Dean managed not to sigh. Barely.
“Listen, squirt. I know it’s a new school and all that jazz, but you’ve got this,” Dean said as they pulled up to the front of the school. “You’ve done this before. You’ll go in and make friends in like three seconds and have all the teachers eating out of your hand.”
Sam tilted his head ever so slightly and frowned up at Dean. Finally he just shrugged and said, “See you after school.”
Maybe it wasn’t the most uplifting or original pep talk he’d ever given, and maybe Sam was still pissed, but he’d hoped to at least get a little acknowledgement. He dropped his head back against the seat and watched Sam make his way into the building, head down, wondering if there was any way to get through to the new surly Sam.
RE: Tell Me You Understand (Excerpt) 4/5broken_cindersNovember 9 2017, 17:41:07 UTC
That afternoon, as Dean was staring at Sam's bedroom door again, he had an idea. He took a deep breath and knocked gently on the door to Sam’s room.
He could hear Sam shuffling around in there. Dean tried again, a little louder this time. He didn’t even get told to go away for his trouble.
Losing the better part of his patience, he banged his fist against the wood of the door. That time he heard the bed creak and hurried footsteps before the it was yanked open and Sam peered out at him wide-eyed. “Sorry, had my headphones on. What’s up?”
Dean scrutinized his brother, knowing it was a lie, but not sure of what to do about it. “I heard tell there’s a decent arcade in town,” he said instead. “Thought you might like to have a go at beating the Donkey Kong champ.”
Sam gave a small smile and bit his lip. He glanced back at his bed where his homework was spread out. At least Dean knew he’d actually been working. “Come on Sammy,” Dean wheedled. “You can take a Friday night off.”
Sam finally nodded and grabbed his coat. “You’re on.”
The arcade lasted about an hour, before Sam begged to go. He got snappish the longer they were there and anxiously eyed the surrounding machines. By the time he gave in, Dean was frazzled and annoyed. Apparently he wasn’t cool enough to be seen with anymore.
Sam pushed past him and out into the cool night. Dean followed a little more sedately, watching Sam shuffle towards the car with the same defeated posture he’d been wearing for months now. They had parked in the back of the lot because no way in hell was Dean taking the risk that some asshole with a learner’s permit might scratch his beautiful baby. From his vantage a few feet back, Dean saw the muscle car tear into the parking lot right towards his baby brother.
“Sam!” Dean yelled, lunging forward. Sam didn’t even look up as he stepped right into the car’s path. Dean jumped the last foot or so and tackled Sam down and out of the way just as the car careened past them.
“Ow, Dean! What the hell?” Before Dean could start yelling, Sam’s gaze landed on his arm they had landed on. He pulled it gently but firmly towards the light. “That looks like it hurts. Let’s get back so we can clean it out.”
Dean snatched his arm out of Sam’s grasp. Sam didn't get to act like the fucking rational one, like Dean had just lost his mind.
Dean grabbed Sam by both shoulders, blood still pumping from his panic, grip tighter than it probably should have been. He shook Sam as he said, “What. The hell. Is wrong with you?”
Sam scowled up at him. “You could have been killed Sam! That asshole almost creamed you,” he said waving his arm widely at the car now pulling donuts in an empty portion of the road. Sam followed his gesture and his eyes widened at the sight.
“I-“
“No. Whatever is going on with you ends now. You can sulk and hate us all you want but this whole ignoring us bit? It’s over. You could have died, Sam!”
Sam was squinting at him like he was speaking Latin, while also still managing to look vaguely panicked. His eyes darted around the lot and back towards the door to the arcade where a few folks had gathered to watch the stupid drunk. “I…Look, can we just go home. We can talk there. Please?”
Dean crossed his arms over his chest. So Sam didn’t want to be embarrassed out in public. Well too damn bad. “No.”
Sam’s shoulder’s sagged, but his attention never wavered. “Dean…”
“No, Sam. We’re going to do this now. I want to know exactly what’s gotten into you. For months you’ve been snapping at us or ignoring us in turns. You’re moody. You’re spaced out. Pissed I can deal with. Depressed cause of all the moves, I can deal with. But this is just stupid.”
“Dean.”
“You’re pushing away the only family you’ve got. You’ve done nothing but spit in our faces for these past few months.”
“Dean,” Sam said a little more forcefully.
“I’m not finished!” Dean roared. “It’s been you and me since forever. I thought you trusted me. I thought you could talk to me. But it’s like you’ve changed overnight. So fine. You don’t have to like me. But you sure as hell-“
“Dean!” Sam screamed at him. “Stop. Just stop. I can’t understand what you’re saying. It’s too dark and I just want to go home where I can fucking concentrate. Can’t it wait ten more minutes?”
RE: Tell Me You Understand (Excerpt) 5/5broken_cindersNovember 9 2017, 18:18:59 UTC
Dean fell silent, mouth still open, trying to process everything that Sam had just said. “I…what?”
Dean studied Sam. There were dark circles under his eyes and tension was sitting heavy in his shoulders and chest.
“Please? Let’s just go home. You can yell at me there.”
Sam sounded exhausted and it crawled under Dean’s skin. Sam didn’t get to play the martyr here. “Fine,” he snarled. He turned with a jerk towards the Impala and yanked the door open.
When they got home, he herded Sam inside and, before his brother could even think about slinking back off to his room, Dean pointed a finger at the dining room table and barked, “Sit!”
Sam sank into a seat as Dean yanked out a second chair and flipped it around so that he could sit backwards on it. "So," he said. “Care to tell me what’s going on?”
Sam watched him carefully. “I don’t-"
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Sam frowned and shook his head. “No, I just don’t really know where to start.”
Dean propped his elbows on the back of the chair and dropped his face into his hands. He already had a headache. Not daring to look up in case he lost even more of his temper, he collected himself as much as he could and said in a moderately even tone, “Why don’t we start with why you were so eager to get home and go from there.”
Sam was silent for a long minute. Dean glanced up, making eye contact so he would be more inclined to answer.
“I…I didn’t catch any of that.”
Dean glared at him. “What exactly does that mean?”
Sam shifted guiltily in his seat.
“Sam,” Dean said, a note of warning coloring his voice.
“Your face was buried in your arms. I didn’t understand what you just said.”
Not to be deterred, Dean repeated himself. “I said, let’s talk about your little outburst in the parking lot.”
Sam seemed to shrink a little. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. You’ve never had trouble following conversations in the dark before.” Dean didn’t mean to let the note of accusation creep into his voice, but it did all the same.
Sam muttered something that Dean didn’t quite catch.
“Come again?”
“I’ve been having trouble hearing.”
“You’ve what?” Dean asked, sure he’d just misunderstood something.
“Everything’s all mushed together and muffled, and it was too dark to really read your lips.”
Dean stared at Sam for a long minute. Finally he said, “Let me get this straight. You couldn’t hear me out there.”
Sam nodded, looking a little wary.
“But you can here?”
Sam shook his head. “No. At least not clearly. But there’s better light and it’s calmer.”
Dean stood, nearly knocking his chair over. He stalked to the fridge and yanked out a can of soda that he chugged down in one go. It wasn’t what he wanted, but he needed to be entirely sober at that particular moment. When he felt a tiny bit calmer, he came back and sat down. “If this is some kind of fucking joke. If you think you can get out of trouble by playing it off, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“I wouldn’t do that. That’s sick.”
“So what, I’m just supposed to believe you’ve got spontaneous hearing loss now?”
Sam looked away, and bingo. Dean could spot the guilt from a mile away.
“Not spontaneous, no.” That caught Dean off guard.
“Not…What the hell Sam. This isn’t funny. Don’t go making things up just to get out of trouble.”
Sam's eyes blazed. “I’m not making things up! I can prove it!”
Sam took off towards his room before Dean could blink. He heard angry muttering and papers shuffling before Sam stormed back out with a manila folder that he tossed onto the table corner Dean had been leaning against.
Dean picked up the folder. It was unmarked with only a handful of sheets inside. When it fell open, he was faced with a random chart. Three or four more were tucked in behind the first. Dean rifled through them, not really comprehending what he was looking at.
“What is all this?”
He nearly jumped when Sam yanked the edge of the folder down. “What did you say,” he snarled. “If we’re going to have this conversation don’t cover up your mouth.”
The anger in Sam’s tone stung a little. Sam hadn’t been really, truly angry with Dean in ages. Dean cleared his throat. “I said, what am I looking at?”
The tiniest fraction of tension seeped out of Sam’s shoulders. “Audiograms,” he said. “One each for the last four months.”
RE: Tell Me You Understand (Excerpt) 5/5rirrenNovember 12 2017, 09:51:17 UTC
Loved this and I'm really glad to hear there is more to come! I really liked how you did it from Dean's POV and there were all these signs that the reader could pick up but Dean didn't understand it. And it's so like Sam to not tell anyone and try to deal with it himself, even going as far as to get audiograms by himself. I guess he thought he could keep it secret by relying on lip reading. Oh Sam.
RE: Tell Me You Understand (Excerpt) 5/5broken_cindersNovember 16 2017, 01:02:30 UTC
Thanks! Poor Sam. For all that he's brilliant he can be a bit thick sometimes. Dean is my absolute favorite PoV to write from. He's snarky and observant and just really wants to protect his family. I loved the idea of discovering Sam's dilemma along with his brother. I'm glad it's working here!
RE: Tell Me You Understand (Excerpt) 5/5broken_cindersNovember 16 2017, 01:05:34 UTC
It's coming! It's coming! Unfortunately my boss seems to think I actually have to show up for work, so really it's her fault it isn't done yet. I'll for sure list it in the comm when it's up!
RE: Tell Me You Understand (Excerpt) 5/5cowboyguyNovember 15 2017, 14:34:31 UTC
Oh, man, I was so excited to see this had been filled, and then I didn't have any time for nearly a week to actually sit down and read it. So sorry this review took so long, but...
OMG I WANT TO SEE MORE. I am so sorry not sorry AT ALL that this has taken over your NaNo because this is amazing. I love the setup you've started with, and both boys are written so well. It was great to see all the little clues, all the tiny things that show that Sam's attitude isn't for the reason Dean thinks it is. And Dean, feeling out of his depth in dealing with his brother but still trying to make an effort and figure it out.
Really excited to see more of this! (And wishing you good luck on your NaNo! I'm ridiculously behind schedule on mine, lol.)
RE: Tell Me You Understand (Excerpt) 5/5broken_cindersNovember 16 2017, 01:24:13 UTC
Aw shucks, thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying it. At last check this story was about 20k. I'm really close to finishing it and starting to edit. It should be up around early December.
Sam might be my favorite, adorable bundle of walking disaster, but I love the way Dean handles it. He's so wonderfully imperfect at it and most of the time I just want to give him a big squishy hug until he feels better. I kinda fell in love with the idea of him telling the story.
I really have you to thank for being ahead on my NaNo. I'm sending lots of cookies and encouragement for your NaNo. You can do it!
RE: Tell Me You Understand (Excerpt) 5/5amararaeNovember 29 2017, 02:22:00 UTC
How will I know when you post this? I can't read the snippet without completely losing myself to checking for an update everyday. Will this be posted on fanfiction?
Hi! I usually try to post simultaneously on LiveJournal and fanfiction. Your welcome to follow either account, but I will also be announcing it in the comm when it goes up. I'm not going to set a date because I'm really, really bad at deadlines, but I'm hoping another week or two. Depends on how quickly the last bit of editing goes and how fast my beta can get it back to me.
Hey I just wanted to make sure that you are okay, since I haven't heard from you in over five months. I get worried about people, easily. Just let me know.
Your so sweet! I'm fine, just crazy busy. I've moved three times since last I posted and have been working like a mad woman. I just came off two 18hr days at work, because sleep is for losers! :D Actually, I was close to posting another excerpt because it has been taking me so long to get this to a presentable point.
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Dean paused in the entry hall, watching Sam. He was sitting at the table with his nose stuck in a book, a notebook on the table in front of him. Dean assumed it was an assignment to get him caught up in time to start at the new school. Apparently they were miles ahead of his last school. Looking at him now, Dean could tell he’d lost weight. Not that it was surprising. He’d barely eaten in the last couple of months, picking at his food until it was barely recognizable, only managing to eat a few bites at any one meal.
His father wanted him to get to the bottom of whatever was making Sam so weird lately, although Dean doubted he meant the scant eating. Sam had entered the awesome phase of teenage angst where he couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge his family and John was about to lose his mind over it. At first it was little things like ignoring Dad’s order to collect the weapons bag out of the trunk, or “misunderstandings” where he’d do just the opposite of what he’d been asked. Lately though, it’s just seemed like he was on a completely different planet. John had threatened to take the belt to him if he didn’t straighten out. It was Dean’s job to see that it didn’t come to that.
Shaking himself from his thoughts, he moved on into the apartment. “Sam,” Dean said as he stripped out of his jacket and hung it on the rack in the hall. “Hey, Sam.”
Sam continued to read and ignore him. “Sam!”
Sam jumped and turned to look at him, eyes wide. “What’s up?”
Dean could tear into him now, demand some answers, but he had a feeling confrontation wasn’t going to yield any progress. Instead he nodded his head at the kitchen. “Wanna help make dinner?”
Sam gave him a little smile and shrugged. “Whatever you want.” He turned back to his book and was immersed before Dean could say anything else.
He frowned. Sam never, ever just gave Dean what he wanted. Sam seemed to have no intention of putting his book down, either. Dean cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s get to it then.”
Sam nodded his head without looking up. “Mhm. That sounds good,” he said distractedly.
Dean took a steadying breath, then walked around the table and grabbed the book out of Sam’s hands.
“Hey! That’s my homework!”
Dean shrugged. “It can wait till after dinner.” He moved off into the kitchen and set the book on top of the refrigerator. “Set the table while I get this started.”
Sam stared at his back for a minute before he finally swept up the notebook he’d been working in off the table and followed Dean into the kitchen. He snatched the book down from its perch. “I changed my mind. I’m not hungry.” He stomped off to his room and shut the door.
Dean stared at the door, debating. He knew Sam was angry at them for moving again and trying to catch up at this new school. He started on Friday and he’d already begged the teachers for the current assignments so he could be prepared when he got there.
He let himself deflate a little. They had a week to get to the bottom of this. If Sam wanted to spend the evening studying then so be it. Dean would let him cool off and try again tomorrow.
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When he made his way into the living room, Sam had spread out in the floor and was ignoring the phone all together. “Dude!”
Sam turned around at Dean’s tone and shot him a questioning glance as Dean answered the phone, but went back to working.
“Hello?”
“Where the hell were you? I thought it was going to ring out.” John Winchester was not pleased.
“Sorry, I was sorting clothes, didn’t hear the phone.”
“And where was Sam?” He asked, exasperated.
“Working on homework. Probably listening to music or something.” Dean wasn’t sure why he was covering for Sam, except for the fact that he wanted yelling rights when this phone call was over.
“I’m at the Heritage Inn in Berwyn. Phone number’s 308-555-4584.”
Dean scribbled it down on a scrap sheet of paper and tucked it in his pocket. “Got it.”
“Put Sam on the phone.”
“He’s working on his schoolwork, Dad. Want me to pass on a message?”
“I want you to put your brother on the phone.”
Dean sighed and flicked a paper ball at Sam’s head. When he turned to glare, Dean held the phone out. “Dad wants to talk.”
Sam looked a little panicked. He got up slowly and took the phone. “Dad?”
Dean couldn’t hear what was being said, but Sam stayed pretty quiet, interjecting a ‘No, sir’ or ‘Yes, sir’ at intervals. He seemed calm, if a little wary and his tone never wavered towards sarcastic, so Dean jumped a little when he heard their father start shouting on the other end of the line. Sam’s eyes grew wide and he slammed the phone down in the cradle.
Dean jumped forward a second too late to stop him. As Sam retreated to his room again, Dean stood debating whether to call their father back or not. Eventually he decided that if John needed them, he knew how to reach them.
Instead, he counted down from ten and made his way to Sam’s room. He knocked gently on the door. When he didn’t get an answer, he tried the door knob. It clicked open to reveal Sam chucking his notebook across the room. It fell short of the wall and fluttered to land in disarray on the comforter of the bed. Sam was muttering furiously and swiping at his eyes. Dean wasn’t sure what to say. If it were him, he’d want to be left alone, at least until he’d collected himself.
He backed quietly out of the room and turned to rest against the wall beside the door. He was so out of his depths here.
It was early evening by the time Dean finally worked up the courage to go back and try to oust Sam from his room. This time he just barged through the door. Sam’s head snapped up and he frowned. “Don’t you know how to knock?”
Dean grinned at him. “Nope. Missed that lesson.”
“You get a view of my naked ass, it’s all on you then.”
Dean snorted. That was mild, compared to what he was braced for. “Noted,” he said.
“Did you need something?”
“Was thinking about a movie night. Come on. Pizza. Night of the Living Dead. I’ve even got some gummy worms I won’t be sharing. We can poke fun of the zombies.”
Sam smiled. Like magic, it seemed Dean had his baby brother back. He set aside his notebook and stood up. He voluntarily set up the VCR and tossed Dean the phone so he could order them some grub. It was a little disconcerting after the marathon skulking of the last few days.
The only thing remotely odd was Sam's request that the light to stay on.
“Come on, Sammy. You know it’s always better with the lights off. Gives it atmosphere.”
“Please, Dean?”
“You’re not wimping out on me, are you?”
“Nah, just got a bit of a headache.”
Dean shrugged, but didn’t argue. Sam was quiet through the movie, although he laughed at the really ridiculous parts and smacked Dean when he started making zombie noises. By the end, he was slumped down in his seat on the sofa looking as relaxed as Dean had seen him in months.
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Finally, Dean worked up his courage to say, “We need to talk.”
“Huh?” Sam glanced up at him, sleep still thick in his eyes.
“We need to have a chat, Sam.”
Sam seemed a lot more awake when he spoke again. “What? Why? Did something happen?”
Dean leaned back a little. “You tell me.”
Sam gave him a bewildered look. “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it. I swear. I’ve been studying all week.”
Dean frowned. “Whoah. Back up. You’re not in trouble. But things have been hard lately and you’ve been really distant.”
Sam shrugged. “Just a lot going on with school and stuff.”
“Yeah, I get that. But you’ve been ignoring me and Dad. Brushing us off. It’s not like you.”
“I haven’t been ignoring you.”
“And the other day with dinner was what?”
Sam’s shoulders slumped. “I told you, I wasn’t hungry.”
Dean plowed on. “I’m worried about you. You know you can talk to me about whatever.”
Sam shrugged. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Dean felt his temper beginning to rise. “Don’t lie to me Sam. Something’s going on.”
Sam jumped to his feet. “I told you. I’m starting another school and I’m behind already and I just want to be left alone so I can get this work done!”
“And that’s why you’ve been giving us the cold shoulder for months? Are you really that pissed off at us?”
“What? I’m not pissed at anyone.”
“Bullshit.”
“Fine, don’t believe me. I’ve got work to do.” With that, he snatched his bowl up and fled back to his bedroom, but Dean wasn’t done.
He stormed to Sam’s door. “Sam, open up!” He pounded on the flimsy wood and, when he tried the knob, found it was locked. He considered digging out his picks, but recognized that might be a little crazy.
Dean didn’t see Sam for the rest of the day. Not for food. Not for anything. The next day was Friday, and Sam’s first day of school. Sam came out, fully dressed with his backpack slung over a shoulder and a determined look on his face. He stalked towards the front door, but Dean intercepted him. “You can be mad at me if you want, but I did promise you a ride.” Sam frowned but waited while Dean collected his keys and jacket.
The drive to the local high school was downright frigid. The only sound to be heard was the Metallica Dean had cranked up to cover the silence. Sam seemed perfectly content to stare out the window, finger thumping against the speaker in the door in time with the music.
Dean, realizing this wasn’t exactly an auspicious way to start at a new school, reached forward to turn the volume down. Sam’s eyes followed the movement, but he didn’t say anything, just sighed as the music dropped to a more manageable volume and turned back to stare out the window again, dropping his head against the glass.
“If you get your greasy face print on that window, you’ll be washing the whole inside of my car,” Dean said hoping to lighten the mood, but he sounded waspish even to himself. Sam ignored the threat, pressing his face more squarely against the glass.
Dean managed not to sigh. Barely.
“Listen, squirt. I know it’s a new school and all that jazz, but you’ve got this,” Dean said as they pulled up to the front of the school. “You’ve done this before. You’ll go in and make friends in like three seconds and have all the teachers eating out of your hand.”
Sam tilted his head ever so slightly and frowned up at Dean. Finally he just shrugged and said, “See you after school.”
Maybe it wasn’t the most uplifting or original pep talk he’d ever given, and maybe Sam was still pissed, but he’d hoped to at least get a little acknowledgement. He dropped his head back against the seat and watched Sam make his way into the building, head down, wondering if there was any way to get through to the new surly Sam.
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He could hear Sam shuffling around in there. Dean tried again, a little louder this time. He didn’t even get told to go away for his trouble.
Losing the better part of his patience, he banged his fist against the wood of the door. That time he heard the bed creak and hurried footsteps before the it was yanked open and Sam peered out at him wide-eyed. “Sorry, had my headphones on. What’s up?”
Dean scrutinized his brother, knowing it was a lie, but not sure of what to do about it. “I heard tell there’s a decent arcade in town,” he said instead. “Thought you might like to have a go at beating the Donkey Kong champ.”
Sam gave a small smile and bit his lip. He glanced back at his bed where his homework was spread out. At least Dean knew he’d actually been working. “Come on Sammy,” Dean wheedled. “You can take a Friday night off.”
Sam finally nodded and grabbed his coat. “You’re on.”
The arcade lasted about an hour, before Sam begged to go. He got snappish the longer they were there and anxiously eyed the surrounding machines. By the time he gave in, Dean was frazzled and annoyed. Apparently he wasn’t cool enough to be seen with anymore.
Sam pushed past him and out into the cool night. Dean followed a little more sedately, watching Sam shuffle towards the car with the same defeated posture he’d been wearing for months now. They had parked in the back of the lot because no way in hell was Dean taking the risk that some asshole with a learner’s permit might scratch his beautiful baby. From his vantage a few feet back, Dean saw the muscle car tear into the parking lot right towards his baby brother.
“Sam!” Dean yelled, lunging forward. Sam didn’t even look up as he stepped right into the car’s path. Dean jumped the last foot or so and tackled Sam down and out of the way just as the car careened past them.
“Ow, Dean! What the hell?” Before Dean could start yelling, Sam’s gaze landed on his arm they had landed on. He pulled it gently but firmly towards the light. “That looks like it hurts. Let’s get back so we can clean it out.”
Dean snatched his arm out of Sam’s grasp. Sam didn't get to act like the fucking rational one, like Dean had just lost his mind.
Dean grabbed Sam by both shoulders, blood still pumping from his panic, grip tighter than it probably should have been. He shook Sam as he said, “What. The hell. Is wrong with you?”
Sam scowled up at him. “You could have been killed Sam! That asshole almost creamed you,” he said waving his arm widely at the car now pulling donuts in an empty portion of the road. Sam followed his gesture and his eyes widened at the sight.
“I-“
“No. Whatever is going on with you ends now. You can sulk and hate us all you want but this whole ignoring us bit? It’s over. You could have died, Sam!”
Sam was squinting at him like he was speaking Latin, while also still managing to look vaguely panicked. His eyes darted around the lot and back towards the door to the arcade where a few folks had gathered to watch the stupid drunk. “I…Look, can we just go home. We can talk there. Please?”
Dean crossed his arms over his chest. So Sam didn’t want to be embarrassed out in public. Well too damn bad. “No.”
Sam’s shoulder’s sagged, but his attention never wavered. “Dean…”
“No, Sam. We’re going to do this now. I want to know exactly what’s gotten into you. For months you’ve been snapping at us or ignoring us in turns. You’re moody. You’re spaced out. Pissed I can deal with. Depressed cause of all the moves, I can deal with. But this is just stupid.”
“Dean.”
“You’re pushing away the only family you’ve got. You’ve done nothing but spit in our faces for these past few months.”
“Dean,” Sam said a little more forcefully.
“I’m not finished!” Dean roared. “It’s been you and me since forever. I thought you trusted me. I thought you could talk to me. But it’s like you’ve changed overnight. So fine. You don’t have to like me. But you sure as hell-“
“Dean!” Sam screamed at him. “Stop. Just stop. I can’t understand what you’re saying. It’s too dark and I just want to go home where I can fucking concentrate. Can’t it wait ten more minutes?”
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Dean studied Sam. There were dark circles under his eyes and tension was sitting heavy in his shoulders and chest.
“Please? Let’s just go home. You can yell at me there.”
Sam sounded exhausted and it crawled under Dean’s skin. Sam didn’t get to play the martyr here. “Fine,” he snarled. He turned with a jerk towards the Impala and yanked the door open.
When they got home, he herded Sam inside and, before his brother could even think about slinking back off to his room, Dean pointed a finger at the dining room table and barked, “Sit!”
Sam sank into a seat as Dean yanked out a second chair and flipped it around so that he could sit backwards on it. "So," he said. “Care to tell me what’s going on?”
Sam watched him carefully. “I don’t-"
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Sam frowned and shook his head. “No, I just don’t really know where to start.”
Dean propped his elbows on the back of the chair and dropped his face into his hands. He already had a headache. Not daring to look up in case he lost even more of his temper, he collected himself as much as he could and said in a moderately even tone, “Why don’t we start with why you were so eager to get home and go from there.”
Sam was silent for a long minute. Dean glanced up, making eye contact so he would be more inclined to answer.
“I…I didn’t catch any of that.”
Dean glared at him. “What exactly does that mean?”
Sam shifted guiltily in his seat.
“Sam,” Dean said, a note of warning coloring his voice.
“Your face was buried in your arms. I didn’t understand what you just said.”
Not to be deterred, Dean repeated himself. “I said, let’s talk about your little outburst in the parking lot.”
Sam seemed to shrink a little. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. You’ve never had trouble following conversations in the dark before.” Dean didn’t mean to let the note of accusation creep into his voice, but it did all the same.
Sam muttered something that Dean didn’t quite catch.
“Come again?”
“I’ve been having trouble hearing.”
“You’ve what?” Dean asked, sure he’d just misunderstood something.
“Everything’s all mushed together and muffled, and it was too dark to really read your lips.”
Dean stared at Sam for a long minute. Finally he said, “Let me get this straight. You couldn’t hear me out there.”
Sam nodded, looking a little wary.
“But you can here?”
Sam shook his head. “No. At least not clearly. But there’s better light and it’s calmer.”
Dean stood, nearly knocking his chair over. He stalked to the fridge and yanked out a can of soda that he chugged down in one go. It wasn’t what he wanted, but he needed to be entirely sober at that particular moment. When he felt a tiny bit calmer, he came back and sat down. “If this is some kind of fucking joke. If you think you can get out of trouble by playing it off, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“I wouldn’t do that. That’s sick.”
“So what, I’m just supposed to believe you’ve got spontaneous hearing loss now?”
Sam looked away, and bingo. Dean could spot the guilt from a mile away.
“Not spontaneous, no.” That caught Dean off guard.
“Not…What the hell Sam. This isn’t funny. Don’t go making things up just to get out of trouble.”
Sam's eyes blazed. “I’m not making things up! I can prove it!”
Sam took off towards his room before Dean could blink. He heard angry muttering and papers shuffling before Sam stormed back out with a manila folder that he tossed onto the table corner Dean had been leaning against.
Dean picked up the folder. It was unmarked with only a handful of sheets inside. When it fell open, he was faced with a random chart. Three or four more were tucked in behind the first. Dean rifled through them, not really comprehending what he was looking at.
“What is all this?”
He nearly jumped when Sam yanked the edge of the folder down. “What did you say,” he snarled. “If we’re going to have this conversation don’t cover up your mouth.”
The anger in Sam’s tone stung a little. Sam hadn’t been really, truly angry with Dean in ages. Dean cleared his throat. “I said, what am I looking at?”
The tiniest fraction of tension seeped out of Sam’s shoulders. “Audiograms,” he said. “One each for the last four months.”
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OMG I WANT TO SEE MORE. I am so sorry not sorry AT ALL that this has taken over your NaNo because this is amazing. I love the setup you've started with, and both boys are written so well. It was great to see all the little clues, all the tiny things that show that Sam's attitude isn't for the reason Dean thinks it is. And Dean, feeling out of his depth in dealing with his brother but still trying to make an effort and figure it out.
Really excited to see more of this! (And wishing you good luck on your NaNo! I'm ridiculously behind schedule on mine, lol.)
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Sam might be my favorite, adorable bundle of walking disaster, but I love the way Dean handles it. He's so wonderfully imperfect at it and most of the time I just want to give him a big squishy hug until he feels better. I kinda fell in love with the idea of him telling the story.
I really have you to thank for being ahead on my NaNo. I'm sending lots of cookies and encouragement for your NaNo. You can do it!
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Hi! I usually try to post simultaneously on LiveJournal and fanfiction. Your welcome to follow either account, but I will also be announcing it in the comm when it goes up. I'm not going to set a date because I'm really, really bad at deadlines, but I'm hoping another week or two. Depends on how quickly the last bit of editing goes and how fast my beta can get it back to me.
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