fic: how the mighty fall (in love) - deleted scenes
masterpost | deleted scenes | endnotes
i.
Dean feigns sleep and waits for Sam to leave the room; listens for the fading purr of the Impala and the crunch of gravel as his brother pulls out of the parking lot. He pulls the curtain aside, just to check, and when the coast is clear he hops out of bed and gets dressed before hurrying out the door.
He clambers into an old Jetta-come on, the guy left the windows open!-and hotwires it fast before reversing out of the space and heading towards the only coffee shop in town. He parks right next to his baby, which Sam parked in the corner furthest from all the other cars (Smart kid, Dean thinks), and snags a newspaper before walking in.
Dean spots Sam right away, his Gigantor body towering over the women behind and in front of him-stupid Sam and his stupid girly coffee-and sits down at a table in the back just out of what Dean knows is Sam’s line of sight. He puts the newspaper up and holds it just under his eyes, surreptitiously watching as Sam steps up to the counter and flashes his dimples at the barista, who stammers and blushes so hard Dean thinks she might faint.
Sam opens his mouth and Dean mouths his order along with him: Could I get a half-caf, double vanilla latte at 140, please? And a regular black coffee, no sugar, no cream, no syrup; extra black.
Dean finds it hilarious when the barista’s smile fades a little, obviously thinking that the latte is for Sam’s girlfriend, but then when she hands him the coffee he takes a sip and her eyes widen in shock.
Sam pays no attention. “Could I, uh, could I get some extra coffee in this?”
The barista recovers fast, which Dean admires, and grins at Sam. “Sure. Anything for you,” she chirps, and pours it in. “That’ll be $7.76.”
Sam digs in his pocket for his wallet, looking down, and Dean takes it as his chance to get out. He leaves the newspaper on the table and slips out the door in the wake of another leaving customer; hops back into the Jetta and speeds back to the motel before undressing and getting back under the covers.
Sam walks in not five minutes later, balancing coffee on one arm and bags of breakfast on the other and clutching the newspaper Dean had left at the shop in his hand.
ii.
"Heeeey, Sleeping Beauty.” Dean calls from the Men of Letters’ kitchen. “Want some?"
Sam furrows his brow and frowns into the couch cushions. “No. G’way.”
“Man, you’ve been passed out for hours. Do you even know what time it is?”
Sam’s voice is muffled. “Hmm, let me check my watch…it’s dicks-thirty, quarter past go fuck yourself.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
Sam turns to look at his brother and stubbornly shakes his head no. “I’m not getting up.”
"You sure?" Dean gestures at the still-sizzling pan with a spatula. "Because I make a mean egg, if I do say so myself."
The smell wafts its way down. Sam's stomach growls loudly.
Traitor.
He stands and crosses over to the stove, plate in hand and ignoring the way Dean decided to borrow Sam's clothes without asking and the way he looks in the too-big pants (they ride way too low on his hips, and Sam's just making a note to inform Dean of it. Later).
Dean's face as he expertly flips an omelet onto Sam's plate is too smug for its own good.
"Eat up, princess. Big day ahead." Dean smiles wide-fucking shit-eating grin-and stretches, exposing a strip of flesh that Sam distinctly remembers tasting the night before.
He carefully labels the feeling in his stomach as hunger, and tells his dick to shut up.
iii.
The next time they pass through Scottsdale, Sam borrows the Impala and drives back to the lonely clearing in the desert.
He upturns the ground remains of a dog he and Dean found lying by the side of the road, and waits. The image of the Greek goddess is strangely comforting in its familiarity and Sam stands to greet her with a smile.
“Samuel.”
“Hey, Hecate.”
“I must admit, I’m a little surprised that you’ve come back to visit.”
“I just-had a question. It’s been bothering me for a while.”
“Fire away.”
“Aren’t you usually at three-way intersections?”
“Yeah. So?”
“This is a four-way.”
She rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t exactly going to pass up the biggest crossroads in the US for my headquarters, you know.”
endnotes