Two Brothers 13/?
Chapter 13
"Stop staring, it's creepy." Dean muttered into his pillow. "And FYI, I don't swing that way."
I tore my eyes away from the spot where the scar should have been. For a second I wondered if I'd mixed up the sides and the scar was on his other leg but I had the memory clear in my mind. I recalled where the couch had stood and which way Dean had been facing back then. It had been a life changing experience and I was sure. The scar should be on his left thigh and it wasn't there.
"Breakfast is ready." I blurted out.
"You got coffee?" He raised his head, a hopeful eye on me.
"I live on coffee."
"I think I like you." He groaned and flipped around and now I could see his other thigh. No scar there either but I didn't expect it to be there.
"C'mon, get dressed. Nancy is going to kill me if I let you out of the house without a proper breakfast."
I went downstairs and got myself a coffee while I waited for Dean to join me. With all the stuff going on, all the questions in my mind, it was that stupid scar that bothered me the most. Scars don't just vanish.
So when Dean finally joined me in the kitchen, I started to talk.
"Do you know why I became a doctor?" I asked because "I ogled your thighs while you were sleeping and I didn't find what I was looking for." seemed a bit of a bad approach.
Dean threw me a look that said "Small talk, dude? Really?" and just chewed his waffle and washed it down with some coffee.
"Because of you." I continued which got me his attention. "Or better because of the way Sam handled your injury back at the cabin. You remember?"
He thought about that for a second before he hesitantly nodded. "Went down the stairs and slashed my thigh, right?"
Like the whole weekend he barely remembered. To me it had been something I'd still tell my grandchildren, masked as a made-up tale of course, but to him it had been what? Another day in the office?
"Sam stitched you up like a pro." I continued, trying to jog his memory. "Weird thing is, I can remember every second of that, the rest of the weekend is kinda blurry by now but I still can smell your blood and I can see Sam's steady hands when he put stitches in you."
For a second he looked at me as if I was insane.
"Is there a moral hidden somewhere in there?" He turned his attention back to the second waffle on his plate. "Because I have other things on my mind than taking a trip down memory line with you."
"I saw you earlier. No scar." I left it hanging in the air and waited for his reaction.
"Lost it." He said around a mouth full of waffle.
"How do you lose a scar?" Probably the same way you carve symbols in ribs without leaving a mark on the skin, I guessed.
"You don't want to know." That phrase again, it seemed to be his answer to everything.
"What does that even mean?"
He shrugged and finished his coffee. "If you don't mind, I want to check on Sammy."
He stood up and turned to put his dishes in the sink and when he bend forwards a little, I caught a glimpse of the gun in his waistband. Cold and shiny metal, casually sitting in the back of his jeans.
I sucked in a breath and maybe took an involuntary step back.
C'mon, he had a gun on him. He was in my house, sitting at my kitchen table and he had a gun. For all I knew he'd slept with that thing under his pillow.
"What?" He quirked an eyebrow at me.
"Nothing." I tried to act like I hadn't seen it but he followed my line of sight. For a second the old fear was back and I was sure he'd draw the gun on me. Why else would he have a gun in my house if he didn't consider me a threat? I wasn't living in a dangerous area or something.
"Dude, you can't expect me to run around naked." Was his only comment when he straightened his shirts back over the gun.
Had he been armed all the time? In the hospital? While he had sat at Sam's bedside?
He had a wary eye on me and then sighed in resignation. When he opened his mouth to, no doubt, offer to get a motel room, I hurried to speak first.
"We should get going, bet Sam's waiting." I had to step closer to put my dishes in the sink and he didn't budge until we stood nearly shoulder to shoulder but I made a point of not hesitating to get close to him. Which wasn't easy because, hey, he had a gun. And who knew what else on him. C'mon, in the light of the day he was a killer. That was his job, killing the evil things. I didn't know much about his life but that was a fact. And I had never been that aware of that fact as in that very moment.
"C'mon, you can drive with me." I offered with a forced smile but my offer was sincere.
He considered that for a second and I was sure he'd refuse but then he accepted my offer with an "okay" that sounded a bit rough around the edges and I knew he wasn't talking about the offered lift. At least not only.
"But we have to stop somewhere and get Sammy something real for breakfast, that hospital stuff is crap. You think he can handle a fruit salad?"
Taken aback by that turn I mumbled: "Sure he can try."
"Sweet." Dean beamed at me and picked up a bag he'd dropped near the door earlier, Sam's I guessed, and was ready to go.
While I searched for my keys I tried to figure out he man in front of me. The man who looked like a hell-raiser, who had a gun on him all the time and who brought his little brother fruit salad for breakfast. Shaking my head I followed him outside.
continue to chapter 14
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