Fic: A Sensitive Secret (SPN)
Title: A Sensitive Secret
Author: strgazr04 and sameuspegasus
Rating: PG (Minor swearing)
Genre: Gen. Humor, H/C
Word count: 2,871
Author's notes: No spoilers. Set in S1. Sam's POV.
Summary: Back on the road with Dean after leaving Stanford, Sam starts noticing his brother exhibiting some odd behavior. Spending longer and longer periods of time in the bathroom. Bizarre Google searches left on the laptop. Making unnecessary supply runs. Hustling for unneeded funds. Squirreling away things in a hidden duffel compartment. And...Oprah? They've never kept anything hidden from each other so why was Dean suddenly being so secretive?
“God! What were you doing in there, Dean?” Sam asked peevishly as his brother finally emerged from the bathroom. He couldn’t remember Dean ever taking that long before he’d gone away to college. Deliberately using up all the hot water, maybe. But 45 minutes? The hot water in this crappy motel wouldn’t even last that long.
“Gotta clean the pipes, dude,” Dean replied, with the wide grin that always accompanied a statement that had Sam reaching for the brain bleach.
“Too much information, man!” Sam led the way out of the motel room.
“Hey, you asked.” Dean smirked smugly at him.
Sam could practically feel the dirt coating his body. Thanks to Dean monopolising the bathroom, he hadn’t had time for a shower before checkout. His hair was disgustingly greasy, unlike Dean’s which was freshly washed and arranged in casual spikes using some kind of product. He wondered idly when Dean had started doing his hair like that.
***
“Hey, I’ll be back in a bit,” Dean announced slightly breathless. He didn’t wait for Sam to reply, leaving the room so fast he was practically running.
Belatedly, Sam looked up from his laptop, frowning. Where could Dean be going this early in the morning? It wasn’t like they had a case to look into at the moment, and surely if he was going to get breakfast he would have at least asked if Sam wanted something. He shrugged. Dean had been flirting pretty hard with the girl from the bar last night. Maybe she’d sent him a text or something. That was sure to have Dean heading out without stopping to comb his hair.
It was weird that he seemed almost panicky, though.
***
Finally! Sam thought as he dried off from a nice, long, hot shower. He had adjusted his routine to account for Dean's new bathroom habits. Showering at night meant he could at least have enough time and hot water to enjoy a shower before checkout.
He exited the bathroom with one towel around his waist and a second one to rub his hair dry. Sam paused in pulling on a t-shirt to make a face at his brother. "Dude, you better not freeze my laptop on Busty Asian Beauties again. I just restored all the files from last time."
"Oh would you relax? I'm not hurting your precious computer." Dean smirked.
"Oh God, it's that cartoon porn again. Isn't it?" Sam groaned as he hung up his wet towels to dry and cleaned up Dean's abandoned towels from that morning.
Dean rolled his eyes and closed the laptop lid. "It's called anime. And it's an art form." He said as he got up to grab his jacket.
"Where you goin' now?" Sam cocked his head. "I was just gonna order pizza or something."
"Sorry, Sammy." Dean flipped up the collar of his leather jacket.
"It's Sam." Sam pointed out tiredly.
Dean ignored him. "You're on your own tonight. Remember Heather?"
"The waitress at the diner?"
"Yup. Her shift ends at eight." Dean waggled his eyebrows meaningfully. "But ya know, I think she said she had a sister…"
"Dude, just go. And spare me the details later, huh?"
Dean chuckled. "Your loss. Heathers are always hot." He nodded sagely. "You know you'll be begging for my expertise when you finally grow up enough to become interested in girls." Snapping up his keys, he dodged the rolled up socks Sam threw at him. "Don't wait up!" He laughed all the way to the car.
Already bored and not entertained by the five channels on the crappy motel television, Sam sat back on the bed with his laptop. Upon opening it, he frowned. There was no anime to be found on the screen. He opened up the sole internet tab on the toolbar. The browser displayed a Google Maps search of hair salons near their next case. Huh. Well shit.
***
“Who is that?” The lovely brunette asked in awestruck tones as she took cover behind Sam, watching as Dean took out the last of the vamps.
Sam rolled his eyes, sighing. “He’s my brother.”
Dean wiped his bloody machete on his jeans, breathing hard.
“He’s got great hair,” said the girl.
Sam looked at her.
“What?” she said. “I’m a hairdresser.”
***
“You’re going to play poker?” Sam asked, looking confusedly at his brother.
“No, Sammy,” Dean patted him on the shoulder, “I’m going to win poker.”
“Are you sure you should do this? It seems like kind of a tough crowd.” Two of the guys were bigger than him and built like houses, while the third was a total bad-guy cliché, complete with pink scar down the cheek of a face that seemed to be carved from stone. Sam could see the bulge of a gun in his jacket pocket. “It’s not like we need the money at the moment.”
“We always need money, Sam,” said Dean, with a cocky grin. He ran a hand through his unusually limp hair as he walked over to the poker table.
Sam watched resignedly, ready to leap into the brawl when the players inevitably accused Dean of cheating.
***
Sam paused in the shower, straining to hear over the sound of the running water. He could have sworn he'd heard...
"Up next on Oprah... More money saving tips. Professional strength spa and hair products you can make at home!"
Eyebrows somewhere passed his hairline, Sam shut off the water and made his way out of the bathroom. He casually glanced at the TV.
"What are ya gonna do? Nice college boy, eh? Don't wanna get mixed up in the Family business?"
Sam blinked at James Caan and Al Pacino on the screen.
"Sammy, come grab a slice." Dean gestured to the pizza box on the bed where he was sprawled out. "There's a Godfather marathon on AMC."
Sam shook himself out of his thoughts and plopped down on the bed, grabbing a slice. He must have been hearing things.
***
Sam followed his brother as they made their way through the dilapidated house, flashlights and rock salt at the ready. They were dealing with a seriously pissed off spirit. Ectoplasm was leaking from the walls and furniture was strewn all over the house from where the spirit threw it.
"DEAN!" Sam shouted just as he saw a dresser heading straight for his brother.
Dean leapt out of the way and crashed right into a wall, busting through the decrepit drywall. Sam was about to call out and make sure his brother was alright when he heard a wet slop. He cringed.
"SON OF A BITCH!" Dean raged as he climbed to his feet. He was full of dust from the drywall as well as cobwebs, but Sam knew why Dean was pissed off. It probably had something to do with all the thick, gooey ectoplasm smeared in his hair.
"Dean..." Sam tried.
"Show yourself you piece of shit!" Dean yelled, shining his flashlight around. He didn't see the spirit appear behind him just in time to shove him down the stairs.
Sam rushed forward, firing at the spirit. As soon as it dissipated, he slid to his knees beside Dean. "Dean! Dean? Shit." He was out cold and his head was bleeding like a bitch. On the bright side, Dean's fall broke through the stairs revealing the remains they had been looking for.
***
“I’m fine,” Dean insisted blearily, “I just need to wash this shit off. Look what that bastard did to my hair.”
Ok, Dean had a concussion. “Fine, we’ll go back to the motel.” Sam manhandled his resisting brother into the car.
Dean had passed out by the time they reached the hospital.
To Part Two