fic: Kale or Nada (Sam/Dean, NC-17) Part 4 of 5
Back to Part 3
“You know how we were talking about what Dad said to me when-when I went to school?” Sam asked, hating how hesitant he sounded. He had to get back into negotiation mode, because that’s what this really was.
“Yeah?” Dean asked, chewing another bite of steak, obviously not wanting to discuss this any further than they’d taken it last night.
“He…uh said something else to me that I think I ought to tell you. After he finished yelling, he told me he was glad I was going, that he saw how I looked at you. He’d been trying to figure out how to pull us apart, that it wasn’t right how close we were, he knew what I was up to, that I wasn’t good for you. And so he was glad that I was the one that was doing it to you instead of him. That was the last thing he said, I’m glad you’re the one breaking Dean’s heart instead of me.”
“Huh-that explains a lot,” Dean said, dropping his silverware and sinking further into the cushions like he wanted to disappear from the conversation.
“Explains what? I thought you’d be freaking out to find out that he knew,” Sam said.
“After you left, he…uh, he wasn’t too slick at hiding how much he pushed hooking up as a way to drown my sorrows. Kept up at me about it so I finally gave in. He was right, instead of drinking myself to death at an early age, I just fucked around all over the place. Didn’t work though,” Dean said, staring up at the starlit sky above them.
“Why not?”
“None of them were you. It didn’t matter how much I drowned myself in pussy or cock or both, or how much I drank. You were all I wanted. Half the time, I threw myself into hunts completely unprepared, just raring to go, ready to meet the reaper whenever he was ready for me.”
“I…I didn’t kno-“ Sam said, cutting himself off, he didn’t want to apologize, he wasn’t sorry.
“What didn’t you know? I’m pretty sure you guessed how it’d be for me after you left,” Dean scoffed.
“I didn’t think about it too much. I just wanted out, I couldn’t do that, be that any more.”
Dean didn’t say anything, just ate the rest of his steak and most of his salad with exaggerated enthusiasm, obviously desperate to hide his real response to Sam’s statement. Finally he stopped chewing and took a big swig from his wineglass. “Well, you got out, and you got what you wanted. No family, no ties to anything besides your work.”
“That’s just the story I tell myself, the one I sold to the partners in my firm, to all my clients, my Ted Talk audience, the fucking internet. People want to believe that’s possible, so I let them believe it about me. Wasn’t ever true, not really, no matter what I tried. I couldn’t fill it in.”
“Fill what in? What’d you dig your swimming pool in the wrong place?” Dean gestured out towards the pool.
“Fuck you,” Sam said and stared out at the last of the sunset reflecting in the still water of his perfectly placed swimming pool.
“I’m sorry, damn my mouth-Sammy, c’mon, you know I joke around when shit gets real. I’m no good at this kinda chick-flick stuff. What couldn’t you fill in?”
Sam looked at him, weighing out whether he should accept Dean’s apology or not. Something about the earnest tentative hope that still clung to Dean’s expression decided it for him. “I couldn’t fill in the space where you were supposed to be,” Sam said, regretting it immediately.
Instead of pouncing on the admitted weakness and tearing him up about it, or even worse teasing him, Dean nodded and looked serious. “Sounds real familiar, Dad hated seeing it in me too, since he knew what it meant. Once when he was beyond drunk, he started talking about how I reminded him of how he’d been when mom was first gone. How his heart kept grabbing at the empty place where she was supposed to be, and how he could see the same in me. Then he passed out, we never said shit about all that again.”
“God, we’re pathetic,” Sam said.
“Oh yeah we are, ya think that’s permanent or what?” Dean asked.
Sam shrugged and tried not to let his own feeble hope show on his face. “No, I really don’t.”
“Good, I’ll leave it to you, let me know when you figure it out I guess,” Dean said.
Sam felt sad that he’d brought things to a close tonight, all he wanted was to bring Dean inside and then…and then do what exactly? Play house, let him take over his life, change everything?
“I’m gonna get going. Get to spend the first night in my new place, all thanks to you,” Dean said.
“I’m glad you came over tonight,” Sam said.
“Even if you had to eat steak?”
“You ate the kale, so I had no choice,” Sam said.
“It was a lot better than I’d imagined,” Dean said.
“What the kale?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, and everything else, thanks, Sammy, for taking a chance on letting me in. I know it’s probably messing you up, but I hope-“ Dean cut himself off.
Sam stepped closer to him, and held Dean’s forearms so that Dean had to curl his hands around Sam’s hips. Dean’s thumb pressed into the place where the bruise was, they both knew it was there. “I don’t like being messed up, but I also don’t like not getting what I want,” Sam said. “To me it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”
“I’m glad to hear that, thanks, Sammy,” Dean said, leaning up to kiss Sam gently on the lips.
Sam stood there, a bit stunned by the unexpected gentleness, and briefly touched his own lips as Dean walked away.
“Dean? I’m busy the next couple of nights, but this weekend is clear. Want to come over on Friday night?”
Dean stopped and turned to look back at him. The lights from the house formed a halo around him, making him look even more divine. It was ridiculous how beautiful he still was. “Sounds real good, see you then, Sammy,” Dean said, flipping him a little wave and walking into the house.
Sam sat back down and looked out at the star-lit valley, the twinkling lights of the far away houses and listened to the familiar rumble of the Impala starting up. He could hear her go down the long, winding driveway, the sound echoing up against the hills. It filled him with unwanted nostalgia, reminding him of all those nights waiting up in sketchy motel rooms for his dad and brother to return from the hunt. He pushed that away and consciously tried to change the association, it was the sound of his brother, still in this world, still moving through it, clinging to a hope he’d never let die completely. It was the sound of that space inside of Sam finally beginning to refill.
Sam had finished the dishes and settled into bed with his herbal tea warm in his hand when he heard his phone ding with a text message. He knew without looking who it was from, and what it was probably about.
Dean: Sam! What the hell is all this stuff in this fancy basket for?!?!
Sam: It’s for you to get started with. Think of it as a house-warming gift
Dean: You’re too much you know that?
Sam: Just do me a favor and don’t bleach the towels or sheets okay?
Dean: Now you’re telling me how to do my own damn laundry?
Sam: Good night D
Dean: Night Sammy thanks
Sam clicked his phone off and sipped his tea. He was glad he’d asked Alexi to arrange for a selection of household items to be waiting for Dean when he got there. Alexi knew all of Sam’s preferred brands and had just duplicated most of them. Sam was suddenly proud of being able to make sure his brother was sleeping on brand-new sheets, not worn-in sheets from the thrift store. He had the same luxurious towels Sam had in his own bathroom, he didn’t have to resort to the cache of stolen motel bath towels Dean always kept stashed in the Impala.
He wondered if Dean would text him when he looked in the refrigerator. He’d also asked Alexi to stock the essentials for a person who ate a “normal” diet. Alexi had been shocked when he’d said to make sure there was at least a twelve-pack of El Sol. Sam settled down into his sheets that still smelled of them, he hadn’t wanted to change them from last night, just in case. He drifted off to sleep, picturing Dean doing the same in his own bed, not too far away. Not gone. Not out there some where. But back here in and in his life. It meant everything just then not to feel alone. He reached out to the other side of the bed, imagined Dean being there under his hand. How would that be, to have him here every night? Would it work, could it? More importantly, did he want it to work?
His hand clenched on the emptiness, the soft sheet filled his grip instead of Dean’s soft skin. He wished he could make it easy on both of them, wished he could have just let Dean in tonight, let him stay forever. But he had to protect himself, his life, what he’d built. He couldn’t blow all that up just because Dean had improbably waltzed back into his life. Was it just a whim of Dean’s that he ended up here, pure happenstance, or was it built on a similar hope like the one that he’d stubbornly kept hidden from himself for fourteen years. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, kicking himself for letting Dean leave tonight. He should have offered him the couch, or one of the guest rooms…or something.
No, it was better this way, it had to be. He had to be the grownup this time around. Make sure they didn’t get in too deep without having a plan. It was in his nature to look ahead, plan for the inevitable breakdowns, it had made him seem ruthless in his business life, but it came down to preparing for the worst case scenario. So what would that be here in this case, if he opened his heart and his home, fully accepted Dean back into his life and then what? The worst three scenarios he could imagine were first, Dean leaving; second, Dean finding someone else to be with; and third, Dean bringing some supernatural woe down on them.
Sam turned each disastrous possibility over in his mind. Dean leaving if they got too hot and heavy too soon, seemed the most likely. His brother was known to run when things got too emotional. Sam wasn’t sure how long they had before that happened. He’d nearly blown it tonight for instance. If he hadn’t stopped himself, how would Dean have reacted? He seemed so much like the old Dean, but if he was really out of the life, then he’d have to change, right?
If Dean met someone else, like if he started working, or going to school, he was going to meet people, lots of people, and they were going to want him, because he was gorgeous (and the fucker knew it too). He had said the words tonight about owning Sam again, and being owned, but for how long? They hadn’t specified.
This wasn’t a contract negotiation he sternly reminded himself. Sam didn’t think he could stand seeing Dean happy with someone else. He wasn’t that good of an actor, he wouldn’t be able to pull it off. He should probably make his intentions and limits about sharing Dean with other people clear then. Not in a contract way of clarity, but just telling him straight out. Something along the lines of : “When I said I wanted to own you and be owned by you, I meant that I want it to be just us this time. No one else. Not ever again.”
He said the words out loud to himself, testing them in his mouth, tasting the possessiveness, still tinged with the little-brother jealousy he could never shake. Would Dean want that kind of monogamy or need it like he did? Had Dean changed enough, could it be a part of giving up the hunting life? Sam didn’t have friends himself, hadn’t had time or energy for all of that, so there was no one who knew him like Dean did. Could they be enough for each other, just the two of them? It sounded like a good and workable plan to Sam, here alone in his bed late at night. But would it make sense to Dean in the cold light of day or out in the real world? That would be the real test.
The last scenario, the supernatural coming back into his life seemed the hardest to deal with on his own. It wasn’t like he could prepare his staff for it somehow. Start using holy water in the espresso machine at work, and silver spoons in the lunch room, the idea was ridiculous. He’d have to talk about it with Dean, get it straight that Sam wasn’t ever hunting again, and he didn’t want to be drawn into any left over monster b.s. that Dean hadn’t fully dealt with.
He fell asleep and dreamed of yellow eyes, fire and the softness of Dean’s skin under his fingertips. The next day, he was slightly less distracted at work, because he forced himself to put aside thoughts of what Dean was doing at that very moment. But after lunch, he couldn’t help himself. Was Dean setting up his new apartment, was he driving around looking for a job, or was he still in bed? He knew he shouldn’t be the one to text first after how they’d left things last night, but here he was, already had his damn cellphone in his hand, typing out a dumbass needy question.
Sam: How’d your first night in the new place go?
Sam set down his phone on his desk and tried to concentrate on the complex contract negotiation he was supposed to be finalizing. He wasn’t going to hold the phone waiting for an answer, to watch for the blinking cursor that showed the only person he wanted to hear from was writing his reply. That’s why he was surprised at the ding of his incoming text. It almost made him knock over the two o’clock cup of green tea that Alexi had just brought in for him.
Dean: Really good, it’s quiet here, and I like how it smells. Everything’s so new.
Sam: What have you been up to today?
Dean: Found a job
Sam: You did? Already? What happened to taking a few weeks off and having a vacation?
Dean: I have to do something Sammy, can’t just sit around all day watching tv and waiting for you to text me.
Sam: I wish I could see you today, but I have this thing in the city, I’m not even coming back home tonight.
Dean: I could come there
Sam: No, it’s not a thing that you’d enjoy, big-wig client schmoozing
Dean: I could wait for you in the hotel or wherever you’re staying
Sam hesitated to answer his brother’s offer. It would change everything if they started off down this path. But the thought of having Dean there, waiting for him in his San Francisco apartment after the dinner meeting he’d been dreading for months seemed worth the risk.
Sam: I’ll send a car so you don’t have to try to park the Impala downtown.
Dean: See you tonight then, you better get back to work Mr. Boss Man
Sam: It’ll be there to pick you up at eight, I should be done by nine.
Dean: There’s no rent boy emoji, but that’s what I’m sending you
Sam: Sending the nonexistent sugar daddy emoji right back at you
The rest of the afternoon flew by, then it was time to dress for dinner. Sam took a quick shower in his office bathroom. He dressed in his favorite custom-made tailored suit, with an ultra-smooth silk cotton blend turtleneck underneath as was his usual style. He slicked his hair back and carefully shaved, looking at himself in the mirror closely to see if he looked different. If he looked owned. There was a relaxation around his lips and eyes, but that could have been from the awesome sex. He knew there was more of that to look forward to tonight.
Sam left the dinner meeting as soon as he felt he’d gotten the point across to the firm’s newest clients that they were in it for the long haul, and that his firm would take care of their new company from the ground up. He could feel his phone burning like a hot coal in his pocket, softly buzzing with messages coming in from his brother in a steady stream. He made himself wait to read them until he was on his way up to the apartment in the elevator. His heart seemed to expand with each one, the hole in it filling up as he absorbed Dean’s enthusiastic responses.
Dean: This car is amazing, the driver dude wouldn’t let me sit up front with him though which was weird.
Dean: I love going over this bridge at night, it’s beautiful, if I was driving I couldn’t enjoy it like this, thanks
Dean: Is the whole top of this building really all your apartment? The doorman was very helpful, he seemed surprised that you were having company tonight. Guess I’m disrupting everything like you said.
Sam hit his head against the mirrored wall of the elevator as it slowly climbed all the way to his floor. Yes, the entire top floor was his, and he smirked at the idea of Dean being impressed. But hell yes was he ever disrupting everything, just like Sam had known he would. He held his cellphone in his hand, tempted to write something, but he was interrupted by another incoming text.
To Part Five
“You know how we were talking about what Dad said to me when-when I went to school?” Sam asked, hating how hesitant he sounded. He had to get back into negotiation mode, because that’s what this really was.
“Yeah?” Dean asked, chewing another bite of steak, obviously not wanting to discuss this any further than they’d taken it last night.
“He…uh said something else to me that I think I ought to tell you. After he finished yelling, he told me he was glad I was going, that he saw how I looked at you. He’d been trying to figure out how to pull us apart, that it wasn’t right how close we were, he knew what I was up to, that I wasn’t good for you. And so he was glad that I was the one that was doing it to you instead of him. That was the last thing he said, I’m glad you’re the one breaking Dean’s heart instead of me.”
“Huh-that explains a lot,” Dean said, dropping his silverware and sinking further into the cushions like he wanted to disappear from the conversation.
“Explains what? I thought you’d be freaking out to find out that he knew,” Sam said.
“After you left, he…uh, he wasn’t too slick at hiding how much he pushed hooking up as a way to drown my sorrows. Kept up at me about it so I finally gave in. He was right, instead of drinking myself to death at an early age, I just fucked around all over the place. Didn’t work though,” Dean said, staring up at the starlit sky above them.
“Why not?”
“None of them were you. It didn’t matter how much I drowned myself in pussy or cock or both, or how much I drank. You were all I wanted. Half the time, I threw myself into hunts completely unprepared, just raring to go, ready to meet the reaper whenever he was ready for me.”
“I…I didn’t kno-“ Sam said, cutting himself off, he didn’t want to apologize, he wasn’t sorry.
“What didn’t you know? I’m pretty sure you guessed how it’d be for me after you left,” Dean scoffed.
“I didn’t think about it too much. I just wanted out, I couldn’t do that, be that any more.”
Dean didn’t say anything, just ate the rest of his steak and most of his salad with exaggerated enthusiasm, obviously desperate to hide his real response to Sam’s statement. Finally he stopped chewing and took a big swig from his wineglass. “Well, you got out, and you got what you wanted. No family, no ties to anything besides your work.”
“That’s just the story I tell myself, the one I sold to the partners in my firm, to all my clients, my Ted Talk audience, the fucking internet. People want to believe that’s possible, so I let them believe it about me. Wasn’t ever true, not really, no matter what I tried. I couldn’t fill it in.”
“Fill what in? What’d you dig your swimming pool in the wrong place?” Dean gestured out towards the pool.
“Fuck you,” Sam said and stared out at the last of the sunset reflecting in the still water of his perfectly placed swimming pool.
“I’m sorry, damn my mouth-Sammy, c’mon, you know I joke around when shit gets real. I’m no good at this kinda chick-flick stuff. What couldn’t you fill in?”
Sam looked at him, weighing out whether he should accept Dean’s apology or not. Something about the earnest tentative hope that still clung to Dean’s expression decided it for him. “I couldn’t fill in the space where you were supposed to be,” Sam said, regretting it immediately.
Instead of pouncing on the admitted weakness and tearing him up about it, or even worse teasing him, Dean nodded and looked serious. “Sounds real familiar, Dad hated seeing it in me too, since he knew what it meant. Once when he was beyond drunk, he started talking about how I reminded him of how he’d been when mom was first gone. How his heart kept grabbing at the empty place where she was supposed to be, and how he could see the same in me. Then he passed out, we never said shit about all that again.”
“God, we’re pathetic,” Sam said.
“Oh yeah we are, ya think that’s permanent or what?” Dean asked.
Sam shrugged and tried not to let his own feeble hope show on his face. “No, I really don’t.”
“Good, I’ll leave it to you, let me know when you figure it out I guess,” Dean said.
Sam felt sad that he’d brought things to a close tonight, all he wanted was to bring Dean inside and then…and then do what exactly? Play house, let him take over his life, change everything?
“I’m gonna get going. Get to spend the first night in my new place, all thanks to you,” Dean said.
“I’m glad you came over tonight,” Sam said.
“Even if you had to eat steak?”
“You ate the kale, so I had no choice,” Sam said.
“It was a lot better than I’d imagined,” Dean said.
“What the kale?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, and everything else, thanks, Sammy, for taking a chance on letting me in. I know it’s probably messing you up, but I hope-“ Dean cut himself off.
Sam stepped closer to him, and held Dean’s forearms so that Dean had to curl his hands around Sam’s hips. Dean’s thumb pressed into the place where the bruise was, they both knew it was there. “I don’t like being messed up, but I also don’t like not getting what I want,” Sam said. “To me it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”
“I’m glad to hear that, thanks, Sammy,” Dean said, leaning up to kiss Sam gently on the lips.
Sam stood there, a bit stunned by the unexpected gentleness, and briefly touched his own lips as Dean walked away.
“Dean? I’m busy the next couple of nights, but this weekend is clear. Want to come over on Friday night?”
Dean stopped and turned to look back at him. The lights from the house formed a halo around him, making him look even more divine. It was ridiculous how beautiful he still was. “Sounds real good, see you then, Sammy,” Dean said, flipping him a little wave and walking into the house.
Sam sat back down and looked out at the star-lit valley, the twinkling lights of the far away houses and listened to the familiar rumble of the Impala starting up. He could hear her go down the long, winding driveway, the sound echoing up against the hills. It filled him with unwanted nostalgia, reminding him of all those nights waiting up in sketchy motel rooms for his dad and brother to return from the hunt. He pushed that away and consciously tried to change the association, it was the sound of his brother, still in this world, still moving through it, clinging to a hope he’d never let die completely. It was the sound of that space inside of Sam finally beginning to refill.
Sam had finished the dishes and settled into bed with his herbal tea warm in his hand when he heard his phone ding with a text message. He knew without looking who it was from, and what it was probably about.
Dean: Sam! What the hell is all this stuff in this fancy basket for?!?!
Sam: It’s for you to get started with. Think of it as a house-warming gift
Dean: You’re too much you know that?
Sam: Just do me a favor and don’t bleach the towels or sheets okay?
Dean: Now you’re telling me how to do my own damn laundry?
Sam: Good night D
Dean: Night Sammy thanks
Sam clicked his phone off and sipped his tea. He was glad he’d asked Alexi to arrange for a selection of household items to be waiting for Dean when he got there. Alexi knew all of Sam’s preferred brands and had just duplicated most of them. Sam was suddenly proud of being able to make sure his brother was sleeping on brand-new sheets, not worn-in sheets from the thrift store. He had the same luxurious towels Sam had in his own bathroom, he didn’t have to resort to the cache of stolen motel bath towels Dean always kept stashed in the Impala.
He wondered if Dean would text him when he looked in the refrigerator. He’d also asked Alexi to stock the essentials for a person who ate a “normal” diet. Alexi had been shocked when he’d said to make sure there was at least a twelve-pack of El Sol. Sam settled down into his sheets that still smelled of them, he hadn’t wanted to change them from last night, just in case. He drifted off to sleep, picturing Dean doing the same in his own bed, not too far away. Not gone. Not out there some where. But back here in and in his life. It meant everything just then not to feel alone. He reached out to the other side of the bed, imagined Dean being there under his hand. How would that be, to have him here every night? Would it work, could it? More importantly, did he want it to work?
His hand clenched on the emptiness, the soft sheet filled his grip instead of Dean’s soft skin. He wished he could make it easy on both of them, wished he could have just let Dean in tonight, let him stay forever. But he had to protect himself, his life, what he’d built. He couldn’t blow all that up just because Dean had improbably waltzed back into his life. Was it just a whim of Dean’s that he ended up here, pure happenstance, or was it built on a similar hope like the one that he’d stubbornly kept hidden from himself for fourteen years. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, kicking himself for letting Dean leave tonight. He should have offered him the couch, or one of the guest rooms…or something.
No, it was better this way, it had to be. He had to be the grownup this time around. Make sure they didn’t get in too deep without having a plan. It was in his nature to look ahead, plan for the inevitable breakdowns, it had made him seem ruthless in his business life, but it came down to preparing for the worst case scenario. So what would that be here in this case, if he opened his heart and his home, fully accepted Dean back into his life and then what? The worst three scenarios he could imagine were first, Dean leaving; second, Dean finding someone else to be with; and third, Dean bringing some supernatural woe down on them.
Sam turned each disastrous possibility over in his mind. Dean leaving if they got too hot and heavy too soon, seemed the most likely. His brother was known to run when things got too emotional. Sam wasn’t sure how long they had before that happened. He’d nearly blown it tonight for instance. If he hadn’t stopped himself, how would Dean have reacted? He seemed so much like the old Dean, but if he was really out of the life, then he’d have to change, right?
If Dean met someone else, like if he started working, or going to school, he was going to meet people, lots of people, and they were going to want him, because he was gorgeous (and the fucker knew it too). He had said the words tonight about owning Sam again, and being owned, but for how long? They hadn’t specified.
This wasn’t a contract negotiation he sternly reminded himself. Sam didn’t think he could stand seeing Dean happy with someone else. He wasn’t that good of an actor, he wouldn’t be able to pull it off. He should probably make his intentions and limits about sharing Dean with other people clear then. Not in a contract way of clarity, but just telling him straight out. Something along the lines of : “When I said I wanted to own you and be owned by you, I meant that I want it to be just us this time. No one else. Not ever again.”
He said the words out loud to himself, testing them in his mouth, tasting the possessiveness, still tinged with the little-brother jealousy he could never shake. Would Dean want that kind of monogamy or need it like he did? Had Dean changed enough, could it be a part of giving up the hunting life? Sam didn’t have friends himself, hadn’t had time or energy for all of that, so there was no one who knew him like Dean did. Could they be enough for each other, just the two of them? It sounded like a good and workable plan to Sam, here alone in his bed late at night. But would it make sense to Dean in the cold light of day or out in the real world? That would be the real test.
The last scenario, the supernatural coming back into his life seemed the hardest to deal with on his own. It wasn’t like he could prepare his staff for it somehow. Start using holy water in the espresso machine at work, and silver spoons in the lunch room, the idea was ridiculous. He’d have to talk about it with Dean, get it straight that Sam wasn’t ever hunting again, and he didn’t want to be drawn into any left over monster b.s. that Dean hadn’t fully dealt with.
He fell asleep and dreamed of yellow eyes, fire and the softness of Dean’s skin under his fingertips. The next day, he was slightly less distracted at work, because he forced himself to put aside thoughts of what Dean was doing at that very moment. But after lunch, he couldn’t help himself. Was Dean setting up his new apartment, was he driving around looking for a job, or was he still in bed? He knew he shouldn’t be the one to text first after how they’d left things last night, but here he was, already had his damn cellphone in his hand, typing out a dumbass needy question.
Sam: How’d your first night in the new place go?
Sam set down his phone on his desk and tried to concentrate on the complex contract negotiation he was supposed to be finalizing. He wasn’t going to hold the phone waiting for an answer, to watch for the blinking cursor that showed the only person he wanted to hear from was writing his reply. That’s why he was surprised at the ding of his incoming text. It almost made him knock over the two o’clock cup of green tea that Alexi had just brought in for him.
Dean: Really good, it’s quiet here, and I like how it smells. Everything’s so new.
Sam: What have you been up to today?
Dean: Found a job
Sam: You did? Already? What happened to taking a few weeks off and having a vacation?
Dean: I have to do something Sammy, can’t just sit around all day watching tv and waiting for you to text me.
Sam: I wish I could see you today, but I have this thing in the city, I’m not even coming back home tonight.
Dean: I could come there
Sam: No, it’s not a thing that you’d enjoy, big-wig client schmoozing
Dean: I could wait for you in the hotel or wherever you’re staying
Sam hesitated to answer his brother’s offer. It would change everything if they started off down this path. But the thought of having Dean there, waiting for him in his San Francisco apartment after the dinner meeting he’d been dreading for months seemed worth the risk.
Sam: I’ll send a car so you don’t have to try to park the Impala downtown.
Dean: See you tonight then, you better get back to work Mr. Boss Man
Sam: It’ll be there to pick you up at eight, I should be done by nine.
Dean: There’s no rent boy emoji, but that’s what I’m sending you
Sam: Sending the nonexistent sugar daddy emoji right back at you
The rest of the afternoon flew by, then it was time to dress for dinner. Sam took a quick shower in his office bathroom. He dressed in his favorite custom-made tailored suit, with an ultra-smooth silk cotton blend turtleneck underneath as was his usual style. He slicked his hair back and carefully shaved, looking at himself in the mirror closely to see if he looked different. If he looked owned. There was a relaxation around his lips and eyes, but that could have been from the awesome sex. He knew there was more of that to look forward to tonight.
Sam left the dinner meeting as soon as he felt he’d gotten the point across to the firm’s newest clients that they were in it for the long haul, and that his firm would take care of their new company from the ground up. He could feel his phone burning like a hot coal in his pocket, softly buzzing with messages coming in from his brother in a steady stream. He made himself wait to read them until he was on his way up to the apartment in the elevator. His heart seemed to expand with each one, the hole in it filling up as he absorbed Dean’s enthusiastic responses.
Dean: This car is amazing, the driver dude wouldn’t let me sit up front with him though which was weird.
Dean: I love going over this bridge at night, it’s beautiful, if I was driving I couldn’t enjoy it like this, thanks
Dean: Is the whole top of this building really all your apartment? The doorman was very helpful, he seemed surprised that you were having company tonight. Guess I’m disrupting everything like you said.
Sam hit his head against the mirrored wall of the elevator as it slowly climbed all the way to his floor. Yes, the entire top floor was his, and he smirked at the idea of Dean being impressed. But hell yes was he ever disrupting everything, just like Sam had known he would. He held his cellphone in his hand, tempted to write something, but he was interrupted by another incoming text.
To Part Five