remember when i said i love writing things that no one but me are interested in? here you go, one more! age swap wincest in my head 24/7
When Dean knocked on the door of Sam’s dorm, he was 18 years old and his (their) father had been missing for over two weeks.
If you asked him, he’d make sure to point out that this was his last resort, the last thing he thought of doing. That he tried every phone number and every location written down that he could reach by himself, only to come out empty handed and worried like never before.
(And if he were truly honest, he’d tell you there was no one else in his mind other than his older brother, as the days turned into night and the door to the motel room remained closed)
When he finally decided to leave the motel, he went against the ringing in his head that said “Dad wouldn’t like people to know he’s missing, or hurt, if it really happened. It’d put a target on our backs” and called his dad’s closest colleagues, going to all locations he could in less than a day of travelling- nothing. So when he became desperate enough, he knew where he needed to go, the last place he could, maybe, find help.
As he waited on the doorstep, listening to the soft sounds of people inside, Dean couldn’t help but feel his chest tight with anxiety. Four years. On the way to Palo Alto he thought about what it meant to go to Sam, how for each mile traveled he felt his decision solidifying in his heart a little more, a reminder that no matter how much he hoped for years, he was now giving up the idea, the dream, that one day his big brother would remember him and wish to talk to him. That he would finally call back and things would be better, still different and still distant, but there would be something.
But his dad was missing and Dean knew what the priority was, so he put his feelings aside as he knocked again and waited.
When the door opened, Dean didn’t let himself take note of the ways his brother had changed, he didn’t allow himself to even breathe as Sam’s expression turned from confused to completely dumbfounded. He looked all over Dean’s face, like it took him a moment to comprehend what he was seeing, to recognize Dean over the four years of puberty and hunting that changed him from a boy to something closer to a man, but not quite.
Before Sam could say anything, Dean braced himself and spoke as clearly as he could with the same words he said over and over in the car, like an anchor.
“Dad’s on a hunting trip. And he hasn’t been home in a few days”
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