They were packing, getting ready to check out of the motel and travel to the next - 300 miles away, a potential case waiting for them in Dodge City, Kansas. Dean had been quiet all morning, an air of thoughtfulness surrounding him. Sam couldn't bring himself to ask, too afraid to hear what he might have to say after the line they’d crossed the night before. He didn't want to hear about Dean’s regret, about his inevitable self-disgust, not when he couldn't relate in the slightest.
Dean was bagging his guns carefully, his back to his little brother. Suddenly he paused, his head turning to meet Sam’s eyes briefly, solemn and restrained, before turning his attention back to the weapons.
“What do you want, Sammy?” he asked, voice carefully neutral, continuing with the packing as if it was nothing of importance, as though asking Sam if he liked tomatoes.
Sam understood the language, over two decades of big brother watching serving him well. He took a seat on the motel bed, laying his duffel back on the floor. A heavy sigh escaped him.
You. All of you. Sex, tenderness, holding hands, the whole fucking shebang. A white picket fence in a town where nobody knows we’re brothers. Two dogs. Kissing for no reason, beers on the front porch. Real jobs, back massages, deadline stress. A future. He could lie. He always lied, gave Dean what he wanted, just so he could keep him.
But Sam was tired, too far gone to go back to what was before.
Dean turned, meeting his little brother’s eyes, seeking for something. Insincerity, uncertainty? They held the eye contact, the moment putting time in suspension - a feeling Sam wasn't sure he’d ever get used to, with his heartbeat lost and breathing halted.
Suddenly Dean smiled, soft, his eyes crinkling. He turned back to his duffel and resumed getting his stuff together.
“Okay then, but if we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do this right,” Dean informed him, a barely masked note of relief in his voice. “First I’m gonna buy you breakfast,” he shoved the last knife into the duffel. “Then I’m gonna drive us to Dodge City,” he pulled the zipper closed. “And then we’re gonna check into the nicest hotel we find,” he slung the bag over his shoulder. “King size bed, cable TV... How’s that sound?” he finally turned back to Sam, taking a step into his space, looming over his little brother for once. All confidence and smiley ease.
Sam couldn't say a word, too dumbstruck by the unexpected outcome of their conversation. Too many thoughts and feelings assaulting his body at once, barely processing what Dean had just said. He nodded, all of his usual retorts about being treated like a girl nowhere to be found.
Dean punched him lightly on the shoulder, heading for the door. “C’mon then! Daylight’s wasting, Cinderella.”
Sam scrambled to follow his brother, too distracted to correct him.
