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flawedamythystTitle: The Truth In The Lie: Day Nine
Rating: NC-17 this chapter, NC-17 overall.
Word count: 6,428/63,000 (this chapter/total)
A/N: Main header and notes: here.
Prologue, Day One, Day Two, Day Three, Day Four, Day Five, Day Six, Day Seven, Day Eight, Day Nine, Day Ten, Day Eleven (Part One, Part Two), Epilogue.
****
The day started slowly. Most of the tour group came down to breakfast late, then hung around in the dining room, not quite sure what was happening next. Sam and Dean sat at a table with Paul and Ray, making stilted, polite conversation that danced around the attack on Thomas and Jerry but never quite touched on it.
There was no word on how Thomas was until Brian came in around ten. "Thomas came out of surgery okay," he said immediately, and there was a general sense of relief. Sam felt muscles he hadn't realised were tensed relax.
"Gerald, Marcus and Victor are still with Jerry at the hospital," continued Brian. "I'm not sure what time we'll be leaving today, but it should be sometime before lunch. Gerald's just helping Jerry make all the arrangements so he can stay until Thomas is okay to travel back to England." He ran his hand through his hair, looking tired, and Sam wondered how much sleep he'd managed to grab. "Just stick around the hotel, and I'll come find you when we know what's going on."
Dean caught Sam's eye and twitched his eyebrows. Sam shrugged in reply. There didn't seem to be anything they could do except follow Brian's advice. After Brian left again, heading off to talk to the hotel manager, the others drifted away, and Sam and Dean headed back to their room. They were both already packed, so there was nothing to do but watch Canadian morning TV and pretend that they weren't both running through the previous night's events in their heads, trying to figure out how they could have stopped Thomas from getting hurt.
It was strange not having separate beds to sit on to watch TV. The natural dip of the mattress meant that Dean's shoulder ended up pressed against Sam's arm, and Sam found the weight of it almost as distracting as the memory of Thomas lying in a pool of his own blood.
An hour later, Gerald stuck his head round the door, looking exhausted. "We're leaving at half past eleven," he announced.
"Right," said Dean, and clicked the TV off. Sam wasn't even sure what they'd been watching.
****
The atmosphere on the bus was subdued. The seats where Thomas and Jerry should have been sitting stayed empty, and every time Sam looked at them, it felt like a slap in the face. Gerald waited until they were almost ten minutes outside of Charlottetown, then stood up awkwardly in the aisle, one hand braced on the back of his seat.
"Okay," he said, still sounding tired and lacking his usual spark. "The usual plan for today is to drive out to Cavendish, where people can go to the Anne of Green Gables Museum if they want, then there's a bike ride along the beach, followed by a picnic lunch. In the afternoon, we cross the Confederation bridge to New Brunswick, usually with a quick stop at the nature centre on the other side, then arrive in Moncton in the late afternoon." He glanced at his watch. "We're running about four hours late. I'm thinking, unless anyone's desperate to see the Anne of Green Gables museum, we'll skip that, take a slightly shorter bike route, then have lunch and see how we're doing for time. Anyone going to be bitterly disappointed to miss it?" He glanced around the bus, but no one was willing to admit to being desperate to worship at the shrine of red-headed farmgirls. "Okay, that's what we'll do then," he said with a nod, and sat back down.
Dean sighed long-sufferingly, close to Sam's ear. "I'm so done with all this tourist crap," he said. "I just want to kill these damn things already."
Sam nodded and leaned against the window, looking out at the farmland passing them by. The bus seemed a lot quieter without Thomas and Jerry, and no one was willing to break the hush.
****
When they arrived in Cavendish, Brian pulled up at the gas station that would rent them the bikes for their ride. "If anyone doesn't want to go," he said, "I'll drive you over to the beach instead."
Victor and Marcus, unsurprisingly, stayed seated while the others slowly filed off. Their night in the hospital with Jerry didn't seem to have left them as exhausted as Gerald - in fact, they seemed almost refreshed. Sam could only presume that they'd managed to find a spare bed to sleep in at the hospital. Or maybe they knew where to steal the good drugs, thought the cynical part of his mind, the part that somehow always ended up sounding like Dean.
Dean stayed sitting down even when Nick and James, who were sitting in front of them, got off the bus. Sam poked his side for him to move, and Dean turned to give him a faint frown.
Sam sighed. "We're going," he said.
"The hell we are," growled Dean, not moving.
Sam stayed firm. "You said when we didn't go kayaking that you'd do the next thing," he reminded him.
Dean's eyes grew wide, and he glanced out of the window at the bikes. "Seriously, Sam? Cycling?"
"I want to go," said Sam, "And it's not like you're going to have to wear lycra shorts for it." A mental image of his brother wearing tight, multi-coloured cycling shorts flashed across his mind, and he shivered. "Unless you can't handle a short bike ride," he added, knowing that daring Dean was the best way to get him to do anything.
Dean's eyes narrowed, and he gave Sam a look that said he knew exactly what he was doing. "Fine," he bit off. He stood up and got off the bus, then eyed the nearest bike as if it was a Wendigo, before stalking over to it. Sam allowed himself a smirk. Just because Dean knew what Sam was doing didn't mean he didn't let himself fall for it every time.
****
The cycle route ran parallel to the beach for a while, over the dunes, and then across a small stream and up through a meadow. When they reached the top of the meadow, which was on a small rise, Sam paused to look out over the view. Dean came up behind him a few moments later.
"I think my nuts are retreating up into my body," he grumbled. "We could be sitting on the beach right now."
The bright sunshine and chance to just be riding through the countryside and enjoying it had put Sam in a better mood, and he grinned. "Just because your stumpy little legs can't reach the pedals," he taunted Dean.
Dean's eyes narrowed. "Oh, that's it, you're on, bitch," he said. He looked ahead to the path down the hill, across a bridge and through another field. "Last one to that tree," he said, pointing out a slightly stunted tree in the distance, "does the laundry next time something slimy explodes on us."
Sam looked at the tree, and his grin grew. "Deal," he said, putting one foot on a pedal. "Three, two, one, go," he said, just too fast for Dean to be ready to push off at the same time, and launched himself down the trail.
Dean was only a few seconds behind him, and Sam could hear clicking just over his left shoulder as he frantically changed gears. He put his head down and just let the bike go, speeding down the slope so fast that he was a little worried he was going to come off at the bottom.
He had to slow down slightly to turn onto the bridge, but he was still ahead and Dean had to slow too or risk catapulting himself straight into the river. Sam sped up again as he crossed the wooden bridge, and realised with a thrill that he'd actually managed to pull away from Dean a bit. He felt a burst of euphoria and pushed himself hard as he started up the slope on the other side of the river. Dean hated losing and it would be just like him to win at the last minute.
He didn't though, and the dizzy joy that Sam had as he soared past the tree first was every bit as satisfying as it had been the first time he'd managed to put his teenage growth spurt to use and come back from a training run ahead of Dean. He glanced back at Dean and grinned at his scowl.
"You lose, sucker," he crowed as they pulled up at the end of the trail, where James, Nick and Gerald were already waiting.
"Don't know when you got so good at cycling," bitched Dean, ever the sore loser. "It's not like..." his voice trailed away, but Sam heard the end of the sentence in his head anyway. It's not like we ever really had bikes when we were kids.
"My primary mode of transport at Stanford," he said, cheerfully, still riding the high of beating Dean at something, even something as petty as a cycling race. "Couldn't afford a car. Jess and I used to go on long rides at the weekends, when we had time."
"Who's Jess?" asked James curiously.
Sam felt his good mood start to slip away. "Ex-girlfriend," he said shortly.
James gave an amused whistle. "I'm not sure I'd risk mentioning an ex if I'd already managed to piss Nick off by beating him at something."
Sam felt his jaw clench as annoyance rose up in him, because Jess wasn't an 'ex', she wasn't some chick he'd gone out with for a couple of months before they both decided it wasn't working, she was Jess, she was warm cookies, shared study sessions and soft, blonde hair that smelt faintly of mangoes. He'd been going to spend the rest of his life with her, and she was more than just an 'ex'. "Well, it's not as if she's a threat," he said through gritted teeth. "She's dead."
There was a short, tense silence and James grimaced. "Sorry," he said shortly.
Sam took a deep breath and pulled himself together. He didn't mean anything by it, he reminded himself. He gave James a half-shrug. "S'okay. You didn't know."
Dean took a tiny step closer to Sam and put his hand on Sam's shoulder, rubbing it in a small circle over Sam's shoulder blade before letting it drop. The gesture was achingly familiar from the few other times that Dean had stepped over the usual Winchester line of 'physical affection is for girls' before this gig and all the enforced touching that went with it, and Sam let himself relax slightly at the reminder that Dean was there for him.
He looked back at James to see him studying Dean's posture carefully. Crap, thought Sam, what did we do wrong? Maybe the move had been too brotherly, too platonic. Would there have been more to it if they were really together?
Or maybe, pointed out an annoyingly helpful voice in the back of his head, you just heavily implied that you're not over your dead girlfriend in front of your current boyfriend, and Dean took it too well.
Sam glanced at Dean again, who was staring back down the trail where Charlie and Andrew were just coming over the bridge. He was frowning slightly but Sam didn't think he'd noticed the careful, assessing look that James was giving them. Sam reached out and took Dean's hand, squeezing it gently, and hoped it came across as a 'sorry I got worked up about my ex-girlfriend' thing.
Dean's reaction was almost comical - he started with surprise, head whipping round, then attempted to cover it with a casual smile at Sam as his brain caught up. Sam smirked at him, wondering why it was still so easy to catch Dean off-guard like that when Sam was so used to the charade now that it felt weird when they were in public and not touching.
But then, Dean had been the one initiating almost all of their contact - Sam taking that step had clearly caught him by surprise. That probably means he's cast me as the 'girl' in the relationship, he realised. All the gentle, guiding hands on the small of his back, the way Dean had taken care of Sam when he'd had his migraine...he was probably lucky Dean wasn't opening doors and pulling out chairs for him.
As Charlie and Andrew pulled their bikes up next to them, Sam resolved to take the lead with the touching a bit more. Especially if Dean was going to over-react like that every time - it wasn't often that Sam got to see his feathers ruffled.
****
When they settled down on the beach for lunch, Sam made sure to sit just slightly too close to Dean. Dean twitched uncomfortably for a heartbeat, then schooled himself to relax back into Sam. Sam suppressed a smile.
The bike ride had lightened the mood but the meal was still subdued, even with the sun shining down and the peace of the mainly deserted beach around them.
"You're not tempted to go swimming here then?" Brian asked Dean after ten minutes, clearly trying to recapture some of the banter from earlier in the trip.
Dean glanced out at the waves rolling in from the Atlantic and shrugged. "I don't want to get Sammy riled up about the potential danger of hypothermia."
Sam snorted. "I think I'd be more worried about you drowning," he said.
"Or being attacked by bears," muttered Paul. He had one arm clasped tightly around Ray's waist, as if he was afraid of what might happen if he let go, and Sam saw Ray flinch at Paul's words.
There was an awkward silence.
"It's unsettling to come face-to-face with how easy it would be to lose the one you love, isn't it?" said Victor.
Sam had a sudden flash of all the times he'd seen Dean knocked down or injured by something they were hunting. Dean made a tight fist, then reached out and grabbed Sam's knee, and Sam knew he'd been struck with his own memories of Sam being hurt. Sam put his hand palm down on to the sand behind Dean's back, and leaned back onto it until Dean was bracketed between his body and his arm.
Dean's grip sharply tightened on Sam's knee, then he settled back into Sam's body. His shoulders were stiff with tension, but Sam figured that he was the only one who could tell that.
Gerald cleared his throat. "Guess we better pack this stuff up and get moving," he said, breaking through the tension. There was still plenty of food left, but no one really seemed that hungry any more, not even Dean. Brian and Gerald packed it all away in a cooler and they all headed back to the bus.
****
As they drove over the Confederation Bridge back to the mainland, Gerald tiredly recited a list of facts and figures about it, clearly aware that no one was really listening but unwilling to give up the pretence of carrying on as normal.
They stopped at the nature centre on the other side of the bridge and drifted around it in their couples. Sam found himself staring at the information boards without taking anything in, with Dean hovering behind him close enough to touch. He was in one of his impenetrable silences that he'd deny to his dying day counted as brooding.
Before they got back on the bus, Sam went to the bathroom, locked himself in one of the stalls and tried to push down the memory of Dean's pale, tired face in the hospital after the electrocution, and the feeling that had gone with it, that he was going to have to watch Dean die.
He's alive, he reminded himself, but it took him a while to get that to penetrate into his brain. The door opened while he was working on it, and two sets of footsteps walked in.
"Anyone in here?" asked Nick's voice. Sam kept quiet, and pulled his legs up so that his feet weren't visible under the door. He really wasn't in the mood to have to pull on his mask of being Dean's boyfriend, just another happy holiday maker.
"No one here," said James, sounding relieved, and Sam had a sudden, horrified thought that they might want the place empty so that they could have sex.
"Jesus," said Nick with a sigh. "This is such a mess."
"I know," replied James, glumly. "I don't suppose you've got anything?"
"Nope," said Nick. "Still nothing to show for nine days work. Chambers is going to be pissed."
Sam found himself holding his breath. What the hell? What were they talking about?
There was a bang as the door opened again, more violently this time.
"Sam in here?" asked Dean's voice bluntly.
"Sorry, just us," said James.
Sam bit his tongue - no sense in giving away that he'd been eavesdropping. He just hoped furiously that they'd get out quickly so he could find Dean before he started freaking out that Sam had disappeared.
"Fuck," swore Dean, and Sam thought he was probably the only person in the world who'd be able to detect the faint edge of fear in his voice. The door slammed again, and Sam winced.
"What's up with him?" asked James.
"God knows," said Nick. "Those two are kinda weird."
"They're really caught up in each other," said James, thoughtfully. "Not sure if it's weird, or cute."
Nick snorted. "You're such a sap," he said affectionately. There was the distinctive sound of a kiss, and Sam started to worry again that they were going to have sex. Instead, he heard the door creak open. "Come on, let's get back to it."
The door shut behind them, and Sam let out a long breath. He waited another few minutes to make sure they were gone, then crept out of the stall. Seemed like there was more to Nick and James than met the eye, but before he could worry about that, he had to find Dean.
****
Dean was pacing next to the bus with a black look when Sam came out of the nature centre. His face flooded with relief for the briefest of moments, and he strode over and grabbed Sam's shoulder as if reassuring himself that Sam was still tangible.
The relief was covered by anger almost immediately. "Where the hell have you been?" he growled.
"I'll tell you later," said Sam, glancing over at the bus where they had a curious audience watching them through the windows. I wonder just how obviously Dean's been freaking out, he thought.
Dean was still glaring at him, one hand clinging to Sam's sleeve as if he'd forgotten it was there. Time for damage control, thought Sam, both in terms of reassuring Dean and trying to make sure the others didn't think they were completely weird. Without letting himself think about it too much, he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss against Dean's lips, just like he used to with Jess when she was pissed that he was late again.
When he pulled back, Dean was staring at him with a shocked expression.
"They're all watching us," murmured Sam quietly, and Dean blinked away his frozen look - not that it mattered when his back was to the bus.
"Right," he said roughly and let go of Sam's sleeve in favour of shepherding him back to the bus with one hand on his back. Definitely thinks I'm the girl, thought Sam with a sigh.
"Sorry to keep you all waiting," said Sam as they got on board the bus.
"If it'd have been both of you, I'd have thought all that stuff about nature had got the better of Dean's libido," said Ray with a grin.
"Why d'you think I was so desperate to find him?" asked Dean with a grin, seemingly regaining his composure. He didn't take his hand off Sam until they were both sitting, and even then he sat close enough so that their shoulders were pressed together. Sam bit his lip, and turned to look out the window as they pulled away, resigning himself to a period of over-protective smothering until Dean had managed to calm down.
Sam spent the next hour or so trying really hard to not think about the fact that he'd kissed his brother again, and that it had been almost easy, as if it was the natural thing to do. Nothing natural about any of this, he thought, darkly.
The others talked in hushed tones, and by the time they arrived in Moncton, the gloom in the air was almost palpable. They drew into the hotel parking lot in silence, and when Brian turned the engine off, no one moved for a moment.
"Okay, fuck this," he said loudly, turning round in his seat to look at them. "I'm going out tonight to get very, very drunk. Who's with me?"
"That sounds like an excellent plan," said Charlie.
"Yeah," agreed Dean. "I reckon alcohol is the only way to end today."
"Right then," said Brian firmly. "Those who want to get wasted, meet me in the lobby at eight."
****
"Okay," said Dean the minute their hotel room door swung shut behind them. "Where were you earlier?"
Sam sighed and set his bag down on the bed. "I was in the bathroom," he said.
"Don't lie," Dean growled. "I checked there."
"I was hiding in a stall," said Sam. "Nick and James...they were talking..."Sam trailed off and let his expression imply that it wasn't just your average tourist conversation.
That seemed to calm Dean down a bit, and Sam could see him pushing his anger aside to concentrate on that. "What were they saying?"
Sam sat down on the bed. "It's hard to say, exactly. Stuff about having nothing to show for nine days work, and someone called Chambers being pissed."
Dean frowned. "You think it's them? Nothing to show because Thomas is still alive?"
Sam shrugged. "No idea," he said, spreading his hands. "We should keep an eye on them, though."
Dean nodded, and paused in thought. "Nick's got a gun," he offered after a moment. "I saw it when we were biking."
Sam turned that over in his head with a frown. "Why would a monster need a gun?" he asked.
Dean shook his head tiredly. "You got me," he replied defeatedly.
****
Everyone was in the lobby at eight, and it was clear by the time they'd hit the first bar that most of them were in the mood for some serious drinking.
Sam, remembering the night in Halifax and the morning after too well, drank slowly and ignored the shots that Brian bought for everyone. Both he and Dean were on edge, keeping a close eye on their surroundings as they walked from bar to bar despite the fact that with everyone together an attack seemed incredibly unlikely.
It wasn't until they were all settling down in the second bar - dragging tables together and borrowing chairs from other people - that he followed this thought to its logical conclusion, looked around the group and thought, last night, two of these men tried to kill Thomas, and nearly succeeded.
It sent a cold shiver down his spine, and he found himself moving his chair slightly closer to Dean's in reaction. Dean glanced at him and obviously noticed something to betray Sam's thoughts in his face, because he patted Sam's knee comfortingly, then left his hand there.
Annoyance ran through Sam at the proprietary gesture, and he put his hand over Dean's, then laced their fingers together without looking at his brother. He felt Dean's fingers clench tightly around his knee for a second, then slowly relax.
"Okay," announced Brian loudly, "I'm getting another round of shots here, then we're going somewhere else."
"Somewhere with pool tables," said Dean, which Sam translated as 'somewhere I can be a manly man playing pool rather than a sissy boy holding hands with his boyfriend'.
Brian exchanged a look with Gerald, who was wearing his sparkly cowboy hat again. "Mulligan's has pool, right?" he asked.
Gerald nodded. "Yep, and it's only a couple of blocks from here."
"Awesome," said Brian, standing up, "Then we have a plan." He headed for the bar, already pulling out his wallet.
Sam leaned in close to Dean's ear, taking a perverse pleasure out of making sure he was close enough to make it look as if he was nuzzling it. "We need more cash?"
Dean flinched. "No," he said, then plastered on a fake-looking grin. "I just want to beat your ass a couple of times."
"Whoa!" exclaimed Paul, who was sitting next to them. "WAY too much detail about your sex life, man."
Dean twitched again, and Sam snorted to himself as he took another drink of beer.
****
The pool tables were at the back of Mulligan's and Dean dragged Sam over to them as soon as they'd gotten a beer each, then proceeded to hold true to his word and kick Sam's ass. He played far more aggressively than he usually did when it was just the two of them. Sam figured that what he really wanted to do was to pick a fight, but that didn't fit with the people they were pretending to be in front of the other tour members.
Instead, he settled for barely letting Sam get a shot in, shooting him sharp-edged grins whenever he pulled off a particularly tricky shot or managed to snooker Sam so that he couldn't help but foul when he did finally get a turn at the table.
The pool table next to them was being used by a gang of rough-looking guys who were talking just a little bit loud and pushing each other around just a little too violently. Sam, used to hanging out at biker bars, ignored them until one of them said, "Oh, Jesus, looks like the fags are back in town." He nodded over at the table where Gerald and the rest of the group were downing shots that were a nasty-looking blue colour.
One of his friends grimaced at the sight. "Man," he complained, "I thought this was a decent bar."
Dean was facing away from them, leaning over the table to set up a shot, and Sam could see his spine stiffen, then slowly relax. He took his shot as if he hadn't heard, but after that it seemed his game plan had changed. He took to brushing up close to Sam as he moved around the table between shots and when Sam took one of his few and far between turns, Dean stood too close behind him and murmured advice close to his ear.
Sam glared at Dean the first time he did it, and Dean grinned unrepentantly back. Sam stifled a sigh - it figured that if Dean couldn't openly start a fight, he'd find someone to provoke into starting it for him.
It took the men a while to notice Dean's behaviour, but once they did Sam could almost feel the tension ratcheting up another notch every time Dean let his hand linger too long on Sam's back, or leaned in too close while Sam was taking a shot. They didn't say anything immediately, content to just offer Sam and Dean hard glares and to mutter dark things to each other that would no doubt have made Dean kick their asses if he'd heard them.
Dean's distraction from the game of pool, as opposed to the game of baiting homophobes, meant that Sam finally had a chance to win, and when he potted the black and stood back from the table with a triumphant grin, Dean gave him a big, proud smile. "Well done, baby," he said and patted Sam's ass in what was probably meant to be a congratulatory manner.
Sam was still stuck on Baby?! when things turned nasty.
"Excuse me," said the biggest of the men, "Do you think you and your bitch could turn it down a bit? You're putting me off my game."
Dean's eyes narrowed, but Sam saw a brief flash of triumph before he turned round to face the guy, and felt a sense of resignation overriding his indignation at being described as Dean's bitch. There was only one way this was going to end.
"Maybe it's just that you're crap at pool," drawled Dean. "Me and my boy aren't doing anything wrong."
And now I'm 'his boy', thought Sam, indignation rapidly becoming anger.
"You're making me feel sick," countered the guy, throwing his cue down on the table. His friends came round to back him up, and Sam took a moment to size them up.
Dean grinned. "Well, if that makes you feel sick, I dread to think what this is going to do," he said, and turned to Sam with a look in his eyes that told Sam that whatever was coming, he wasn't going to like it.
He was right. Dean crowded him up against the pool table, clenched his fists in Sam's jacket, and yanked him down into a kiss, shoving his tongue into Sam's mouth as if he thought it was hostile territory that needed to be conquered. Sam was paralysed by shock for a moment, then his anger surged into fury. As if baby and my boy weren't enough, now Dean was using Sam as nothing more than a prop to piss some bigots off. He grabbed Dean by the waist and yanked him closer, fighting back for control of the kiss, unwilling to let everyone in the bar think that he was the kind of boyfriend who just sat back and took whatever Dean chose to throw at him.
Dean's mouth opened easily under Sam's assault, and for a moment Sam wasn't thinking wrong or brother, he was concentrating on the feel of Dean's lips under his, and the thrill of Dean just surrendering to him rather than fighting every inch. He ran one hand up Dean's back to the nape of his neck and clung on while exploring every part of Dean's mouth.
Then Dean was suddenly gone, yanked away by the guy Dean had been so set on antagonising. "Fucking faggots," he spat out, then reeled back his fist and smashed Dean in the face, splitting his lip open, and just like that, it was on.
Sam was no stranger to bar brawls, and this one went like most of them - Dean took on several of the guys at once, moving too fast for them to get a solid punch in, while Sam stood at his back and kept the rest of them occupied. The guys clearly had experience with drunken fighting but they were really no contest for the Winchesters and after the first punch none of them landed any good hits on Sam or Dean.
Sam laid out one guy who came at him with a pool cue and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dean playing with the lead man, lashing out with a punch that must have broken ribs and then dancing out of the way of his opponent's fists. It was only a few minutes before they got pulled apart by the bartenders and a couple of regulars and ejected from the bar, but it was long enough for Sam and Dean to leave reminders on all the guys who'd been playing pool that would take a couple of weeks to fade.
The other tour members followed them outside. "What the hell was that all about?" asked Nick, but Dean wasn't listening.
He spat blood into the gutter and grinned slightly manically at the lead guy, who had an impressive black eye just starting to appear. "You want to call me a faggot again?" he asked.
The guy glared at him but was clearly unwilling to risk another fight, especially not now all the others were there. "Sooner you fairies leave town, the better," he said, then he and his friends took off.
Dean turned to Sam, triumph lighting his face up, and Sam had to roll his eyes. "One day you're going to bite off more than you can chew," he said, but it was hard to sound reproving when adrenalin was still racing through his veins, and Dean's victorious smirk drew an answering smile out of him. He was trying really hard not to think about the kiss and the way he hadn't even remembered to be disgusted that he'd kissed Dean again until now. He was especially not thinking about the way that it had made his blood pulse in a way that he hadn't felt for years.
"We've had trouble with them before," said Gerald. "I'm sorry that that's a side of Canada that you guys had to see."
"I don't think you'll be having trouble with them again," said James. "Where the hell did you guys learn to fight like that?"
Dean snorted. "Me and Sam are the only openly gay couple in a small town. We either learnt to fight, or we moved to San Francisco."
"San Francisco is a lovely place to live," said Marcus, mildly.
"I'm sure," said Dean, sounding anything but, "it's just not really our scene." He ended the conversation by turning to Sam and giving him a visual check over for injuries. "You okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," said Sam, internally rolling his eyes at Dean's mother hen routine. "You're the one bleeding," he pointed out.
Dean put one hand to his split lip, and inspected the blood that blotted on to his fingertips.
"We should go back to the hotel so that you two can get cleaned up," said Gerald. He looked worried again, and Sam realised, looking round the group, that the fight had made everyone stressed again, just as they were starting to put the attack on Thomas behind them.
"No need to ruin everyone's night just because Dean can't avoid confrontation," he said. "We can go back on our own."
"They were asking for it," muttered Dean sullenly. Sam ignored him.
"We'll see you in the morning," he said, grabbing Dean's elbow firmly and pulling him off in the direction of the hotel.
*****
They didn't talk on the way back. As soon as they were out of sight of the others, Sam dropped Dean's elbow and moved slightly further away from him, desperate for some distance from his brother. The reality of what had happened was rapidly crashing down on Sam - kissing Dean as if he'd meant it, forgetting the charade for those brief moments and enjoying it.
When they got back to their room, Sam took advantage of his longer legs to stride into the bathroom ahead of Dean. "I'm gonna shower," he said, then shut and locked the door behind himself without looking at Dean's face.
He turned the shower on, then sank down onto the toilet and put his head in his hands. He couldn't keep hiding from himself behind the idea that he was starved for intimacy, or that his subconscious was confused by the game they were playing - this thing with Dean had gone beyond any pretence now. That kiss had left no doubt that his feelings for Dean had passed merely brotherly miles back, and were heading straight for the realms of taboo and illegal.
There was a thump from the room, and Sam started. He took a deep breath and pulled himself together enough to undress and actually get into the shower. Maybe it was just a fluke thing, he tried to tell himself. Just the atmosphere of the bar, all that testosterone swilling around.
Except there was no testosterone in the shower, nothing he could blame for the fact that he'd been half hard ever since the kiss and that the more he thought about it, the harder he got.
In the end, he gave up trying to analyse everything he was feeling and just wrapped one hand around his cock, bracing the other on the wet tiles. Moments from the last few days flashed through his mind as he stroked himself - the warmth of Dean's hand on the small of his back, patting his knee, lingering on his shoulder; the hundred little touches he'd casually worked into their pool game; and the feel of his mouth beneath Sam's - possessive and claiming when they'd been in the club in Halifax, soft and warm this afternoon when Sam had kissed him to reassure him and the rush of the all-consuming kiss in the bar earlier.
He tried to block it out with his usual masturbation fantasies - Eliza Dusku in a cheerleading outfit, Jess laying out on the bed beneath him, smiling up at him - but somehow when he came, all he could see was the slope of Dean's shoulders in that tight t-shirt he'd worn to the club and the curve of his ass in the boxers he slept in. He bit his lip hard to stop himself saying Dean's name, and then stood for a long time, breathing deeply and trying to shake off the certainty that this was going to fuck everything up.
I won't let it, he thought fiercely, and turned off the water with a hard yank on the tap. He took his time drying off, trying to push his feelings down and lock them away so that when he came out of the bathroom, Dean wouldn't look straight at him and know something was up.
When he did leave, it turned out that he needn't have bothered. Dean had clearly given up waiting for the shower and was already fast asleep in the bed. Sam let out a sigh of relief and crawled in on his side, trying to ignore the way his heart sped up at the close proximity of Dean.
He thought resolutely, When I wake up, let it all have gone away, and shut his eyes.
****
Day Ten
*
Rating: NC-17 this chapter, NC-17 overall.
Word count: 6,428/63,000 (this chapter/total)
A/N: Main header and notes: here.
Prologue, Day One, Day Two, Day Three, Day Four, Day Five, Day Six, Day Seven, Day Eight, Day Nine, Day Ten, Day Eleven (Part One, Part Two), Epilogue.
The day started slowly. Most of the tour group came down to breakfast late, then hung around in the dining room, not quite sure what was happening next. Sam and Dean sat at a table with Paul and Ray, making stilted, polite conversation that danced around the attack on Thomas and Jerry but never quite touched on it.
There was no word on how Thomas was until Brian came in around ten. "Thomas came out of surgery okay," he said immediately, and there was a general sense of relief. Sam felt muscles he hadn't realised were tensed relax.
"Gerald, Marcus and Victor are still with Jerry at the hospital," continued Brian. "I'm not sure what time we'll be leaving today, but it should be sometime before lunch. Gerald's just helping Jerry make all the arrangements so he can stay until Thomas is okay to travel back to England." He ran his hand through his hair, looking tired, and Sam wondered how much sleep he'd managed to grab. "Just stick around the hotel, and I'll come find you when we know what's going on."
Dean caught Sam's eye and twitched his eyebrows. Sam shrugged in reply. There didn't seem to be anything they could do except follow Brian's advice. After Brian left again, heading off to talk to the hotel manager, the others drifted away, and Sam and Dean headed back to their room. They were both already packed, so there was nothing to do but watch Canadian morning TV and pretend that they weren't both running through the previous night's events in their heads, trying to figure out how they could have stopped Thomas from getting hurt.
It was strange not having separate beds to sit on to watch TV. The natural dip of the mattress meant that Dean's shoulder ended up pressed against Sam's arm, and Sam found the weight of it almost as distracting as the memory of Thomas lying in a pool of his own blood.
An hour later, Gerald stuck his head round the door, looking exhausted. "We're leaving at half past eleven," he announced.
"Right," said Dean, and clicked the TV off. Sam wasn't even sure what they'd been watching.
The atmosphere on the bus was subdued. The seats where Thomas and Jerry should have been sitting stayed empty, and every time Sam looked at them, it felt like a slap in the face. Gerald waited until they were almost ten minutes outside of Charlottetown, then stood up awkwardly in the aisle, one hand braced on the back of his seat.
"Okay," he said, still sounding tired and lacking his usual spark. "The usual plan for today is to drive out to Cavendish, where people can go to the Anne of Green Gables Museum if they want, then there's a bike ride along the beach, followed by a picnic lunch. In the afternoon, we cross the Confederation bridge to New Brunswick, usually with a quick stop at the nature centre on the other side, then arrive in Moncton in the late afternoon." He glanced at his watch. "We're running about four hours late. I'm thinking, unless anyone's desperate to see the Anne of Green Gables museum, we'll skip that, take a slightly shorter bike route, then have lunch and see how we're doing for time. Anyone going to be bitterly disappointed to miss it?" He glanced around the bus, but no one was willing to admit to being desperate to worship at the shrine of red-headed farmgirls. "Okay, that's what we'll do then," he said with a nod, and sat back down.
Dean sighed long-sufferingly, close to Sam's ear. "I'm so done with all this tourist crap," he said. "I just want to kill these damn things already."
Sam nodded and leaned against the window, looking out at the farmland passing them by. The bus seemed a lot quieter without Thomas and Jerry, and no one was willing to break the hush.
When they arrived in Cavendish, Brian pulled up at the gas station that would rent them the bikes for their ride. "If anyone doesn't want to go," he said, "I'll drive you over to the beach instead."
Victor and Marcus, unsurprisingly, stayed seated while the others slowly filed off. Their night in the hospital with Jerry didn't seem to have left them as exhausted as Gerald - in fact, they seemed almost refreshed. Sam could only presume that they'd managed to find a spare bed to sleep in at the hospital. Or maybe they knew where to steal the good drugs, thought the cynical part of his mind, the part that somehow always ended up sounding like Dean.
Dean stayed sitting down even when Nick and James, who were sitting in front of them, got off the bus. Sam poked his side for him to move, and Dean turned to give him a faint frown.
Sam sighed. "We're going," he said.
"The hell we are," growled Dean, not moving.
Sam stayed firm. "You said when we didn't go kayaking that you'd do the next thing," he reminded him.
Dean's eyes grew wide, and he glanced out of the window at the bikes. "Seriously, Sam? Cycling?"
"I want to go," said Sam, "And it's not like you're going to have to wear lycra shorts for it." A mental image of his brother wearing tight, multi-coloured cycling shorts flashed across his mind, and he shivered. "Unless you can't handle a short bike ride," he added, knowing that daring Dean was the best way to get him to do anything.
Dean's eyes narrowed, and he gave Sam a look that said he knew exactly what he was doing. "Fine," he bit off. He stood up and got off the bus, then eyed the nearest bike as if it was a Wendigo, before stalking over to it. Sam allowed himself a smirk. Just because Dean knew what Sam was doing didn't mean he didn't let himself fall for it every time.
The cycle route ran parallel to the beach for a while, over the dunes, and then across a small stream and up through a meadow. When they reached the top of the meadow, which was on a small rise, Sam paused to look out over the view. Dean came up behind him a few moments later.
"I think my nuts are retreating up into my body," he grumbled. "We could be sitting on the beach right now."
The bright sunshine and chance to just be riding through the countryside and enjoying it had put Sam in a better mood, and he grinned. "Just because your stumpy little legs can't reach the pedals," he taunted Dean.
Dean's eyes narrowed. "Oh, that's it, you're on, bitch," he said. He looked ahead to the path down the hill, across a bridge and through another field. "Last one to that tree," he said, pointing out a slightly stunted tree in the distance, "does the laundry next time something slimy explodes on us."
Sam looked at the tree, and his grin grew. "Deal," he said, putting one foot on a pedal. "Three, two, one, go," he said, just too fast for Dean to be ready to push off at the same time, and launched himself down the trail.
Dean was only a few seconds behind him, and Sam could hear clicking just over his left shoulder as he frantically changed gears. He put his head down and just let the bike go, speeding down the slope so fast that he was a little worried he was going to come off at the bottom.
He had to slow down slightly to turn onto the bridge, but he was still ahead and Dean had to slow too or risk catapulting himself straight into the river. Sam sped up again as he crossed the wooden bridge, and realised with a thrill that he'd actually managed to pull away from Dean a bit. He felt a burst of euphoria and pushed himself hard as he started up the slope on the other side of the river. Dean hated losing and it would be just like him to win at the last minute.
He didn't though, and the dizzy joy that Sam had as he soared past the tree first was every bit as satisfying as it had been the first time he'd managed to put his teenage growth spurt to use and come back from a training run ahead of Dean. He glanced back at Dean and grinned at his scowl.
"You lose, sucker," he crowed as they pulled up at the end of the trail, where James, Nick and Gerald were already waiting.
"Don't know when you got so good at cycling," bitched Dean, ever the sore loser. "It's not like..." his voice trailed away, but Sam heard the end of the sentence in his head anyway. It's not like we ever really had bikes when we were kids.
"My primary mode of transport at Stanford," he said, cheerfully, still riding the high of beating Dean at something, even something as petty as a cycling race. "Couldn't afford a car. Jess and I used to go on long rides at the weekends, when we had time."
"Who's Jess?" asked James curiously.
Sam felt his good mood start to slip away. "Ex-girlfriend," he said shortly.
James gave an amused whistle. "I'm not sure I'd risk mentioning an ex if I'd already managed to piss Nick off by beating him at something."
Sam felt his jaw clench as annoyance rose up in him, because Jess wasn't an 'ex', she wasn't some chick he'd gone out with for a couple of months before they both decided it wasn't working, she was Jess, she was warm cookies, shared study sessions and soft, blonde hair that smelt faintly of mangoes. He'd been going to spend the rest of his life with her, and she was more than just an 'ex'. "Well, it's not as if she's a threat," he said through gritted teeth. "She's dead."
There was a short, tense silence and James grimaced. "Sorry," he said shortly.
Sam took a deep breath and pulled himself together. He didn't mean anything by it, he reminded himself. He gave James a half-shrug. "S'okay. You didn't know."
Dean took a tiny step closer to Sam and put his hand on Sam's shoulder, rubbing it in a small circle over Sam's shoulder blade before letting it drop. The gesture was achingly familiar from the few other times that Dean had stepped over the usual Winchester line of 'physical affection is for girls' before this gig and all the enforced touching that went with it, and Sam let himself relax slightly at the reminder that Dean was there for him.
He looked back at James to see him studying Dean's posture carefully. Crap, thought Sam, what did we do wrong? Maybe the move had been too brotherly, too platonic. Would there have been more to it if they were really together?
Or maybe, pointed out an annoyingly helpful voice in the back of his head, you just heavily implied that you're not over your dead girlfriend in front of your current boyfriend, and Dean took it too well.
Sam glanced at Dean again, who was staring back down the trail where Charlie and Andrew were just coming over the bridge. He was frowning slightly but Sam didn't think he'd noticed the careful, assessing look that James was giving them. Sam reached out and took Dean's hand, squeezing it gently, and hoped it came across as a 'sorry I got worked up about my ex-girlfriend' thing.
Dean's reaction was almost comical - he started with surprise, head whipping round, then attempted to cover it with a casual smile at Sam as his brain caught up. Sam smirked at him, wondering why it was still so easy to catch Dean off-guard like that when Sam was so used to the charade now that it felt weird when they were in public and not touching.
But then, Dean had been the one initiating almost all of their contact - Sam taking that step had clearly caught him by surprise. That probably means he's cast me as the 'girl' in the relationship, he realised. All the gentle, guiding hands on the small of his back, the way Dean had taken care of Sam when he'd had his migraine...he was probably lucky Dean wasn't opening doors and pulling out chairs for him.
As Charlie and Andrew pulled their bikes up next to them, Sam resolved to take the lead with the touching a bit more. Especially if Dean was going to over-react like that every time - it wasn't often that Sam got to see his feathers ruffled.
When they settled down on the beach for lunch, Sam made sure to sit just slightly too close to Dean. Dean twitched uncomfortably for a heartbeat, then schooled himself to relax back into Sam. Sam suppressed a smile.
The bike ride had lightened the mood but the meal was still subdued, even with the sun shining down and the peace of the mainly deserted beach around them.
"You're not tempted to go swimming here then?" Brian asked Dean after ten minutes, clearly trying to recapture some of the banter from earlier in the trip.
Dean glanced out at the waves rolling in from the Atlantic and shrugged. "I don't want to get Sammy riled up about the potential danger of hypothermia."
Sam snorted. "I think I'd be more worried about you drowning," he said.
"Or being attacked by bears," muttered Paul. He had one arm clasped tightly around Ray's waist, as if he was afraid of what might happen if he let go, and Sam saw Ray flinch at Paul's words.
There was an awkward silence.
"It's unsettling to come face-to-face with how easy it would be to lose the one you love, isn't it?" said Victor.
Sam had a sudden flash of all the times he'd seen Dean knocked down or injured by something they were hunting. Dean made a tight fist, then reached out and grabbed Sam's knee, and Sam knew he'd been struck with his own memories of Sam being hurt. Sam put his hand palm down on to the sand behind Dean's back, and leaned back onto it until Dean was bracketed between his body and his arm.
Dean's grip sharply tightened on Sam's knee, then he settled back into Sam's body. His shoulders were stiff with tension, but Sam figured that he was the only one who could tell that.
Gerald cleared his throat. "Guess we better pack this stuff up and get moving," he said, breaking through the tension. There was still plenty of food left, but no one really seemed that hungry any more, not even Dean. Brian and Gerald packed it all away in a cooler and they all headed back to the bus.
As they drove over the Confederation Bridge back to the mainland, Gerald tiredly recited a list of facts and figures about it, clearly aware that no one was really listening but unwilling to give up the pretence of carrying on as normal.
They stopped at the nature centre on the other side of the bridge and drifted around it in their couples. Sam found himself staring at the information boards without taking anything in, with Dean hovering behind him close enough to touch. He was in one of his impenetrable silences that he'd deny to his dying day counted as brooding.
Before they got back on the bus, Sam went to the bathroom, locked himself in one of the stalls and tried to push down the memory of Dean's pale, tired face in the hospital after the electrocution, and the feeling that had gone with it, that he was going to have to watch Dean die.
He's alive, he reminded himself, but it took him a while to get that to penetrate into his brain. The door opened while he was working on it, and two sets of footsteps walked in.
"Anyone in here?" asked Nick's voice. Sam kept quiet, and pulled his legs up so that his feet weren't visible under the door. He really wasn't in the mood to have to pull on his mask of being Dean's boyfriend, just another happy holiday maker.
"No one here," said James, sounding relieved, and Sam had a sudden, horrified thought that they might want the place empty so that they could have sex.
"Jesus," said Nick with a sigh. "This is such a mess."
"I know," replied James, glumly. "I don't suppose you've got anything?"
"Nope," said Nick. "Still nothing to show for nine days work. Chambers is going to be pissed."
Sam found himself holding his breath. What the hell? What were they talking about?
There was a bang as the door opened again, more violently this time.
"Sam in here?" asked Dean's voice bluntly.
"Sorry, just us," said James.
Sam bit his tongue - no sense in giving away that he'd been eavesdropping. He just hoped furiously that they'd get out quickly so he could find Dean before he started freaking out that Sam had disappeared.
"Fuck," swore Dean, and Sam thought he was probably the only person in the world who'd be able to detect the faint edge of fear in his voice. The door slammed again, and Sam winced.
"What's up with him?" asked James.
"God knows," said Nick. "Those two are kinda weird."
"They're really caught up in each other," said James, thoughtfully. "Not sure if it's weird, or cute."
Nick snorted. "You're such a sap," he said affectionately. There was the distinctive sound of a kiss, and Sam started to worry again that they were going to have sex. Instead, he heard the door creak open. "Come on, let's get back to it."
The door shut behind them, and Sam let out a long breath. He waited another few minutes to make sure they were gone, then crept out of the stall. Seemed like there was more to Nick and James than met the eye, but before he could worry about that, he had to find Dean.
Dean was pacing next to the bus with a black look when Sam came out of the nature centre. His face flooded with relief for the briefest of moments, and he strode over and grabbed Sam's shoulder as if reassuring himself that Sam was still tangible.
The relief was covered by anger almost immediately. "Where the hell have you been?" he growled.
"I'll tell you later," said Sam, glancing over at the bus where they had a curious audience watching them through the windows. I wonder just how obviously Dean's been freaking out, he thought.
Dean was still glaring at him, one hand clinging to Sam's sleeve as if he'd forgotten it was there. Time for damage control, thought Sam, both in terms of reassuring Dean and trying to make sure the others didn't think they were completely weird. Without letting himself think about it too much, he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss against Dean's lips, just like he used to with Jess when she was pissed that he was late again.
When he pulled back, Dean was staring at him with a shocked expression.
"They're all watching us," murmured Sam quietly, and Dean blinked away his frozen look - not that it mattered when his back was to the bus.
"Right," he said roughly and let go of Sam's sleeve in favour of shepherding him back to the bus with one hand on his back. Definitely thinks I'm the girl, thought Sam with a sigh.
"Sorry to keep you all waiting," said Sam as they got on board the bus.
"If it'd have been both of you, I'd have thought all that stuff about nature had got the better of Dean's libido," said Ray with a grin.
"Why d'you think I was so desperate to find him?" asked Dean with a grin, seemingly regaining his composure. He didn't take his hand off Sam until they were both sitting, and even then he sat close enough so that their shoulders were pressed together. Sam bit his lip, and turned to look out the window as they pulled away, resigning himself to a period of over-protective smothering until Dean had managed to calm down.
Sam spent the next hour or so trying really hard to not think about the fact that he'd kissed his brother again, and that it had been almost easy, as if it was the natural thing to do. Nothing natural about any of this, he thought, darkly.
The others talked in hushed tones, and by the time they arrived in Moncton, the gloom in the air was almost palpable. They drew into the hotel parking lot in silence, and when Brian turned the engine off, no one moved for a moment.
"Okay, fuck this," he said loudly, turning round in his seat to look at them. "I'm going out tonight to get very, very drunk. Who's with me?"
"That sounds like an excellent plan," said Charlie.
"Yeah," agreed Dean. "I reckon alcohol is the only way to end today."
"Right then," said Brian firmly. "Those who want to get wasted, meet me in the lobby at eight."
"Okay," said Dean the minute their hotel room door swung shut behind them. "Where were you earlier?"
Sam sighed and set his bag down on the bed. "I was in the bathroom," he said.
"Don't lie," Dean growled. "I checked there."
"I was hiding in a stall," said Sam. "Nick and James...they were talking..."Sam trailed off and let his expression imply that it wasn't just your average tourist conversation.
That seemed to calm Dean down a bit, and Sam could see him pushing his anger aside to concentrate on that. "What were they saying?"
Sam sat down on the bed. "It's hard to say, exactly. Stuff about having nothing to show for nine days work, and someone called Chambers being pissed."
Dean frowned. "You think it's them? Nothing to show because Thomas is still alive?"
Sam shrugged. "No idea," he said, spreading his hands. "We should keep an eye on them, though."
Dean nodded, and paused in thought. "Nick's got a gun," he offered after a moment. "I saw it when we were biking."
Sam turned that over in his head with a frown. "Why would a monster need a gun?" he asked.
Dean shook his head tiredly. "You got me," he replied defeatedly.
Everyone was in the lobby at eight, and it was clear by the time they'd hit the first bar that most of them were in the mood for some serious drinking.
Sam, remembering the night in Halifax and the morning after too well, drank slowly and ignored the shots that Brian bought for everyone. Both he and Dean were on edge, keeping a close eye on their surroundings as they walked from bar to bar despite the fact that with everyone together an attack seemed incredibly unlikely.
It wasn't until they were all settling down in the second bar - dragging tables together and borrowing chairs from other people - that he followed this thought to its logical conclusion, looked around the group and thought, last night, two of these men tried to kill Thomas, and nearly succeeded.
It sent a cold shiver down his spine, and he found himself moving his chair slightly closer to Dean's in reaction. Dean glanced at him and obviously noticed something to betray Sam's thoughts in his face, because he patted Sam's knee comfortingly, then left his hand there.
Annoyance ran through Sam at the proprietary gesture, and he put his hand over Dean's, then laced their fingers together without looking at his brother. He felt Dean's fingers clench tightly around his knee for a second, then slowly relax.
"Okay," announced Brian loudly, "I'm getting another round of shots here, then we're going somewhere else."
"Somewhere with pool tables," said Dean, which Sam translated as 'somewhere I can be a manly man playing pool rather than a sissy boy holding hands with his boyfriend'.
Brian exchanged a look with Gerald, who was wearing his sparkly cowboy hat again. "Mulligan's has pool, right?" he asked.
Gerald nodded. "Yep, and it's only a couple of blocks from here."
"Awesome," said Brian, standing up, "Then we have a plan." He headed for the bar, already pulling out his wallet.
Sam leaned in close to Dean's ear, taking a perverse pleasure out of making sure he was close enough to make it look as if he was nuzzling it. "We need more cash?"
Dean flinched. "No," he said, then plastered on a fake-looking grin. "I just want to beat your ass a couple of times."
"Whoa!" exclaimed Paul, who was sitting next to them. "WAY too much detail about your sex life, man."
Dean twitched again, and Sam snorted to himself as he took another drink of beer.
The pool tables were at the back of Mulligan's and Dean dragged Sam over to them as soon as they'd gotten a beer each, then proceeded to hold true to his word and kick Sam's ass. He played far more aggressively than he usually did when it was just the two of them. Sam figured that what he really wanted to do was to pick a fight, but that didn't fit with the people they were pretending to be in front of the other tour members.
Instead, he settled for barely letting Sam get a shot in, shooting him sharp-edged grins whenever he pulled off a particularly tricky shot or managed to snooker Sam so that he couldn't help but foul when he did finally get a turn at the table.
The pool table next to them was being used by a gang of rough-looking guys who were talking just a little bit loud and pushing each other around just a little too violently. Sam, used to hanging out at biker bars, ignored them until one of them said, "Oh, Jesus, looks like the fags are back in town." He nodded over at the table where Gerald and the rest of the group were downing shots that were a nasty-looking blue colour.
One of his friends grimaced at the sight. "Man," he complained, "I thought this was a decent bar."
Dean was facing away from them, leaning over the table to set up a shot, and Sam could see his spine stiffen, then slowly relax. He took his shot as if he hadn't heard, but after that it seemed his game plan had changed. He took to brushing up close to Sam as he moved around the table between shots and when Sam took one of his few and far between turns, Dean stood too close behind him and murmured advice close to his ear.
Sam glared at Dean the first time he did it, and Dean grinned unrepentantly back. Sam stifled a sigh - it figured that if Dean couldn't openly start a fight, he'd find someone to provoke into starting it for him.
It took the men a while to notice Dean's behaviour, but once they did Sam could almost feel the tension ratcheting up another notch every time Dean let his hand linger too long on Sam's back, or leaned in too close while Sam was taking a shot. They didn't say anything immediately, content to just offer Sam and Dean hard glares and to mutter dark things to each other that would no doubt have made Dean kick their asses if he'd heard them.
Dean's distraction from the game of pool, as opposed to the game of baiting homophobes, meant that Sam finally had a chance to win, and when he potted the black and stood back from the table with a triumphant grin, Dean gave him a big, proud smile. "Well done, baby," he said and patted Sam's ass in what was probably meant to be a congratulatory manner.
Sam was still stuck on Baby?! when things turned nasty.
"Excuse me," said the biggest of the men, "Do you think you and your bitch could turn it down a bit? You're putting me off my game."
Dean's eyes narrowed, but Sam saw a brief flash of triumph before he turned round to face the guy, and felt a sense of resignation overriding his indignation at being described as Dean's bitch. There was only one way this was going to end.
"Maybe it's just that you're crap at pool," drawled Dean. "Me and my boy aren't doing anything wrong."
And now I'm 'his boy', thought Sam, indignation rapidly becoming anger.
"You're making me feel sick," countered the guy, throwing his cue down on the table. His friends came round to back him up, and Sam took a moment to size them up.
Dean grinned. "Well, if that makes you feel sick, I dread to think what this is going to do," he said, and turned to Sam with a look in his eyes that told Sam that whatever was coming, he wasn't going to like it.
He was right. Dean crowded him up against the pool table, clenched his fists in Sam's jacket, and yanked him down into a kiss, shoving his tongue into Sam's mouth as if he thought it was hostile territory that needed to be conquered. Sam was paralysed by shock for a moment, then his anger surged into fury. As if baby and my boy weren't enough, now Dean was using Sam as nothing more than a prop to piss some bigots off. He grabbed Dean by the waist and yanked him closer, fighting back for control of the kiss, unwilling to let everyone in the bar think that he was the kind of boyfriend who just sat back and took whatever Dean chose to throw at him.
Dean's mouth opened easily under Sam's assault, and for a moment Sam wasn't thinking wrong or brother, he was concentrating on the feel of Dean's lips under his, and the thrill of Dean just surrendering to him rather than fighting every inch. He ran one hand up Dean's back to the nape of his neck and clung on while exploring every part of Dean's mouth.
Then Dean was suddenly gone, yanked away by the guy Dean had been so set on antagonising. "Fucking faggots," he spat out, then reeled back his fist and smashed Dean in the face, splitting his lip open, and just like that, it was on.
Sam was no stranger to bar brawls, and this one went like most of them - Dean took on several of the guys at once, moving too fast for them to get a solid punch in, while Sam stood at his back and kept the rest of them occupied. The guys clearly had experience with drunken fighting but they were really no contest for the Winchesters and after the first punch none of them landed any good hits on Sam or Dean.
Sam laid out one guy who came at him with a pool cue and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dean playing with the lead man, lashing out with a punch that must have broken ribs and then dancing out of the way of his opponent's fists. It was only a few minutes before they got pulled apart by the bartenders and a couple of regulars and ejected from the bar, but it was long enough for Sam and Dean to leave reminders on all the guys who'd been playing pool that would take a couple of weeks to fade.
The other tour members followed them outside. "What the hell was that all about?" asked Nick, but Dean wasn't listening.
He spat blood into the gutter and grinned slightly manically at the lead guy, who had an impressive black eye just starting to appear. "You want to call me a faggot again?" he asked.
The guy glared at him but was clearly unwilling to risk another fight, especially not now all the others were there. "Sooner you fairies leave town, the better," he said, then he and his friends took off.
Dean turned to Sam, triumph lighting his face up, and Sam had to roll his eyes. "One day you're going to bite off more than you can chew," he said, but it was hard to sound reproving when adrenalin was still racing through his veins, and Dean's victorious smirk drew an answering smile out of him. He was trying really hard not to think about the kiss and the way he hadn't even remembered to be disgusted that he'd kissed Dean again until now. He was especially not thinking about the way that it had made his blood pulse in a way that he hadn't felt for years.
"We've had trouble with them before," said Gerald. "I'm sorry that that's a side of Canada that you guys had to see."
"I don't think you'll be having trouble with them again," said James. "Where the hell did you guys learn to fight like that?"
Dean snorted. "Me and Sam are the only openly gay couple in a small town. We either learnt to fight, or we moved to San Francisco."
"San Francisco is a lovely place to live," said Marcus, mildly.
"I'm sure," said Dean, sounding anything but, "it's just not really our scene." He ended the conversation by turning to Sam and giving him a visual check over for injuries. "You okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," said Sam, internally rolling his eyes at Dean's mother hen routine. "You're the one bleeding," he pointed out.
Dean put one hand to his split lip, and inspected the blood that blotted on to his fingertips.
"We should go back to the hotel so that you two can get cleaned up," said Gerald. He looked worried again, and Sam realised, looking round the group, that the fight had made everyone stressed again, just as they were starting to put the attack on Thomas behind them.
"No need to ruin everyone's night just because Dean can't avoid confrontation," he said. "We can go back on our own."
"They were asking for it," muttered Dean sullenly. Sam ignored him.
"We'll see you in the morning," he said, grabbing Dean's elbow firmly and pulling him off in the direction of the hotel.
They didn't talk on the way back. As soon as they were out of sight of the others, Sam dropped Dean's elbow and moved slightly further away from him, desperate for some distance from his brother. The reality of what had happened was rapidly crashing down on Sam - kissing Dean as if he'd meant it, forgetting the charade for those brief moments and enjoying it.
When they got back to their room, Sam took advantage of his longer legs to stride into the bathroom ahead of Dean. "I'm gonna shower," he said, then shut and locked the door behind himself without looking at Dean's face.
He turned the shower on, then sank down onto the toilet and put his head in his hands. He couldn't keep hiding from himself behind the idea that he was starved for intimacy, or that his subconscious was confused by the game they were playing - this thing with Dean had gone beyond any pretence now. That kiss had left no doubt that his feelings for Dean had passed merely brotherly miles back, and were heading straight for the realms of taboo and illegal.
There was a thump from the room, and Sam started. He took a deep breath and pulled himself together enough to undress and actually get into the shower. Maybe it was just a fluke thing, he tried to tell himself. Just the atmosphere of the bar, all that testosterone swilling around.
Except there was no testosterone in the shower, nothing he could blame for the fact that he'd been half hard ever since the kiss and that the more he thought about it, the harder he got.
In the end, he gave up trying to analyse everything he was feeling and just wrapped one hand around his cock, bracing the other on the wet tiles. Moments from the last few days flashed through his mind as he stroked himself - the warmth of Dean's hand on the small of his back, patting his knee, lingering on his shoulder; the hundred little touches he'd casually worked into their pool game; and the feel of his mouth beneath Sam's - possessive and claiming when they'd been in the club in Halifax, soft and warm this afternoon when Sam had kissed him to reassure him and the rush of the all-consuming kiss in the bar earlier.
He tried to block it out with his usual masturbation fantasies - Eliza Dusku in a cheerleading outfit, Jess laying out on the bed beneath him, smiling up at him - but somehow when he came, all he could see was the slope of Dean's shoulders in that tight t-shirt he'd worn to the club and the curve of his ass in the boxers he slept in. He bit his lip hard to stop himself saying Dean's name, and then stood for a long time, breathing deeply and trying to shake off the certainty that this was going to fuck everything up.
I won't let it, he thought fiercely, and turned off the water with a hard yank on the tap. He took his time drying off, trying to push his feelings down and lock them away so that when he came out of the bathroom, Dean wouldn't look straight at him and know something was up.
When he did leave, it turned out that he needn't have bothered. Dean had clearly given up waiting for the shower and was already fast asleep in the bed. Sam let out a sigh of relief and crawled in on his side, trying to ignore the way his heart sped up at the close proximity of Dean.
He thought resolutely, When I wake up, let it all have gone away, and shut his eyes.
*
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no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 06:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 11:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 06:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 11:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 06:45 pm (UTC)*rolls eyes and tries to control her urge to smash the boys' heads together*
no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 11:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 07:14 pm (UTC)Loved it - another great chapter.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 11:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 07:15 pm (UTC)I swear the kiss at the bar was just so HOT.
I love it :D
no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 11:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 07:16 pm (UTC)Also still trying to figure out "who done it."
But now I gotta wait til Monday to read more...*sad face*
no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 11:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 07:19 pm (UTC)i love sam's voice in this story--he is falling and can't control it....
no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 11:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 07:46 pm (UTC)Hehe. Bar fights = foreplay!!
no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 11:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 07:47 pm (UTC)I loved it!
Had it saved to read for a while
*needs update*
x
no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 11:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 08:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 11:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 08:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 11:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 09:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 11:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 10:06 pm (UTC)Love this whole fic, it's brilliant, my darling.
♥
no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 11:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 10:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 11:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 10:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 11:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 10:20 pm (UTC)I really can't wait to see what happens next.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 11:42 pm (UTC)Thank you!
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Date: 2009-01-30 10:22 pm (UTC)I can't believe we only have 3 more days to go. I'm excited to see how it ends and sad to know that soon I'll be missing my daily dose.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-30 11:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-01-31 01:55 am (UTC)And in response to your comment on the last post, if I hate you.. it's only the type of hate that stems from love. Like loving this story and being deprived of it! ;). But that just means it's awesome, so no biggie.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-31 11:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-31 04:08 am (UTC)And Sam got a clue! I was beginning to think I would have to lend him my clue!gun!
I enjoyed this :D
no subject
Date: 2009-01-31 11:29 am (UTC)Sam stood in the door of the bathroom, watching Dean get changed. He noted all the lines of Dean's muscles, and the smoothness of his skin, and thought about smoothing down the lines of his scars with his tongue. 'Just because they look kinda red and angry, and could probably do with some soothing,' he thought. 'That thought is in no way indicative of anything other than the usual fraternal concern.'
Outside the window, Duckfish took careful aim, then fired her world-renowned clue!gun, hitting Sam dead between the shoulders. He lurched forward slightly, then looked up to meet Dean's green eyes, creased with concern.
"Holy crap," he said out loud, unable to keep his sudden realisation in. "I'm in love with my brother!"
Dean blinked at him in shock, then dropped his t-shirt and strode across to him.
"Took you long enough," he muttered, then grabbed Sam's neck and pulled him down into a hard kiss.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-01-31 05:23 am (UTC)Ok, now that I've gotten that out of the way, I can go onto other things. I think that the monsters aren't supernatural monsters. I think that they were made by someone and Nick and James are trying to find them or Nick and James are hunters like Sam and Dean. And my money is still on Marcus and Victor as the things.
Ok, I'm done now ^^
no subject
Date: 2009-01-31 11:30 am (UTC)Thank you for commenting!
no subject
Date: 2009-01-31 06:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-31 11:30 am (UTC)wow
Date: 2009-01-31 10:46 am (UTC)and a new favorite scene (before it was the whole scene when Dean realized he was a bad boyfriend *snickers*) but now it is totally the little adorable scene in the beginning.
It's unsettling to come face-to-face with how easy it would be to lose the one you love, isn't it?" said Victor.
Sam had a sudden flash of all the times he'd seen Dean knocked down or injured by something they were hunting. Dean made a tight fist, then reached out and grabbed Sam's knee, and Sam knew he'd been struck with his own memories of Sam being hurt. Sam put his hand palm down on to the sand behind Dean's back, and leaned back onto it until Dean was bracketed between his body and his arm.
Dean's grip sharply tightened on Sam's knee, then he settled back into Sam's body. His shoulders were stiff with tension, but Sam figured that he was the only one who could tell that.
*squeee* that was so awesome, for some reason. I'm imagining the others reaction to that little private display of all-consuming love they share. (I really love when the others comments the obvious love and adoration they have for each other (like in the bathroom with cop!nick and cop!james). More of that please? It makes our boys squirm so nicely.
Re: wow
Date: 2009-01-31 11:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-31 03:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 12:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 03:59 am (UTC)Sam gets off thinking about Eliza Dushku in a cheerleading outfit? Ha! I don't peg Faith as the cheerleader-type, though.
So after checking the chapter rating I said to myself, "Oh, they finally figure it out." Not the case--Dean doesn't, sort of. But I have lots of love for Sam figuring out his feelings, as well as Dean provoking a fight (hot kiss, btw; nice to see Sam indignantly steal back control) and also for Victor's comment about how easy it is to lose the one you love. Because it made Sam and Dean closer. And that's always awesome.
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Date: 2009-02-01 01:44 pm (UTC)Thank you! I'm really glad you're enjoying it.
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Date: 2009-02-01 07:22 pm (UTC)Ohh, nice choice, Sam. lol
You just combined the thought of Sam wanking, Dean and Sam getting closer to resolving their UST and Eliza Dusku in a cheerleading outfit. I think I love you.
And I love this fic.
Onto the next chapter! -skips merrily away-
no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 11:34 pm (UTC)Thank you!