The Truth In The Lie: Day Ten

Title: The Truth In The Lie: Day Ten
Rating: R this chapter, NC-17 overall.
Word count: 4,115/63,000 (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.

****

Sam woke up alone. The other side of the bed was already cold and he wondered glumly if Dean had slept there at all, or just faked it until Sam was asleep and then slipped out to find a chick to fuck, to prove to himself that he wasn't the kind of guy who kissed his brother and liked it.

Sam pushed down the thought that he was the kind of guy who kissed his brother and liked it because he still wasn't ready to deal with that quite yet. Instead, he got up.

When he went downstairs for breakfast, Dean was already at the group's table, talking to Brian. He looked up when Sam came over and grinned. “Morning, kiddo.”

Dean only ever used that fake-cheerful tone when he was wound up about something and hoping Sam wouldn't notice. Sam took a deep breath and smiled back, taking a page out of Dean's book for once. If they both pretended nothing was up, maybe the fact that the kiss last night had gotten a little out of hand could be pushed out of their minds. Hopefully, by the time the hunt was over, he'd be able to forget that there had ever been more to this than acting.

“Morning,” said Brian, then he nodded at Sam's face. “Nice bruise you've got there.”

Sam's hand went up instinctively to prod the bruise on his cheekbone. He shrugged self-consciously.

“We definitely dished out better than we got,” said Dean with satisfaction. “Those guys'll be regretting messing with us.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You started it,” he pointed out.

“He hit me first,” said Dean indignantly.

“Sure,” agreed Sam, “And you didn't provoke him at all.”

Dean shrugged as if that was of no importance, and Sam let it go.

“What's the plan for today?” he asked Brian.

“Fort Beauséjour and Grand Pré,” said Brian.

Dean groaned. “Oh, man, not another fort.”

Brian grinned. “Chin up – only this one, and one tomorrow, then we're done with them.”

“I'm going to go into some kind of history coma,” said Dean gloomily.

“I thought you liked the cannons,” said Sam, trying to cheer him up.

“I liked the first couple of cannons,” said Dean. “But seen one, seen them all, and it's not like I get to fire them.”

“I bet Sam will let you fire his cannon,” said Paul in a lascivious voice from further down the table.

Sam winced, and Dean's face turned black. “Christ, don't you ever think about anything else?” he snapped, then abruptly stood up and strode out of the dining room.

Paul watched him go, looking shocked. “What's with him?” he asked. “It was just a joke.”

Sam shrugged, trying not to think about just how freaked Dean must be to be blowing up like that. “Probably just got up on the wrong side of the bed,” he said. Or didn't bother to sleep at all.

****

When Sam went back upstairs after breakfast, Dean had already packed up all his stuff and disappeared. Sam packed slowly, putting off having to go down and find Dean as long as possible in the faint hope that he'd get over it if Sam gave him an extra ten minutes.

Dean was waiting for him in the lobby, a frown creasing his face. “Jesus, Samantha, how long does it take you to put your make-up on?” he bitched, grabbing the room key from Sam. “I've been waiting to check out.”

“Keep your pants on,” said Sam, but Dean had already turned away to the front desk, pinning on a grin for the girl behind it and saying something in a low voice that made her blush and giggle.

Sam scowled to himself and took his stuff out to the bus. Nick was helping Brian load the bags into the luggage compartment, and he squinted slightly at Sam when he took his bag from him.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” said Sam shortly, knowing he sounded anything but.

Nick's frown deepened. “I know it's none of my business, but Dean seemed kinda down this morning as well. Is something up?”

“Damn right it's none of your business,” said Dean from behind Sam, “but we're fine.”

He put a hand on Sam's shoulder, rubbing gently up then down, and Sam had a sudden flash of what that might feel like over his bare skin rather than through three layers of clothes. He couldn't help it – he flinched, and Dean's hand fell away.

Nick looked sceptical, and Sam repeated Dean's words, in defiance of the obvious. “We're fine.”

****

They didn't talk on the drive to Fort Beauséjour. Dean sat far enough away on the seat that they weren't touching anywhere, but somehow Sam could still feel Dean's body heat through his clothes, which did funny things to his thoughts.

Maybe Dean's right, maybe I do need to get laid more often, he thought the fifth time he had to quash the memory of Dean's waist beneath his hands, the texture of his lips under Sam's. But something this strong couldn't be just a by-product of celibacy, surely? It felt as if a wall had been broken down inside Sam's head, and now all he could think about was Dean and sex. It was insane.

****

By the time they got to Fort Beauséjour, Sam was barely able to look at Dean. They all got off the bus, and he glanced around at their surroundings, trying to shove it all back down.

“I'm going for a walk,” announced Dean abruptly.

“What?” asked Sam, surprised.

“I'm done with history geekery,” said Dean. “I'll meet you guys back here when you're done.”

“I could come with you,” offered Sam.

Dean shook his head, already moving away. “We both know you want to see the fort. I'll see you later. Just...just keep an eye out.”

“Right,” said Sam, giving up. “You too.”

Dean nodded an acknowledgement and turned away. Sam watched him go, then turned back to the rest of the group.

“Trouble in paradise?” asked Andrew snarkily.

Sam glared at him, hands curling into fists at his side. “He just needs some time alone,” he bit off. “Let's go.”

****

The tour around the fort passed in a blur. Sam couldn't keep his mind off Dean and the way this stupid charade was messing with them. He wasn't going to let it win though - new and disturbing desire to fuck Dean aside, they were brothers, and hunting partners, and Sam wasn't going to let anything mess that up.

“Here we see the foundations of the Officers Quarters,” announced the guide that Gerald had turned them over to, with some relief, at the ticket office.

“Uh,” interrupted Charlie, pulling Sam out of his thoughts. “I'm just going to nip to the bathroom.”

Mandy, the tour guide, stared at him with faint horror. “But you'll miss part of the tour!” she exclaimed.

“I really need to go,” said Charlie. “I'll catch up with you later.”

“Fine,” said Mandy through tightly pursed lips, and Charlie disappeared back towards the main visitor's centre.

****

Charlie never came back and Sam started panicking about finding his body somewhere, and then having to explain to Dean why he'd let him go off alone.

Dean leaning against the side of the bus when they got back, head tilted up towards the sunlight and his eyes shut. Sam wondered why he'd never really noticed Dean's beauty before, and just stared for a moment.

Dean opened his eyes and frowned at him. “What?”

Sam shook the moment away and stepped closer, lowering his voice so the others wouldn't hear. “Charlie's missing.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he asked, not sounding concerned.

Sam frowned. “Yes, really, Dean. And there are two killer monsters running around, remember? He could be in danger.”

“Or,” said Dean, still not moving, “he could be over there with Gerald.” He nodded over Sam's shoulder, and Sam spun around to see Charlie and Gerald coming towards the bus, laughing.

Sam scowled. “Well, he's been gone ages. Anything could have happened.”

“Right,” agreed Dean, still smirking, and Sam scowled harder.

“Sorry guys,” said Charlie when he and Gerald were close enough. “I got completely lost and couldn't find you again. Did I miss anything?”

“Mandy nearly had a breakdown when Ray dared to touch some ancient, crumbling fortifications,” said James.

“I'm a tactile guy,” said Ray with a shrug.

“I thought for a moment she was going to break out a cane,” added Nick.

Paul grinned. “Trust me, that would only have encouraged him.” Ray flushed pink and squirmed slightly.

“Another day, another unwanted detail about your sex life,” said Andrew with a heartfelt sigh.

Paul just shrugged unrepentantly.

****

“So,” Sam asked Dean in a quiet voice once they were back on the bus, “just what was Charlie doing off by himself for half an hour?”

Dean frowned. “You don't think he's one of them?”

“I don't know,” shrugged Sam. “Just seems a bit weird, that's all.”

Dean snorted. “I'll add it to the list,” he said. “Nothing about any of this is normal, not even by our standards.”

“True,” agreed Sam resignedly, and settled back against the window.

Dean's walk seemed to have sorted out some of the tension in the air between them. Maybe it's just that we're spending too much time together, even for us, thought Sam. Once we're back to normal and Dean can go off to a bar and fuck whoever he likes, things will settle down again.

Sam forcibly had to push away the mental images of Dean fucking some girl and the tangled mess of jealousy and lust that came with it. This whole thing is getting out of control.

He worked hard to keep his mind on the case rather than on his brother, and by the time they arrived at Grand Pré, he was certain that he had absolutely no ideas on who the monsters were or what they might do next, but he'd managed to keep his mind off Dean for nearly two hours.

“What happens if the monsters just go undercover, then after the tour follow Jerry and Thomas back to England to finish the job?” he asked Dean quietly.

Dean shrugged. “We ask Bobby if he knows any hunters over there, and send them all we know.”

“Okay,” agreed Sam, and then felt guilty for wanting the excuse to hand the case over to someone else so that they could forget about it.

“All righty then,” said Gerald, clapping his hands. “Grand Pré National Historic Site.” He was back to the excitement he'd had before the attack on Thomas.

Dean let out a stifled moan. “Please, please don't let it be another fort.”

Gerald glared at him. He was about as intimidating as a chipmunk. “It was the site of an Arcadian village. There's a visitor's centre, a church, and a park, where we'll have lunch. You can have a couple of hours to explore after that.”

“Fantastic,” said Dean sarcastically.

“If you're not careful, you won't get any lunch,” Gerald warned him.

“Whoa,” said Dean, holding up both his hands. “Let's not get hasty here.”

“If you get banned from lunch, I'm not smuggling food for you,” Sam told him.

Dean gave him a betrayed look. “My own br – boyfriend would let me starve?” He only stumbled for a moment, but it was enough – Sam saw Nick frowning out of the corner of his eye.

He shrugged at Dean. “Maybe we could come up with a deal. You got anything to trade?” he asked. Dean pursed his lips in annoyance and Sam got hit hard by an image of Dean 'trading' just that, on his knees with his mouth sealed tight around Sam's cock.

“That won't be necessary,” said Gerald, and for a moment his voice sounded as if it was coming from miles away. “I'll let you eat this time, but any more sass from you...” He let his voice trail off suggestively.

“I'll be good,” promised Dean. Sam couldn't hold back a snort of disbelief. Dean glared at him.

****

“I don't get it,” said James as they settled down for lunch. “This trip was billed as a cultural and historical tour – if you hate history so much, why are you on it?”

Dean shrugged. “Sam wanted to come.”

“Aw,” said Marcus, “That's sweet.” Dean winced.

“I don't know,” said Victor slowly, “Sacrifices for love are better if you don't complain about them afterwards.” Dean started to look incredibly uncomfortable.

“If Dean ever stopped complaining, I'd probably think he was possessed,” said Sam, trying to cut through the weirdness.

“There you are, then,” said Marcus to Victor. “It's just how their relationship works.”

“Okay,” said Dean loudly, clearly incredibly disturbed. “That's enough discussing our relationship. Someone pass me a sandwich.”

****

After lunch, they all wandered over to the church together and Sam found himself walking next to James.

“Dean seems a lot more cheerful than he was this morning,” he remarked, apparently casually.

Sam gritted his teeth, bracing himself for another interrogation badly disguised as a friendly conversation.

“He just needed some time alone,” he repeated for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Right,” said James, nodding. He hesitated, then asked, “Did he find a bar?”

“What?” asked Sam, thrown. “Maybe, I don't know. Why?”

“Sam,” said James slowly, and he took a deep breath. “Is Dean...does Dean drink too much?”

“What?!” repeated Sam incredulously. “What the hell kind of question is that?!”

“Well, he...” started James, but Sam didn't let him finish.

“No, fuck that – I don't want to hear any more crap.” He shook his head, then sped up his pace to get away from James and catch up with Dean.

Dean was talking to Nick, but one look at Sam's face was apparently enough to make him abandon the conversation. “What happened?” he asked.

“James asked me if you were an alcoholic,” Sam told him.

Dean blinked in surprise. “Huh. Well, I guess that explains some of the things Nick's been saying.”

Sam ground his teeth. “What is up with those two and asking questions? Do you think they're after the monsters as well?”

“Nah,” said Dean. “If they were hunters they'd be asking about the attacks, not wasting time on our fake relationship troubles.”

“Yeah,” agreed Sam. “Okay, so what? Add it to the list of weird crap?”

“Might be easier just to have a list of stuff that isn't weird,” pointed out Dean. “Except no one would be on it.”

Sam thought for a long moment. “Brian?” he suggested.

Dean shook his head. “He's way too normal. That definitely counts as weird.” Sam nodded in gloomy agreement.

He glanced ahead to where Paul and Ray were looking up at the church, walking close together and with Paul's arm draped around Ray's shoulders as if it belonged there. It made him suddenly realise that Dean wasn't touching him as they walked for the first time since the early days of the tour. Sam felt his back twitch slightly as if it missed the weight of Dean's hand, and he realised with a sinking feeling that in only a few short days he'd come to take their level of physical contact for granted.

He glanced over at Dean, who was squinting up at the church roof, and carefully put his hand on Dean's shoulder, thumb rubbing up against his neck. Dean flashed him a startled look, then glanced away again, over at Nick and James. After a moment's hesitation, he put his hand on the small of Sam's back, and Sam felt something inside him relax slightly.

“Dean,” he said quietly, not sure what he was going to say, but feeling like he had to say something.

Dean interrupted. “I swear, Sam, if you try and talk about this, I'm gonna gut you.”

Sam wondered what exactly Dean meant by this, but instead asked, in an innocent voice, “Do you think one of the others will take a picture of us in front of the church if we ask?”

Dean glared at him.

****

By the time they left Grand Pré Sam thought he probably had a handle on this thing. He was still having the occasional unwelcome NC-17 moment, but he wasn't letting it affect the way he acted towards Dean. This was his problem, and regardless of whether or not he could make it go completely away, he wasn't going to risk his relationship with Dean over it. He'd just push it all down and out of his mind as much as possible until it wasn't a problem any more.

Isn't that what you hoped to do with the nightmares about Jess's death? asked a snide voice in the back of his mind. Sam ignored it.

Gerald was jigging slightly with excitement when they got back on the bus. “We've got a surprise for you,” he announced with a grin.

“Is it another fort?” asked Paul, glancing at Dean.

“Well, it's not quite that awesome,” said Gerald.

“Shame,” called Dean.

“It's not even historically themed,” continued Gerald.

“You're breaking Dean's heart,” said Charlie with a grin.

“It does involve free alcohol,” said Gerald and he bounced on his heels a couple of times.

“Awesome!” exclaimed Dean. “You know how I love alcohol.” He glared over at James, who had the grace to flush and look away.

“I've arranged a free wine-tasting at a local winery,” explained Gerald, the words bursting out of him as if he couldn't contain his joy any longer.

“Oh, cool,” said Ray happily.

“If it goes well, the owner might arrange to make it a regular thing for the tour,” said Gerald, looking at Dean, “So if you could, you know, not get in any fights, that would be awesome.”

“I'll keep an eye on him,” promised Sam, patting Dean's leg, and was proud that he managed to make the gesture without wondering what the skin of Dean's thighs felt like under his jeans. Well, without wondering about it much.

“He started it,” muttered Dean under his breath. Everyone ignored him.

****

They all got slightly tipsy at the winery. The owner gave them three types of white wine, then five types of red wine and followed it all up with some port. Dean decided that white wine was for chicks and gave most of his to Sam, but happily drank the rest.

Afterwards, Sam leant back against the bar and watched the others buy bottles for friends and relatives. Everything was swimming slightly in a haze of goodwill.

Andrew and Charlie were having a tense argument over whether someone called Maria would prefer the Riesling or the Chardonnay, and Sam watched them for several minutes.

“Maybe we should get Bobby a bottle,” he said to Dean before he'd really thought about what he was saying.

Dean snorted. “We buy Bobby wine, and he's just going to ask us where the fuck his beer is. We'll pick him up some Molson's before we get on the ferry.”

“Who's Bobby?” asked Nick curiously from next to Sam.

Dean glared at him. “He's the reason I'm an alcoholic,” he said. “He used to beat us when we were kids.”

For some reason, Sam found this really funny, and he started sniggering helplessly.

Dean gave him an amused look. “Wow, you're really wasted.”

Sam shrugged a shoulder. “Wine goes straight to my head,” he excused himself.

Dean snorted. “Sammy, name one drink that doesn't.”

Sam had to think about that. “Bud Light?” he offered.

“Doesn't count as alcohol,” dismissed Dean. “Come on, let's get you back on the bus before you make an idiot of yourself. You know Gerald'll blame me if the owner kicks us out.”

Sam nodded, “And then he'll find another fort to punish you with.”

“Yeah,” said Dean, taking Sam's arm. “Can you walk in a straight line?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I'm not that bad,” he said. He didn't shake Dean's hand off though.

Dean got him back on the bus, then sat down beside him with a sigh. “God, I'm glad to be out of there. Something about people who get excited about wine creeps me out.”

He'd pushed his shirtsleeves up at some point, and Sam found his eyes fixating on the skin of his wrists, just above his watch. He wondered what it would be like to bite right there. He took a deep breath, then shut his eyes firmly, leaned his head on the cool window and tried to think very hard about something – anything else.

****

Sam wasn't the only one feeling merry, and as soon as they arrived at the hotel in Wolfsville it was agreed they'd take long enough to dump their bags in their rooms, then meet back at the bar.

The drinks flowed pretty steadily for a few hours, although Sam took it as slowly as he could. James bought Dean a beer and attempted an apology for his earlier comment. Dean let him fumble through it and drank the beer, but the smile he gave James didn't come close to reaching his eyes.

By the time Sam and Dean went up to their room, Sam had drunk enough to feel disassociated from the world around him. Nothing seemed real except Dean, who seemed twice as real as normal. Sam couldn't take his eyes off him. He sat down on the bed and watched as Dean started to untie his boots. Dean had good hands, he decided. Strong hands.

“Quit looking at me like that,” growled Dean after a couple of silent minutes.

Sam blinked, trying to cover what he'd been looking at. “Like what?”

Dean glared. “Like that. Like you've forgotten to stop acting like my boyfriend.”

Acting. Right. “Last night,” asked Sam, the question spilling out of him before he could stop it. “Was that just acting?”

Dean's body went rigid, but he didn't ask what Sam meant. “We're not talking about this,” he said firmly.

“Dean,” said Sam, plaintively.

“I'm not talking about this,” clarified Dean, getting up and pacing across the room.

“I just want to know,” said Sam, trying to sound reasonable.

“Nothing to know,” insisted Dean. “It's nothing. We'll kill these bastards, get back to the States, and everything'll be back to how it should be. You don't need to worry about this.” He paced across the room again, and ran a hand through his hair. “I'm going out.”

He headed for the door, and Sam stood up fast to stop him.

“Wait,” he said, and then, without planning it at all, he was kissing Dean again, holding tightly to his jacket. There was no audience to perform for, no excuse, just the two of them and an empty hotel room.

For a moment, he thought Dean was going to kiss him back. He froze for the longest moment of Sam's life, then pulled away.

“Sam,” he whispered, eyes flicking across Sam's face, looking for something. “We're brothers,” he said distantly, as if he knew he had to say the words, but they didn't mean anything to him.

“I know,” said Sam, hoarsely.

“We can't,” said Dean desperately, then kissed Sam so fast that the press of his lips had barely registered before he'd stepped away. “We can't,” he said again, and disappeared out the door, shutting it firmly behind him.

Sam stared at the door for a long moment, lips still tingling. “Fuck,” he said with feeling.

****

Sam lay on the bed, watching the ceiling spin and wondering if it was because of the alcohol, or because his whole world was shifting. Footsteps and quiet conversation came down the corridor towards their room, and Sam listened automatically, even though he could tell it wasn't Dean.

“...the way he takes such care looking after him,” said Marcus's voice through the wall. “It takes years to build up that level of devotion. Your kids are nowhere close to it.”

Victor's reply was lost as they passed further down the corridor. Sam sighed. Those two were definitely on the weird list. Not at the top though – Sam was pretty sure he and Dean won that one.

He shut his eyes and tried very hard not to worry about whether Dean would ever come back, or whether this had all just got too weird for him. They still had a case to solve, after all. Dean hated not finishing a case.

****

Day Eleven (Part One, Part Two)

I didn't take this photo, I stole it from the Grand Pré website.

*

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Wow! I love this story so much. Please tell me that Dean comes around! Only one more part and the epilogue - I'm going to be really sorry to see this end.

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The Sinners Have Much More Fun

The Truth In The Lie: Day Ten

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