SquidgeWorld Archive

Their first date was so unbearably awkward that Dean Winchester can barely look at his brother the next day. He's too embarrassed and he knows his brother knows it. That, in and of itself, only manages to piss him off. It's irrational; he knows because it isn't his brother's fault that he acted like a complete asshole the night before but ... fuck it, he's too embarrassed to care.

Sam isn't making things any easier, either. He's sickeningly patient with Dean and never raises his voice or gets angry even though his older brother has been in his face most of the day, yelling at him for no real reason, and that's kind of killing Dean. He doesn't want Sam to be understanding or patient or nice, he wants Sam to be just as fucking inept as he is...was...whatever, so everything won't seem so goddamn embarrassing anymore and they can get back to being the brothers Winchester, instead of...dating. Or whatever the hell it is they're doing.

"You okay?" Sam's voice is whisper soft in the Impala's interior, quiet and unobtrusive like he doesn't want to set Dean off again "You're being kind of...quiet." A tentative hand is being edged onto Dean's thigh as Sam speaks, his long fingers curling around the fabric of his brother's jeans and staying there. It's nice and sweet and...irritating.

Instead of answering, Dean just grunts, shifting in his seat and resisting the urge to put his hand down on top of his brother's and weave their fingers together. Fuck Sam for this. Just, fuck him. It's all his fault anyway.

"Dean..." The hand on his thigh squeezes softly, pressing gently into the denim, massaging. "Talk to me." Sam's voice hums in the air between them, so much like a caress that he has to close his eye. Jesus, Sammy.

Blowing out a harsh breath, Dean's eyes open and stare out at the dwindling darkness. A half hour, maybe more, and the sun will begin to rise and they can finally head back to the motel and get some sleep after a long night of watching the local cemetery to make sure that the ghoul they had banished was really gone for good.

"Dean, it's okay."

"No, it's not, Sammy. It's really, really not okay."

Even without looking he knows his brother is staring at him through the darkness, searching his features for something. He doesn't know what, he never knew what Sam looked for when he stared at him like this, but apparently, whatever it was, Sam always found it. Just like he does now.

"It was just a date. Our first date. Most first dates are a little... strained."

Dean can't help but flinch, growling a little under his breath. Salt, meet wound. Fucking Sam. "Not for me."

A sigh and the hand on his thigh moves away. Dean misses it. "Don't be an idiot, Dean. It was...we...." Another sigh. "I enjoyed it."

Dean shifts again, legs pressing up against the steering wheel and down, feet carefully kept away from the pedals.

"Yeah, well," he mumbles, hunching down in his seat. There's not much he can say to that, really. Sure, he could be a dick about it since the last date that Sam ever went out on was over a year ago, but honestly, he enjoyed himself too. A lot more than he thought he would. Despite making an ass of himself.

"C'mon Dean..." Sam's hand is back, but on his shoulder now, warm and griping. "Look at me."

Dean turns his head, making it a point to stare hard out the driver's side window. He's stubborn that way, always has been and he can feel his face turning red like a goddamn hot iron for absolutely no fucking reason other than Sam being...Sam. Christ.

"Dean, baby, look at me."

And Dean's head is turning around so fast he almost gets whip lash because "...baby?"

Sam smiles gently then and reaches out to run his fingers tenderly down the side of his face, eyes glinting complacently. "Thought that would get your attention."

Dean scowls, ignoring the warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. No one's ever called him that...at least, not without making it sound dirty. Sam made it sound good. Damn good. But still...

"Sammy," he starts, knowing whatever is going to come out of his mouth is going to be pretty shitty but Sam is shaking his head and pressing his fingers to Dean's mouth, forestalling anything that he might say. He's not sure if he should be grateful or pissed off.

"Just listen to me, okay?" Sam murmurs, dragging his thumb over Dean's lips while he waited for a jerky nod. He smiles when he gets it, leaning back and pressing himself against the passenger's side door.

"I enjoyed our date, Dean," Sam whispers after a quiet moment, the same small smile playing across his lips. "A lot more than I think you know. I'd like to try it again sometime."

Dean opens his mouth in denial â€" no, he really doesn't want to try that again and look like a complete and utter dickhead; he does have some pride - but Sam cuts him off with another shake of his head and a murmured, "Let me finish."

Dean's mouth snaps shut.

"I don't know what got into your head about what happened last night but I had a really good time. It was nice to be with you and not have to worry about dad or a hunt or have to think of anything aside from how much I wanted to be with you." His eyes drifted to Dean's lips. "Or how much I wanted to kiss you. But, like I said, I want to do it again." His eyes drifted back up to Dean's, soft and liquid. "I don't know if you think I didn't enjoy being with you or if you...you didn't enjoy it...or..." Sam's smile is faltering slightly around the edges.

"Sammy, no, I loved it; loved being with you. I just..." The words are wrenched from his mouth before he could stop them because fuck, Sammy shouldn't be thinking Dean doesn't want him. He does. God knows he does.

Sam's smile comes back, full and blooming, and Dean's chest tightens in response. "You just what?"

"I...it was..." Dean shakes his head, quickly looks out the windshield because he can't look at his brother right now. He clutches the steering wheel beneath his fingers, the embarrassment he's been suppressing all day surging full force. Fuck. Just fuck. He shouldn't have said anything.

"What is it, Dean?" Sam's voice is soft and his hand is on Dean again, light and soothing on the nape of Dean's neck, brushing through the short spiky hairs there. "Tell me."

"I...Jesus Christ Sammy, I...we.... I was such a fucking asshole last night. Everything I did, it was just..." His knuckles are white around the wheel and he's never felt so humiliated in his life.

"Dean," Sam's voice is so laden with gentleness that it makes Dean's chest ache. "You were nervous, baby. That's all."

Dean clenches his eyes shut. Jesus, he doesn't even know why this bothers him so much. Why Sam seeing him like that last night bothered him so much. "I knocked over the fucking salt shaker, Sam. I dropped my entire drink on my lap. I-" He shakes his head again, eyes opening to stare at his fingers before looking at his brother. "I wanted to...to be, you know, cool about all this. Take you out to dinner, have a good time, make it like a normal date but I fucked everything up."

A look of bemusement flashes over Sam's face before it's replaced with a look that Dean hasn't seen since they were little and he used to sneak a few extra cookies to Sam after dinner when their dad wasn't looking. "Is that what you really think? That you really messed up our date because you were nervous?"

Something inside him twists and he knows he looks as miserable as he feels with the way Sam's head is cocking to the side, looking at him. "You do, don't you? You think you ruined our date because you think you didn't give me normal? Because you were a little clumsy?"

Dean doesn't say anything. He can't. He can only stare at his brother and wish they weren't talking about this.

"You're an idiot." His brother whispers, hand coming up to cup the side of Dean's face. "You didn't ruin anything." Then Sam's kissing him, lips a ghost over his own, brushing and warming and so close that Dean reacts despite himself, eyes fluttering shut and head tilting forward until their lips are sealed together.

It doesn't last long, it never does, but Dean can still taste Sammy on his lips when his brother pulls away to look him in the eyes. "Last night was the best night of my life, Dean. The best night of my life. That you were nervous, that you were clumsy, that you were stuttering and blushing and completely out of your depth, only made it...made it..." his eyes bored into Dean's, so fucking earnest that Dean felt like the Grinch Who Stole Christmas because his heart felt like it was growing two or three goddamn sizes, "you made it more real. Normal."

Sam's mouth is on his own before he even realizes he's making a strangled noise in the back of his throat and that he's this fucking close to having a chick flick moment where he breaks down and cries. Christ. Fucking Christ.

"Sam," Dean mumbles and pulls back a little, making another strangled sound at the way Sam tries to chase his lips back into submission. "Sam, Sammy, wait, wait..."

For his efforts, Sam gets another brush of lips before he pulls back, looking at Dean, seemingly patient despite the flush that covers his cheeks.

"Yeah?" It comes out as a husky whisper and Sam flush deepens before clearing his throat and asking again, "Yes?"

"Do you â€" " Dean swallows thickly, willing himself not to fuck this up, "- wanna get some breakfast?"

Incredulity shimmered, dispelling some of darkened pleasure before something flashed behind his brother's eyes and the corners of Sam's mouth were twitching. "Are you asking me on a date, Dean?"

Dean swallowed again, damning the blush that was crawling up his cheeks. "Maybe."

More lip twitching and Sam is brushing a kiss to the corner of his mouth and shifting back to his side of the car. "I'd love to."

Dean can only nod, turning to look back out the windshield. The horizon is lightening to a vivid array of colors and already there's a dewy mist swirling through the cemetery they're parked across from. Completely ghoul-free, thanks to the work he and his brother had accomplished the night before.

He nods again, clears his throat. "Okay, breakfast?"

"Breakfast," Sam agrees.