Word Count: 1,100
Author’s Note: Not my characters, only my words. Written for 8 days of Wincest set immediately prior to 2.21 "All Hell Breaks Loose Pt. 1" - last two lines of dialogue are from that episode.
Can also be read over on AO3 right here.
“How’s your tattoo feeling?” Dean asks, scratching at his chest with a little frown.
“Okay, a little itchy I guess.” Sam answers, and then sees Dean scratching. “Hey, cut that out, remember they said no scratching.”
“Hey if you want to ruin it after all that, make some big ol’ scar, go right ahead.” Sam says.
“Ah, so you just don’t want me to have another scar.”
“No, I want the thing to actually work. For both of us. Believe me, you don’t ever want to be possessed.”
“Oh I get that. Remember who shot who after all. Still got a scar from where Jo patched me up, she wasn’t nearly as neat with her stitches as you are.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“Wasn’t your fault Sammy.”
“I know, still felt myself shoot you though.”
“Hey it wasn’t the first time you’ve shot me.”
“Yeah, but that was rock salt, this was a bullet, that could have killed you.”
“See, now this is what I was missing out on in that wish world the djinn had me stuck in.” Dean says.
“What? Fighting about scars and demon possession?”
“Yeah. There you were embarrassed by me, wouldn’t have known or cared if I had a whole body full of scars.” Dean says,
remembering how the wish Sam proved it again and again, that he was so glad to be away from Dean, the visceral hurt that he’d experienced that Sam didn’t even want to be his brother.
“You do.” Sam points out. Because he knows each and every one of those scars, could draw you a map from memory, having traced them countless times with fingers, lips and tongue.
“I do what?” Dean asks.
“Have a body full of scars. But I’m not embarrassed by you, well sometimes I am.”
“At least there’s that.” Dean grins, looking sideways at Sam, but he sees that Sam looks serious. Which means there’s more talking to come.
“I’m sorry that I was like that, it must have been hard being with me when I was such a jerk.”
“Now you’re apologizing for a djinn-wish version of yourself? Sammy, c’mon, how’s that even make sense?”
“Guess that version of me lives in your brain somewhere. The Sam who went away and stayed away.”
“You were clueless and happy, glad to be out of Kansas with your girl and school. How it was supposed to be. If I hadn’t told you what Dad really did, maybe you could have been like that in the real world.”
“I’m glad I’m not. And I would have found out about Dad on my own, you don’t get to blame yourself for that.” Sam says it like he means it, like that’s the end of the story on that particular subject.
It goes quiet in the car for a while, but Dean can’t stop thinking about it, whether this Sam, his real Sam feels like he should have had a different life, “You ever want to try that again? Having a life out of hunting? School, a girl, the whole nine?”
Sam looks over at his brother sharply, surprised to be hearing this question again, “Not anymore, kind of feels like I tried that, and it made things worse.”
“Worse how?” Dean asks, not getting what Sam means at all.
“Like it got someone killed, and what it did to you.” Sam says simply, not wanting to elaborate on all the effects his leaving had on Dean.
“I got along just fine.” Dean protests, because he’s supposed to, he knows that neither of them believe it.
“Not what you told me.” Sam says, remembering that conversation a year ago where Dean had confessed why he hadn’t come to see him at Stanford, that he wouldn’t have been able to let Sam go again.
“I’m sorry you think it’s so wrong that I wanted something better for you.”
“Nothing’s better than this, what we have right now. I’m sorry that you still think that’s how things were supposed to be for me.” Sam says, with the futile hope that Dean will listen to him for once.
Dean’s silent for a long time, savoring Sam’s confession as the red-meat it is to his always hungry heart, “Well weren’t they?”
“You think I’d rather be clueless, with Jess, and unconnected to you. What was it you said? Embarrassed by you. Barely even being brothers, much less the rest. That would be better somehow than this?” Sam asks, exasperated that Dean is continuing on this argument, refusing to give in on who knows what’s best for his own life. Just like always, he thinks, but it’s how Dean shows he cares.
“Wouldn’t it?” Dean asks.
“No Dean, no it wouldn’t. Yellow eyes still would have come for me, and I wouldn’t have known what to do.”
“We don’t know what to do now. At least you would have had a few happy years with Jess.”
“But I’ve had them with you instead.” Sam says quietly but full of feeling. Wishing he could make Dean see that these two years with him, back on the road have been the best time of his life.
Dean doesn’t say anything in response, drives in silence for another fifteen minutes or so and finally pulls up in front of a small diner with a flooded parking lot. He shuts the car off and slides over to Sam, pulling him into a hug, kissing his neck softly, “It wasn’t a dream come true, it was a nightmare. That’s why I came out of it. Didn’t have you.”
“Well you do, and I’m not going anywhere.” Sam says, holding him tight to seal in the promise with his body. “Now let me go get us dinner.”
Dean leans up in Sam’s arms and kisses him, soft and warm, the comfortable kiss of one who’s secure there will be more coming soon, and finally lets him go reluctantly, moving back behind the steering wheel, “Hey, don’t forget the extra onions this time, huh?”
”Dude, I’m the one who’s gonna have to ride in the car with your extra onions.” Sam says, adding that extra bitchy tone to his voice just because he knows Dean loves it. He catches sight of Dean’s grin on his way out of the car.
Dean decides to add to his order, “Hey, see if they’ve got any pie.” Sam glares at him and shuts the door, hard. Dean leans forwards and yells at Sam’s retreating back, “Bring me some pie! I love me some pie.”