ext_7401 ([identity profile] authoressnebula.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] ohsam 2011-04-25 11:20 pm (UTC)

FILLED: Back to Where We Were Pt. 4

He could feel Dean staring at him for a long time before he felt his brother's hand fall on his shoulder. "You're welcome," Dean said softly. Then Dean's steps walked away, getting softer until he heard the rustling of pages and the soft murmur of voices. Not trying to be secretive, just soft by virtue of distance. And just like that, Sam knew that if he wanted to, he could join them. No reluctant looks from Dean, no wary gazes as he suggested something. Just his opinion, offered freely and freely taken with respect to his voice.

The term, 'smothered in love' was fast becoming a possibility. Sam quickly grabbed his glass, drained it, then softly rose from the table and stepped out the back door.

The night air felt good, even though it felt chilly. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself but couldn't bring himself to go back inside. Not yet. He felt tenuous, torn between two worlds. It was almost like this one, this one where there was a Dean who didn't hate him and actually loved him, this one was a parallel world to the one he belonged him. He felt like Alice, stepped freshly through the rabbit hole, only to find her world upside down and nothing acting like it should.

Not that he wanted Dean to loathe him, but it was just...weird. Sam hadn't played this part in a long time. He missed being that little brother, but it was unknown territory to him. So was Dean's being so brotherly.

Something heavy fell onto his shoulders. Sam jerked away out of instinct and found Dean hurrying to catch the jacket that was falling. "Little twitchy there, Sparky?" Dean commented before he walked up to Sam and laid the jacket over his shoulders again. "You were shivering, dude. And that's generally not a good thing."

"No, not good," Sam agreed, feeling stupid for his initial reaction. "Sorry." God, the word ever on his lips, the one that nobody could ever take seriously given how much he said it.

"Hey, no apology needed," Dean said, very serious now. "Ever." He began to speak again, then stopped himself, as if contemplating what he was going to say next.

Before he could speak again, though, Sam hurried to fill the silence. "I just, uh, wanted to walk around the yard," he said, his words coming out in a sort of pleading defensive way. "I wasn't planning on staying out here much longer, I swear."

Dean stared at him for so long Sam began to shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. "You must be cold," Sam said, aiming for a smile and feeling it come out more as a grimace. "Let's head inside."

"Can we talk first?"

And there it was. Four words, and Sam was going to be pulled out of the beautiful world of Wonderland and shoved back into his regular life of distrust and barely hidden loathing. "Sure," Sam said resignedly.

Dean turned and headed for the house anyway, but stopped at the steps to take a seat. Sam slowly took a seat on the lower step, keeping to his side as far as he could. Dean would appreciate the space in a minute, if he wasn't already.

With a huff Dean shifted down to sit on Sam's step, then leaned in and fussed with Sam's jacket. "You trying to catch cold, Samantha?" Dean grumbled, and it was such a Dean thing to do that Sam felt like he was going to choke on the lump in his throat.

Dean sat back and regarded him for a long moment with a gaze Sam couldn't quite read. "So, uh, what did you want to talk about?" Sam asked. Anything to stall the inevitable.

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