Supernatural: A Bit of a Pickle
Title: A Bit of a Pickle
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Genre: Unabashed Schmoop
Rating: PG-13 for Language
Word Count: 2,239
Author’s Note: Written for the fairest maiden mine eyes have ever seen, coyotesuspect. No faithless, philandering husband was ever blessed with so loving and warm a wanton whoreish mistress as I have been in finding you, my sweet Coyote. I only hope that you are having the best possible birthday and that you enjoy this offering and the 70 virgins I plan to slaughter in your name at midnight. She asked for: “Sam/Dean: Hand holding! Movie theaters! Zombies! No porn? And happiness! I want schmooooop.” Be careful what you ask for >:). And yay to familiardevil for reading as a Coy expert and encouraging me to write while drunk(ish). ETA 5/7/2013: Thanks to eos_rose, you can now read this in epub format here.
Summary: Dean Winchester is trying to woo his brother. Things are not going well.
Dean Winchester is in a bit of a pickle. He learned this expression three days ago when he overheard a father chuckling at his son, who had just tied his shoes together. Dean was amused by it, by the ridiculous things people will say in order to avoid telling their kids that they fucked something up, and he’s decided to apply it to his situation, as well. Dean isn’t generally in the habit of getting into pissing contests with toddlers, but he figures he’s in a way bigger pickle than that kid was, so he has more of a right to the expression, anyway.
Dean Winchester is in Love with his brother. Oddly enough, this isn’t the problematic part of the equation. Dean has been in Love with Sam for more than five years. He’s gotten used to it by now. He never planned to act on it, he was never going to say anything, and ever since Sam came back from Stanford, it hasn’t been so hard to deal with. Sure, there are times Dean wants so much he has to excuse himself from his little brother’s presence, but having Sam around is so good that Dean is mostly just thankful.
But now things are changing. Everything is getting worse. Dean can feel something awful drawing in, can feel his time coming to an end. Dean is starting to realize that he’s never gotten anything he wanted and that maybe he deserves a chance to try.
It was the virus last week that did it-thinking he was going to lose Sam, watch Sam change into something awful, let Sam tear him apart because that would still be better than pulling the trigger. It was the fact that Sam wanted him to do it, the fact that Sam doesn’t get to be happy anymore, either. He stays up all night worrying about what he’s going to become and Dean knows, he just knows he could make Sam see what’s so obvious to him-that his little brother is all goodness and the idea he could go wrong is ridiculous-if Sam just wanted him the way he wants Sam, if he could whisper it into kisses.
They both deserve to be happy. There are things that would make Dean a hell of a lot happier than the Grand Canyon, things only Sam can give him.
He won’t force Sam. He can’t even come out and say it. But he thinks there’s a chance that, just maybe, Sam does feel the same way. If Dean is this screwed up, what’s to say Sam’s lingering touches don’t mean he’s hiding the same secret?
So, long story short, Dean Winchester is trying to woo his little brother. And Dean, who knows a thing or two about wooing, can see clearly that his plans are not really working out the way they’re supposed to. This is his metaphorical pickle.
It’s not that Sam is reacting badly. That would be much better than this. Dean would have a nice, clear-cut answer and would give up and go back to acting the way he always does. It’s that Sam isn’t really picking up on Dean’s hints at all.
You see, you just can’t be romantic when you’re trying to court your sibling. Dean knows how to work a girl up, he’s done the flowers and chocolates and compliments routine more times than he can count. But you can’t walk up to someone you used to wrestle for the remote control with a dozen roses and say, “Have I ever told you your eyes are exceptionally pretty?”
Dean knows there are other ways to show interest in someone, less obvious ways, so he tries going with these. His one serious girlfriend always got flustered when Dean did bullshit nice things for her-bring Cassie a caramel latte on her lunch break and things would definitely go the way Dean wanted when she got home. Sam spent four years in college where going to get coffee is practically a marriage proposal. So Dean tries this method.
But the thing is, Dean’s always done little things like that for Sam and when he wakes Sam up with a grande mocha, Sam just accepts it with a “thank you” and promises he’ll do the coffee run the next day. It meant so much more, doing it for Sam, it always has. But not to Sam it doesn’t. To Sam it’s just the way things are.
Dean ups the ante. He brings Sam dinner, he lets Sam pick the music for as long as he can physically stand it, Sam chooses the hunts and the motels and the restaurants. He definitely starts to realize something’s different, but the actual meaning is lost on him. Maybe Sam has some kind of inbred block against thinking his brother is trying to screw him. Dean was always missing that little chunk of his brain.
“Dean, are you feeling okay?”
“What? Why?” Dean is trying to stop fidgeting, but this History Channel show Sam has him watching could not be more boring if it were trying.
“Well, you just sat through a two and a half hour special on the Peloponnesian War.”
“So?”
“Without complaining.”
“So?”
“Because I wanted to.”
“Yeah, and?”
“And that definitely means that some part of your personality has been knocked out of place.”
“I like history,” Dean lies.
“Ok, sure, buddy. Whatever you say.”
Sam gets suspicious after that. He goes through Dean’s things when Dean’s not in the room, watches Dean out of the corner of his eyes when he thinks Dean’s not paying attention, a few times he even tries to pop up and surprise Dean, catching him in the middle of whatever Sam thinks he’s trying to hide. Meanwhile, Dean is doing everything he can to lie his cards on the table and get his brother to realize what Dean thinks should be obvious. Dean spent years worrying his brother would figure him out, not knowing how to hide just how much Sam is to him. Now he’s practically beating Sam over the head with it and Sam’s caveman skull doesn’t even register the hits.
Sam is supposed to be the smart one, dammit. But Sam’s either missing that Dean has been bumping their feet under diner tables, taking him to increasingly nice restaurants, electing to stay in at night instead of going out to get laid, or he’s deliberately ignoring it. Dean takes Sam on 17 dates (Dean is sure, he’s been keeping count) before Sam gets it.
They’re wrapping up a pretty tedious day of research for this hunt they’re on when they pass by a movie theater advertising Cowboy Zombies from Space IV. Sam’s glowing the way he always does after being trapped in a library for twelve hours and Dean’s doing everything he can not to bounce all over the place, he’s so damn happy not to be staring at a book right now.
“Sammmmmyyyyy, can we?” Dean points at the poster.
“Cowboy Zombies from Space, Dean?”
“The third one was actually pretty good.” Dean smirks and puts on a dignified air.
Sam looks like there’s nothing in the world he’d rather do less than see a movie about extraterrestrials who work on farms by day and eat the brains of the innocent by night, but maybe he’s still in a good mood or maybe he can just tell how much Dean wants it because he rolls his eyes and laughs.
“Yeah, alright. Why the hell not?”
Dean decides to spring for extra large everything and gets all of the different bags of candy Sam used to beg for and give Dean sour looks over when Dean made him choose just one. His arms are overflowing when he gets to the theater and drops into the seat Sam saved him.
“Holy shit. Have I been starving you or something?”
“Just thought it was a good night to-“
“Die in a sugar coma?”
“That, too.”
Sam smiles enough to make Dean nearly drop his tub of popcorn, which he attributes to the fact that he put too much butter on it and got the sides slippery. It certainly doesn’t have anything to do with dimples or anything lame like that.
The movie is, well, exactly what one would expect from Cowboy Zombies from Space IV. Unrealistically hot chick and her rugged love interest let 14 of their closest friends get eaten before they suddenly realize the unlikely solution that could have occurred to them 40 minutes and 9 deaths earlier. It’s pretty awesome in Dean’s book.
“That’s not how you kill a zombie,” Sam whispers to Dean halfway through, and Dean snorts.
By this point Sam and Dean, as well as pretty much every other group in the theater, have given up on pretending there is any point in really watching the movie and everyone is sharing snarky commentary with their neighbors.
“It is when the zombie in question is from Venus, duh.”
Dean reaches for popcorn at the same time as Sam and their hands brush. They both pull away too quickly; Dean thanks dark theater lighting for the fact that Sam can’t see his blush.
“I don’t get it,” Sam starts, mouth full of popcorn. “We fight zombies in the real world, Dean. What’s so great about watching a bunch of horny teenagers fail at it?”
Dean looks over at Sam. “I don’t know, it’s kind of nice to watch someone else screw it up for a change.”
Sam laughs silently and reflects for a bit before continuing, “I’m glad we came. It’s surprisingly liberating to let my brain rot for a change.”
“Damn straight.” Dean tosses Sam a bag of Reese’s Pieces and races Sam through his M&Ms. Dean wins, of course.
When the bloodbath starts, the theater goes quiet again, the audience’s attention finally fixed on the screen. This is what they all paid $10 to see, after all. It’s a surprisingly well done horror sequence and Dean would be pretty terrified, if it weren’t for the fact that, yeah, after a few years hunting the truly undead, movie zombies just don’t cut it.
Sam’s tensed up a bit. Despite all his bitching, Dean thinks he’s really gotten into the story and Dean’s eyes keep fixing on Sam’s hand, clenched tight around the armrest between them. Finally he decides-fuck it. He puts his own hand over Sam’s and squeezes at what is supposed to be a scary moment.
Sam jumps a little in his seat, but Dean can’t tell if it’s a response to the movie or to him. Sam turns to look at him, eyebrows drawn and suddenly something like recognition sparks in his eyes.
“Holy shit, Dean,” Sam gasps, standing up on reflex. “Are we on a date right now?!”
“Umm…” Dean wants to melt into his chair.
“Who gives a shit, asshole? Sit your big ass down!” Someone four rows behind them calls. Sam immediately looks guilty and drops into his seat.
“Dean,” he hisses.
“I…can we not have this conversation here, Sam?”
“You’re my-“
“Yeah, I know. The whole theater doesn’t need to. Just. Let the fucking movie finish and we’ll talk about this later, okay?”
Sam nods testily and Dean spends the next 20 minutes annoyed that the best date of his life got ruined because the other person realized that’s what it was.
He’s expecting an awkward walk back to the motel and an even more awkward conversation once they get there, but Sam pulls Dean into the men’s bathroom without warning as soon as they’re in the theater lobby.
“We really gonna do this now?” Dean asks, eyeing the old man sitting on the bench behind him. It’s never struck him before that it’s kind of weird that theater bathrooms have benches in them.
“Just tell me: How long?”
“I don’t know, Sam. Years. Forever, maybe. I’m sorry. I couldn’t-I can’t help it. I’m so sorry.”
“So all of the weird behavior lately, this is why?”
Dean nods and looks away. Sam starts laughing rather unexpectedly, so Dean risks looking back at him.
“What’s so funny about it?”
“Dude, you suck at this.”
“You try getting your little-“ Dean can feel the old man judging him before he even says it. “It’s not as easy as it sounds in this situation.”
“Of course it is, Dean. You say something. God, I’ve been waiting for you to say something since I was a kid.”
“You knew?”
“I hoped.”
Dean’s eyes go wide. “Did you just say you-?”
“Oh, shut up already.” Sam pulls Dean’s face into his and kisses him lightly and Dean’s so happy he gives in to it, even with grandpa staring at them. It’s brief and chaste, just enough to squash the last of Dean’s doubts.
“Tomorrow night, I’m going to take you on a proper date so you can see how adults do it,” Sam promises, pulling away. “Until then, let’s go home. I’m tired.”
“You mean you’re not putting out? I’m pretty sure that’s never happened to me before.”
Sam laughs and takes Dean’s hand, twining their fingers together. “I’m just not that kind of girl, Dean.”
Dean lets his shoulders bump Sam’s as he draws closer. Sam doesn’t let go of his hand throughout the entire walk home and as cheesy as that is, Dean can’t bring himself to protest.
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Genre: Unabashed Schmoop
Rating: PG-13 for Language
Word Count: 2,239
Author’s Note: Written for the fairest maiden mine eyes have ever seen, coyotesuspect. No faithless, philandering husband was ever blessed with so loving and warm a wanton whoreish mistress as I have been in finding you, my sweet Coyote. I only hope that you are having the best possible birthday and that you enjoy this offering and the 70 virgins I plan to slaughter in your name at midnight. She asked for: “Sam/Dean: Hand holding! Movie theaters! Zombies! No porn? And happiness! I want schmooooop.” Be careful what you ask for >:). And yay to familiardevil for reading as a Coy expert and encouraging me to write while drunk(ish). ETA 5/7/2013: Thanks to eos_rose, you can now read this in epub format here.
Summary: Dean Winchester is trying to woo his brother. Things are not going well.
Dean Winchester is in a bit of a pickle. He learned this expression three days ago when he overheard a father chuckling at his son, who had just tied his shoes together. Dean was amused by it, by the ridiculous things people will say in order to avoid telling their kids that they fucked something up, and he’s decided to apply it to his situation, as well. Dean isn’t generally in the habit of getting into pissing contests with toddlers, but he figures he’s in a way bigger pickle than that kid was, so he has more of a right to the expression, anyway.
Dean Winchester is in Love with his brother. Oddly enough, this isn’t the problematic part of the equation. Dean has been in Love with Sam for more than five years. He’s gotten used to it by now. He never planned to act on it, he was never going to say anything, and ever since Sam came back from Stanford, it hasn’t been so hard to deal with. Sure, there are times Dean wants so much he has to excuse himself from his little brother’s presence, but having Sam around is so good that Dean is mostly just thankful.
But now things are changing. Everything is getting worse. Dean can feel something awful drawing in, can feel his time coming to an end. Dean is starting to realize that he’s never gotten anything he wanted and that maybe he deserves a chance to try.
It was the virus last week that did it-thinking he was going to lose Sam, watch Sam change into something awful, let Sam tear him apart because that would still be better than pulling the trigger. It was the fact that Sam wanted him to do it, the fact that Sam doesn’t get to be happy anymore, either. He stays up all night worrying about what he’s going to become and Dean knows, he just knows he could make Sam see what’s so obvious to him-that his little brother is all goodness and the idea he could go wrong is ridiculous-if Sam just wanted him the way he wants Sam, if he could whisper it into kisses.
They both deserve to be happy. There are things that would make Dean a hell of a lot happier than the Grand Canyon, things only Sam can give him.
He won’t force Sam. He can’t even come out and say it. But he thinks there’s a chance that, just maybe, Sam does feel the same way. If Dean is this screwed up, what’s to say Sam’s lingering touches don’t mean he’s hiding the same secret?
So, long story short, Dean Winchester is trying to woo his little brother. And Dean, who knows a thing or two about wooing, can see clearly that his plans are not really working out the way they’re supposed to. This is his metaphorical pickle.
It’s not that Sam is reacting badly. That would be much better than this. Dean would have a nice, clear-cut answer and would give up and go back to acting the way he always does. It’s that Sam isn’t really picking up on Dean’s hints at all.
You see, you just can’t be romantic when you’re trying to court your sibling. Dean knows how to work a girl up, he’s done the flowers and chocolates and compliments routine more times than he can count. But you can’t walk up to someone you used to wrestle for the remote control with a dozen roses and say, “Have I ever told you your eyes are exceptionally pretty?”
Dean knows there are other ways to show interest in someone, less obvious ways, so he tries going with these. His one serious girlfriend always got flustered when Dean did bullshit nice things for her-bring Cassie a caramel latte on her lunch break and things would definitely go the way Dean wanted when she got home. Sam spent four years in college where going to get coffee is practically a marriage proposal. So Dean tries this method.
But the thing is, Dean’s always done little things like that for Sam and when he wakes Sam up with a grande mocha, Sam just accepts it with a “thank you” and promises he’ll do the coffee run the next day. It meant so much more, doing it for Sam, it always has. But not to Sam it doesn’t. To Sam it’s just the way things are.
Dean ups the ante. He brings Sam dinner, he lets Sam pick the music for as long as he can physically stand it, Sam chooses the hunts and the motels and the restaurants. He definitely starts to realize something’s different, but the actual meaning is lost on him. Maybe Sam has some kind of inbred block against thinking his brother is trying to screw him. Dean was always missing that little chunk of his brain.
“Dean, are you feeling okay?”
“What? Why?” Dean is trying to stop fidgeting, but this History Channel show Sam has him watching could not be more boring if it were trying.
“Well, you just sat through a two and a half hour special on the Peloponnesian War.”
“So?”
“Without complaining.”
“So?”
“Because I wanted to.”
“Yeah, and?”
“And that definitely means that some part of your personality has been knocked out of place.”
“I like history,” Dean lies.
“Ok, sure, buddy. Whatever you say.”
Sam gets suspicious after that. He goes through Dean’s things when Dean’s not in the room, watches Dean out of the corner of his eyes when he thinks Dean’s not paying attention, a few times he even tries to pop up and surprise Dean, catching him in the middle of whatever Sam thinks he’s trying to hide. Meanwhile, Dean is doing everything he can to lie his cards on the table and get his brother to realize what Dean thinks should be obvious. Dean spent years worrying his brother would figure him out, not knowing how to hide just how much Sam is to him. Now he’s practically beating Sam over the head with it and Sam’s caveman skull doesn’t even register the hits.
Sam is supposed to be the smart one, dammit. But Sam’s either missing that Dean has been bumping their feet under diner tables, taking him to increasingly nice restaurants, electing to stay in at night instead of going out to get laid, or he’s deliberately ignoring it. Dean takes Sam on 17 dates (Dean is sure, he’s been keeping count) before Sam gets it.
They’re wrapping up a pretty tedious day of research for this hunt they’re on when they pass by a movie theater advertising Cowboy Zombies from Space IV. Sam’s glowing the way he always does after being trapped in a library for twelve hours and Dean’s doing everything he can not to bounce all over the place, he’s so damn happy not to be staring at a book right now.
“Sammmmmyyyyy, can we?” Dean points at the poster.
“Cowboy Zombies from Space, Dean?”
“The third one was actually pretty good.” Dean smirks and puts on a dignified air.
Sam looks like there’s nothing in the world he’d rather do less than see a movie about extraterrestrials who work on farms by day and eat the brains of the innocent by night, but maybe he’s still in a good mood or maybe he can just tell how much Dean wants it because he rolls his eyes and laughs.
“Yeah, alright. Why the hell not?”
Dean decides to spring for extra large everything and gets all of the different bags of candy Sam used to beg for and give Dean sour looks over when Dean made him choose just one. His arms are overflowing when he gets to the theater and drops into the seat Sam saved him.
“Holy shit. Have I been starving you or something?”
“Just thought it was a good night to-“
“Die in a sugar coma?”
“That, too.”
Sam smiles enough to make Dean nearly drop his tub of popcorn, which he attributes to the fact that he put too much butter on it and got the sides slippery. It certainly doesn’t have anything to do with dimples or anything lame like that.
The movie is, well, exactly what one would expect from Cowboy Zombies from Space IV. Unrealistically hot chick and her rugged love interest let 14 of their closest friends get eaten before they suddenly realize the unlikely solution that could have occurred to them 40 minutes and 9 deaths earlier. It’s pretty awesome in Dean’s book.
“That’s not how you kill a zombie,” Sam whispers to Dean halfway through, and Dean snorts.
By this point Sam and Dean, as well as pretty much every other group in the theater, have given up on pretending there is any point in really watching the movie and everyone is sharing snarky commentary with their neighbors.
“It is when the zombie in question is from Venus, duh.”
Dean reaches for popcorn at the same time as Sam and their hands brush. They both pull away too quickly; Dean thanks dark theater lighting for the fact that Sam can’t see his blush.
“I don’t get it,” Sam starts, mouth full of popcorn. “We fight zombies in the real world, Dean. What’s so great about watching a bunch of horny teenagers fail at it?”
Dean looks over at Sam. “I don’t know, it’s kind of nice to watch someone else screw it up for a change.”
Sam laughs silently and reflects for a bit before continuing, “I’m glad we came. It’s surprisingly liberating to let my brain rot for a change.”
“Damn straight.” Dean tosses Sam a bag of Reese’s Pieces and races Sam through his M&Ms. Dean wins, of course.
When the bloodbath starts, the theater goes quiet again, the audience’s attention finally fixed on the screen. This is what they all paid $10 to see, after all. It’s a surprisingly well done horror sequence and Dean would be pretty terrified, if it weren’t for the fact that, yeah, after a few years hunting the truly undead, movie zombies just don’t cut it.
Sam’s tensed up a bit. Despite all his bitching, Dean thinks he’s really gotten into the story and Dean’s eyes keep fixing on Sam’s hand, clenched tight around the armrest between them. Finally he decides-fuck it. He puts his own hand over Sam’s and squeezes at what is supposed to be a scary moment.
Sam jumps a little in his seat, but Dean can’t tell if it’s a response to the movie or to him. Sam turns to look at him, eyebrows drawn and suddenly something like recognition sparks in his eyes.
“Holy shit, Dean,” Sam gasps, standing up on reflex. “Are we on a date right now?!”
“Umm…” Dean wants to melt into his chair.
“Who gives a shit, asshole? Sit your big ass down!” Someone four rows behind them calls. Sam immediately looks guilty and drops into his seat.
“Dean,” he hisses.
“I…can we not have this conversation here, Sam?”
“You’re my-“
“Yeah, I know. The whole theater doesn’t need to. Just. Let the fucking movie finish and we’ll talk about this later, okay?”
Sam nods testily and Dean spends the next 20 minutes annoyed that the best date of his life got ruined because the other person realized that’s what it was.
He’s expecting an awkward walk back to the motel and an even more awkward conversation once they get there, but Sam pulls Dean into the men’s bathroom without warning as soon as they’re in the theater lobby.
“We really gonna do this now?” Dean asks, eyeing the old man sitting on the bench behind him. It’s never struck him before that it’s kind of weird that theater bathrooms have benches in them.
“Just tell me: How long?”
“I don’t know, Sam. Years. Forever, maybe. I’m sorry. I couldn’t-I can’t help it. I’m so sorry.”
“So all of the weird behavior lately, this is why?”
Dean nods and looks away. Sam starts laughing rather unexpectedly, so Dean risks looking back at him.
“What’s so funny about it?”
“Dude, you suck at this.”
“You try getting your little-“ Dean can feel the old man judging him before he even says it. “It’s not as easy as it sounds in this situation.”
“Of course it is, Dean. You say something. God, I’ve been waiting for you to say something since I was a kid.”
“You knew?”
“I hoped.”
Dean’s eyes go wide. “Did you just say you-?”
“Oh, shut up already.” Sam pulls Dean’s face into his and kisses him lightly and Dean’s so happy he gives in to it, even with grandpa staring at them. It’s brief and chaste, just enough to squash the last of Dean’s doubts.
“Tomorrow night, I’m going to take you on a proper date so you can see how adults do it,” Sam promises, pulling away. “Until then, let’s go home. I’m tired.”
“You mean you’re not putting out? I’m pretty sure that’s never happened to me before.”
Sam laughs and takes Dean’s hand, twining their fingers together. “I’m just not that kind of girl, Dean.”
Dean lets his shoulders bump Sam’s as he draws closer. Sam doesn’t let go of his hand throughout the entire walk home and as cheesy as that is, Dean can’t bring himself to protest.