A Whiter Shade Of Pale
Title: A Whiter Shade Of Pale
Author: xephwrites
Pairings: Dean/Sam
Rating: PG 13
Word Count: 1660
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters. Just playing with toys that are not mine. I promise to return them (mostly) undamaged!
Spoilers: None
Summary: Hunting ruins everything that Sam wants that's "normal". Even his first slow dance.
Warnings: teen!chesters, mild wincest, Sam is 15, schmoop!
Notes: shakespearsgrl2 gave me this: I have this thing for people not being allowed to go to their HS dances, and then super awesome bf/gf makes their own dance to make it up to them. Not exactly as requested, but close enough. ;) The title and lyrics are from A Whiter Shade Of Pale by Procol Harum, which in my opinion is hands down the BEST song for random slow dancing!
~*~*~*~*~*~
Dean parked the Impala in the school’s parking lot. Stepping out of the car, he heard the faint sound of music bleeding through the concrete. He sighed as he shut and locked the door. He hated doing this, and tonight was going to be even harder.
Hands in his leather jacket, he took the steps up to the school two at a time. He opened the door and was faced with a middle aged woman with large glasses who looked a lot like an old west school marm.
“Can I help you?” She said, pushing her glasses up her nose.
“I’m here to pick up my brother, Sam Winchester,” Dean said, straightening his posture. “I won’t be five minutes in there.” She nodded and pointed towards the gym entrance.
The lights were off, and there was a disco ball suspended from the high ceiling. Crappy paper streamers were draped everywhere and the floor was a sea of balloons. Dean hated high school dances.
He entered the gymnasium, kicking balloons out of his path. They were playing that stupid get knocked down song. Dean tried not to twitch, or shoot one of the speakers. He looked around the crowd of high school kids, looking for Sam.
Dean spotted him, sitting in the back corner with two other guys. Dean rolled his eyes. Why his brother insisted on being a wallflower, he’ll never know. Pushing his way through balloons and teenagers, he finally made it up to Sam.
“What the hell are you doing here, Dean?” Sam’s expression a cross between annoyed and panicked.
“Time to go,” Dean said, not wanting to meet Sam’s eyes. “Dad called, and we gotta go. Like now.”
Sam’s face hardened and he slumped in his chair. “Nuh uh,” he said petulantly. “Not tonight. Tomorrow.”
Dean sighed. He knew this would happen. It happens every time. Sam’s friends looked at him questioningly, but Sam waved them off. Dean hated having to uproot Sammy every other month. He also hated how much his little brother fought with Dad.
“Sam, we really need to go,” Dean added desperation to his voice. Sam’s eyebrow twitched in concern.
“Is everything okay?” He asked, his sulk fading quickly. Dean shook his head. Sam sighed and stood.
“Sorry, guys. Catch you later,” he said to his friends before following Dean out of the gym.
Once they were out at the Impala, Sam started.
“What happened? Is Dad okay? Where is he?” Sam jumped into the passenger side. Dean started the car.
“Broke his collar bone while out with Pastor Jim on a hunt. That’s where he is right now.” Dean looked over his shoulder quickly as he backed out. “Already packed everything for you.”
Sam nodded and slouched in the passenger seat, arms crossed. Dean shook his head to himself and drove away from the school.
“Still don’t understand why I couldn’t have stayed for the rest of the dance at least,” Sam mumbled, staring out the window.
“Dad gives the word, we go,” Dean sighed, easing on to one of the lesser used county roads. “You know this.”
Sam crossed his arms and kicked at an empty soda can in the foot well.
“Don’t worry, Sammy,” Dean said, glancing at his sulking brother. “There will be other crappy high school dances in the next town.”
“But Cody won’t be,” Sam mumbled under his breath. He crossed his arms and stared out the window into the darkness.
“Cody, huh,” Dean said. “Interesting name for a girl, she cute?” Sam sighed and shifted further into the door. In Sam body language that meant the conversation was over.
Dean turned the radio up and drove faster. They rode for a while, not speaking. To Dean’s surprise, Sam broke their silence.
“That was my first real dance,” Sam said, staring out the window. He ran his finger along the rubber at the base of the glass. “One more normal thing that hunting has ruined.”
“I know, Sammy,” Dean sighed. “Seriously, I would have loved to let you finish up the dance, but we gotta be there for Dad.” Sam huffed. “Don’t start, please,” Dean groaned.
“How old were you when you had your first dance?” Sam asked, turning in his seat to face his brother.
“Dunno, like fourteen,” Dean said. Sam flopped back into the leather upholstery.
“Dean, I’m fifteen and never slow danced with anyone. Tonight was supposed to be my night. But Dad fucked it up.”
“Hey, watch the mouth,” Dean said, shooting a glare at Sam. Then his mind registered what Sam had said. “Wait, you’ve never slow danced?”
“Nope. And I was just about to ask Cody when you came in,” Sam said as he turned his attention back to the window. “Plus Colin wouldn’t leave us alone, so that didn’t help.”
Oh, Dean thought. Oh. Tread carefully, the normally annoying voice in the back of his head warned.
“So, uh, this Cody,” Dean started. “Good kid?”
“Yeah,” Sam sighed, fiddling with a hole in his jeans. “Feel like an ass ditching him like that.”
“Did, uh, did he like you too?”
“I think so,” Sam said. He banged his head against the back of the seat. “But I would have made an ass out of both of us. Everyone would’ve made fun of us.” Sam continued to bang his head against the seat.
Dean took a sharp turn onto the side of the road. Sam squawked and tried to brace himself as Dean drove along a small path through the trees.
“What the hell, man?” Sam asked as Dean parked the Impala in a small clearing. Dean began playing with the radio dial.
“I screwed it up, I’m making it right,” Dean mumbled. He reached under the seat and pulled out the box of tapes. Dean dug and pulled out one from the bottom with no label. He popped it into the deck.
It was tinny, but Sam could clearly hear the song. Dean opened his door.
“Get out,” he said as he turned the volume up as loud as it would go. Sam sat stunned as Dean exited the car and stood in front. The headlights looked like a spotlight. He motioned for Sam to get moving. Still unbelieving, Sam got out of the car.
“We skipped a light fandango,” the voice poured from the speakers. Sam stood a few feet away from Dean.
“You want your first dance?” Dean asked, holding his arms out. Sam rolled his eyes.
“You’re just doing this to make fun of me,” Sam said, walking back to the car.
“Dammit, Sammy,” Dean sighed. “I’m not making fun of you. I’m giving you your one shot at a first dance!”
Sam looked back and eyed his brother cautiously. There was no hint of a joke in his face.
“You really mean that?” He asked quietly. Dean nodded. Sam shuffled forward.
“What do I do?” He asked, wiping his hands on his thighs.
“Just follow my lead,” Dean said as he closed the distance. He placed both hands on Sam’s hips. Sam slowly brought his hands up to rest on his brother’s shoulders. Dean nodded and began to step in a small circle. Sam stared down at the ground, watching their feet. Dean removed one hand from Sam’s hip and tilted his chin up.
“Best if you actually look at the person you’re dancing with,” he said with a small smile. Sam nodded and bit his lip. Dean pulled him in closer so they were chest to chest.
“This is really weird, Dean,” Sam said, resisting the urge to rest his cheek on his brother’s chest.
Dean tilted his head down so their foreheads rested together. Part of Sam was excited that he finally got his chance to be close with Dean like this. But he’s only doing this to make me feel better, Sam thought.
“Wish I could make you happy, Sammy, but this is the best I can do,” Dean muttered. Sam’s heart gave a small flutter at the words.
“You do make me happy,” Sam whispered. He pulled on Dean’s neck until they were in a proper hug. Dean wrapped his arms around his tiny waist and gave a squeeze.
“So what did you like about Cody?” Dean asked, still holding Sam close and dancing.
“He reminded me of you,” Sam said against Dean’s leather jacket. Dean pulled away slightly to stare at his brother.
“You don’t want to date a guy like me, Sammy,” Dean said. Sam shrugged and stared back at Dean.
“You’re right. I don’t want to date a guy like you. I want to date you,” Sam said. His face went red and wished that he could take the words back. He tried to bury his face in the folds of Dean’s jacket, but Dean pulled his face up. Dean’s expression was soft, honest.
“You mean that?” Dean whispered as his thumb ran along the line of Sam’s cheek bone.
“Sorry, it was stupid,” Sam muttered. Idiot! He screamed at himself.
“Not stupid, Sammy,” Dean whispered. Before Sam could protest, Dean leaned down and captured his lips in a soft kiss. Sam melted against the larger frame of his brother and kissed back. Dean pulled away first.
“Not stupid at all,” Dean said, crushing his little brother against him. Dean carded his fingers through the hair at the back of Sam’s head.
Sam sighed and rested his head against Dean’s chest.
And so it was later,
As the miller told his tale,
That her face at first just ghostly,
Turned a whiter shade of pale.
The song ended and Sam stared up into his brother’s eyes.
“Dance with me again?” He whispered. Dean smiled and placed a soft kiss on Sam’s forehead.
“Of course,” Dean replied.
The next song started up and Dean pulled Sam closer to him. As the lyrics started, Sam laughed softly against Dean’s coat.
“Moody Blues? Really?”
“Not my tape,” Dean said with a laugh.
~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N 2: Part of my romantic notions with this song actually comes from my parents. Growing up, on Sunday's we would always listen to Psychadellic Sundays on the classic rock station. I remember numerous times watching my parents drop what they were doing to dance to this song. Most kids would be grossed out by watching their parents be all romantic and stuff, but I always loved it!
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Author: xephwrites
Pairings: Dean/Sam
Rating: PG 13
Word Count: 1660
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters. Just playing with toys that are not mine. I promise to return them (mostly) undamaged!
Spoilers: None
Summary: Hunting ruins everything that Sam wants that's "normal". Even his first slow dance.
Warnings: teen!chesters, mild wincest, Sam is 15, schmoop!
Notes: shakespearsgrl2 gave me this: I have this thing for people not being allowed to go to their HS dances, and then super awesome bf/gf makes their own dance to make it up to them. Not exactly as requested, but close enough. ;) The title and lyrics are from A Whiter Shade Of Pale by Procol Harum, which in my opinion is hands down the BEST song for random slow dancing!
~*~*~*~*~*~
Dean parked the Impala in the school’s parking lot. Stepping out of the car, he heard the faint sound of music bleeding through the concrete. He sighed as he shut and locked the door. He hated doing this, and tonight was going to be even harder.
Hands in his leather jacket, he took the steps up to the school two at a time. He opened the door and was faced with a middle aged woman with large glasses who looked a lot like an old west school marm.
“Can I help you?” She said, pushing her glasses up her nose.
“I’m here to pick up my brother, Sam Winchester,” Dean said, straightening his posture. “I won’t be five minutes in there.” She nodded and pointed towards the gym entrance.
The lights were off, and there was a disco ball suspended from the high ceiling. Crappy paper streamers were draped everywhere and the floor was a sea of balloons. Dean hated high school dances.
He entered the gymnasium, kicking balloons out of his path. They were playing that stupid get knocked down song. Dean tried not to twitch, or shoot one of the speakers. He looked around the crowd of high school kids, looking for Sam.
Dean spotted him, sitting in the back corner with two other guys. Dean rolled his eyes. Why his brother insisted on being a wallflower, he’ll never know. Pushing his way through balloons and teenagers, he finally made it up to Sam.
“What the hell are you doing here, Dean?” Sam’s expression a cross between annoyed and panicked.
“Time to go,” Dean said, not wanting to meet Sam’s eyes. “Dad called, and we gotta go. Like now.”
Sam’s face hardened and he slumped in his chair. “Nuh uh,” he said petulantly. “Not tonight. Tomorrow.”
Dean sighed. He knew this would happen. It happens every time. Sam’s friends looked at him questioningly, but Sam waved them off. Dean hated having to uproot Sammy every other month. He also hated how much his little brother fought with Dad.
“Sam, we really need to go,” Dean added desperation to his voice. Sam’s eyebrow twitched in concern.
“Is everything okay?” He asked, his sulk fading quickly. Dean shook his head. Sam sighed and stood.
“Sorry, guys. Catch you later,” he said to his friends before following Dean out of the gym.
Once they were out at the Impala, Sam started.
“What happened? Is Dad okay? Where is he?” Sam jumped into the passenger side. Dean started the car.
“Broke his collar bone while out with Pastor Jim on a hunt. That’s where he is right now.” Dean looked over his shoulder quickly as he backed out. “Already packed everything for you.”
Sam nodded and slouched in the passenger seat, arms crossed. Dean shook his head to himself and drove away from the school.
“Still don’t understand why I couldn’t have stayed for the rest of the dance at least,” Sam mumbled, staring out the window.
“Dad gives the word, we go,” Dean sighed, easing on to one of the lesser used county roads. “You know this.”
Sam crossed his arms and kicked at an empty soda can in the foot well.
“Don’t worry, Sammy,” Dean said, glancing at his sulking brother. “There will be other crappy high school dances in the next town.”
“But Cody won’t be,” Sam mumbled under his breath. He crossed his arms and stared out the window into the darkness.
“Cody, huh,” Dean said. “Interesting name for a girl, she cute?” Sam sighed and shifted further into the door. In Sam body language that meant the conversation was over.
Dean turned the radio up and drove faster. They rode for a while, not speaking. To Dean’s surprise, Sam broke their silence.
“That was my first real dance,” Sam said, staring out the window. He ran his finger along the rubber at the base of the glass. “One more normal thing that hunting has ruined.”
“I know, Sammy,” Dean sighed. “Seriously, I would have loved to let you finish up the dance, but we gotta be there for Dad.” Sam huffed. “Don’t start, please,” Dean groaned.
“How old were you when you had your first dance?” Sam asked, turning in his seat to face his brother.
“Dunno, like fourteen,” Dean said. Sam flopped back into the leather upholstery.
“Dean, I’m fifteen and never slow danced with anyone. Tonight was supposed to be my night. But Dad fucked it up.”
“Hey, watch the mouth,” Dean said, shooting a glare at Sam. Then his mind registered what Sam had said. “Wait, you’ve never slow danced?”
“Nope. And I was just about to ask Cody when you came in,” Sam said as he turned his attention back to the window. “Plus Colin wouldn’t leave us alone, so that didn’t help.”
Oh, Dean thought. Oh. Tread carefully, the normally annoying voice in the back of his head warned.
“So, uh, this Cody,” Dean started. “Good kid?”
“Yeah,” Sam sighed, fiddling with a hole in his jeans. “Feel like an ass ditching him like that.”
“Did, uh, did he like you too?”
“I think so,” Sam said. He banged his head against the back of the seat. “But I would have made an ass out of both of us. Everyone would’ve made fun of us.” Sam continued to bang his head against the seat.
Dean took a sharp turn onto the side of the road. Sam squawked and tried to brace himself as Dean drove along a small path through the trees.
“What the hell, man?” Sam asked as Dean parked the Impala in a small clearing. Dean began playing with the radio dial.
“I screwed it up, I’m making it right,” Dean mumbled. He reached under the seat and pulled out the box of tapes. Dean dug and pulled out one from the bottom with no label. He popped it into the deck.
It was tinny, but Sam could clearly hear the song. Dean opened his door.
“Get out,” he said as he turned the volume up as loud as it would go. Sam sat stunned as Dean exited the car and stood in front. The headlights looked like a spotlight. He motioned for Sam to get moving. Still unbelieving, Sam got out of the car.
“We skipped a light fandango,” the voice poured from the speakers. Sam stood a few feet away from Dean.
“You want your first dance?” Dean asked, holding his arms out. Sam rolled his eyes.
“You’re just doing this to make fun of me,” Sam said, walking back to the car.
“Dammit, Sammy,” Dean sighed. “I’m not making fun of you. I’m giving you your one shot at a first dance!”
Sam looked back and eyed his brother cautiously. There was no hint of a joke in his face.
“You really mean that?” He asked quietly. Dean nodded. Sam shuffled forward.
“What do I do?” He asked, wiping his hands on his thighs.
“Just follow my lead,” Dean said as he closed the distance. He placed both hands on Sam’s hips. Sam slowly brought his hands up to rest on his brother’s shoulders. Dean nodded and began to step in a small circle. Sam stared down at the ground, watching their feet. Dean removed one hand from Sam’s hip and tilted his chin up.
“Best if you actually look at the person you’re dancing with,” he said with a small smile. Sam nodded and bit his lip. Dean pulled him in closer so they were chest to chest.
“This is really weird, Dean,” Sam said, resisting the urge to rest his cheek on his brother’s chest.
Dean tilted his head down so their foreheads rested together. Part of Sam was excited that he finally got his chance to be close with Dean like this. But he’s only doing this to make me feel better, Sam thought.
“Wish I could make you happy, Sammy, but this is the best I can do,” Dean muttered. Sam’s heart gave a small flutter at the words.
“You do make me happy,” Sam whispered. He pulled on Dean’s neck until they were in a proper hug. Dean wrapped his arms around his tiny waist and gave a squeeze.
“So what did you like about Cody?” Dean asked, still holding Sam close and dancing.
“He reminded me of you,” Sam said against Dean’s leather jacket. Dean pulled away slightly to stare at his brother.
“You don’t want to date a guy like me, Sammy,” Dean said. Sam shrugged and stared back at Dean.
“You’re right. I don’t want to date a guy like you. I want to date you,” Sam said. His face went red and wished that he could take the words back. He tried to bury his face in the folds of Dean’s jacket, but Dean pulled his face up. Dean’s expression was soft, honest.
“You mean that?” Dean whispered as his thumb ran along the line of Sam’s cheek bone.
“Sorry, it was stupid,” Sam muttered. Idiot! He screamed at himself.
“Not stupid, Sammy,” Dean whispered. Before Sam could protest, Dean leaned down and captured his lips in a soft kiss. Sam melted against the larger frame of his brother and kissed back. Dean pulled away first.
“Not stupid at all,” Dean said, crushing his little brother against him. Dean carded his fingers through the hair at the back of Sam’s head.
Sam sighed and rested his head against Dean’s chest.
And so it was later,
As the miller told his tale,
That her face at first just ghostly,
Turned a whiter shade of pale.
The song ended and Sam stared up into his brother’s eyes.
“Dance with me again?” He whispered. Dean smiled and placed a soft kiss on Sam’s forehead.
“Of course,” Dean replied.
The next song started up and Dean pulled Sam closer to him. As the lyrics started, Sam laughed softly against Dean’s coat.
“Moody Blues? Really?”
“Not my tape,” Dean said with a laugh.
~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N 2: Part of my romantic notions with this song actually comes from my parents. Growing up, on Sunday's we would always listen to Psychadellic Sundays on the classic rock station. I remember numerous times watching my parents drop what they were doing to dance to this song. Most kids would be grossed out by watching their parents be all romantic and stuff, but I always loved it!
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