Episode 0.5 x 04 - Old Flame Who: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer When: After Submission What:Sam talks to Bobby about Dean's mysterious past, which requires whiskey on both fronts. Where: Bobby's House, South Dakota
After leaving Dean at the local bar with a car and a girl for the night, Sam calls Bobby to ask him to swing by and pick him up. He feels like he should be jealous, Dean finding a new girl in every town, but by now he's just amused. In Bobby's kitchen, he sits at the table with a bottle of beer, toying with the bottle more than drinking it. "You should start stealin' your brother's keys and making him call you to get picked up," Bobby suggests, getting a beer for himself and two packages of bar peanuts he has snagged from somewhere, tossing one to Sam as he sits down. "Yeah, but I really don't want to deal with picking him up the morning after -- " He shakes his head, playing with the edge of the foil package. "Thanks for picking me up, though." "Make him shower first." He shakes his head, taking a swig of his beer, watching Sam out of the corner of his eye. "Are you going to eat that, or just play with it?" Sam gives and exaggerated shudder and shakes his head again. "Mm, no. Thanks. I can do without." He realizes he's just fidgeting with the peanuts and mumbles an apology as he pushes the package towards Bobby. He just feels... out of sorts, and has, ever since Dean had let him top. "What's the matter with you?" Bobby's voice is gruff, but worried. Sam's not acting right, and Dean barely stayed around for a beer after the hunt, which always bothers him a bit. He feels like its his job to look out for the boys, what with all the trouble they manage to wade into on a regular basis. "Nothing, I'm..." Sam sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "It's Dean, actually. Just something that's been bugging me about him, I guess." God -- does he really want to talk about this with Bobby? Though really... what other option does he have? "Oh? What's that?" Bobby opens a pack of peanuts, leaving the other on the table for Sam for now, in case he changes his mind. "Did -- " he starts, stopping and clearing his throat, trying to figure out how to say this. There's no real easy, unawkward way, so he just -- goes for it. "Did he ever tell you -- about a guy he was with? When he was younger? In his teens, I think." Bobby's eyebrows nearly disappear into his trucker hat, and he has to set his beer down. "What kind of guy?" he asks carefully. "He won't tell me. Just -- that he was with a guy and he doesn't want to talk about it. He just shuts down whenever I ask." He takes a long drink of his beer (for courage, or some such thing, for the conversation he's afraid will come next) and stares awkwardly down at the table. Bobby swallows, rubbing at his beard. "I knew something about that, yeah. How'd this come up?" He had not thought about it in years, not since the Winchesters came back in his life and he stopped worrying about them as much (well, at least, stop worrying about that and instead focused on all the other stupid things they got into). There really isn't... a good way around this, or to just explain away his sudden interest in Dean's past sex life. "Dean..." Sam sets his bottle down and hides his face in his hands, making a frustrated noise before dropping his hands again. "Dean and I are..." Though he can't quite get himself to say the rest of it out loud, not to Bobby. He just lets the sentence hang there and hope Bobby can infer the rest. ...like Father like Son. Well, he hopes not, for Dean's sake. And so he does not have to take Sam out into the backyard and beat him. "So you're telling me all those motel keepers were right?" Bobby's voice is deadpan as he scrutinizes Sam across the table. Sam wants to melt into the floor and never ever come out. He dodges Bobby's look, blushing and trying to hide behind his hair. "It's more of a recent developement than that, but don't think I haven't pointed out the irony." "You boys best keep your pants on in my house," he mentions, taking another swig of beer. "So why does this old -" He hesitates for a second, trying to think of a proper word, "- relationship of his matter?" He chokes at that, damn near falling off the chair. "Uh -- it... it came up. One night. After, um..." He gestures, awkwardly, stealing another sip of beer before he goes on. "Was it -- was his relationship... dangerous? Did he hurt him, at all?" He looks deeply worried, chewing at the inside of his lip and hoping to hell that whoever it was, they didn't hurt Dean. Sam would have to find them and hurt them right back, if so. Bobby frowns at his bottle, trying to think of what to say. "It- it's not really my place t'talk about it, but- I don't know all that much. But it wasn't the healthiest relationship in the world, I can tell you that." That's an understatement, not that the Winchesters are ever healthy in any sense. "Did you know him? What do you mean... not the healthiest?" Sam wishes that Dean would just open up to him about this, tell him who it was and why it hurts so much to talk about. He hates that Dean shuts him out, especially with something as important as this. "Yeah, I knew him." Bobby rubs his eyebrows; he never expected to have to talk about this, and to Sam, no less. He had to pick his words carefully. "They weren't exactly on what you'd call even footing. I don't think Dean should of been with the guy in the first place, but it wasn't my call." "Why wouldn't he... tell me about something like that?" Sam feels hurt -- that Bobby knew and he didn't. That Dean had kept something like that from him for... what, ten years? "Did Dad know?" "Sam, it's your brother. If anyone stops thinking that he's the most heterosexual thing since Casanova it'd take a miracle to keep him from running for the hills. He doesn't even know I know about it, or he'd probably never speak to me again." He sighs, taking off his hat and running his hand through his sparse hair before replacing it again. "No, I don't think he did." The lie feels heavy on his tongue, but he does not know what else to say. That gets a laugh, and Sam finishes off his beer. "Yeah, that's -- that's true. Dean is a man among men, that's for sure." He leans back in his chair again, trying to process all this. He wants to know more; how long they were together, how they met -- hell, how Bobby found out. Why that one guy, out of everyone else. He gives him a smile, and gets up to get him another one, along with one for himself. He is pretty sure they will need it. "What makes you ask about him hurting him?" Bobby asks after a moment. He should probably stop talking about it, but it worries him. Nnh, he doesn't want to have to explain this. To distract himself and to avoid looking at Bobby, Sam wanders over to the fridge to snag another beer, feeling rather like he needs it. "I got -- a little rough with him, I guess?" He can feel the back of his neck and the tips of his ears turn bright red in embarrassment. "We both got a little spooked. I mostly got scared because of -- how he reacted. I just... didn't know if it had anything to do with whoever he was with, before." Bobby swallows again, and takes another draught of beer to steady himself. "To be honest, you're probably right. That- man was a pretty domineering type. I don't know about abusive, but- he liked things his way." God, it sounds obvious to himself who he is talking about, but he is hoping that Sam does not catch on. Though maybe he should know about it, someday, he cannot be the one to bring it up. "Sounds kind of like Dean. I have no idea how they got along," he tries to laugh, turning the chair to sit on it backwards, leaning his arms against the back of the chair. "You said man -- was he older than Dean?" "Me either." He sits back in his chair; actually, he knows exactly why, but, again, not something to say outloud. "Yeah, he was older. Dean thought he was somethin'." "Do you think Dean will ever tell me about him, himself?" He shorts, opening his beer and taking a sip. "That was a dumb question, wow. It's Dean, he won't. Not unless I force it out of him, which won't happen." Bobby shakes his head, not being able to help a wry smile. "Yeah, I think you'd have an easier time gettin' anything out of him than that. I doubt it ended well, when it did, and - " He pauses for a moment before continuing. "I'm pretty sure the man's dead now, anyway." At least Sam doesn't have to worry about going after the guy, now. He nods, slowly, thinking he might need something a little stronger than beer for this. He wishes Dean was here with him, instead of out with some girl from a bar. He just wants to hold him, right now. To try and erase any bad memories of whoever this man was, in his past. Bobby watches him for a few moments, before pushing the peanuts back towards him. "You should really eat something." He is worried about them, but he can only hope that this is good for them. "I'm not hungry," he sighs, setting aside his beer. "Maybe I should have stayed in the bar, fuck. I just... I'm so confused. Dean confuses me on so many different levels that I don't know where to start working through them all." "Well, he's Dean. He doesn't like to help matters like this much." He sits back, glancing at Sam again and then standing up. "I'm going to break out some whiskey, what d'ya say?" "God, yes, please. Thank you." Sam turns the chair around the right way and rests his head on the table, arms over his head, sighing deeply. Sam doesn't often drink to get drunk, but tonight seems like a good night to do so. Just so long as he sticks to one kind of alcohol, and not the whole mini bar. Ugh. Bobby smiles and gets two glasses and the whiskey bottle, prepared to let Sam get drunk off his ass, but slowly, so that it would be Dean's job to drag his gigantic arse to the couch and not his.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Dean pulled up about a quarter after one, hair still slightly damp from his shower at the hotel room (he tries to be nice to Sam, he does) and a grin on his face. He pulls out his key and lets himself in, trying to be quiet in case the lightweights had gone to bed already. "Sam? Bobby?" he calls, checking the kitchen first and then the living room. Lightweight Sam is slouched on the couch, legs sprawled out in front of him, an arm flung over his eyes and a nearly empty bottle of whiskey precariously placed by his feet. When he hears Dean, he lifts his arm and gives his brother a sloppy smile. "Heeeeey, Dean. Y'r home." Dean has to pause, taking in the sight. "Bobby forgot to lock the liquor cabinet, didn't he?" He keeps his tone light, not admitting to worry just yet; Sam does not get drunk often, and generally not without good reason. He walks over and snags the whiskey bottle away, taking a swig himself to help him deal with the consequences of a drunk little brother. "No, he offered. And I accepted. He had some, too. And then he went to bed. But I waited for you." He looks very pleased with himself for managing to stay up to wait for Dean. "You din't stay out that late. Guess you're getting old," he teases with a laugh that degenerates into a giggle before fading out again. "I am not. I just sensed that there was stupid back home I had to take care of." He ruffles Sam's hair with his free hand. He is going to have to Talk with Bobby about giving Sam free reign of the whiskey. "Come on, you've waited long enough. Time for bed." "Noooo..." Sam whines, pouting a little, giving Dean his best kicked puppy look. "I waited up for you, so you get t'wait for me." He takes Dean's hand and tugs at it, either to pull himself up or to pull Dean down, he doesn't really care which. Dean sighs, trying to help him up; it was best to get him on his feet while he had the chance. "Wait for you to do what?" he asks, stumbling slightly as he lets Sam lean on him. "Mm, this," he sighs, wrapping his arms loosely around his waist and nuzzling against his neck. "I get lonely when you go out..." Sam's hands start wandering over his back, then lower, over to his hips as he nibbles at Dean's ear. "- do you?" Dean grips Sam's arms, trying to keep his hands from going any farther, uncomfortable with his brother's lack of sobriety. "Hey, hey, Sammy- you're drunk. You're really drunk. Let's just go upstairs, okay? Then we can- talk." Hopefully he will fall asleep before he gets any further into the having-sex-while-smashed idea. "I do, yeah." Sam nuzzlenibbles his way down Dean's jaw, giving him a slow and sloppy kiss. "Miss you." He tries to pull his arms free of Dean's grip, wanting to be able to touch him more. Dean lets him kiss him, returning it for a brief moment before pulling away. "I missed you too, Sammy. Now come upstairs and I'll give you another kiss, okay?" Bribing normally works with people Dean knows, hopefully Sam's drunk enough to go for it. Something flickers in the back of his mind and he laughs, stealing another kiss. "As long as we keep our pants on." Because Bobby said they had to keep their pants on. "That's probably a good idea, yeah." His brother is such a weird drunk. "Come on, big foot." He starts to physically manhandle Sam towards the stairs, figuring that he would need a kick in the ass to get moving either way. Sam tries for another kiss, gripping Dean by the front of his shirt. "Uh huh. Cuz Bobby said so." He grins, stumbling backwards and pulling Dean with him. He's sure they can figure out a way to do this with pants on. "- Bobby said what?" That makes Dean stop cold, staring at his brother. Surely he didn't - nah, he just didn't want them bringing girls back. That had to be it. He almost falls over when Dean stops, leaning against him a little. "Said to keep our pants on. It's a rule." He attempts to look very stern and strict but only manages it for a few seconds before bursting into laughter again and kissing Dean's cheek. "Come kiss me more upstairs." "Okay, okay, we're both going to be keeping out pants on, promise." He resumes his attempts to haul Sam up the stairs, glad that he is at least agreeing to the plan. "Be quiet, we don't want to wake him up. He might shoot us." "Okay, okay," he sighs, rolling his eyes. "Bossy." But he manages to at least make it up the stairs, sitting down with a thunk on the top step to wait for Dean to follow. "To the bedroom," Dean orders in a whisper, pointing at the door. He gives Sam a stern look, like one might a puppy who is not quite sure what it is doing. Sam twists to look at the bedroom door with a slow blink of understanding. "... oh." And up he gets, long limbs tangling together for a minute before he gets himself sorted out and heads to the bedroom. Dean rubs his forehead, waiting for Sam to get situated, before following him into the bedroom and closing the door tightly, throwing the lock. "So why'd you guys hit the whiskey so hard, anyway?" he asks, pushing Sam towards the bed. ... why had they? Oh -- Dean's mysterious man in his past. And Sam couldn't figure him out. "Because you," he says, pointing an accusing finger at his brother. "Are confusing. And... sneaky. And keep secrets." "About what?" Dean looks a bit startled. "You knew I was going out, and why." God, was Sam actually starting to get jealous? That could screw things up like nothing else. Why the hell would he be talking to Bobby about that, anyway? "Not the girls." Sam waves a hand dismissively, flopping down onto the bed with a slight pout. "Your mysterious man. You won't tell me about him because you don't -- talk about things like that. Not even with me and it's not fair." He laughs a little, though more bitterly than before, pushing his hair out of his face. "If I'm fucking you, I should know about this other guy. So I know what not to do." Ah hell, not this again. "Dude, why does it matter so much? I'll tell you if something bothers me, okay?" He scowls, before kneeling down to start unlacing Sam's boots. "Lift your foot up," he orders, irate. He lifts a foot obediently, closing his eyes. "Because I want to know. I'm your brother and I love you and..." Sam sobers a little, getting more serious. "And if he hurt you, I want to know about it." Dean slips the boot off, throwing it behind him and starting on the other one. "I've already told you that he didn't hurt me! Why are you so fixated on that?" It is so hard to be angry with Sam when he sounds so - forlorn about things, and says things like that. He truly wishes he had just fucked some random guy and could tell Sam all about him to shut him up, but he did not even know how to make up a proper lie about what did happen. "Because -- you're my brother, and no one should hurt you." After Dean gets the boot off, Sam slides off the bed and onto the floor, kneeling in front of Dean. He cups Dean's face in his hands and rests their foreheads together, trying not to feel so upset about this. "I just want to protect you, like you protect me." He laughs, tearfully, pressing a brief kiss to Dean's lips. "Like in school, when you threatened to beat up the kids who picked on me. If anyone hurts you, I'm going after them." "Hey, hey. Come on." He puts his hands over Sam's, stroking his long fingers. "You don't need to protect me, Sammy. There's nothing to protect me from, I promise." He kisses him gently, trying to be comforting. "That guy- he's nothing to worry about. I'm fine, Sammy." "He sounds like a mean son of a bitch..." Dean's fingers feel good, and help sooth and sober Sam a little. He worries about his brother, about everything Dean doesn't tell him. Things maybe he could help with, if Dean would just let him. He swallows hard, trying to keep from tearing up. "Anyway, Bobby said he's probably dead, so there's nothing I can do about it now..." "He wasn't that ba-" Dean chokes on his words, his voice rising several octaves. "What-would-Bobby-know?" He dimly realizes that he sounds like a woman, and that if Bobby had been asleep, he probably was not anymore. Sam winces and flinches away from Dean's yelling. "He... said he knew. But you didn't know that he knew, which I guess you do now." God, he should never be allowed to talk after he's been drinking. All the stupid shit he knows he shouldn't say just comes tumbling out without him being able to stop it. Dean looks stunned and a little frightened by the idea. Alright, so a lot frightened. He glances over his shoulder as if Bobby's going to walk in the door, then back at Sam, trying to steady himself. "...I- okay. That's news. Great. I'm going to go find a nice big rock to hide under." "No -- it doesn't matter. He doesn't -- it was just some guy. Bobby didn't like him, he's gone now. It's over, right? It's not like he's going to -- come after you or something." He tries to take Dean's hands, or touch his face, anything to comfort him. "Dean -- please. I shouldn't have asked him, I'm sorry. Just -- forget I said it." "Yeah. It's over." He runs a hand over his face before letting Sam take them. "Bobby's right, he's dead. Has been for a while." He tries not to tear up at that, but his throat catches in the embarassing way it does everytime he thinks about John's death. He ducks his head and quickly blinks his eyes until the threat of tears are gone. Sam kisses his eyes gently, then his lips, squeezing his hands. "I'm sorry this was hard on you, whatever it was. If you want to talk about it... then great, and if not, I'll just have to deal with that. Okay?" He nuzzles Dean's cheek gently, pressing another few kisses against his jaw while he's there. "I don't really want to, Sam." He leans his forehead against Sam's and closes his eyes, allowing himself to be kissed. "But I'm okay. No more worrying, okay?" He squeezes Sam's hands in return, pulling him close. "Okay..." Sam feels much more sober, by now, which he's not sure is a good thing. "Come lay in bed with me. We don't have to do anything, I just want to hold you." "Okay, Sammy. I'll do that." He gets up, holding out a hand to help Sammy up, and then kicks off his own shoes and excess layers of clothes, leaving a t-shirt and boxers on before stretching out on the bed. Sam sheds his jeans as well, stretching out next to Dean and wrapping an arm around his waist. "Are we okay?" He's crossed a line -- crossed several lines, actually, and he knows that. Dean sighs, reaching up to stroke Sam's hair back. He is still a bit irritated, but he cannot fault Sam for worrying, and Sam's too pathetic to be mad at right now, anyway. "Yeah, Sammy, we're okay." "Good." He shifts a little, kicking the covers down and then pulling them up over he and Dean, snuggling as close to his brother as possible. "Jerk," he says, as a peace offering, giving Dean another tender kiss. Dean smiles a bit, returning it softly. "Bitch," he teases, wrapping his arms around him and letting himself have the comfort of being cuddled. "Go to sleep."