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Dean’s been off all day, but when Sam comes back to the motel room after picking up lunch, he can tell something is really wrong.
“Hey,” Sam says, setting the bags down on the table. “Okay, I got you two burgers and a large order of fries. They had apple pies, so I got you one of those, too.”
Usually, Dean would have already crossed the room to grab the bags and start devouring their contents, but not today. He’s dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie even though it’s fairly warm, and he’s sitting against the headboard with his arms crossed. He hasn’t even acknowledged Sam’s presence.
“You alright?” Sam asks, busying himself by pulling his salad out of the bag and sitting down.
“Yep,” Dean says flatly. He tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling.
Sam, who's spent nearly every day of his life with Dean, has never heard his voice sound like this. “Hungry?”
“No.”
Sam crinkles his eyebrows. That’s a first. “You sure? Not even the pie?”
“I said no, Sam.” The answer holds a twinge of anger.
“Oh, come on,” Sam persists. “Since when are you ever not hungry?”
“Leave me alone,” he replies sharply.
Sam half-flinches but does stop talking to him and starts crunching on his salad instead. As the uncomfortable silence hangs in the air, the gears in his head are turning quickly, trying to diagnose the problem. He settles on a few questions that he can probably get away with asking and then works up the courage to speak again.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine!” Dean almost yells, and that has Sam putting the lid on his salad and going over to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Clearly you’re not.”
“Go away, Sam.”
“No.”
“Go away!” There’s a desperation in that, and Sam sees it as his window into Dean’s emotions. His older brother’s eyes have turned glassy with anger, and he’s rubbing a hand over his face, which means there are tears in his eyes.
“You’re shivering,” Sam says gently, and something in Dean breaks a little bit then. The dom voice is back on, so Dean has to listen, has to obey. Sam gets up to get Dean a glass of juice, but all Dean can see is Sam making another excuse to leave him. He’s failed his little brother yet again. He left him after last night to shower, he left him this morning to run and then again to get food, and now he’s left him yet again.
A sob escapes Dean before he realizes it’s coming, and Sam is at his side at an instant, pushing the juice into his hands. “Drink,” he says simply, putting a hand on Dean’s back. Dean takes two small sips, but he’s so upset that he hands the glass back and pulls out of Sam’s grasp to curl in on himself.
Dean’s not good enough for Sam, and Sam has finally figured it out. Sam deserves so much better.
“When did this start?” Sam asks.
“I don’t know,” Dean says angrily. “I don’t care.”
Sam climbs over Dean, the juice forgotten, and lies down next to him. Dean doesn’t move, unsure of what punishment he’s about to receive. He’s found that things tend to go better when he doesn’t anticipate, so he just waits. And waits. And then realizes Sam is waiting for him to… speak? Suddenly be alright again? Dean knows he’s fucked up right now, and he thinks he knows why, but he doesn’t exactly want to share why.
“I really pushed you last night, huh?” Sam finally says. His voice is quiet, and Dean feels the weight of the question.
Dean swallows and then nods. He tenses, and Sam sighs next to him. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” Sam says quietly. “This isn’t me talking to you as a dom. This is me asking questions as a person who cares about you.”
Dean shakes his head hard at that and pulls further away, almost scrambling.
“What? Hey, no, what’s going on?” Sam’s sitting halfway up, watching his brother. “Dean, you have to tell me or I can’t do anything to make it better.”
Dean turns around, but Sam recognizes Dean preparing himself to talk. “I… you deserve better than what I can give you. Better than me. I feel like crap and I don’t know why – why did we – how could you-?”
“Dean.”
Dean turns.
“Slow down, okay? Come here. Let me talk to you.”
Dean hesitates but slowly goes to his brother.
“I'm not gonna hurt you,” Sam says again, holding his hands up in surrender, and Dean cautiously sits down.
“Did this start when you woke up this morning?”
Dean tries to speak, but he has to clear his throat before anything comes out. “Last night.”
“When I went to shower?”
Dean nods miserably. Sam’s about to speak again, but Dean can’t stop the next words from tumbling out of his mouth.
“I’m sorry,” he bursts out. “This shouldn’t even being happening. You should find someone else. Anyone would be better than me.” Dean moves to get up, but Sam catches his wrist.
“Dean, hey, stop. You know it’s you I want. ”
“I just have a headache, Sam,” Dean snaps, but Sam can see the tears in his eyes. “Let go of me.”
But one simple tug on Dean’s sweatshirt sleeve has Dean collapsing into Sam’s lap.
“Dean, I love you, okay? I know we don’t say it that much, but you’re the only one for me in the whole world. I don’t want anyone else, ever. Just you.”
Dean chances a glance up to Sam’s face, and when he sees sincerity there, he throws his arms around Sam’s neck and wraps his legs around his waist.
“This, right here?” Sam murmurs into Dean’s neck. “This is how I want every day to be. I love you. I want you, always.”
Sam feels Dean’s ribs quaking with tears, small, short motions, but it’s enough for Sam to pick up on, even through Dean’s sweatshirt. He holds Dean tighter and buries his own face in Dean’s soft sweatshirt.
Four minutes pass, both fast and slow. Dean’s body has relaxed, and Sam is feeling much less alarmed. He’s glad he understood the snappiness and the outbursts, but they still have more to talk about.
Sam moves a slightly-sleepy Dean to the table, where the food sits. They eat quietly, Dean blushing a little bit out of embarrassment.
When they’re both done, Sam starts talking.. “So… Like I said earlier, I pushed you really hard last night. But you didn’t use your safeword.”
Dean nods, not able to raise his eyes. He sinks back in his chair, so Sam decides to try a new approach. “Come here.” Sam gets up and leads Dean to the bed. Dean still can’t look up, but Sam’s okay with that for right now. He has Dean undress and then lie on his stomach.
Sam climbs behind him, still fully dressed, and starts gently rubbing lotion onto Dean’s back. Dean gives a soft hum of appreciation, which makes Sam chuckle.
“You’re so beautiful,” Sam says, and it’s so quiet that Dean almost misses it. He shrinks into himself a bit, wondering if Sam’s just saying it because he knows Dean is upset and he needs to hear it, but Sam rubs the lotion over his shoulders and starts massaging them, and he’s relaxing again.
It’s always been easy for Sam to make Dean come undone like this, which is why they got into BDSM in the first place. It was hot to see Dean so submissive to Sam when, their whole lives, it had been Dean in charge. It was enjoyable for both of them to have play that included such a dramatic role reversal. Still, it was up to Sam to remember to take care of Dean, and last night he hadn’t been thorough enough. Sometimes they had a warm bath after, or they’d snuggle on the couch and watch a movie. Last night they’d laid together talking, and looking back on it, Sam realizes he was doing most of the talking, if not all of it. Dean had still been in his sub-space. Fuck. No wonder this was happening.
Dean shifts underneath him, craning his neck to look at Sam, who had stopped the massage. Sam resumes, and Dean lies back down. “We didn’t let you down easy last night, did we?” Sam asks. “I’m sorry, D. That’s my fault.”
“S’okay,” Dean says, his voice a garbled sigh.
“No, you’re just saying that cause you’re starting to feel better now. What happened was not okay, and it’s my fault. I thought you were out of your space, but you weren’t. That’s not on you.”
“I didn’t know it was happening til after it happened,” Dean murmurs. “It was good during it, but after was bad, and I dunno why.”
“During the scene, you mean?” Dean nods. “I know. I should have paid more attention. I’ll do better.”
“Me, too,” Dean says, sounding exhausted.
“Did you even sleep last night?”
“Nah, man, just watched a bunch of infomercial shit til it got light out.”
“Do you think you can sleep for me now?” Sam asks.
“Nuh-uh,” Dean mutters, but Sam can tell he’s past halfway to unconsciousness already.
Sam decides to stop talking then and focus all his energy into the slow massage. He continues for a few moments after he’s sure Dean’s asleep, and then he slides off the bed and over to the table. He places the uneaten apple pies from earlier in the fridge and then sets about pulling ingredients for chocolate chip cookies. Dean’s going to have a nice afternoon snack when he wakes up.