Work Text:
Dean is way too happy about this. It’s a 10 hour drive from Manning, Colorado to Salvation, Iowa. And it’s been years but Sam knows the look in Dad’s eye. They’ll be driving hard and fast. No leisurely hour long lunch stops during this trip. Dean likes driving but he likes lunch more.
Sure, they’re about to go after the thing that killed Mom. And Jess. And yes Sam wants that. Wants it in a vicious bloodthirsty way that scares him, actually. But he isn’t happy about it. He is nervous but he isn’t excited. But Dean. Dean can’t frigging wait to get on the road. He’s even whistling.
They’re packing up to leave the motel. And Dean is triple checking the damn trunk. Making sure everything is perfectly in place. He’s been lazy with the pack out all year. But all of a sudden when Dad’s around he’s gotta be the perfect little soldier again. And he can’t even see it. Doesn’t even realize that Dad scares him into line. He’s a 27 year old man running to daddy’s every command. He couldn’t believe it last night when Dad actually agreed with him about not following orders. And yet here he is humming away and happier than Sam has seen him in months all because Dad’s back. Like Dad is going to magically fix everything by waltzing back into their lives. Yeah, right.
Sam shoves his own duffel bag into the backseat. Then drops his cleaned gun into the wrong compartment in the Impala’s trunk. He’s a little brother. It is absolutely his prerogative to annoy Dean as much as possible. Even on the way to a potential life and death showdown. It’s what little brothers do.
Dean huffs, as expected. And puts the gun in its correct space. Dad comes out of the motel with another box of research. This has to be the last one, surely?
“Oh yeah, Dean,” Dad says as he secures the box in the back of his truck.
“Yessir?” Dean says. Standing if not quite to attention then close. John fidgets with the box a bit and Dean is reaching to finally close the trunk when Dad speaks.
“I ran into John Constantine last week,” Dad says.
And Dean freezes. Sam’s impressed, sure, but he’s not overwhelmed by it. It isn’t that big of a deal. They both knew Dad had met the Hellblazer when they were teenagers. In fact he can remember how excited Dean was. Asking all sorts of stupid questions like Dad had stopped in the middle of a case to interrogate another hunter about his legendary history. Did he really spit in a demon’s face? Can you see the hellfire in his eyes? It was actually kind of cute now Sam looks back on it.
“Oh?” Dean says. “I thought he was back in the UK?”
John’s eyes narrow. But he doesn’t know Dean as well as Sam does. He doesn’t see the guilt in every tense line of his eldest son’s body. If he hadn’t been standing right next to him even Sam might have missed it. But he knows his brother and he knows that look. It passes quickly but Dean looks guilty. Not just guilty but caught out. What the hell?
“It’s complicated,” John says gruffly. Like he’d been caught out too. “Anyway, he said to say hello to you specifically. You must’ve made quite the impression, son.”
Holy shit, was Dean blushing? He was. This is so good. It’s one thing to go all fan-boy at 17. Totally another to still be doing it at 27. Sam is going to milk this for years. Fantastic!
“I didn’t know Dean had ever met him?” Sam says trying for nonchalant. But actually he is a little surprised by that. He would have expected Dean to tell him all about it. Then again maybe it happened while he was at Stanford and it just hadn’t come up.
“Huh,” Dad frowns at them both. “It was that succubus thing in Atlanta. That was what, five or six years ago?” Dean finally gets his act together and closes the trunk, just this side of too much force.
“Seven,” Dean answers. Just a little too quickly. “The- ah- succubus thing was seven years ago.”
Ok. Weird. Sam was only 16 then. He didn’t leave for Stanford until he was 18. Why wouldn’t Dean have told him about it? Especially considering his severe case of hunter hero worship.
“That was your first, wasn’t it?” Dad asks. Slams the truck’s tailgate shut.
“What?” Dean yelps. Seriously what is up with him this morning?
“Your first demon? That succubus?” Dad’s still frowning but he looks like he’s trying not to laugh too.
“Oh… yeah probably. I don’t really remember. Hellblazer took care of most of it.” Dean shrugs and scrubs his hand through the back of his hair. He’s really uncomfortable. Which just means Sam really wants to know what went down on that hunt. He’s still blushing a bit too. Which, wow.
“Well I didn’t think it was your hunting he was impressed with anyway,” John actually does laugh this time. “Limey son of a bitch called you ‘the pretty one’ - to my frigging face.” He shakes his head as he makes his way to the driver’s door of his truck.
“Oh,” is all Dean says. “Right.” He is seriously blushing now. His ears are red. His cheeks are even flushed. Sam hasn’t seen him this embarrassed in years. It’s kind of hilarious.
John gives his son an appraising look. But seems to shrug it off.
Oh, shit. Sam gets it all of a sudden. And he has to admit it’s kind of disappointing. Of course people said Constantine was a bastard but not that kind of bastard. Slightly less hilarious now. Sam wonders how Dean would have reacted. Would he even know what to do with himself if a guy he respected came on to him? He's almost sure that Dad wouldn't be taking it so lightly if Dean had ever punched the Hellblazer or something. So there's that. But Dean has a rule that anyone calling him pretty had damn well better be even prettier. It sounded like his usual shtick but Sam knew there was more to it.
Dad, on the other hand, never had seemed to notice or understand when older guys called Dean pretty. Didn’t seem to get what it implied. Neither had Sam at the time. But Sam had been a kid.
There was that one guy, what was his name? Ken Johnson? Sam had just turned 11. So Dean must have been, what, 15 at most. And Dean really was pretty at that age. He was freaking gorgeous. Not that Sam had noticed. Nope. But those long lashes and girly features. Still blond before his hair darkened in his late teens. Freaking beautiful. Ken had certainly noticed and he would make all these comments. And Dean would get so uncomfortable. He hated that guy. “I swear to god, Sammy. If that son of a bitch lays a finger on me I’m going to shoot him.” Yeah, Sam remembers that clear as a bell. And remembers how angry he was at Dad once he figured it out.
Sam figured Dad just ignored the comments because the guy was useful. But maybe he really just didn’t get it? Was anyone that obtuse?
“Oi, Sammy!” Dean’s thumping the top of the car to get his attention. Dad’s already in the truck and starting it up. “You coming with us or what?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sam says. “Sorry.” Dean gets in the car and starts the engine.
Sam wonders if he should say something. But by the time he’s in the car Dean is smiling again. He's doing something with his phone. Actually seems pleased with himself about something. Anyway, talking about it might get too close to a serious conversation to which Dean thinks he’s allergic. So Sam lets it drop. For now.
“Hey, can you put a tape on for me?” Dean asks. Tosses the phone into the dash before backing out to follow Dad.
“Yeah sure, what do you want?” Sam says. Pulls the tape box out from under his seat. He resists asking when Dean started to willingly change over from Metallica before the tape ran out. Because they’d listened to Ride The Lightning three time on the way here and he was over it.
“Nazareth,” Dean says with a sly smile. Like he’s made some dirty joke. Which Sam doesn’t get but, whatever. Nazareth it is. Pretty soon Dean’s singing along to Ship of Dreams and drumming on the steering wheel. Sam’s just pleased he seems to have gotten over all the blushing.