![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Nothing Half So Pleasant
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chasingtides
Beta:smallcaps
Word Count: ~4, 500
Rating: PG
Summary: Dean Smith takes Sam Wesson home to meet his family. (Smith & Wesson)
Notes: For the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
spnwriterlounge Saturday Picture Post.
Dean sat on his molded white chair and stared down at his cell phone. Sam bit noisily into one of Dean’s organic, locally grown white pearmain heritage apples. He’d arranged them just so on the aluminum fruit bowl he’d bought at a co-op art fair last summer near the University of Chicago. He’d picked it out to match his dining set perfectly and the apples had been carefully arranged not only be balanced but be aesthetically pleasing. Dean wanted to say something about Sam ruining his centerpiece, but, he knew Sam would just bitch at him and tell him to get on with calling his dad so they could hit the road.
Feeling Sam’s eyes on him, Dean picked up the phone and hit speed dial.
“Dean. How you doing, boy? I hadn’t heard from you in a while, wondered how the job was going?”
Dean relaxed, hearing his father’s gruff voice. He and his dad might have had a difference in lifestyles, but it was always good to talk to him and even better to see him. After graduating from Stanford, though, there had been fewer and fewer opportunities to get out to rural South Dakota. “It was going pretty good, actually. Pretty good.”
“Was?”
“Yeah.” Dean coughed nervously. “Ikindaquitmyjobtolivewithmyboyfriend.”
“What?”
Dean winced a little at his father’s tone. “I kind of quit my job.”
“You quit? Just half way through and left people hanging?”
“No, no, no,” Dean told him, relaxing a little. It made sense that Bobby would be pissed about that. Both of his parents were all about an honest day’s labor and earning your keep. If they thought he was leaving people hanging, they would be furious. “I finished everything up, tied up all the loose ends. You know I wouldn’t do that.”
Bobby grunted in approval. “So, you’re just calling to check in?”
“Yeah, and -” Dean paused and swatted Sam’s hand as he reached for another of the white pearmain heritage apples. “Well, I was thinking about swinging around your place in the next week or so.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Ain’t you in Ohio?”
“Yeah, Dayton, but it won’t be that bad, just, what, two, maybe two and a half days,” Dean reassured him. “And, besides, I’d really like you to meet my boyfriend.”
Sam looked up from where he was fiddling with his pen when Dean mentioned him. He looked like he was steeled for absolute rejection from the Smith family.
“Your boyfriend?” Bobby asked disbelievingly. Dean felt a little offended by the blatant shock in Bobby’s voice. Sure, he hadn’t brought anyone home to meet the family in years, but he didn’t think it really warranted that kind of tone.
Dean smiled at Sam in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “Yeah, I met him, well, at work. He’s a great guy, Bobby; I’m sure you’ll love him.”
Bobby was silent for a long moment. “At work?”
“Yeah,” Dean told him. “He’s really good. I don’t know what they’ll do without him.” When he saw Sam’s pleased smile, Dean couldn’t bring himself to regret bragging about Sam to Bobby. His parents would probably grill Sam, same as they did to Jo’s boyfriends and just like they did to Dean’s dates when he still lived at home, but Dean was reasonably sure Sam would do fine. In fact, he thought as he watched Sam sketch out a classic muscle car on a receipt from the Whole Foods Market down the street, Sam might just get along with them more than Dean did.
“And you want to bring him around here?”
“It’ll be fine.” Dean remembered the look on the face of his roommate freshmen year when he realised that Dean’s dad ran a salvage yard and that his mom had a roadhouse in Nebraska. Sam didn’t know that about him. Sam knew Dean his boss, knew Dean’s apartment, his art, his food, his life now, but Dean couldn’t imagine Sam having the same problem with his family that other people had. He winked at Sam. “He can’t wait to meet you.”
“I’ll set up a spare room for him,” Bobby allowed. “You two driving up here?”
“We’re thinking about driving out to the coast, maybe stopping for some skiing in the Rockies. There’s that great place in Idaho; I told you about it, right? Damn, that was some beautiful powder.”
Bobby chuckled. “Chasing after snow bunnies?”
“Not when I’ve got Wesson. I don’t think he’d let me look at any women.” Dean looked over at Sam who scowled at him. “No, it doesn’t look like it. I can teach him how to ski, though.”
“Wesson, huh?”
“Weird coincidence, I know,” Dean agreed. He hesitated for a moment, but he knew he wanted Sam to meet his whole family, not just Bobby. “Can you see if Ellen can come by to meet him? And maybe Jo?”
“You want Jo to meet your new boyfriend?”
“He’s got to get the stamp of approval, right?” Dean said. “Anyway, I figure, if everyone’s there it can be a reunion. It’s been too long since I’ve seen everyone.”
“I’ll see what I can do, but I don’t know that I can get them here on such short notice,” Bobby told him, his voice a little odd.
“Just - if you can.” Dean closed his phone and breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t dated a guy, not seriously, since he was in college, but it was good to know that Bobby was still comfortable with it. Going to California at eighteen had been worlds away from growing up in a junk and salvage yard in South Dakota. He hadn’t gone back to that life, not for longer than a weekend, since he left for Stanford.
“You call your parents by their first names?” Sam asked, one eyebrow raised questioningly.
Dean shrugged and pulled some Resource Natural Spring Water in its environmentally friendly recycled plastic bottle out of his state-of-the-art stainless steal refrigerator. “Always have. Jo calls Ellen Mom, but she still calls Bobby Bobby.”
Sam reached around Dean and grabbed the bottle of water to take a sip. “Isn’t that a little… odd?”
Dean relaxed into Sam’s arms. It was strange, dating someone bigger than him, but Dean found that he liked it. Sam was bigger than him, rougher than him. It was very different from his usual taste - lean, delicate, and clean-cut - but Sam was comforting in a way his other partners never were. “When I was a kid, our grandparents lived with us, Ellen’s Mom and Dad. I just grew up calling them Mom and Dad.”
“And Jo only picked up on half of it?” Sam asked.
“Mom - my grandmother - died when I was five. Jo wasn’t born yet.” Dean twisted around and kissed Sam. He pulled back enough to enjoy the way Sam’s hair flopped messily around his eyes and how flushed and rosy his cheeks were. “Enough about that. You got your bags packed?”
“You know they’re packed,” Sam reminded him, kissing him again. “I think you triple checked to make sure I had enough clothes.”
“I just can’t believe that’s all you’ve got.” Dean ran his hands down Sam’s arms appreciatively. “We’ll have to fix that.”
“My very own sugar daddy, exactly what I always wanted,” Sam teased. “Besides, it’s not like you’ve got much more than me.”
Dean shook his head. “I told you, my stuff’s still being shipped from Cheyenne.”
“Whatever you say.” Sam pulled him closer, using Dean’s diamond patterned tie as leverage, and kissed him hungrily. “I think it’s time to celebrate our last night in your bed.”
*
Dean looked away from his reflection in the mirror and smiled when he saw Sam coming out of the bathroom, wearing only a towel. The hotel was simpler than anything Dean was used to, but they’d need to conserve money if they were going to travel around hunting ghosts. Dean still wasn’t entirely sure how they were going to manage it, but he trusted they would be able to manage it.
“You feeling okay?” Sam asked, pulling on his pants.
Dean put some more gel in his hair and combed it meticulously. Being on the road wasn’t any kind of excuse to be lax about his hygiene. “Yeah, I’m good. We should make it out to Bobby’s today.”
Sam brushed his fingers again Dean’s neck. “And I’ll finally get to meet the Smiths. You sure you don’t have a hangover?”
“I’m fine,” Dean reassured him as he rubbed a little bit of moisturizer into his hands. Traveling was hell on the skin. “You ready to go?”
Sam nodded and picked up both of their bags. “I’ve just never seen someone drink so many purple nurples before. Actually, scratch that, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone drink a purple nurple before. I don’t know how you conned me into it.”
“You need to live a little, Sammy,” Dean said, following him down the hall. While Sam waited in the lobby, Dean returned their room key and checked them out of the hotel. He pulled out the keys to his Prius and propped open the lobby door for Sam. “You sure you don’t want me to carry one of those bags? Or do you just need to prove your manliness?”
Sam tossed the bags in the backseat, making Dean wince, and plucked the keys from Dean’s hands. “I’d be a little more worried about your manliness.”
“Whatever.” Dean rolled his eyes and slid into the passenger seat. “We’re at least listening to NPR for the morning news before you put your techno crap on.”
“Isn’t there some kind of rule that whoever is driving picks the music?”
“Not when your music gives me a headache.”
*
“Singer Auto Salvage?” Sam asked with some surprise as Dean drove the hybrid under the sign and into the yard.
“Yeah, home sweet home,” Dean said, pulling up behind an old red pick-up truck. “Come on, they must be inside.”
Sam followed Dean hesitantly up the steps onto the porch. Dean knew that this probably wasn’t what Sam was expecting from Dean Smith, Director of Marketing and Sales. Dean never really advertised it and his clean, modern apartment was worlds away from this. He knocked on the front door, noting with a frown that Bobby was letting the paint peel, and called out, “Bobby! Hey, Bobby!”
There was scuffle from within the house and then Bobby opened the front door.
Dean grinned and grabbed Bobby in a one armed hug. He waved at Ellen and Jo who were standing behind him. “It’s good to see you.” He took a step back and grabbed Sam’s hand, pulling him forward. “I want you to meet Sam Wesson.”
Bobby exchanged a look with Ellen. “Sam… Wesson?”
Sam smiled at them awkwardly. “Hi.”
Bobby looked Dean up and down. “Why don’t you boys come inside now.”
Dean smiled at Sam and pulled him into the house, following his family down the hall to the kitchen. It was a bit messier than Dean remembered and there were books all over the place, but it was home. “See,” he said softly to Sam. “My family’s real.”
Sam just bumped shoulders with him and smiled.
Without asking if they wanted them, Bobby put two bottles of cold beer down on the kitchen table in front of Sam and Dean. Sam grabbed his and tossed his back, but Dean hesitated. “Oh, I would, but I’m on this -” he was cut short when Sam pointedly elbowed him in the gut. He winced a little and picked up his beer. “Thanks, Bobby.”
After taking a sip of beer, Dean introduced his family. “Sam, this is my mom, Ellen, and my dad, Bobby, and my little sister, Jo.”
There was a long moment of silence. Bobby and Ellen were exchanging looks like they were hoping to communicate some kind of hidden message. Dean didn’t think he’d ever seen his mother raise her eyebrows quite that emphatically before. Jo just blatantly stared at him, like he’d just done something horrifying. Before Dean could ask them what the hell was going on, though, Jo said, in a slow, even tone, “So, Sam Wesson?”
“I know, funny, huh? Smith and Wesson,” Sam told her nervously. Dean didn’t blame him. The way his family was staring at them was pretty unnerving.
“Smith and Wesson,” Ellen repeated slowly, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Yeah, like the guns,” Dean told her, surprised he didn’t get the reference.
Jo rolled her eyes from where she was perched on the kitchen counter by the sink. “We know the guns.”
After another long minute of silence where the Smiths watched them drink their beers, Bobby and Ellen took seats across the rickety kitchen table from Sam and Dean. Ellen looked Sam dead in the eye, like she was ready to challenge him to something, and said, “Sam, you want to tell us about yourself?”
Dean knew he was far gone for him when he thought that Sam’s deer-in-the-headlights look was adorable.
“Well, I actually grew up here in Sioux Falls,” Sam told her, his eyes flickering to Dean for support. “It was, uh, just us and Dad growing up, until I went out to California and Jake went overseas.”
“Jake?” Bobby asked.
“My brother, uh, half-brother. He served over in Afghanistan. Dad was damn proud of him for that.”
“Your dad?”
“Yeah, my dad.” Sam frowned and looked from Bobby to Ellen. “Is this twenty questions about my past? My dad was Asa Wesson and he was a janitor over at Sanford until he got shot, just for living in the wrong part of town. My brother is Jake Wesson and is MiA in Afghanistan. After I graduated from Colorado Tech, I hauled out of here. When San Francisco didn’t pan out, I ended up in Ohio. I didn’t exactly have high hopes, but I met Dean at work. I’m not a serial killer or anything like that. I honestly like your son. Is this going to be a problem?”
Dean drew his hand down over his face. “Overshare, Sammy, overshare.”
“Why don’t you boys unpack and we’ll get some dinner on,” Bobby suggested uneasily. “I set up your usual room.”
“Sure thing,” Dean told him, hauling Sam out of the kitchen. He didn’t bother to say anything when Sam pulled their bags from the backseat; he just silently led Sam upstairs to his old room. Dean winced a little when he saw it. Either his memories were wrong or Bobby had been redecorating - in morbid and abandoned - in the intervening years. The room was clean enough, but the walls were some kind of ghastly red-patterned wallpaper and the only furniture, other than the beds, were a white-painted bureau and a matching desk. They looked like they were attempting to be Early Americana or maybe even that trendy fifties-style kitsch and failing miserably.
“You grew up here?”
“Don’t knock it.” Dean kissed Sam as soon as he dropped the bags on one of the beds. “So what do you think of my family?”
“Honestly? I think they hate me.” Sam curled one hand around the nape of Dean’s neck. “Did you see the way they looked at me? I thought your sister was going to spit nails when she said my name.”
“They just need time to get used to you,” Dean reassured him. “Besides, you’re better than the last guy Jo brought home.” He kissed Sam again, enjoying the feeling of Sam’s lips and the taste of the Altoids Sam had been popping in the car. Dean enjoyed making out. It was a leisurely art and one that he wanted to teach Sam. Sam was usually all fierceness and teeth, nipping and biting and ready to jump right into sex. Dean liked forcing Sam to slow down and enjoy the simple pleasures. Besides, Dean thought as he pressed Sam against the wall by the desk, what was the fun in just jumping into sex and having all over too soon?
“Bobby says dinner’s - Oh! Oh!”
Dean peeled himself away from Sam to see his sister standing in the doorway, white as a sheet.
“I didn’t know you were - oh. I - oh.” Jo looked a little nauseated and a lot bothered.
“Oh, come on, Jo.” Dean frowned. “I told you I like men back after my sophomore year. You can’t possibly be bothered that I brought home a boyfriend.”
“You and Sam were…” Jo put a hand over her mouth and looked a little green. “I’m going to go downstairs. Bobby says the burgers are ready and you should get them while they’re hot.”
“I told you they hate me,” Sam said as they listened to Jo clatter down the stairs.
“I don’t understand. They can’t possibly hate you. They don’t even know you.”
“Whatever, man.” Sam turned to the bags on the bed. “Look, why don’t you head down. I’m just going to change my shirt and I’ll be there, okay? But if this keeps up, I say we just head out tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Dean agreed distractedly. “Sounds good.”
He went down the stairs much more quietly than Jo had. His family hadn’t had a problem with his short-lived romance with Richie back when he was an undergrad. He was still musing on their bizarre behavior - and wondering how to explain to Bobby that he really was detoxing and a greasy burger probably wasn’t the best idea - when he overheard a conversation in the kitchen.
“You sure about that, honey?” Ellen asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure, Mom! I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t just make something like that up! They were up there and they were groping each other and kissing and, god, Sam and Dean!” Jo exclaimed in a low, angry voice. “No wonder he wasn’t interested!”
“There’s something else wrong with them,” Bobby said. “You saw Dean’s car clear as I did. You heard that story Sam was telling, growing up in Sioux Falls, living in San Francisco. I wouldn’t be surprised if that brother of his is that boy who died in Wyoming.”
“The one who opened the gate?”
“His name was Jake,” Ellen said. “Me and Bobby were the ones that brought him to the morgue. It wasn’t pretty. But they drank the beer just fine.”
“I don’t know.” Bobby’s voice was gruff and worried. “I don’t know what’s going on with those boys, but I don’t like it.”
Dean frowned and adjusted his tie self-consciously. He hadn’t expected his family to be like this. They might have been religious, but they had always been accepting of him and Jo, even when Dean had pulled stupid college student antics or when Jo dropped out of school. This straight forward disrespect and hostility was perfectly clear, even if they were talking in riddles. Sam was right. If his family kept this up, it would just be better to keep on moving west. Sam needed to figure out if something had really happened to his ex-fiancee and, well, at least San Francisco would be better than this. He heard Sam’s heavy steps on the stairs behind him and the sudden silence in the kitchen, so Dean didn’t wait for Sam and just went ahead to face his family.
He grimaced a bit, seeing the grease on his plate, but perked up a bit when Sam grinned. Dean had been trying to get Sam to eat healthier, eat salads, maybe detox a little, but it did really look like it wasn’t going to work. Just as Sam was about to dig into his burger, though, Ellen stopped him.
“This is a praying house, Sam Wesson,” she scolded. “We’re going to pray before we eat.”
When Sam looked suitably chagrined, Bobby began to lead the prayer. “Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo.” Bobby paused for a long moment and then added, “Christo.”
“God bless you,” Dean told him, cutting into his hamburger delicately with his fork and knife.
The conversation over dinner was stilted. Dean’s family was clearly uncomfortable with them and Bobby’s prayers had obviously freaked out Sam. He kept eying Bobby and Ellen like he was ready for them to declare him a human sacrifice. Dean reminded himself to let Sam know that his parents were just pre-Vatican Two Catholics to the core and liked their Latin prayers, even if they were legally divorced. Eventually the table just lapsed into awkward silence as everyone slowly finished their meals. Dean didn’t know what had happened. It was like he remembered a totally different family.
By the time Sam and Dean retreated upstairs to Dean’s old bedroom, after a nearly unbearable conversation where Ellen suggested that maybe Sam would like to have his own room, Dean was ready to crawl out of his skin. He wanted to apologize to Sam, to say that his family wasn’t normally like that, that Bobby didn’t normally look at Dean like someone had just slapped him across the face, that Ellen didn’t normally demand to know all of the details of everyone’s lives, that Jo didn’t normally act like Dean totally disgusted her. He couldn’t find the words, though, and, instead, settled on holding Sam tight to him in his narrow, childhood bed.
*
“Hey, Ellen!” Dean smiled at her. Despite everything that had happened the previous day, Dean felt good. He and Sam would be on the road before lunch, but until then, he could do his best to be with his family. After all, the sun was shining, the day was young, and they were all going to have strawberry crepes and fresh coffee for breakfast.
“Dean? What are you doing?” Ellen asked blearily. “And why are you wearing a tie?”
“It never hurts to be dressed for success,” he informed her. “And I am making some rice milk crepes for everyone. It should help flush out the toxins from those burgers last night.”
“Bobby has rice milk?”
Dean deftly flipped the crepe in the pan. “No, I had to go out and buy some. Do you know, I had to go to three different grocery stores before I found one that carried milk made with brown rice? It has key nutrients you don’t get in other rice milks. I did manage to pick up some organic strawberries, though, and they look just delicious.”
Ellen just stared at him as though he were from another planet.
“Oh, and I made some coffee.” Dean motioned to Bobby’s decrepit old coffee maker that was probably older than he was. “I noticed that Bobby only had some canned stuff, so I had them grind us some Kona beans. I’m sure you’ll love the difference.”
Ellen hesitantly poured herself a cup of coffee, but declined when Dean offered her the rice milk. She watched from a kitchen chair as Dean finished making his crepes and went on to chop the strawberries and then dust them with a little xylitol. He smiled when he saw Sam, looking like he was ready for work in his dark pants and polo shirt, stumble into Bobby’s old kitchen, followed by Jo and Bobby.
He poured everyone a mug of coffee and heated some rice milk (with a just a dash of cinnamon) for the them as everyone else arranged themselves around the kitchen table. He presented everyone with their rice-based organic strawberry crepes and Kona café au lait.
Jo took one sip of her coffee and pulled a face. “What is this?”
“Don’t mind Dean,” Sam told her, digging into his crepes while wearing a little café au lait mustache. “He doesn’t understand that not everyone is a fan of rice milk.”
“It’s better for your system than dairy is,” Dean protested. “Just think of all that fat and cholesterol!”
Bobby stared at Dean, his mouth agape, but Sam just smiled at him. “When we get to San Francisco, I have to take you to the Alemany Farmer’s Market. I don’t think you’ll be able to resist it.”
“San Francisco?” Bobby asked.
Dean met Sam’s eyes across the table. “Yeah, we’re heading out right after breakfast, figure we can hit Rapid City by tonight. Maybe we can do a little sightseeing in the Bad Lands before we keep going.”
“You’re just going to leave?” Jo asked. “Just like that? Just show up and, oh, by the way, we’re screwing, and see you, we’re headed to San Francisco?”
Dean stood up, abandoning his breakfast. “Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but you have all made it clear that you have some kind of issue with Sam. I don’t know what it is and I don’t really care. Frankly, you’re all a little over the top about this whole thing.”
“We’re over the top?” Ellen stared Dean down, clearly equally pissed off. “You’re the one who showed up here in a Prius and a suit. I don’t think you even own suspenders.”
Sam took a last swig of coffee. “You know what? He doesn’t have to take this from you. He was so damn excited to have me meet you, especially after I told him about my family. And this is what you do? Screw that. I’m waiting in the car.”
Dean took a deep breathe as he heard Sam stomp out of the house, presumably with their bags. “He’s right, you know. I really expected more from you. You were fine with Richie, but I guess that was because you thought it was a phase, right? Or are you just upset that I quit my job? There are more important things in the world than marketing for Sandover, but I guess you don’t care about those things.” He sighed, trying to get a grip on his anger. Being upset would just ruin his blood pressure. “If you change your minds or have anything else to say, you have my number.”
Bobby and Ellen tried to stop Dean from leaving, but Dean pushed past them, too upset to really care. Sam already had the car running and NPR’s Morning Edition on the radio, so all Dean needed to do was slide into the passenger seat and wait for Sam to pull onto 90. Sooner or later, he would make Sam stop somewhere so they could get some decent food and Dean could take something for his impending migraine, but, for now, it was just Smith & Wesson on the road and that was enough.
Author:
chasingtidesBeta:
smallcapsWord Count: ~4, 500
Rating: PG
Summary: Dean Smith takes Sam Wesson home to meet his family. (Smith & Wesson)
Notes: For the
spnwriterlounge Saturday Picture Post.Dean sat on his molded white chair and stared down at his cell phone. Sam bit noisily into one of Dean’s organic, locally grown white pearmain heritage apples. He’d arranged them just so on the aluminum fruit bowl he’d bought at a co-op art fair last summer near the University of Chicago. He’d picked it out to match his dining set perfectly and the apples had been carefully arranged not only be balanced but be aesthetically pleasing. Dean wanted to say something about Sam ruining his centerpiece, but, he knew Sam would just bitch at him and tell him to get on with calling his dad so they could hit the road.
Feeling Sam’s eyes on him, Dean picked up the phone and hit speed dial.
“Dean. How you doing, boy? I hadn’t heard from you in a while, wondered how the job was going?”
Dean relaxed, hearing his father’s gruff voice. He and his dad might have had a difference in lifestyles, but it was always good to talk to him and even better to see him. After graduating from Stanford, though, there had been fewer and fewer opportunities to get out to rural South Dakota. “It was going pretty good, actually. Pretty good.”
“Was?”
“Yeah.” Dean coughed nervously. “Ikindaquitmyjobtolivewithmyboyfriend.”
“What?”
Dean winced a little at his father’s tone. “I kind of quit my job.”
“You quit? Just half way through and left people hanging?”
“No, no, no,” Dean told him, relaxing a little. It made sense that Bobby would be pissed about that. Both of his parents were all about an honest day’s labor and earning your keep. If they thought he was leaving people hanging, they would be furious. “I finished everything up, tied up all the loose ends. You know I wouldn’t do that.”
Bobby grunted in approval. “So, you’re just calling to check in?”
“Yeah, and -” Dean paused and swatted Sam’s hand as he reached for another of the white pearmain heritage apples. “Well, I was thinking about swinging around your place in the next week or so.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Ain’t you in Ohio?”
“Yeah, Dayton, but it won’t be that bad, just, what, two, maybe two and a half days,” Dean reassured him. “And, besides, I’d really like you to meet my boyfriend.”
Sam looked up from where he was fiddling with his pen when Dean mentioned him. He looked like he was steeled for absolute rejection from the Smith family.
“Your boyfriend?” Bobby asked disbelievingly. Dean felt a little offended by the blatant shock in Bobby’s voice. Sure, he hadn’t brought anyone home to meet the family in years, but he didn’t think it really warranted that kind of tone.
Dean smiled at Sam in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “Yeah, I met him, well, at work. He’s a great guy, Bobby; I’m sure you’ll love him.”
Bobby was silent for a long moment. “At work?”
“Yeah,” Dean told him. “He’s really good. I don’t know what they’ll do without him.” When he saw Sam’s pleased smile, Dean couldn’t bring himself to regret bragging about Sam to Bobby. His parents would probably grill Sam, same as they did to Jo’s boyfriends and just like they did to Dean’s dates when he still lived at home, but Dean was reasonably sure Sam would do fine. In fact, he thought as he watched Sam sketch out a classic muscle car on a receipt from the Whole Foods Market down the street, Sam might just get along with them more than Dean did.
“And you want to bring him around here?”
“It’ll be fine.” Dean remembered the look on the face of his roommate freshmen year when he realised that Dean’s dad ran a salvage yard and that his mom had a roadhouse in Nebraska. Sam didn’t know that about him. Sam knew Dean his boss, knew Dean’s apartment, his art, his food, his life now, but Dean couldn’t imagine Sam having the same problem with his family that other people had. He winked at Sam. “He can’t wait to meet you.”
“I’ll set up a spare room for him,” Bobby allowed. “You two driving up here?”
“We’re thinking about driving out to the coast, maybe stopping for some skiing in the Rockies. There’s that great place in Idaho; I told you about it, right? Damn, that was some beautiful powder.”
Bobby chuckled. “Chasing after snow bunnies?”
“Not when I’ve got Wesson. I don’t think he’d let me look at any women.” Dean looked over at Sam who scowled at him. “No, it doesn’t look like it. I can teach him how to ski, though.”
“Wesson, huh?”
“Weird coincidence, I know,” Dean agreed. He hesitated for a moment, but he knew he wanted Sam to meet his whole family, not just Bobby. “Can you see if Ellen can come by to meet him? And maybe Jo?”
“You want Jo to meet your new boyfriend?”
“He’s got to get the stamp of approval, right?” Dean said. “Anyway, I figure, if everyone’s there it can be a reunion. It’s been too long since I’ve seen everyone.”
“I’ll see what I can do, but I don’t know that I can get them here on such short notice,” Bobby told him, his voice a little odd.
“Just - if you can.” Dean closed his phone and breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t dated a guy, not seriously, since he was in college, but it was good to know that Bobby was still comfortable with it. Going to California at eighteen had been worlds away from growing up in a junk and salvage yard in South Dakota. He hadn’t gone back to that life, not for longer than a weekend, since he left for Stanford.
“You call your parents by their first names?” Sam asked, one eyebrow raised questioningly.
Dean shrugged and pulled some Resource Natural Spring Water in its environmentally friendly recycled plastic bottle out of his state-of-the-art stainless steal refrigerator. “Always have. Jo calls Ellen Mom, but she still calls Bobby Bobby.”
Sam reached around Dean and grabbed the bottle of water to take a sip. “Isn’t that a little… odd?”
Dean relaxed into Sam’s arms. It was strange, dating someone bigger than him, but Dean found that he liked it. Sam was bigger than him, rougher than him. It was very different from his usual taste - lean, delicate, and clean-cut - but Sam was comforting in a way his other partners never were. “When I was a kid, our grandparents lived with us, Ellen’s Mom and Dad. I just grew up calling them Mom and Dad.”
“And Jo only picked up on half of it?” Sam asked.
“Mom - my grandmother - died when I was five. Jo wasn’t born yet.” Dean twisted around and kissed Sam. He pulled back enough to enjoy the way Sam’s hair flopped messily around his eyes and how flushed and rosy his cheeks were. “Enough about that. You got your bags packed?”
“You know they’re packed,” Sam reminded him, kissing him again. “I think you triple checked to make sure I had enough clothes.”
“I just can’t believe that’s all you’ve got.” Dean ran his hands down Sam’s arms appreciatively. “We’ll have to fix that.”
“My very own sugar daddy, exactly what I always wanted,” Sam teased. “Besides, it’s not like you’ve got much more than me.”
Dean shook his head. “I told you, my stuff’s still being shipped from Cheyenne.”
“Whatever you say.” Sam pulled him closer, using Dean’s diamond patterned tie as leverage, and kissed him hungrily. “I think it’s time to celebrate our last night in your bed.”
*
Dean looked away from his reflection in the mirror and smiled when he saw Sam coming out of the bathroom, wearing only a towel. The hotel was simpler than anything Dean was used to, but they’d need to conserve money if they were going to travel around hunting ghosts. Dean still wasn’t entirely sure how they were going to manage it, but he trusted they would be able to manage it.
“You feeling okay?” Sam asked, pulling on his pants.
Dean put some more gel in his hair and combed it meticulously. Being on the road wasn’t any kind of excuse to be lax about his hygiene. “Yeah, I’m good. We should make it out to Bobby’s today.”
Sam brushed his fingers again Dean’s neck. “And I’ll finally get to meet the Smiths. You sure you don’t have a hangover?”
“I’m fine,” Dean reassured him as he rubbed a little bit of moisturizer into his hands. Traveling was hell on the skin. “You ready to go?”
Sam nodded and picked up both of their bags. “I’ve just never seen someone drink so many purple nurples before. Actually, scratch that, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone drink a purple nurple before. I don’t know how you conned me into it.”
“You need to live a little, Sammy,” Dean said, following him down the hall. While Sam waited in the lobby, Dean returned their room key and checked them out of the hotel. He pulled out the keys to his Prius and propped open the lobby door for Sam. “You sure you don’t want me to carry one of those bags? Or do you just need to prove your manliness?”
Sam tossed the bags in the backseat, making Dean wince, and plucked the keys from Dean’s hands. “I’d be a little more worried about your manliness.”
“Whatever.” Dean rolled his eyes and slid into the passenger seat. “We’re at least listening to NPR for the morning news before you put your techno crap on.”
“Isn’t there some kind of rule that whoever is driving picks the music?”
“Not when your music gives me a headache.”
*
“Singer Auto Salvage?” Sam asked with some surprise as Dean drove the hybrid under the sign and into the yard.
“Yeah, home sweet home,” Dean said, pulling up behind an old red pick-up truck. “Come on, they must be inside.”
Sam followed Dean hesitantly up the steps onto the porch. Dean knew that this probably wasn’t what Sam was expecting from Dean Smith, Director of Marketing and Sales. Dean never really advertised it and his clean, modern apartment was worlds away from this. He knocked on the front door, noting with a frown that Bobby was letting the paint peel, and called out, “Bobby! Hey, Bobby!”
There was scuffle from within the house and then Bobby opened the front door.
Dean grinned and grabbed Bobby in a one armed hug. He waved at Ellen and Jo who were standing behind him. “It’s good to see you.” He took a step back and grabbed Sam’s hand, pulling him forward. “I want you to meet Sam Wesson.”
Bobby exchanged a look with Ellen. “Sam… Wesson?”
Sam smiled at them awkwardly. “Hi.”
Bobby looked Dean up and down. “Why don’t you boys come inside now.”
Dean smiled at Sam and pulled him into the house, following his family down the hall to the kitchen. It was a bit messier than Dean remembered and there were books all over the place, but it was home. “See,” he said softly to Sam. “My family’s real.”
Sam just bumped shoulders with him and smiled.
Without asking if they wanted them, Bobby put two bottles of cold beer down on the kitchen table in front of Sam and Dean. Sam grabbed his and tossed his back, but Dean hesitated. “Oh, I would, but I’m on this -” he was cut short when Sam pointedly elbowed him in the gut. He winced a little and picked up his beer. “Thanks, Bobby.”
After taking a sip of beer, Dean introduced his family. “Sam, this is my mom, Ellen, and my dad, Bobby, and my little sister, Jo.”
There was a long moment of silence. Bobby and Ellen were exchanging looks like they were hoping to communicate some kind of hidden message. Dean didn’t think he’d ever seen his mother raise her eyebrows quite that emphatically before. Jo just blatantly stared at him, like he’d just done something horrifying. Before Dean could ask them what the hell was going on, though, Jo said, in a slow, even tone, “So, Sam Wesson?”
“I know, funny, huh? Smith and Wesson,” Sam told her nervously. Dean didn’t blame him. The way his family was staring at them was pretty unnerving.
“Smith and Wesson,” Ellen repeated slowly, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Yeah, like the guns,” Dean told her, surprised he didn’t get the reference.
Jo rolled her eyes from where she was perched on the kitchen counter by the sink. “We know the guns.”
After another long minute of silence where the Smiths watched them drink their beers, Bobby and Ellen took seats across the rickety kitchen table from Sam and Dean. Ellen looked Sam dead in the eye, like she was ready to challenge him to something, and said, “Sam, you want to tell us about yourself?”
Dean knew he was far gone for him when he thought that Sam’s deer-in-the-headlights look was adorable.
“Well, I actually grew up here in Sioux Falls,” Sam told her, his eyes flickering to Dean for support. “It was, uh, just us and Dad growing up, until I went out to California and Jake went overseas.”
“Jake?” Bobby asked.
“My brother, uh, half-brother. He served over in Afghanistan. Dad was damn proud of him for that.”
“Your dad?”
“Yeah, my dad.” Sam frowned and looked from Bobby to Ellen. “Is this twenty questions about my past? My dad was Asa Wesson and he was a janitor over at Sanford until he got shot, just for living in the wrong part of town. My brother is Jake Wesson and is MiA in Afghanistan. After I graduated from Colorado Tech, I hauled out of here. When San Francisco didn’t pan out, I ended up in Ohio. I didn’t exactly have high hopes, but I met Dean at work. I’m not a serial killer or anything like that. I honestly like your son. Is this going to be a problem?”
Dean drew his hand down over his face. “Overshare, Sammy, overshare.”
“Why don’t you boys unpack and we’ll get some dinner on,” Bobby suggested uneasily. “I set up your usual room.”
“Sure thing,” Dean told him, hauling Sam out of the kitchen. He didn’t bother to say anything when Sam pulled their bags from the backseat; he just silently led Sam upstairs to his old room. Dean winced a little when he saw it. Either his memories were wrong or Bobby had been redecorating - in morbid and abandoned - in the intervening years. The room was clean enough, but the walls were some kind of ghastly red-patterned wallpaper and the only furniture, other than the beds, were a white-painted bureau and a matching desk. They looked like they were attempting to be Early Americana or maybe even that trendy fifties-style kitsch and failing miserably.
“You grew up here?”
“Don’t knock it.” Dean kissed Sam as soon as he dropped the bags on one of the beds. “So what do you think of my family?”
“Honestly? I think they hate me.” Sam curled one hand around the nape of Dean’s neck. “Did you see the way they looked at me? I thought your sister was going to spit nails when she said my name.”
“They just need time to get used to you,” Dean reassured him. “Besides, you’re better than the last guy Jo brought home.” He kissed Sam again, enjoying the feeling of Sam’s lips and the taste of the Altoids Sam had been popping in the car. Dean enjoyed making out. It was a leisurely art and one that he wanted to teach Sam. Sam was usually all fierceness and teeth, nipping and biting and ready to jump right into sex. Dean liked forcing Sam to slow down and enjoy the simple pleasures. Besides, Dean thought as he pressed Sam against the wall by the desk, what was the fun in just jumping into sex and having all over too soon?
“Bobby says dinner’s - Oh! Oh!”
Dean peeled himself away from Sam to see his sister standing in the doorway, white as a sheet.
“I didn’t know you were - oh. I - oh.” Jo looked a little nauseated and a lot bothered.
“Oh, come on, Jo.” Dean frowned. “I told you I like men back after my sophomore year. You can’t possibly be bothered that I brought home a boyfriend.”
“You and Sam were…” Jo put a hand over her mouth and looked a little green. “I’m going to go downstairs. Bobby says the burgers are ready and you should get them while they’re hot.”
“I told you they hate me,” Sam said as they listened to Jo clatter down the stairs.
“I don’t understand. They can’t possibly hate you. They don’t even know you.”
“Whatever, man.” Sam turned to the bags on the bed. “Look, why don’t you head down. I’m just going to change my shirt and I’ll be there, okay? But if this keeps up, I say we just head out tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Dean agreed distractedly. “Sounds good.”
He went down the stairs much more quietly than Jo had. His family hadn’t had a problem with his short-lived romance with Richie back when he was an undergrad. He was still musing on their bizarre behavior - and wondering how to explain to Bobby that he really was detoxing and a greasy burger probably wasn’t the best idea - when he overheard a conversation in the kitchen.
“You sure about that, honey?” Ellen asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure, Mom! I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t just make something like that up! They were up there and they were groping each other and kissing and, god, Sam and Dean!” Jo exclaimed in a low, angry voice. “No wonder he wasn’t interested!”
“There’s something else wrong with them,” Bobby said. “You saw Dean’s car clear as I did. You heard that story Sam was telling, growing up in Sioux Falls, living in San Francisco. I wouldn’t be surprised if that brother of his is that boy who died in Wyoming.”
“The one who opened the gate?”
“His name was Jake,” Ellen said. “Me and Bobby were the ones that brought him to the morgue. It wasn’t pretty. But they drank the beer just fine.”
“I don’t know.” Bobby’s voice was gruff and worried. “I don’t know what’s going on with those boys, but I don’t like it.”
Dean frowned and adjusted his tie self-consciously. He hadn’t expected his family to be like this. They might have been religious, but they had always been accepting of him and Jo, even when Dean had pulled stupid college student antics or when Jo dropped out of school. This straight forward disrespect and hostility was perfectly clear, even if they were talking in riddles. Sam was right. If his family kept this up, it would just be better to keep on moving west. Sam needed to figure out if something had really happened to his ex-fiancee and, well, at least San Francisco would be better than this. He heard Sam’s heavy steps on the stairs behind him and the sudden silence in the kitchen, so Dean didn’t wait for Sam and just went ahead to face his family.
He grimaced a bit, seeing the grease on his plate, but perked up a bit when Sam grinned. Dean had been trying to get Sam to eat healthier, eat salads, maybe detox a little, but it did really look like it wasn’t going to work. Just as Sam was about to dig into his burger, though, Ellen stopped him.
“This is a praying house, Sam Wesson,” she scolded. “We’re going to pray before we eat.”
When Sam looked suitably chagrined, Bobby began to lead the prayer. “Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo.” Bobby paused for a long moment and then added, “Christo.”
“God bless you,” Dean told him, cutting into his hamburger delicately with his fork and knife.
The conversation over dinner was stilted. Dean’s family was clearly uncomfortable with them and Bobby’s prayers had obviously freaked out Sam. He kept eying Bobby and Ellen like he was ready for them to declare him a human sacrifice. Dean reminded himself to let Sam know that his parents were just pre-Vatican Two Catholics to the core and liked their Latin prayers, even if they were legally divorced. Eventually the table just lapsed into awkward silence as everyone slowly finished their meals. Dean didn’t know what had happened. It was like he remembered a totally different family.
By the time Sam and Dean retreated upstairs to Dean’s old bedroom, after a nearly unbearable conversation where Ellen suggested that maybe Sam would like to have his own room, Dean was ready to crawl out of his skin. He wanted to apologize to Sam, to say that his family wasn’t normally like that, that Bobby didn’t normally look at Dean like someone had just slapped him across the face, that Ellen didn’t normally demand to know all of the details of everyone’s lives, that Jo didn’t normally act like Dean totally disgusted her. He couldn’t find the words, though, and, instead, settled on holding Sam tight to him in his narrow, childhood bed.
*
“Hey, Ellen!” Dean smiled at her. Despite everything that had happened the previous day, Dean felt good. He and Sam would be on the road before lunch, but until then, he could do his best to be with his family. After all, the sun was shining, the day was young, and they were all going to have strawberry crepes and fresh coffee for breakfast.
“Dean? What are you doing?” Ellen asked blearily. “And why are you wearing a tie?”
“It never hurts to be dressed for success,” he informed her. “And I am making some rice milk crepes for everyone. It should help flush out the toxins from those burgers last night.”
“Bobby has rice milk?”
Dean deftly flipped the crepe in the pan. “No, I had to go out and buy some. Do you know, I had to go to three different grocery stores before I found one that carried milk made with brown rice? It has key nutrients you don’t get in other rice milks. I did manage to pick up some organic strawberries, though, and they look just delicious.”
Ellen just stared at him as though he were from another planet.
“Oh, and I made some coffee.” Dean motioned to Bobby’s decrepit old coffee maker that was probably older than he was. “I noticed that Bobby only had some canned stuff, so I had them grind us some Kona beans. I’m sure you’ll love the difference.”
Ellen hesitantly poured herself a cup of coffee, but declined when Dean offered her the rice milk. She watched from a kitchen chair as Dean finished making his crepes and went on to chop the strawberries and then dust them with a little xylitol. He smiled when he saw Sam, looking like he was ready for work in his dark pants and polo shirt, stumble into Bobby’s old kitchen, followed by Jo and Bobby.
He poured everyone a mug of coffee and heated some rice milk (with a just a dash of cinnamon) for the them as everyone else arranged themselves around the kitchen table. He presented everyone with their rice-based organic strawberry crepes and Kona café au lait.
Jo took one sip of her coffee and pulled a face. “What is this?”
“Don’t mind Dean,” Sam told her, digging into his crepes while wearing a little café au lait mustache. “He doesn’t understand that not everyone is a fan of rice milk.”
“It’s better for your system than dairy is,” Dean protested. “Just think of all that fat and cholesterol!”
Bobby stared at Dean, his mouth agape, but Sam just smiled at him. “When we get to San Francisco, I have to take you to the Alemany Farmer’s Market. I don’t think you’ll be able to resist it.”
“San Francisco?” Bobby asked.
Dean met Sam’s eyes across the table. “Yeah, we’re heading out right after breakfast, figure we can hit Rapid City by tonight. Maybe we can do a little sightseeing in the Bad Lands before we keep going.”
“You’re just going to leave?” Jo asked. “Just like that? Just show up and, oh, by the way, we’re screwing, and see you, we’re headed to San Francisco?”
Dean stood up, abandoning his breakfast. “Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but you have all made it clear that you have some kind of issue with Sam. I don’t know what it is and I don’t really care. Frankly, you’re all a little over the top about this whole thing.”
“We’re over the top?” Ellen stared Dean down, clearly equally pissed off. “You’re the one who showed up here in a Prius and a suit. I don’t think you even own suspenders.”
Sam took a last swig of coffee. “You know what? He doesn’t have to take this from you. He was so damn excited to have me meet you, especially after I told him about my family. And this is what you do? Screw that. I’m waiting in the car.”
Dean took a deep breathe as he heard Sam stomp out of the house, presumably with their bags. “He’s right, you know. I really expected more from you. You were fine with Richie, but I guess that was because you thought it was a phase, right? Or are you just upset that I quit my job? There are more important things in the world than marketing for Sandover, but I guess you don’t care about those things.” He sighed, trying to get a grip on his anger. Being upset would just ruin his blood pressure. “If you change your minds or have anything else to say, you have my number.”
Bobby and Ellen tried to stop Dean from leaving, but Dean pushed past them, too upset to really care. Sam already had the car running and NPR’s Morning Edition on the radio, so all Dean needed to do was slide into the passenger seat and wait for Sam to pull onto 90. Sooner or later, he would make Sam stop somewhere so they could get some decent food and Dean could take something for his impending migraine, but, for now, it was just Smith & Wesson on the road and that was enough.
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I really hope there'll be more of this, because the story doesn't seem to be finished ;)