tryptophilic

[whitereflection]

http://www.someecards.com/2010/11/25/thanksgiving-seating-chart
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-z27FKwupds
Happy Thanksgiving, or Happy Thursday, take your pick. :) ♥

Can't remember the last time we didn't go over to our friends' place for Thanksgiving (like since '94?), but they've both got work, so we'll go there Sunday evening instead. Not leaving the house at all--just gonna be Mom, the husband, and I doing a small thing here. Doing a really easy dinner--Mom will do a split turkey breast and drumsticks for us and tofurkey for her this afternoon, and I'll be heating up all the (premade) sides. Lazy sort of holiday, but it's cool, I don't mind it. Gonna WoW some, cook, maybe watch Army of Darkness to revisit an old Thanksgiving tradition. And maybe a nap, too. :p

Anyway, still wrote something, even if it's blah because I was half-paying attention to the Macy's parade on TV earlier. :|



Day 25 11/25/10 10:15-12:47

very mild Sam/Dean


Dean woke to a note on the other pillow, a single sheet of notepad paper that said Gone for breakfast, back soon. But on the other side was more of Sam's scrawl, three short sentences: I'm thankful that you're here. I'm thankful that I'm here. I'm thankful that I can feel thankful.

Laying back on the bed, he contemplated the ceiling for long minutes, thinking. Finally, he shoved back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed, knowing what he needed to do.

*

After everything had been fixed, Dean and Sam had fallen into the routine of life as usual. Things were fine, there'd been talking and feelings and shit, and yeah, a real hug finally--but even though they were back on the road, back to the hunt, and had left shit like lies and mistrust behind them (finally), there was still a...distance between them. They were still Sam and Dean, but they weren't Sam'n'Dean. Not like they used to be.

Dean knew it was because of him. He still kept Sam at arm's length in a lot of ways, in the most important ways. He loved his brother, sure, was more grateful than he could put into words to have Sam back again, and they made a great hunting team, like they always used to.

But Dean never really let Sam all the way back in, never let him get truly close again.

He knew Sam wanted more. He knew Sam wanted what they used to have, back before souls and hell, before angels and demons and end of the world bullshit, before deals and dying and losing everything. But Sam seemed to settle for what Dean was willing to give him, appeared to content himself with that and respect that bit of distance Dean left between them.

But he noticed those times when Sam didn't think his brother could see, when he let wishing and wanting and show in his gaze.

Dean did feel the same wishing and wanting stir behind his ribs, in his gut. He just couldn't reach out to Sam, just couldn't say I want you back. Couldn't say I love you, I need you. Couldn't say yes.

*

Eventually Sam got back from his breakfast run, and they headed back out on the road. They got as far as Des Moines before Dean finally called a halt for the day. Sam arched a questioning eyebrow when he did; it was still only afternoon.

"I'm takin' you out to dinner," Dean said with his best Duh, isn't it obvious? tone of voice. "And dress pretty. Don't want people to think I'm a cheap date." He smirked at the faintly poleaxed expression on Sam's face.



It wasn't the sort of place they normally frequented, wasn't the sort of place where Dean felt comfortable. But it was open on Thanksgiving and had allowed online reservations when he'd found their website on the laptop that morning. And it implied special, from the wine instead of beer to the dress code that required their FBI suits.

And yeah, Dean wanted special. Even if it meant having to half-swat at Sam with the wine list when his brother visibly flinched and started to say something when he saw the prices.



He had steak--more than that, he had a Porterhouse, which left Dean nearly as orgasmic as that chick in the one scene of When Harry Met Sally (yeah, he'd watched that. So what. Sometimes you just had to put up with whatever cheap motel cable offered.). Sam had a meal that, despite a name full of frilly French words, was just turkey and the trimmings. They'd split a bottle of wine that had Sam nostalgic in a good way about a Christmas dinner with his friends when he'd been back at Stanford, and were currently working their way through a second.

Conversation had been pretty mellow and relaxed, and Dean waited until they were lingering over dessert to bring it up.

"Me, too," he said. "Your note this morning." He thought of the slip of paper, now folded and tucked away in his wallet. "I just wanted to say, me, too."

Sam's eyes softened. "Dean--" He broke off, starting as Dean laid one hand over his.

"I. I also...," Dean looked away, then made himself meet Sam's gaze head-on. He tightened his grasp on his brother's hand, trying to communicate by touch what was so difficult to put into words. "If you still want-- I mean, if you want...us--"

"Always." Sam's answer was immediate, emphatic. "I never stopped. Not even..." He shifted his hand below Dean's until their fingers intertwined. "Of course," he said. "Yes."

Something in Dean warmed and settled at the earnest, hopeful expression on Sam's face (an expression that was real, and always would be).

"Me, too," Dean said again, "to all of that." And he let Sam back in.


(818)

***

Comments

[akintay.livejournal.com]

Awwww &hearts Boys on a date, and Dean being all adorable in his own way. Lovely &hearts

Happy Thanksgiving, hon!