Trelawny - Ch 3 of 10 (Sam/Dean NC-17)

[smalltrolven]

They awaken to the beeping of the phone alarm, once again completely wrapped up together.  This time since they’re both awake at the same time, there’s no hiding it or pretending.  Dean just squeezes Sam tightly everywhere he’s touching him briefly, smiles and then rolls away off the bed. Getting up quickly and stretching his arms out wide.  “Now that was a good nap.”

“Yeah, I think I needed that.” Sam agrees, smiling at him as he stretches in the bed lazily like the world’s biggest housecat.

“So it’s almost dinner time, did you spot a place today in town that you want to check out?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, it’s pretty near that deli we went to today.  Wanna walk it?”

“Sure, seems like a nice night.  Like Celeste said, we’re still early for snow.”

They wash up and walk the few short blocks over, bumping elbows companionably, talking about everything and nothing.  “Maybe we’ll see your girlfriend.” Dean teases as they near the bakery.

“Shut up Dean, as my husband I don’t think you should be teasing me about that.” Sam says primly, holding it in for about five seconds before he busts up laughing at Dean’s surprised face.  Dean joins him with a loud chuckle, because he can’t help it, being around a giggling Sam is about the best thing he’s got in his life right now.  Might as well enjoy it.

“You don’t mind having Indian right?” Sam asks after they’re both done laughing.

“Naw, long as there’s some meat in it, I’m good.  You can get one of those vegetable curries you like though.”

Sam smiles because Dean remembers, and isn’t teasing him about it for once.  Once they’re in the restaurant, he gets Dean to try some of the vegetable samosas, promising they’re close to French fries.

“Hey these things aren’t half bad.  I like this dip stuff too.”

“I won’t tell you what it’s made out of then.” Sam says, grinning at his brother admitting he actually likes something that’s good for him.

“What?  I can tell it’s made outta some green stuff.  It tastes good, I don’t care.” Dean protests.

“Mint, spinach and yogurt.”

“Huh, go figure.” Dean dips another samosa in the bowl scooping up the rest of the yogurt dip, “Thanks for making me try it Sammy.”

Again, Sam can’t help his reaction to the nick name.  It’s like he’s been starved for it, the easy affection and familiarity that it represents.  “Uh . . . You’re welcome, glad you’re feeling adventurous today.”

“Hey we met a woman that had an affair with a fairy this afternoon, this is small potatoes compared to that.” Dean answers through his final mouthful of samosas.

“True, I wonder if we should bring an offering of some to-go food from here for Mohit, might be a good idea for tonight.” Sam muses.

“Couldn’t hurt, likely an Indian would like Indian food.” Dean says, wondering if Sam will take the PC bait or not.

“Dean, you know better, c’mon, not Indians, Native Americans.” Sam admonishes with a frown.

Dean grins because Sam fell for it yet again, “Whatever, well if he doesn’t want it, we can have it for a midnight snack.”

“Trust you to think of your stomach first Dean.”

“That’s not what I think of first Sammy.” Dean drops this truth bomb without thinking it through, his eyes flash up to meet Sam’s.

“Yeah I know.”  Sam salutes him with his half full glass of Kingfisher beer and a smile that tells Dean that he really does know what Dean thinks about first.

“So do we know much about these Native American elves?” Dean asks with an absurd emphasis on Native American.

“Not much, I found a few Cherokee legends about them, mostly how they danced with people, or appeared when they needed help, seem mostly positive, but there is the element of taking people to other realms which could be seen as a negative.”

“And that’s kind of what’s happening at the house right?” Dean asks, draining the rest of his beer.

“I guess, but maybe there’s some interaction between the spell Meredith’s father cast and the curse that Mohit put on the house.  That’s going to be the tricky part to figure out.  I’ve got some of the Men of Letters works on the Fae to check out before we go tonight.  I should have done that instead of taking a nap.”

“Well you obviously needed it.  Better to be well rested for tonight.”

“I know, I just like to study up before we go into a situation.”

“I get it Sammy, but it’s just as important that you’re at 100% backing me up.”

“Not like back when I was doing the trials the second time to close the Hell Gate huh?”

“Don’t remind me, that sucked balls.”

“Yeah no kidding.  I’m glad it wasn’t that hard on you for the Heaven gate. Especially when I hadn’t really recovered yet.”

“It all worked out, maybe not as we’d planned, but we got the job done.”  Dean salutes him with his mostly empty beer glass.  Sam clinks his glass and smiles.

“Damn right we did.” Sam agrees.

“I kinda like how boring it is now.” Dean observes, thinking about how hard it was when there were demons and monster and angels to contend with.

“Just ghosts and fairies left.  Pretty manageable yeah.”

“Never thought I’d like being bored.” Dean says, his face open and expressive with a mix of wonder, sadness and concern.

“Have you ever gotten the chance to be?” Sam asks.

“Naw, I guess not.  There was always something big hanging over our heads besides the job, and now that’s not there either.  It’s good though.  It’s all good.” Dean says reassuringly.

“Yeah, it was worth it. Not many people get to look back on their lives and say that, we’re pretty lucky that way.” Sam says, knowing it’s probably stating the obvious, but it needs to be said out loud at least once.

“There were a lot of times I sure as hell didn’t feel so lucky, but yeah, you’re right. Good job on us.  Not that anyone will ever know it, but we sure kicked some ass.” Dean agrees.

After a while where they don’t say anything, but just look at each other over the table, getting a little lost in each other’s eyes as their minds roam over their recent traumatic history.  Sam finally shakes his head as if to clear it and asks, “You want any dessert?”

“I don’t know, what’s dessert at an Indian place involve?”

“Well, usually fruit and yogurt, but I noticed a sign as we came in that said they had fresh berry pies from the bakery.” Sam says, hoping that Dean will like the idea.

“God I love how observant you are.”

“So you want to get one to go? You can eat some of it while I’m reading the Fae stuff before we head out to the house.”

“Sure, sounds good.  We can bring the left overs as our offering, how about that?”

Later that night, after Dean’s scarfed most of the pie and Sam’s read most of the Men of Letter’s relevant works on the Fae, they drive out to Trelawny under the sliver of new moon.  The cool late August air coming in the windows ruffles Sam’s hair and Dean feels this rush of nostalgic longing that he can’t ignore, and reaches over to smooth it down for him.  “Gotta get you a scrunchie or something dude.”

“Sure, as long as it’s leather.” Sam laughs.

“You’re on Buttercup, I’m gonna find you a leather one with Samantha tooled on it. How about that?”

“I’ll wear it proudly and tell everyone my husband bought it for me.” Sam retorts, barely stifling a giggle.

“That joke’s gonna wear itself out pretty soon.” Dean warns with one raised eyebrow.

“Strangely, I’m okay with that, but until then . . .”

“Whatever, let’s just get this done tonight okay?  So can you see the place this time?” Dean asks as they pull up near the giant tulip tree in the driveway.

“Wow, yeah, I sure can.  Whatever Meredith did when she touched me sure worked.” Sam says, sounding a little awed by the concrete appearance of the enormous house this time.

“What’d she say, go around the house nine times clockwise?” Dean asks.

“No she said widdershins, which is counter clockwise. It’s like what you do with a faerie ring, so you can see or hear them.”

“I’m so glad I brought my walking encyclopedia of weirdness.” Dean says, knowing how much it bugs Sam to be called that, but hoping that he realizes how much he appreciates Sam’s command of all the gory details of the things they deal with.

“Start walking buddy.” Sam says as he shoves Dean in the middle of the back as they start walking. “Hey it wasn’t me that serviced Oberon King of the Fairies.  I think you’d know way better than me Dean.”

“Thanks for that, really Sam, like I needed that reminder.” Dean says, shuddering a little at the vague recollection of something he’s glad he only has very sketchy memories of.

“I only touched that leprechaun dude a little when we were fighting so I don’t think I got the Faerie vision as much as you did. And that’s why I couldn’t see it as well as you at first.  But now that Meredith touched me, I can see you were absolutely right, it looks like a really beautiful old place.”

“Yeah it looks like the fairy curse or whatever kept it up in nice shape, almost like the weather couldn’t reach it.” Dean agrees.

They walk around the house the required nine times, enjoying the night air, the scent of the summer gardens while being on high-alert for anything coming at them.  Finally they’ve gone around enough revolutions and are ready to walk through the front door.  Dean puts on gloves and opens the front door carefully.  They both walk in and look around for a lit-up path.  But there’s nothing.  Either it’s been too long and the finding pathway spell has worn off, or maybe the moon is too much past being new.

They check out the house anyways since they’re there.  They both marvel at all the rooms, the huge kitchen, dining room and living room on the first floor, the many bedrooms on the second floor and the huge suite up on the third floor.  It’s got an enormous bathroom en suite, a separate sitting room with a bay window and a huge king-size bed under even more windows.  The master suite takes up the entire third floor.

“Wow this is kind of a perfect set of rooms.”  Sam says with wonder.

“Yeah, wouldn’t mind living in here at all.” Dean agrees.

“So back to see Meredith tomorrow?” Sam says, walking back through the doorway to head down the back stairs to the kitchen.

Dean follows him closely, “Yep, don’t think we’re finding anything here tonight.  I’m just going to leave the pie here on the kitchen table just in case this Mohit character is still around.”

!@~!@~!@

Their night is about the same as the one before, an unspoken awkwardness as they get into bed, a long time to fall asleep for both of them and then the morning comes much too soon after sleeping in each other’s arms.

Sam wakes up first this time and is not at all surprised to feel Dean’s hair tickling his lips, he’s got his face buried in the top of Dean’s head, and Dean all snuggled into him like nothing’s changed.  Sam runs his hand up and down Dean’s back under his t-shirt, feeling instantly guilty for taking this without permission, but it’s been so long since he’s gotten to touch Dean like this.  That bone-deep craving for his brother’s skin has never ever gone away.  Like always Dean’s response is to undulate his hips against whatever friction he can find until he becomes more fully awake.

Dean’s hips freeze, he’d put off waking up for as long as he could, knowing it was Sam holding him, and maybe this was unwanted contact.  But Sam was stroking his back in that way that was always the precursor to morning sex and he’s conditioned okay, it’s not his fault.  Finally he brings himself under enough control to stop and opens up one eye, gritting out a “Good morning. Sorry ‘bout that, old habits.”

“No problem, ‘s my fault I was touchin’ you.  Old habits like you said. How ‘bout you take the bathroom first.” Sam offers, feeling badly that he got Dean so wound up like that and seeing that Dean’s now got a morning wood problem that isn’t going to quit on its own.

“Why’re you so sweet to me anyways Sammy?” Dean says throwing a pillow at Sam’s head, hard.

“Don’t really know Dean, just don’t take too long okay?” Sam laughs throwing the pillow at Dean’s retreating back.

“Fine princess, three minute special coming up.”

“God you’re gross.” Sam complains.

“You love me anyways.”  Dean laughs closing the door.

Sam just stares at the closed door for a while and then says quietly, “Yeah I do, I really do.”  He wills his own morning erection to just go away and leave him alone, conjuring up the top ten grossest body finds he’s ever had to suffer through, there’s a lot to choose from, and eventually it works.

Their breakfast downstairs that Celeste serves them is a perfect egg, bacon and cheese casserole thing with potatoes on the bottom that has Dean raving all the way on their drive back out to the rest home, “We gotta get that recipe Sammy.”

“Yeah, I’ll ask Celeste.  Then I’ll keep it with my zucchini bread recipe.”

“Don’t be a bitch about it.” Dean says.

“I won’t if you’re not a jerk about it.  Recipes are neighborly and also they’re like a bit of hope.  That we’ll have a place to cook them at some point.  How about that?” Sam says in that voice that says he’s not going to put up with any more of Dean’s foolishness.

“Yeah okay.” Dean mumbles, knowing when Sam’s got him beat.

“That a yeah okay just to shut me up, or do you really get it Dean?” Sam pushes, because this is kind of a crucial point.

“I get it, I get it, damn you’re pushy this morning.” Dean says, sounding more amused than irritated, but reaching over and turning up the radio anyways.  They don’t talk the rest of the way to the rest home, just listen to the music flowing out of the speakers and watch the woods fly by out the windows. It’s a good silence anyways, one where they feel like they’re still communicating even though no one’s lips are moving.

“Hi Cathy, we’re here to see Ms. Trelawny.  Sam and Dean Winchester.” Sam says to the receptionist.

“Oh hi guys, of course, I remember you from yesterday.  Let me just get Mrs. Callahan okay?”

They hear the bell curtain ringing sound again at the mention of her name, like they’ve gone through a doorway, but it isn’t as intense of an effect this time, and she comes in sooner anyways to break them out of it, “Good morning gentlemen, Ms. Trelawny warned me that you would return today.”

“And here we are.  She in a visiting mood today?” Dean asks shaking her hand gently.  What is it about old people’s hands, they have so much texture and he always feels like he’s going to crush them in his grip no matter how gentle he is.

“Do not worry yourself dear. You are not holding my hand at all too tightly.” Mrs. Callahan reassures him, blue eyes twinkling up at him and turning to shake Sam’s hand briskly.  “Yes, she is up and raring to go this morning, you have lucked into two consecutive days.  It is unusual for her to be so alert.  I believe it has something to do with having waited for you for so long now.  So do be sure to make good use of the time.”  She pushes open the door to room 118 and announces them “Meredith dear, your gentlemen callers have indeed returned.”

“Good morning boys, please sit.” Meredith’s voice sounds stronger today than it did yesterday, as if finally getting to meet Sam and Dean has helped her after all the years of waiting.

Meredith is seated in her wheelchair this time, and she’s near the window again. She pulls first Dean and then Sam down slightly so she can brush a papery thin kiss to their cheeks.  They sit down on the small sofa and look over at her expectantly.

“So, I see that it didn’t work.  I am very sorry for the delay boys, but it was worth a try.  Mrs. Callahan reminded me that there’s another way into the house, I had completely forgotten about the key.  Maggie dear do you have it?” She asks over her shoulder.  Mrs. Callahan re-enters the room holding a large ornate brass key with a burgundy tassel hanging off the end.

“Believe it or not, this is the key to the front door.  It makes the magic protecting the house relax in a way, it will let you in easier, and perhaps you’ll be able to see the path to my book.” Meredith says as Mrs. Callahan gives the key to Dean.

“Any special way we need to go in?” Sam asks.

“No dear, just turn the key like you would any other.  And you can go during the day if you like. If the pathway lights up, you should be able to see it, even in the daylight.”

“Alright then, thanks Meredith.”  Dean says, standing up and going over to talk with Mrs. Callahan.

“Meredith can I ask you something?” Sam asks quietly, a little hesitant that he doesn’t know her well enough to ask something like he wants to.

Meredith leans in a little closer to Sam, “Of course you may Sam, I am an open book.”

“Did you ever, well, were you ever able to find someone else to love?”

“No dear, I never did. I tried, lord knows I tried, but Mohit was special.  Not just because he was a faery, I think he was what you would call my soul mate.  There are a lot of things I would go back and change in my life, but loving him is not one of them, no matter what the result was.”

“Thanks, I’m sorry for asking something so intrusive.  I guess I was just too curious to let it go.”

She looks at Sam closely, piercing green eyes seeming to see him so completely, “I understand why you have asked this question Sam, you personally have experienced something similar to the situation I was in, did you not?”

“Yes, more than you can imagine.  He isn’t a faery, but he’s definitely my soul mate.  Still is.” Sam’s eyes flick over to Dean.

Meredith looks over at Dean talking to Mrs. Callahan and then back to Sam, “If he is indeed your soul mate as I was told he is, then I believe that what you have together is always something that can be fixed.  You do know that right dear?”

Sam’s eyes go wide at another person confirming that he and Dean are soul mates, “Yeah, I’m working up to it.”

“Life is so short Sam, do not bother to waste it on hesitation.  If he is your soul mate, then you should be together.  There is no other way to have a full life, believe me I do know, for I have tried.”

“Okay Meredith, I will, I promise.” Sam nods, his eyes now full of honest hope.

“Good, I can see you two being very happy together for a long time to come.” Meredith says as Sam kisses her cheek softly in goodbye.

“Me too, that’s the plan.” Sam admits, with a lump in his throat at how much he really wants that.

“Well go to it then young sir.  And good luck at the house, I do hope the key works for you.”

As they walk out, Dean hands Sam a silver medallion on a chain, “Here, Mrs. Callahan said we’d need these if we go into the house.”

Sam looks at it closely and sees a complicated design on one side and what looks like Faerie writing on the other.  “Hope it works. I have no idea what it says.”

~@~!~@~!~

“We going in then?” Dean asks as they walk up onto the front porch.

“Just don’t forget, no eating or drinking anything, and don’t make any deals with them. You got your medallion on?” Sam asks.

“Yes mom.” Dean snarks, just because he can.

“Shut up jerk, just open the door, Mrs. Callahan gave you the key, so you should probably use it.”’

“Outta the way then bitch. Give me room,” Dean bends over and inserts the ridiculously ornate key into the equally ridiculously ornate brass plated lock and the door swings open with a cheery squeak.  “After you my dear Alphonse.” Dean says sarcastically bowing low and stepping back so Sam can pass by through the doorway.

“Where do you get that stuff from anyways?” Sam asks, shaking his head at his brother’s increasingly obscure pop-culture derived comments.

“What?” Dean asks, loving it that he’s used a phrase Sam actually doesn’t know.

“After you my dear Alphonse, what is that even from?” Sam asks.

“I’ll have you know I just heard it from Mrs. Callahan, they used to say it way back when, something about a comic about two French dudes.”

“That’s obscure even for you.” Sam says.

“Well I liked the sound of it.” Dean protests.

“I’m not seeing a pathway anywhere, but let’s just go through all the rooms together so we don’t miss anything.” Sam says warily, following closely after Dean.  They stick together and look through all of the rooms on every floor, but there’s no lit-up pathway showing up anywhere.

“Come on down this hall here, back in the kitchen, Mrs. Callahan was telling me about it, look.” Dean points out a small door halfway up the wall.

“Huh it’s a dumbwaiter, like in that creepy house with the people livin’ in the basement remember?” Sam says with delight at seeing such a cool thing in this great old house.

“Of course I do, that’s why I wanted to show it to you. Know you love that stuff Sammy, you big geek.” Dean says with pride in his voice, loving that he’s pleased Sam.

“Sorry, I just like all these details in these old places.  New houses are so boring.”

“Yeah, this one definitely has a whole lot of character, wouldn’t mind livin’ in a place like this.” Dean says, looking in several of the cabinets which are filled with beautiful china and crystal.

“What, like if you had to settle down somewhere or something?” Sam asks, watching his brother inspect the kitchen like he’s thinking of buying the place.

“Couldn’t you see it? Sam you’d have a library, and that garage out back is awesome and there’s so many rooms we could each sleep in different ones every night of the week.” Dean says, although he really is picturing them both staying in the third floor suite, with that big king-sized bed and huge bathroom.

“How could we even keep up a big place like this? It would be so damn expensive.” Sam says, obviously really considering the idea as they walk back down the hallway to the front door.

“I don’t know, I’m just spit ballin’.” Dean protests, because he has no freakin’ clue how they could manage it, but god would it ever be worth it, to give Sam a home like this, he’d give just about anything.

“No I like the idea, I’m serious, but how would we swing it?  Because I’d love it too.  Just for the garden alone, and Dean that kitchen is amazing, you’ve always wanted something like that right? Just think you could make that bacon egg casserole thing for us.” Sam says earnestly, loving the idea of giving Dean a home like he’s always deserved.

Dean’s heart feels like it’s suddenly been increased in size like the Grinch in that Christmas special, just at hearing Sam say the word “us” in relation to living in a house together, he answers with real happiness that’s impossible and pointless to hide, “We could figure something out, it’d be worth it you know? To have somewhere like this to call home?”

“Well, let’s get through this case first, huh?” Sam says, rocked back on his heels a little by how emotional and wrapped up they both got in the fantasy of living in this house. Together. Meredith’s words continue to replay in his head.

“Right, so I’m not seeing a lit-up path anywhere, are you?” Dean asks, looking around the foyer one last time. “Back to Meredith’s then?”

“Guess so.  Hope she’s not sick of us yet.”

“Naw, she seems to dig you.  Mrs. Callahan’s pretty cool too.” Dean says.

“Think she’s still up? It’s kinda late in the afternoon now, especially for people with her condition, there’s that whole sundowners thing.” Sam says, walking out through the front door.

“Let me call Mrs. C, hold on.” Dean says, producing his low-tech, non-smart phone that still has managed to capture the capable Mrs. Callahan’s phone number.

Sam shakes his head in surprise that Dean thought to get Mrs. Callahan’s number at all.  He was too busy getting relationship advice from Meredith.

Dean follows Sam out the front door onto the porch, and reaches back to close the door and remove the key, “Nope, she’s out for the count, but she told Mrs. C before she fell asleep that we’d have to bring her back out here tomorrow. That there’s no other way she knows of to get to her book.”

“Huh, that’ll be interesting.” Sam says.

“Yeah, no kidding.  Guess we’ve got the rest of the day to ourselves, what should we do?” Dean asks, wondering what one does in a small Vermont town for fun at night anyways, there were a few bars, but that doesn’t seem too appealing tonight for some reason.

“Kinda feel like a night in. We could watch a movie on my laptop.” Sam suggests.

“See any places that would have good takeout?”

“You pick tonight, I did last night.”

“Fine, burgers it is.”

“I’m just shocked I tell you, shocked.” Sam says in mock surprise, holding his face between his hands in the “Home Alone” gesture.

“Aw, I’ll get you a salad honey, don’t worry.”

“You better, and don’t you dare call me that again.  I don’t care what roles we’re playing.” Sam corrects, even though he really doesn’t mind being called a pet name like honey.  He just minds that Dean probably doesn’t really mean it.

They spend the night holed up in their room, sharing the containers of food back and forth that Dean had picked up from the Greek place.  Not a burger place after all, which surprised the heck out of Sam.  The baklava makes a terrible sticky mess that has them licking their fingers and trying not to stare at each other. They watch a couple of movies with the laptop propped up on the bed between them on the footstool.  It’s not the same as falling asleep to a droning TV and infomercials like they’re used to, but it works.

Sam wakes up slumped over onto Dean’s chest with the movie still playing in the background.  He puts away his laptop and moves the footstool back to the floor.  He moves to turn off the light but first looks his fill of his sleeping brother. Only Sam’s own sleepiness is enough to get him to stop staring, feeling like he’s memorizing Dean’s beauty and strength, the flaws, all of it wrapped up in that one person there, sleeping like there’s nothing wrong in the world.  And there kind of isn’t any more, not like there used to be, thanks to the both of them.

He turns off the light reluctantly and climbs into bed beside Dean, forgetting the whole stay-on-my-third-of-the-bed business and shuffles over to gather Dean into his arms.  Dean comes easily, so freely, just like he always does.  Like he always has.  There’s nothing better than this Sam thinks to himself as he falls asleep, happier than he’s been in at least a year or two.

~@~!~@~!~

Masterpost ~ Chapter 4