Lost Time Ch. 8

[dime_liora]

Title: Lost Time Chapter 8/27
Wordcount: 7,631
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Dean/Sam
Warning(s): Violence, Sex, Expletives, Mentions of an Abusive Relationship
Notes: Still very AU. If you like this, thank sammichgirl, who told me it was time to make it public. :) If you don't it's totally not her fault.
Summary: Sam Burton has an average life, a foul-mouthed sister, and a dream of putting his past behind him. All of that changes when Dean Winchester comes to stay.

First part
Previous part

When Sam woke up he found her sitting on the floor across from the bed with a cigarette burned to the filter and her eyes out of focus. He didn’t rouse her immediately, instead choosing to use his cell phone to call Tommy and tell him she had the flu and she’d been put on bed rest. Tommy was sympathetic and kind about it, and Sam was glad. He called his boss next and told him that she was sick and Sam needed to stay home to take care of her. Once it was all taken care of he crossed the room, his knee a little more stable today, and lowered himself carefully beside her.

He reached out with one arm, pulled her head against his shoulder and felt her jerk. He took the butt from her hand and dropped it in the ashtray before settling more fully against the wall. After a while she spoke, quiet and unsure. “Hey Sam. If you didn’t find me-“

Sam put one hand over her mouth, careful of her lip, and took a deep breath. “Can’t think about that Ope. Not even a little. Got me?”

She nodded once and stroked his hand until he lowered it. “So are you and Dean a thing now?”

He shook his head. “Wouldn’t work. I can’t handle the abandonment.” He felt her head tilt, felt her disbelief, and tried to increase the sincerity in his voice. “Seriously, can you imagine me waiting around for him like some kind of tragic love story? Will he come back? Will I have to bury him?” He forced a chuckle. “I would look ridiculous. I'm more worried about you right now.”

"Said I'm fine. Meant it. How'd you get Loki to find me without giving away our identity?"

Sam paused, bit his lip, and and then shrugged. "I gave him your phone number. There wasn't any other way."

"That's-are you-"

She pushed herself up rapidly and dug around until she found the pajamas she’d shucked off the morning she was taken. She slid them on, grabbed her cigarettes and lighter, and left the room. It was unusual, but she was in a bad place and Sam was willing to simply let it ride. He changed into actual clothes and made his slow and careful way out into the kitchen. She was pouring herself coffee, and Dean was watching her with something like alarm. Sam made his way through the doorway and reached for her arm only to have her jerk it away from him quickly.

Her smile was brittle, forced, a hairsbreadth from a sneer. “I’m fine Sam. Just fine. Want some coffee?” He watched her hands shaking violently as she finished pouring and slopped coffee all over the counter. He ignored Dean and focused on taking the pot from her. “Leave me alone Sam.”

He pulled his hands back as she left the pot on the counter and stepped away with the mug in her hand. He touched her shoulder, tried an apology, “Ope I didn’t mean-,” and she jerked again spilling coffee all over the floor and herself, screaming now as she turned and threw the whole thing down at her feet.

“God damn it Sam stop! I’m fucking-Jesus please stop!” He saw Dean standing behind her, eyes understanding and calm as he grabbed her shoulders and lifted her easily out of the hot coffee and glass before putting her down on the other side of it. He stepped forward and moved Sam out of the blast radius, his hands sure and steady before he turned back to her.

“Did you just pop stitches with that movement sweetheart?” His voice was low, husky, sure, as if this was something he always did. Sam bit his lip and watched her rub her face hopelessly.

“Yeah. Maybe. I don’t fucking know.” She walked away from both of them, her hands flexing at her sides, and Dean turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

What could Sam tell him, really, other than that he’d made some kind of mistake and he didn't know what it was. He was a fuck-up, always had been, always would be. He limped away from it, away from Dean’s warm and questioning look, away from Ophelia’s pain, just away.



----



Dean stared ruefully at her side and then went for the first aid kit. She was standing perfectly still eyes on the bottle of antibiotics and fingers spread wide and stiff. When he came back she was still in the same position, and he nudged her elbow so she’d keep her arm out of the way for his work.

He fixed all three stitches quickly and then cleaned everything off. “You’re running out of first aid supplies.”

She made a harsh noise, sob and laugh combined, and when he looked her way he saw the expressionless look she was giving him. He nodded once and then leaned against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. “Sam say something you didn’t like?”

“You really didn’t seem the type to be so fucking nosy.” There’s no heat in her voice despite the words. Dean recognizes the signs, weariness and defensiveness combining to make her bite at any hand that reached out. He’d been there more than once.

“Yep. That’s me, nosy as all get out. So you want to answer the question? ‘Cause the kid was terrified the last two days and I’m pretty sure anything he said would-“

“He’s going to pull away from you. Last night pushed one of his buttons and now he’ll shut himself off and go distant.”

Dean looked down at his old scuffed work boots silently. It was almost time for a new pair and he hated breaking them in. These had really just gotten to the point he liked them. “Ok. Makes sense. Saw me kill someone and-“

Her head was already shaking, her fingers digging in the pocket of her pants before she found her target and pulled out the pack. She shook it once and her fingers had trouble grasping the filter and pulling one out. “Not that. Sam can handle that. Something about him and his time with Brady. He used to talk about it, but he never really explained it. You hunt monsters and Sam thinks…” She trailed off and lit the cigarette before sitting on the toilet. “I can’t do this right now. My head is in a thousand fucking places and I need to focus but I just can’t.”

She looked up and caught his eyes, her gaze blade sharp and hard, “If I died you would have taken care of him right? If I die anyway you’ll take care of him? You and Bobby? Make sure he doesn’t backslide?”

Dean feels uneasiness creep in. It’s a final statement, something reserved for the terminal and while she came close she’s going to heal just fine now. She said there were no guarantees she was going anywhere. “Backslide into what sweetheart?”

She shook her head once and pulled her hair back, brutally tight, before reaching for the antibiotic bottle and tapping one of the big pills into her palm. “Anything. Everything. Just promise me.”

“I can’t make him let me stay around Ophelia. I can’t make him want me. I already offered and he said yes, but if he’s changed his mind-“

She waved a hand. “Never mind. I’ll take care of it. I need some time alone ok?”

He nodded once and slid out of the bathroom.




----



He found Sam at the tree line, hazel eyes scanning through the reds and browns to find something Dean couldn’t see. He stood silently beside the younger man and waited. Dean was good at waiting. He didn’t like it, but he’d had a lifetime of training to deal with it. Eventually Sam glanced his way and then back out to the forest. “She’s not ok.”

“She’s not supposed to be. Neither are you really. It was a close thing.” Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and considered all his options. This thing with Sam, this weird and irrational thing, could just be let go. He wasn’t so attached he couldn’t walk away. At least he didn’t think he was. The question was if it was worth chasing after, and Dean just wasn’t sure. He could be an emergency contact instead of whatever they were heading towards.

“I didn’t get kidnapped and tortured. I should be fine. I should be there for her. She was there for me.” Sam leaned heavily on his good leg and Dean wished like hell the kid would sit down somewhere and give the bad one a damn rest. It wouldn’t heal this way.

“Ok.” He waited a little longer, and when he was almost ready to give up Sam turned his way.

“You shouldn’t come back.” There it was. The brush-off, the end, the kiss goodbye. Just a hot piece of ass indeed. Dean felt along the empty lining of his pockets and wondered how long it would take to find new boots he liked as much as these.

“Ok.” He turned and walked back into the house. He was stuck here until the curse was lifted. She was making good progress. The lines had already started fading and retracting. A few more weeks and he'd be gone.

He’d have to make do. Dean was good at making do.




----





Sam held perfectly still for a long time, until his good leg was aching almost as much as his bad one, and then headed inside. He could do this. He had to do this. There were no other options. He found Ophelia sitting in his room headphones on and eyes closed tight. He watched her for several long moments, watched the way her mouth twitched and her hands moved as she worked to regain her self-control. The top she’d chosen exposed one bandage, covering a superficial cut on her collarbone, and he studied it until he felt he could talk to her.

Sam sat on the bed beside her, slid back to prop himself against the wall like she was, and then gently touched her forearm right above her raw wrist. She opened one eye slowly and took him in with a sideways glance. Her pierced eyebrow raised and he gestured for her to take the headphones off. He was honestly surprised she did.

“I don't know what I did this morning, but I'm sorry.” She nodded once and then closed the eye. "If I'm being too pushy it's because I'm worried.”

She spoke softly. “Is that what I was angry about?” She sounded vague, far away, and he realized she was very probably stoned and very exhausted. He touched her knee once, and when she didn’t pull away he left his hand there and stayed as close as he could get.

“I thought it was. Wasn’t it?”

“I've always thought you were brilliant. Anything you set your mind on ended up being your bitch. Now I’m beginning to wonder.” She gave him the ghost of a smile and then leaned against his shoulder. “I’m tired Sam.”

He nodded once and stroked her hair, settling his arm around her shoulders afterwards and relaxing when she leaned into him. “What am I missing big sis?”

“The forest.” He heard her inhale deeply and then she tilted her face until it was buried into his chest, her voice coming muffled and slow. “Dean shot him. Which was pretty fucking epic.”

“Yeah it was.” Vicious, hateful, blood-thirsty joy. If there was a way Sam would go back in time and kill the bastard again. As many times as he could. “What am I missing?”

She took another deep breath he could feel through the fabric of his shirt and then let it out. “Dean. What are you doing? I’m supposed to worry about him hurting you. Not the other way ‘round.”

Sam stroked her shoulder. “I already told him. He didn’t seem hurt.” He looked through the window at the Impala sitting in the sunshine of the yard and holding the promise of departure as surely as any movie plane ever did.

“Yeah. ‘Cause everybody you know is so open about their fucking feelings.” Sarcasm. Sam chuckled once and then closed his eyes. He didn’t feel very mirthful.

“I think you’re underestimating his ability to let go of potential flings.”

“I think you’re underestimating him. I don’t think he’d judge you that harshly for what happened Sam.”

What happened. What did she know about what happened? Half the story and nothing else. Nothing Sam hadn’t told her, nothing he hadn’t let her see, and certainly not the worst parts. The parts that had blood and guts spattered across them like the movies she sometimes watched and mocked. She called it goreporn, but Sam called it memories. “Yeah? You think I can just say all of that and it’ll be cool with him? ‘Hey Dean, I’d love to hook up but first let me tell you I used to let this guy beat me for fun. I used to take this drug, this crazy drug, and sometimes I’d hurt people with him and then he’d get off on it. You’re cool with that right?’”

Her fingers stumbled over his shirt and squeezed the fabric once tightly. “Add the part where you didn’t take it on purpose 'til after he’d gotten you hooked. Slipped it to you. Add the part where he found you when you were at your lowest. Don’t forget to mention that when you told him no more he tried to kill you.” Her fingers released his shirt and she pulled back just enough to look up at him.  Sam fought to keep her gaze.

“Ope, he’s a goddamn hero. Not just this once but all his life. He goes around saving people from people like me.” At her warning glare he modified it without meaning it. “Who I was. It doesn’t matter. That’s not the kind of thing guys like him shrug off. It would be like a firefighter dating a reformed firebug.”

She shrugged. “Probably not unheard of. At least give him a damn chance Sam. Something.”

“Why does this matter so much? There will be other people I’m interested in.” Her eyes flittered away and Sam saw the beginning of a conversational path he wasn’t going to like. “What’s going on in that head of yours Ophelia?”

“I’m not…Sam I could have died. You’re a tough nut honey. You need someone who will be willing to stand up to you, take care of you, but mostly protect you.” He started to speak and she held up one hand from her awkward position lying against him. “You need someone who’s willing to be vicious when you’re not. So you don’t have to be anymore. You’ve earned that. I don’t think there’s gonna be someone else as qualified as him. We both know I can't promise to stick around.”

Sam closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. “What are you suggesting? I go back and say never mind? Come back whenever? I’m pretty sure I burned that bridge.”

She signed once and then lay fully against him again, her body thrumming with tension and then going slack. He heard a mumbled, “You could try.”

He waited until he was sure she was asleep and then maneuvered her into the bed properly before taking a position at the computer and working on papers. He couldn’t ignore the world forever.




----




When Sam finished the next to last of his work the sun was starting to go down and Ophelia was still asleep. He took off his headset and heard the TV out in the living room. Dinner. Sam’s stomach grumbled loudly and he limped his way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, past Dean watching the tube, and started shuffling through ingredients until he found hamburger meat and a taco kit. He was partway through the process of cooking the meat, his hands moving mechanically to chop tomatoes, when Dean came into the kitchen and stood across from him at the counter. “Need any help?”

He glanced up once, looked back down and shook his head. Talking would be pointless, and possibly messy, and Sam couldn’t handle any more emotion right now. More importantly Sam couldn’t look at those lips, that jaw, the stubble and strong lines a tad too much to consider right now. He finished the tomato and started to chop the green onion, his hands sure and steady even as Dean continued to stand there and stare at him.

After the cutting was done Sam turned his back on Dean, drained the meat and added the mix, and then dropped it on the burner on low before opening a can of refried beans. Dean was still standing there, staring at him, and Sam was beginning to shake slightly as he went through the motions. When he couldn’t take it anymore, the pressure of Dean’s stare and his silence, Sam turned around and met the green eyes. “Can I help you?”

Dean tilted his head once, lips quirked in a half-smile and an eyebrow raised. “Can you?”

They stood there like that for what felt like forever, and then Sam turned back around and started dropping tortillas on the rack in the oven and stirring the meat and the beans. “No. I can’t.” Sam’s voice sounded bleak even to himself. He heard footsteps and looked up to see Dean standing at the fridge now, face serious and intense.

“I don’t kill people Sam. Is that the problem?”

Sam shook his head and looked back down at the food on the stove. It was basically done. Someone needed to wake Ophelia up. Had she eaten since the day she was taken? Someone needed to set the table and get her. He pointed to the fridge. “Will you get the sour cream out?” He kept his eyes downcast, slid past Dean’s heat, and stumped to the back bedroom. Ope was sleeping still, and Sam hesitated before he woke her up. “Hey, dinner’s ready.”

She smiled blearily, “Now that’s a good way to wake up.” He helped her out of the bed and then down the hall, her feet unsteady and stumbling. She plopped into a seat and Sam started for the stove until Dean’s voice came, harsh and thick, to say he had it.

Sam sat beside Ophelia, and watched as the hunter set the table and put out the food. There was the sound of a chair scraping the floor and suddenly strong hands were lifting Sam’s leg and elevating it, an ice pack placed on his knee, and then Dean was across the table and serving himself a giant heaping of taco meat.

Dinner was silent for the most part, Sam kept glancing over to see Ophelia falling asleep, nudging her back to reality, and then doing it all over again after a short while. At one point she tried talking, absorbed the atmosphere of the table, and then gave up.

It was when her fork clattered to her plate and Sam turned to find her with her head hung low that Dean threw his hands up. “Oh for god’s sake.” He moved over to sit beside her and shook her gently until glazed blue eyes opened and focused on him. “You eat before you got high?” She shook her head once. “Ok. I’m going to sit right here and poke you 'til you finish your meal. Then you’re going back to bed. Got me?” She nodded once and then picked up her taco with boneless looking fingers and slowly ate. She left the fork and the beans she’d put on the side alone, ate the taco with grim determination, and then let out a half-protesting squeak when Dean picked her up and disappeared.

It didn't take long for him to come back and drop down in front of his own plate. Sam sat as still as possible, hunching his shoulders in a bit and hoping Dean wouldn’t revisit the earlier conversation. He powered his way through the last taco on his plate, dropped the dish in the sink and considered doing them before he felt Dean’s heat behind him again. He hadn’t heard the guy get up, hadn’t heard him cross the kitchen, and Sam felt that old fear start to rear up. He held as still as he could. Wasn’t that what prey did?

The voice rumbled low and close to his ear. “I would never purposefully hurt you.” Purposefully. It was a conditional word, an up-front apology about pain that would assuredly be involved, and Sam was trembling as he turned with his head down and tried to find a path of escape that wouldn’t include touching that hard body. Dean stood in his way for several long seconds, and then stepped to the side just slightly and let Sam pass.

He limped his way to the living room, spied Ophelia sleeping there propped against pillows, and then moved on to his own room. He needed to do laundry, he needed to finish that last paper, he had a reading assignment, and certification studying, and all sorts of things that didn’t include thinking of Dean, or of Sam’s half-erection. He sorted through laundry, adding Ope’s to his own, and then limped his way down the stairs carefully past a sleeping Ophelia. He didn’t see Dean anywhere.




----



He heard the kid making his slow and unstable way down the stairs and almost cursed aloud. Did the guy want his knee to get worse instead of better? He waited in the kitchen, his hands clenched and his head half-down, as he considered his next plan of action. He was interested in Sam, in more than just the prospect of sleeping with Sam, and that offered Dean an unknown world of possibilities. He didn’t know how to start a relationship, he’d seen it in movies but it wasn’t really something he had a lot of experience with.

He was working blind, a vague understanding of what was bothering Sam and no clear plan for how to get Sam to open up to him. He’d need the guy to admit what was bothering him so Dean could assure him it wasn’t an issue. Whatever it was Sam had done in the past was just that, the past, and Dean doubted it was as bad as Sam thought it was.  More importantly Sam could claim it had nothing to do with watching Dean gank the Shifter all day long, but Dean had seen the way the kid trembled when he came up behind him. The way his hair hung in his eyes, as if it was Sam’s neon sign stating that he had closed up shop.

It frustrated him, made him angry, and then made him guilty because he was scaring Sam and he knew the guy had issues, a lot of issues, and Dean was only prodding them by pursuing his interests. Still, if he could just understand he would be able to step back and better study the whole thing, decide what the best course was, and he needed information for that. Information Ophelia couldn’t give him.

So Dean pulled himself fully upright, crossed the kitchen and went down the stairs and through the series of doors leading to the laundry room. He found Sam there with his head hung and his huge hands sifting through dirty laundry and dropping it in the washer. First thing was to figure out what Sam was afraid of, so Dean grabbed his shoulder even as he was just starting to look up and pushed, pinning Sam into the wall beside the washer and being very careful to avoid moving him too much on the swollen knee.

Sam gasped, eyes flying upwards and full of fear, and Dean had half a second to reconsider this plan of action before his lips were moving and he was kissing Sam again.

The younger man tasted brilliant and Dean was pleased that the plush lips responded almost instantly to his own. He slanted his mouth over Sam’s and reached down with one hand, grasping Sam’s wrist and pressing two fingers against his radial artery. He pulled back enough to look at Sam’s eyes and then spoke, husky and lust-filled voice kept low and soothing. “I won’t hurt you but I can. Is that what scares you?”

Sam’s pulse raced ahead for a second and Dean nodded and spoke again before Sam could try to lie. “That then. Something else Sammy? What’s on your mind?” He brushed his lips once against Sam’s, watched the man’s lids lower to shield his eyes, and then stayed in Sam’s space sharing his air while he waited.

“You don’t know me.” Sam’s voice, usually soft and quiet, was almost inaudible. Full of shame and pain and Dean fought the urge to shut him up with his mouth again. Kept his fingers on the speedy pulse point and waited. “I’ve done…I’m not a good person. You are. It wouldn’t work.”

Dean lifted one eyebrow and held it there 'til Sam looked at him. That was the problem? The man thought he wasn’t good enough for Dean? Well that was a first, and ironic, and Dean couldn’t phrase any of that because it really hit him that for the first time in his life someone thought he was better than them. Sam, handsome, smart, strong Sam thought Dean was too good for him. He would have laughed if he didn’t think it would send Sam running.

“I’m gonna tell you something Sam and I want you to listen real close ok? Anything you did with Brady was what you did with Brady. It was under duress, it wasn’t your fault, and I don’t give a shit about it. You ever want to confess I’m here, but in the meantime you let me decide what is or isn’t good for me.” He went for more than a brush this time, eating away at Sam’s mouth for several long minutes 'til his own pulse was quick and hard. “Secondly I’m not a nice man, I’m not some comic book superhero, and thinking I am will only bring you grief. Being one of the good guys doesn’t make me a good guy. Get it?” Sam nodded once and then leaned forward taking Dean’s mouth this time. They stayed there like that, Dean’s fingers holding Sam’s pulse and feeling it stutter and fly while he tasted Sam and Sam tasted him.

When he needed air, needed to think, Dean pulled back and watched Sam’s eyes open, pupils so large it was almost overwhelming, and then he released Sam and stepped back. His voice was a growl when it came. “Give me back my goddamn invitation.”

Sam showed confusion, then understanding, and then amusement. “Come back anytime you want Dean.”

He stepped backwards, watched Sam for another few seconds, and then stalked his way through the basement and up the stairs. He had a hard-on to deal with.




----




It took Sam at least fifteen minutes to remember how to breathe properly and move around like a functioning human being. He pushed it all down enough to finish dropping laundry into the washer and then sat down and hung his head between his knees taking deep breaths and thinking. Ope was right, and he was wrong, and that seemed to be the theme of their friendship. Damn it. Dean had this way of making Sam feel crazy, out of control, and this was a terrible idea because Dean could assure him all he wanted when he didn’t know the truth. Sam waited there on the floor of the basement washroom until the washer finished, moved their clothes to the dryer, and then sat back down.

It wasn’t like kissing Brady, didn’t even compare, because Dean was so hot, so passionate, so incredibly-

Brady had always run cold the way Sam had started to, but Dean was like a furnace. If Sam wanted to be ridiculous and girly he would suggest that Dean could be hot enough to burn him, to purify him, but Sam was long past believing such a thing was possible. Dean would get tired of it, of Sam’s inability to be functional and all his baggage, and then Dean would just stop coming but maybe that was ok. Maybe the ride would be worth the crash.

When Sam finally came back up the stairs Dean was in the living room, but Ophelia was gone. He walked past silently, his eyes meeting Dean’s once and glancing away when Dean smiled, and then he was through the other door and on his way to the bedroom. He found Ophelia in the bed already, curled up with his pillow and snoring lightly. He dropped the laundry basket, changed into sweats, and then slid in behind her and pulled her close. He was tempted to wake her up, tell her it was as fixed as it could be, and then let that go. She’d wake up eventually and he’d tell her then.




----



Sam woke to Ophelia jerking in her sleep, nightmares so uncommon for her that Sam was momentarily paralyzed with confusion, and then he was stroking her hair and murmuring in her ear until she woke up. Sleepy eyes stared at him speculatively, and then she spoke slow and thick. “I was dreaming.”

He nodded once and then kissed her forehead tenderly. “Bad dream Ope. I got you.”

“You smell like Dean. I was fucking dreaming.” Sam laughed softly and hugged her. “Sam I’m starving.”

It wasn’t even morning technically, the sun still hiding and the woods outside silent, but Sam got up and she went into the kitchen with him. He heated up leftover potato soup and a hunk of bread, and then watched her eat with slow determination.

“You feeling better today?” She nodded once and then swallowed her mouthful of soup and looked up at him with a wicked grin.

“You made out with Dean. I can see it all over your face. Tell me the truth Sammy.”

“A gentleman never tells and a lady never asks.” He laughed at the sour face she made and then leaned back in the chair. “It’s not gonna end well Ope. You and I both know that. One or the other of us will give up. Still, maybe you’re right, maybe I’m missing the forest for the trees.”

She nodded once and then sifted through her pockets and found her cigarettes. “I am always right. It’s my curse.” Her eyes shuttered briefly, something flying through her brain at high speed and then disappearing like a cloud across the sun. Sam let her keep it quiet, simply watched her and waited. “He’s got a great ass.”

“Yes I do.” The voice was amused, and Sam watched Ophelia jump half a foot before grasping her side. Dean’s grin became concern, and Sam leaned forward towards her but she waved them both away. He saw her fingering under the shirt and feeling at her stitches.

“I’m fine. Your ass could use some humility.” She gave Dean a mock glare, received laughter for it, and leaned back in her chair.

Dean started brewing coffee and Sam watched his callused and scarred hands work. “Hey Ope, what are we doing today? Tommy dropped your car off.”

She considered his knee for a long moment, Sam saw her face flash tender and then smooth out, and she smiled sadly. “You’re keeping Dean company and I’m riding to Augusta.”

Sam held his breath for a moment and thought about that. He saw Dean’s hands stutter and then resume their work. “Augusta? Why?”

She shrugged, realized Dean couldn’t see it with his back to her and responded. “Maine General Hospital. My specialist is there.” She swallowed the last of the soup and took the bowl to the sink, started washing the dishes from the night before and kept her eyes on that.

“We gonna have a session first?” Dean gave her a tight smile and sat down with a mug of coffee. “If you're up to it.”

Somehow Sam had lost whatever the conversation had become. "I'm up to it. Let me change first."

Dean chews on that, raises an eyebrow, and then rubs his mouth. “Ok. Well Sam and I will hold down the fort. Any chores you need done?”

“The lawn needs mowing.” She sat across from Dean and stared out the windows behind him. “There’s a riding mower in the garage.”  

----





After she was done Dean watched her slide the robe off and light the joint. Her hand shook more than the last few times, and he wondered if he'd pushed her too far. He considered his shirt and then changed his mind and simply sank down into the floorboards. It was warm enough in here he didn't need it.

"How you feeling?"

She grinned around a mouthful of smoke and closed her eyes. "Peachy fucking keen. You?"

"Tired. So this specialist-" She held up a hand and he stopped.

"You stitched my tit up last night Dean. That's enough bonding for a month or two I think." He couldn't suppress the laughter that bubbled up, and she smiled appreciatively.

"Well, they're nice breasts. It'd be a shame to waste them." Dean can see from her face she gets the reference, and she sticks her tongue out at him. Which is when his amusement dies. What should be slick pink muscle has a heavy ring of scars at the end. She seems to realize why he's not laughing anymore, and it disappears from sight.

"Anyway, I'll be gone most of the day, so you and Sam should take advantage of that. Bond a little yourselves." She squinted at the ceiling and took a long drag from the joint. "Minus the tit stitching."

"Yeah. Minus that. When do you think you'll be back?"

She frowned thoughtfully, and then her head tilted to the side. "You hear that?"

At first he doesn't, and then the echoing rumble comes to him. She's up in a second, feet only slipping a bit as she moves for the window and Dean follows. "Who is it?"

"No one I know." Ophelia pushes past him and kneels on the floor, reaching under the cabinet with her ritual oils. Dean hears the distinct ripping of velcro and then she's throwing him a shotgun he catches one-handed. He breaks the stock and checks the rounds to find salt before looking up to see her chambering a round in a handgun.

"Worried?"

"Very." She's barefoot as she descends the stairs, and they stop at the door. "Tree line to willow, willow to-"

"Garage. You go through to the kitchen stairs and I'll take the basement ones." She nods tightly and then they're moving low to the ground and fast. Dean thinks of Sam inside. Hopes that the guy is so shaken from the other night that he won't come to the door for a stranger. Hopes that this is something that can't cross the salt or the devil's traps. They part without a word in the garage, and she makes her way through to the back of the house. Dean takes the stairs as quietly as he can and reaches the door to the living room.

He listens, but there's nothing coming from the other side of the door. All he can think is Sam, set to the same rapid and staccato beat as his heart.



----

"And I thought you were breath-taking on the computer screen."

Sam's standing behind Loki and staring at Ophelia in the kitchen doorway. She's a tight line, and she has a handgun he's never seen before pointed at the hacker's head. He understands it, because the man standing there shouldn't be there. There's no good explanation for why he's there. After the last few days it's no wonder her nerves are shot. Then again, it's Loki. He's shorter than Sam imagined in person, and while he still has at least five inches on Ope, Sam has to look down to meet Loki's bright and open gaze. The smile never even vaguely falters despite the awkwardness of them standing there simply staring at him. Ophelia finally breaks the silence.

"What. The. Fuck. Loki." Her finger shakes briefly on the trigger, and the she's releasing it and lowering the gun. It occurs to Sam that Ope is nervous, and that's a new one on him. He hears a breath behind him, and then realizes Dean is right there. A heavy hand brushes his lower back, and Sam is inordinately relaxed by that.

"What's happening?" Dean's voice is deceptively calm, but Sam hears the readiness there. A breath later he's tense again when he sees the shotgun in Dean's hand.

"I came to visit! You must be Dean Winchester. I got a folder on you this thick." Loki gestures with his hands and then raises an eyebrow. "You guys gonna put the guns away? It was a long damn flight."

"What the fuck." But Ope's stepping back and putting the gun down on the china cabinet. Dean leans the shotgun against the door into the living room. Loki grins and leans against the kitchen table.

"Dearest I saw the trouble that came to you and thought I'd be your knight in shining armor. Hammy can't be expected to save you all the time. So here I am to sweep you up and carry you to the safety of your bed. Which room is yours?"

Ope's eyes meet his, and he sees the war going on there before he pulls himself fully upright. He can do this. He can.

"You get the guest room Loki. You can store your stuff there." He was kind of surprised when the guy didn't argue with him at all. He led Loki through the house and gave the short tour heading for the guest room. They stopped in the doorway and Loki's eyes roved over the space and then into the open door of Sam's room.

"So this is how the other half lives. Nice. You got your real set-up in the basement I guess?"

"Easier on the CPUs to be somewhere cool. What the hell are you doing here?"

Amber eyes landed on his face and looked more than a little amused. "I was worried about you and Ophelia. You never called me back, and then I read the info on your new friend out there. Figured an extra pair of hands couldn't hurt right? Plus I've always wanted to visit you, so now I got an excuse." Loki's smile was brighter in person, and Sam wanted to be angry but he felt the tug of his own lips curling upwards in response.

"You realize she's furious right? And I'm sure you know by now my real name is Sam."

"Yeah, but I'll win her over the same way I did you. Trust me Sasquatch. I'm irresistible."

Which was why five minutes later Sam was laughing so hard his eyes were tearing up while he watched Ope push Loki backwards, his fingers twisted towards the back of his hand.

"Touch my ass again and I break your fucking fingers Loki. Don't think I'm joking."

"But darling-getting painful here-"

"I know." Her eyes are lit up though, smile curling at the corner of her lips. "Now behave. Or else."

Dean doesn't look as amused as Sam feels, and he waits until Loki's been released before he nods at the file folder the guy pulled from his bag. "That about me?"

"Oh. Oh yeah. Wanna see the list of your crimes you vicious man?" Loki's eyes are bright again even as he rubs at his fingers and leans slightly towards Ope. Ope doesn't move away.

"Not really." Dean's face is suddenly tight and dismissive. "Ope. You have that appointment?"

Her head turns fully their way, and she takes in the way Sam's standing and then flickers her eyes over Dean. Which is when Sam realizes Dean is standing partially in front of him like he's protecting him from Loki. "Uh. Yeah. Well. That." Her eyes keep darting between the three men before she finally shrugs and points directly at Loki. "You're coming with me. I can't trust you alone near my fucking underwear drawer, and Sam's too soft-hearted to watch you properly."

Loki raises both eyebrows and then waggles them suggestively. "I thought you'd never ask. Lead me to the place in which I shall show you how a man treats a woman of your calibre."

Her jaw works several times before she covers her eyes. "I miss my fucking life."

-----



Sam listened to the jeep drive away and then considered his options. He had the rest of the week off, and only one paper to finish before Monday. If he worked on it today he’d have all that time with nothing to do. He considered the door, the taste of Dean’s mouth, and then opened his laptop and got to work.

At some point while he was typing away he heard the mower start outside, and then he tuned it out to focus on the task at hand. He was halfway done when Dean stuck his head in the door. “Hey, you hungry Sam?”

“Yeah let me just-” he looked up to see Dean wiping sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his shirt, exposing his abs and one pectoral. Had there have been any lingering questions in Sam’s mind regarding his ability to be sexually aroused they were vanquished heartily. Dean lowered his shirt and quirked one eyebrow.

“Just?”

“Just finish that sentence. In the paper. What do you want to eat?” He got up and edged past Dean through the door, heard the low chuckle behind him, ignored it pointedly.

----

Ophelia wasn't sure how things had gotten so out of control so quickly. Sure, she'd planned for some of this shit, but Loki showing up was so left field she couldn't even begin to grasp it properly. Instead she simply rode along with it and pretended there wasn't an issue. Oh what's that? A stranger shows up just after she's nabbed and tortured like some Hollywood bottle blonde? Hah! Of course!

How he talked the nurse and the specialist into letting him into the room is beyond her. Now he's sucking on a lollipop as he watches the doctor stare in horror at the lines of stitches covering her body. She's not concerned about Loki seeing her in nothing but her underwear. She's concerned about how unconcerned she is.

"Did they catch the man that did this?" Ope tears her gaze away from Loki and focuses on the older man in front of her as he fingers one of the lines of stitches carefully.

"Oh yeah. On the scene. So no internal damage right?" The doctor shudders once at how casual she sounds, and she wonders again at the difference between book knowledge and real world knowledge. It's always disconcerting for people to be faced with her deficiency. She knows from personal experience they think she's inhuman sometimes.

"No. You got lucky. We need to talk about your right knee, but otherwise you're doing alright. How is the medication working?"

Loki's finished the lollipop and produced some other sugary concoction. He raises an eyebrow again at her and she frowns once to inform him she has no interest in what he's selling. Which is when the question hits her and the vein at her temple starts to throb. "I got carved up like a turkey and I'm asking you about internal damage doc. Do you think it's working?"

He nods once, probably pleased she didn't curse at him this time like normal, and then he pops the xray into the light bright on his wall and starts droning on about possible treatments, more pills, and a permanent brace. Ophelia tunes out and starts to order things in her head. If she gives them the rest of the day that should be long enough for what little resistance Dean has left to simply melt away. She has faith in Sam's natural charm. She has faith in a lot of things.

The shifter re-ordered a few of her priorities. She thought, honestly, that there'd be more time. Thirty was the alarm clock they gave her as a kid, and that's still five years away. She had planned to have Sam better by now. Able to make lasting relationships and able to… Well she'd expected to have gotten further. At least a little bit. But his only friend outside of her was still Loki, and while his graduation was looming on the horizon he had no idea what he really wanted to do with himself. Sam would go nuts if he spent all his days in some lousy IT department being ordered to fix printers and explain blue screens. Jeff and she had agreed Sam would get the house, but she couldn't leave him enough money to not worry about his future.

Somehow she found herself sitting in the Jeep with Loki beside her. Her wristwatch told her she'd been staring at the wall of the parking garage for an hour. "Why didn't you tell me to move my ass?"

He tilted his head and smirked. "I was having too much fun staring at it. I didn't know you were sick Opey. What do you have?"

She fingered the steering wheel and considered. A lot of people were asking her that question recently. "A terminal case of not giving a fuck. We're gonna hit a bar."

Comments

[sammichgirl]

Oooooohhhh, the tension between those two! Damn, the laundry scene was hot and sweet.

Ok, so Ope knows a lot, but not the all of it. Whatever it is, Sam won't share it with her, he's too ashamed. Poor Sammy.

I loved how Dean held Sam, feeling his artery as he questioned him. He's learning, bit by bit, gaining trust bit by bit. I hope he stays patient. I don't think for anyone else he would, but Sam...he's special.

Loki is eating sweets. I still don't know how I feel about him, but I want to like him. I want him to be a good guy, especially since Sam's allowed him to be a friend.

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

I have hope for Loki, but he's let me down before. ;)

I wouldn't say Dean's patience is endless, but it always reboots when it crashes!

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

Interesting to see you-know-who pop up. I'm curious to see what's attracting him.

I'm glad to see Sam opening up, but at first I thought he responded to Dean out of fear, seeing as how it seems that he's conditioned to think it equals sex, but it doesn't seem that's it. Or not completely it, which makes it very positive for Sam. Dean's a saint. Kind of. ;)

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

He's...he's going to be very active. We'll see whether that's good or not.

I'd vote for Dean's sainthood, but the Catholic church has informed me my opinion does not count and I should stop sending them letters...