Cheeseburgers and Dreams

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Sam flopped back onto the cheap motel bed, the springs pushing into his back in such a way that made him think that maybe the floor would be more comfortable. Dean sat at the kitchen table stuffing his face with another bacon cheeseburger. An almost reverent look was on his face.

“Sweet Jesus, the simple pleasure of cheeseburgers”

Sam looked up from the bed to look at Dean like he was an alien. “How the hell do you manage to eat so much?”

Dean flashed his trademark grin; “Sold my soul to Crowley” Sam rolled his eyes and let his head fall back onto the bed. “I can’t even tell if you’re joking-it sounds exactly like something you’d do”

Dean, having finished his burger, got up and grabbed his bag from his bed. Pulling a toothbrush and toothpaste from it, he kicked Sam’s shin as he walked to the tiny bathroom. Sam groaned before sitting up. He ran a hand through his tangled hair, wincing when the knots caught. Suddenly, the memory of another’s hand doing the exact same thing flashed in his mind.

Stop it Sam, don’t think about it. You get plenty of unwanted attention all the time. He ignored the tiny voice that whispered that maybe it wasn’t quite so unwanted.

Sam shoved the unwanted recollections out of his mind, ignoring the tiny voice and walked to the bathroom as Dean walked out. Dean gave him a weird look but didn’t say anything. The Winchesters determinedly avoided painful thoughts, preferring to repress them rather than dealing with them. It was basically their motto. If one of them had a problem, they would both ignore it until it was almost obscene.

Locking the door behind him, Sam turned to look at himself in the mirror, his nose and eyelashes casting long shadows from the dingy light bulb. He turned on the tap and splashed the freezing water onto his face, hoping he could chase away the flush that spread across his cheekbones. Wiping water out of his eyes, he looked back into the dirty mirror. Sam pulled at the collar of his plaid button-down’s collar, tugging it aside to show the small bruise in the space between his shoulder and neck. He stared at it scornfully for a moment before covering it again and turning to open the bathroom door.

Dean was already passed out on his bed, arms wrapped around his pillow and mouth wide open, snoring quietly. Sam decided to follow his lead and fell into the uncomfortable bed. Listening to Dean and the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat, Sam slowly dropped off into sleep. In his dreams, he was falling, falling through a cloud that smelt of chocolate. 

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