Space Corps personnel had been a awakened two days before landing and then, twelve hours before landing, they'd awakened the general public. This way no one would be confused or disorientated when they disembarked. Dean was back in uniform, walking the halls, checking on the progress of the efforts to disembark and the planetary colonization measures. The ship's regular crew was to rest on the planet for a few days and then head back on other missions.
A few times during the lengthy disembarking process, Dean saw Sam counseling those who'd been awakened, helping them separate their dreams from reality, or to beat back fears that were sometimes magnified by space travel. When their eyes met, he knew his own were hard as flint, a look that would make most people flinch or turn away.
Finally, everyone was ushered or helped off the ship and shown to their planetary quarters. There was a main building consisting of the offices dealing with the administrators, a food hall, a bar, and a restaurant. It also housed most of the Space Corps personnel. Another large building consisted of the main lab and medical facilities, as well as meeting rooms, and housing for quite a lot of the scientists. There were additional outlaying housing, single family units for the families, and apartment buildings for singles and couples.
Exercise facilities were also available, and a few restaurants and cafes should be running within a months time.
Aragon. His home for the next six months. And until his mission was over, these were hispeople walking to their new homes.
He turned to speak with his corporal. "Are the scanners online? I don't want any surprises."
"Yes Sir, scanners online, nothing in view."
"Good." They were on the edges of earth colonized galaxies, and there was always the danger of attacks from other peoples who wanted to claim the planet for themselves.
* * *
Just like Dean had predicted, once everyone had been awakened, the ship had been a bit of a nightmare for Sam. With everyone awake, there had been a lot for him to deal with. The crew were stressed, anxious, frustrated - all the worst emotions for Sam to have to deal with incessantly. Much to his dislike he found he had to block at least one hour a day just to keep himself focused.
In addition to the additional challenge of more conscious crew, Sam had been tracking a crew member and a passenger who had awakened after the journey with some mental challenges. The long sleep and the chemicals that were used to induce R.E.M. sleep could cause reactions in some people.
Jo Harvelle was the one who worried Sam the most. He had met with her as she awoke. Against better judgment, the sleep manager had awakened Harvelle while she was having a nightmare. The flood of fear and confusion from her sent Sam crashing to his knees in the dining room. When he was finally helped up by some crew members, he had run to the sleep capsule and had managed to bring her through the worst of it. He likened it to being a light in a dense fog - something for people to aim for.
The problem was, even after they'd landed and got settled on Aragon, Harvelle continued to struggle to return to her normal sleep pattern, and when she did sleep, she was plagued with nightmares of epic proportion. The more unstable she became, the more time Sam spent tracking her. He sensed that a break was approaching and realized he could no longer put off a visit to Dean to discuss his recommendation that Harvelle be removed from duty and hospitalized. Sam was exhausted and felt he was no longer able to keep her safe.
He approached Dean's quarters like a man approaching a wild animal. There had not been many encounters between the two men since they landed but the one's they'd had weren't all that pleasant. Dean didn't trust Sam any further than he could throw him, which certainly wasn't very far. Sam had no idea why it grated on his nerves so much. He'd been misunderstood before. People without any telepathic abilities often made incorrect assumptions about Tels. It was frustrating but Sam was usually able to move past it. Things with Dean were different. Dean had remained bitter and hostile since that night his dream had drawn Sam to him. It was remarkably unfair for Dean to lay all the blame at Sam's feet, after all, it hadn't been Sam's mind that had generated the dream that had reduced them both to sexually frustrated messes.
Sam knew Dean was embarrassed - another chink in his armor. So, Sam had let it go, he just wasn't feeling so charitable now that someone's life might be in danger. Dean would just have to suck it up and deal with Sam.
By the time he reached the hallway Dean's quarters were housed in he could sense Dean wasn't alone. It was no psychic vision that told him that - it was the wall of desire that hit Sam when he rounded the final corner. Dean's emotions were remarkably unique in the Sam seemed to be able to easily pick them out of the rat's nest of feelings around him at any given moment.
Dean was with someone, a pleasure visit with a crew member or civilian, Sam suspected. It wasn't uncommon and Dean was certainly a healthy, virile man. It didn't change the fact that Sam needed to speak with him.
Sam pressed his thumbprint to the door pad and waited while he was announced inside.
A few moments later Dean's door slid open to reveal his shirtless torso and flushed skin. Sam swallowed, "Dean, I need to speak with you regarding a crew member... it's urgent." He left no room for misinterpretation in his tone.
Locking gazes with the exact person he was trying to get out of his system, Dean literally fought for control, fought not to slam a fist into the telepath's face and tell him to get the hell away. But his words sank in, and Dean knew his duty. "Give me a minute," he said, curtly, moving back so the door slid shut.
Within five minutes, he was dressed, had made his apologies to the girl he was with, and walked her out the door. His gaze lingered on her swinging ass as she walked away, then he turned and took a deep breath. "This better be good."
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't need to be." Sam leaned against the wall. "It's Harvelle - she's coming apart. She was woken from a nightmare during her journey sleep, the sleep supervisor made a bad call and now it's caught up with her." His eyes flitted over to Dean's stony face. "I'm exhausted, Dean, I need her pulled from duty and sent to a supervised ward in the hospital and I need it done now. I apologize for interrupting your ..." he gestured towards the door, "thing." Sam combed his fingers through his hair, eyes wide.
"Don't get cute with me," Dean snapped, perceiving Sam's comment about his 'thing' as criticism. "Is she an imminent danger to herself or to others?"
"Do you think I would be here if she weren't? I'm worried that ... I know she's going to have a break - I've felt it before. She needs to be isolated and protected and I need an officer to do it." He sighed, " .. and don't snap at me I'm just doing my job," he spat. Frustrated with himself he looked down at his feet and waited afraid if he looked up he might swear at the man. His fists were clenched at his side.
Stepping just inside his unit, Dean picked up his telecommunication device, took a moment to control his own temper and walked out again. Pressing the button to connect with dispatcher, he asked for the location of Harvelle's residence and asked for it to be sent to his device. He also directed that the hospital be prepared to accept a patient for solitary confinement and observation and to prepare to send back up if necessary. Nodding, he started to walk, studying the device and not looking at Sam. "So, is she the only one? That's not too bad considering the numbers we have."
"I'm tracking one more person from the passengers but I think he will be fine. I'm meeting with him daily - he's very strong. I kept careful watch on all of them, I've only been blocking for an hour a day." He rubbed his eyes and bumped into Dean accidentally, "sorry, I... anyway, I will let you know if anyone else has any issues." He fell into step beside Dean. "How are you adjusting? I ... I haven't been anywhere near you or your thoughts since we landed."
"Fine," the word was clipped, intended to cut off the discussion. He glanced at Sam and noticed that the man did appear tired. His face was a bit drawn, and there were shadows under his eyes. "I'm not going to tell you how to do your job but if you were a Corps man and had extended duties over a long period of time, I'd order you to take your full rest allotment at least once every third day. My two cents, you don't have to take the advice." They exited the building and headed across the greens. The nights sky was darker than on earth, and the two moons were a blood red. Dean pulled out a flashlight to light their way, not all of the lighting had been installed as yet.
"Fortunately, I'm not a Corps man." Sam's voice was more tense than he intended but he was exhausted by Dean's hostility. Frankly, he wanted nothing to do with the man's feelings, thoughts or emotions... the less the better. "Are you armed?"
Dean gave him a look. He guessed it was only fair, they were both grating on each others' nerves. "Yeah. Armed and ready, are you getting increased negative vibes?" Dealing with someone who went off the deep end after a bad reaction to the sleeping pods could be challenging. Even a child could get violent, not know what he or she was doing and act like they were on powerful drugs which dulled their pain receptors. A person who couldn't feel pain was dangerous.
Checking on their progress, he flashed the light toward a building that they approached, checked it's number, and headed down the narrow walkway. "It's the next one. Apartment G-3." As they walked, he pulled his gun out, loaded it, made sure the safety was on and pushed it back into his waist band, at his back, within easy reach.
Sam hated guns, but he had confidence that Dean wouldn't use his weapon unless he had to. "She's worse than when I left, be careful, Dean." Sam could feel the confusion, his fingers drifted up to his forehead and he grunted, the force of her feelings was a strain for his already exhausted mind. "Hurry..." his voice was soft, fingers reaching out for Dean's wrist.
The instant Sam's hand clamped around his wrist, Dean looked over at him. Ordinarily, he would have shaken off anyone grabbing him like that, and he had no idea why he didn't. Increasing their pace to a run, when he reached the unit, he put his arm out, barring Sam from getting in front of the door. "Stay back."
He knocked three times, "this is Captain Winchester, open up. I need to talk to you." After a few moments, he stepped back and kicked the door near the handle. It went slamming into the inside wall. "Stand back," he repeated, hand touching the light pad. When the lights didn't go on, he knew there was trouble.
"Jo Harvelle... we're here to help." He took a few steps into the apartment, searching the room with the small flashlight. It was a mess. The large wall screen had been torn off and lay in shattered pieces on the ground, crackling under Dean's booted feet as he stepped on them. Tables were overturned, things were trashed. "Jo?"
Looking behind him, he took a few more steps and pushed past the entrance to the kitchen. Everything was out of the cabinets. He opened a couple of the larger ones, made sure no one was hiding, and started into the laundry area.
It came out of nowhere and hit Sam full force like a bat swung at his head. He staggered back against the door frame, cried out, then fell to the floor. "Dean..." his voice was rough, strained, "it's ... she's in trouble... here though - be careful..." He leaned his cheek against the broken glass on the floor, reaching up to wipe his face. He looked at his fingers as they came away covered in blood. His hand fell to the floor and he rolled onto his side, one hand wrapped over his head.
Running back into the living room, Dean saw Sam on the ground and looked at the direction he was looking. Nodding, he pressed a button on his communication device requesting back up, and headed into the hall where she must have scurried back to. He pushed a door open, saw an empty bathroom, walked away and pushed another door open, but silently came back. He'd seen the shower curtain move, and the window was closed.
Two seconds later, a petite blond came out, a short plank in her hands, obviously intending to follow him to the other room. "Stop." He gave her one chance, and ducked the plank, throwing his fist out and glancing her chin. He sent her back against the wall, and followed. "Stay down, Jo, stay down," he demanded, but it was futile. She scrambled up, screeching at him and attacking. He shoved her into the living room where there was more space, then swept his leg around at ground level, knocking her over onto her back.
She screamed as glass cut into the side of her face, picked up a big shard and aimed it.
"Uh uh," Dean kicked it out of her hand, landed on top of other and grabbing her wrist, rolled her over onto her stomach. He pressed his knee into the small of her back. As he started to cuff her, security showed.
"You alright? You need to go see the doc?" Dean asked Sam, not looking back until the other men took over, and he could stand up. He got to Sam who was being helped up and could see the blood on his temple. His heart constricted. What the fuck? He'd taken a step toward him, his arms opening to the sides, he'd wanted to fucking hug Sam? What the hell? It had almost been like ... like instinct. "Ah... Sam?"
"No, yeah... I mean," he swayed a little and leaned back against the wall for a few moments. "I'm good, I'll be fine." He moved towards the door and grabbed the door frame, steadying himself for a moment then moved outside onto the walkway quickly. He needed to get away from Jo and Dean, it was too much. Her emotions ... it was like a faucet had been turned on and he was being bombarded, and Dean, Dean was just all over the place. After about three steps he sank to one knee and threw up, tipping back into the wall and closing his eyes, beads of sweat popping up on his forehead.
In a couple steps, Dean was in front of Sam, bending over and searching his face. He grasped that it wasn't the physical injuries that were affecting Sam, but the emotional ones which he'd been refusing to block. "Come on, I know a place," he said, putting his shoulder under Sam's arm and lifting him to his feet. "Lieutenant, secure the premises and then I want a full report from the hospital, copy Mr. Wesson."
Once they were on the greens, he forced Sam to walk to the lab, which was nearby. The guy was damned tall, and Dean was no shorty, and there was a little staggering, but he had the feeling that as a telepath, Sam was picking up the fact that Dean would carry him if he had to, so he was making a greater effort.
At the end of the path, he pressed his thumb against the keypad, and they walked into the building. "Just a little more," he said, gently, almost as if he were speaking to a child as they got into the elevator.
Sam's mind was a mess. He was desperately trying to block Jo but her connection to him was strong, and he was tired. Dean, had actually been right. Sam needed more rest, needed more time to be alone in his own mind. "W..Where are we?" He rubbed his eyes, and only succeeded in getting more blood in his left eye.
"Lab, it should block everyone out." As soon as the elevator doors hissed open, he half dragged Sam to a large steel door, used the keypad and entered the secondary security code. The heavy door, much like a vault, opened up. He got Sam inside, pulled it closed, and helped him to a rolling chair next to a counter. Once he had him seated, he cupped his chin, pulling it up to look at the physical damage. "Any... better? Don't move." Slowly, he pulled out a small piece of glass embedded in Sam's skin.
"Thanks," Sam blinked his eyes a few times and then closed them, "better," he mumbled as he relaxed a little. Opening his eyes he blinked up at Dean. "Can you not touch me, please, it makes it hard ... for me to not feel your emotions and I know you don't like that. I.. I can block you but not if you touch me." He looked down fighting another wave of nausea as his body slowly recovered its balance.
"Don't sweat it, I think I can manage not to feel anything I don't want you to know about." He almost smiled as he continued to inspect for remnants of glass, and saw another piece. "Just one more, then I'll clean it up."
"The glass, was from the floor?" It was all kind of a blur in Sam's mind. "Is Jo alright?" He coughed and shifted a little on the chair, reaching up to rub his eye again. "I should go and see her, help her." He pushed up from the chair.
"You're not going anywhere." Gripping his shoulder, Dean pushed him back down. "She'll have been sedated by now, and there is nothing you can do for her until tomorrow. Only way you can help her is by helping yourself first. Don't make me pull rank, Sammy." He stilled, his mind freezing at the fact he'd called him Sammy.
"Don't call me...Sammy..." It tugged as his mind somehow, Sammy, strange - as far as he could remember no one had ever called him that but it ... felt strangely familiar. Shaking his head, he looked up, "sorry, that was rude... I'm a little confused." Sam ran a hand down over his face slowly and let out a long breath.
"Won't happen again." A muscle throbbed in Dean's jaw. Where the hell had Sammy come from? "Okay, got the last one." Dean crossed the room and went into some drawers until he found a first aid kit and returned. Wetting some cotton, he started to clean the wounds. "Is it quieter now, in your head?"
"It is ... thanks." Sam tried a slight smile and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry about.." he gestured to his face, "all this, I'm usually not so affected - but she was really... and I've let myself get over-tired." His looked up at Dean and tilted his head, "you were right - I will take your advice and take my allowable rest time from now on." Dean's eyes were the most startling color of green. Sam shook his head and looked away. "Sorry - you should go back to your, your friend."
"Nah, the itch is gone." He chuckled at the comment that would more likely have escaped him over a beer than with a semi stranger in a lab. He started slathering antibiotic cream, then met Sam's gaze and raised his eyebrow.
"What?" Sam's cheeks colored quickly betraying the fact that Dean caught him looking at the color of his eyes. He looked away quickly.
Dean shrugged, then zapped the medilamp over the wounds, making sure they'd heal quickly. "There. Good as new." Moving to lean against the counter, he looked down at his feet. "That was... good work. If she'd left her unit, she could have caused a lot of damage. There are a lot of kids across the way, in the family units."
Sam smiled and looked up at Dean's face again. "Thank-you." He knew that praise didn't come often from Dean and took it at face value. Sam's wristband chimed softly and he looked momentarily puzzled and then tapped the screen. "She's going to be okay, they have her stabilized. A few cuts but Jo will be fine." He tapped the screen again and looked back over at Dean, "she's a good crew-member, I hope this doesn't affect her career. She's devoted to her job." Blowing out a breath, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Maybe I should just sleep in here," he laughed softly.
"Happens to the best of us, not her fault." He looked around. "I could arrange to get a cot brought in, if you like." There was a pause, then he looked at Sam. "How did you do it? How'd you get into my mind. No one's... not since I was maybe..." he motioned with his hand. "Thirteen?"
"I..I'm never really sure how to describe it. I guess, I don't push for entry, I wait, I try to find somewhere, a memory ... a place where you and I..." he stopped abruptly, "I mean in this case, you and I." He cleared his throat, "a place where we have something in common." He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment then opened them, "it's really hard to explain. You gave me an opening for some reason - I don't know why - but it was there...so I took advantage of it." He looked down at his hand, noticed the drying blood. "Dean..." he looked up at the other man, "the night you were dreaming...."
"I don't want to talk about that," he pulled his gaze away. "I ... I know how I stopped everyone else from poking around inside my head. I just... if you got through, whose to say others can't. I always thought the barriers were impenetrable." What he wanted, needed... was the security he used to have. He'd been so sure that no one could get in his mind, just cause they hadn't been able to.
"No one else could have," Sam looked down. "It's not my ego," he shrugged, "I only get sent to meet with people like you when it's difficult, people who have built up an efficient system for rebuking ... people like me." His eyes drifted up to meet Dean's again and he spoke quickly. "I didn't eavesdrop on your dream - I thought you needed me - I felt - some kind of want and from a distance I had trouble determining what kind of ... want it was." His eyes blinked a few times as he prepared to be yelled at again.
Dean pushed away from the counter and walked over to a cabinet, looking through it. There was nothing he needed, but he wanted to get away from Sam's watchful eyes. "Let's not do this. It was just a dream, it's over." No, he wasn't going to fucking mention that he had another, and that it was a whole helluvalot better waking to that than to some of his other dreams, ones he could not remember but which left him feeling a deep sense of loss and dread.
He turned, dry scrubbed his face. "There are no other specialists... like you? Fine. How do I... what can I do to strengthen the barriers in my mind, against you?" Yeah, he probably didn't have a prayer in hell that Sam would answer that.
"I suppose you could learn how to focus more, you have good defenses but they're broad. If you could focus your," he sighed, "anger at one point somehow, the point the Tel was trying to access then you could probably block. I don't know if it would work against me." He threaded his fingers together and leaned on his thighs, "Dean, when you told me - when you said not to - I hadn't. I can stay out of people's minds and I've not been near yours. That night it was so vivid - the dream - it just, it brought me there and then it was so good..." his mouth snapped shut and he shot up off the chair almost falling over. "I should go back to my bunk, I'm tired."
Dean gave a nod, wishing he didn't have as vivid a memory of it. "Minds are scary," he tried to laugh. "It was a good dream. Just one in a lot of good dreams," he clarified. "You sure you're ready to go?"
"Why are you lying?" Sam blinked up at Dean.
"Alright, minds aren't scary."
"About the dream," Sam insisted.
"You're the psychic, you tell me," Dean shot back.
Sam's eyes narrowed, "you said you didn't want me in your head."
"Why are you being difficult? It's not important, let's fucking go. You need to sleep," he said, grabbing Sam's arm and pulling him up off the stool. He wasn't going to examine the dream, there was nothing to examine. Attraction was attraction, and he'd been attracted to Sam before he'd known who he was so why not after? There was no mystery, just a little embarrassment at getting caught.
Sam tugged his arm roughly out of Dean's grip. "I said - don't touch me." He stared into Dean's eyes for a few moments wondering why the man hated him so much, turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.
Letting out a deep sigh, Dean shook his head. He'd always had a suspicion that Telepaths were a dramatic bunch. Exhibit A had just walked out that door. Taking a look around, he shut the lights, and left the room.
Once Dean reached the elevator bank, he saw that Sam was sitting on the ground, head leaning back against the wall. "You're gonna make me carry you, aren't you?" Bending over, he started hefting the telepath up.
"I can walk, I'm just resting," Sam muttered but he wasn't stupid enough to refuse the help when he could barely stand. He slipped his arm over Dean's shoulders and grabbed on to his uniform. He spent the first couple of minutes trying incredibly hard to ignore the feel of Dean's body against his side.
"You're in the Adminn building too, right?" He was just trying to make conversation, he knew most of admin would were housed there. "You... blocking?" He searched Sam's drawn face. "It's not about me, are you protecting yourself?" he demanded.
"Not right now, I always walk around this time of night and make sure everything's ... okay." Sam was a little dizzy - it was strange - Jo had really blasted him when she blew. That was what it felt like - an explosion and if Sam wasn't ready, which he hadn't been, it hurt. "M'sorry - Jo kinda whacked me." He turned to look at Dean - forgetting how close his face was.
For a moment, Dean was sure they were gonna kiss. His mouth was so close to Sam's... so close, he practically felt his own lips tingling. When he lifted his eyes, he knew Sam must have realized he was focused on his mouth... again. Taking a breath, he helped Sam into the elevator and punched the button harder than necessary. "Well start blocking. Right now. This time it is about me."
"Okay," Sam mumbled as he concentrated, shutting things down slowly - it was more like constricting a flow than it was flipping a switch. Unfortunately, Dean's emotions and thoughts would be the last to go. He leaned more of his weight against Dean, he was so tired.
"Thanks." The doors hissed open and he got Sam out. Once they were out on the greens, he had his flashlight out, and was bearing more of Sam's weight. "Will I have to post a guard to make sure you don't leave your room until at least nine?" He got them inside the building then followed Sam's lead as to the location of his unit.
"No," Sam shook his head and then regretted it almost instantly. His knees gave out for a few seconds and he stumbled. "Sorry ... I need to sleep." He could barely keep his eyes open and the strangest sensation of caring was coming from Dean. Compassion, all muddled together with something else he couldn't quite interpret as his blocking continued to expand.
"Which one is it?" As soon as Sam pointed, Dean wrapped his arm around Sam's waist and held onto Sam's arm which was over his shoulder, practically carrying him to the door. Once Sam pressed his finger to the entry pad and the door opened, he hit the lights with his elbow and without asking permission got him all the way to the bed. The apartment was neat, everything in its place, clothes folded, nothing laying around. Not surprised Sam was anal, he helped him onto the bed.
There was a moment of awkwardness, before Dean said 'fuck it'. Sam needed rest to do his job, and he couldn't get it if he tried to sleep in clothes. Not making a deal about it, he helped get his shirt off, leaving his tee on. He refused to allow his eyes to linger where he knew the shirt would be stretched tightly across Sam's broad chest. He waited for Sam to undo his own pants, then crouched to the floor, efficiently getting Sam's shoes off, then dragging the pants off his body.
Their eyes met briefly. Dean felt the same electric heat he'd noticed when Sam helped him at the gym that one night. "Alright, get in." He lifted the sheets and blanket and could see Sam could barely keep his eyes open. "Sleep."
As soon as Sam's eyes drifted shut, Dean pulled the sheets up to his chin, and leaned in, lightly kissing his forehead. His eyes widened, he got up and hoped to hell Sam was asleep. Touching his lips, he walked out, a deep frown lining his brows.
As sleep washed over Sam he felt a touch on his forehead, familiar in some way and the name rolled into his mind Sammy - then his block took full effect and everything was gone.
* * *
Three days later, it was close to ten p.m., and Dean had changed out of his uniform. He was headed to the new bar that had opened, interested in seeing what they'd done with it. The instant he walked in, he felt a pull. Goddamnit, he wasn't the psychic, so why did he know almost before he saw him, that Sam was here?
Striding to the bar, he ordered a beer, his head turned, watching Sam's profile. They hadn't spoken, though they'd seen each other several times. The looks that passed between them were sexually charged... Dean couldn't deny that even if he wanted to. He had a planet with hundreds of people, and the one that he kept thinking about had to be Sam? How fucked up was that?
Sam tapped his wristband off and took a sip of his drink. It was nice to have a place to socialize, maybe hook up with someone and relieve a little tension. Of course, Sam's luck as usual dictated that he would find himself in the bar at the same time as Dean. For two people who were trying to avoid each other they seemed to spend an awful lot of time moving in out of the same space. Sam brushed his hair back off his face and looked around. He knew most of the crew well enough to chat with them, had met everyone - all in the line of work. His eyes moved back over the lines of Dean's back and Sam's mind drifted back to the first time he and Dean were in a bar together. There was an attraction between them, Sam couldn't deny that, although it was his intention to keep trying.
Taking the bottle, Dean turned, his eyes meeting and locking with Sam's. He felt heat creeping up his neck, took a breath and a long drink to cool himself off. He didn't look away though, couldn't. Hell... maybe he should just go over and talk to the guy. What could it hurt to talk? And if it looked like a single night was Sam's thing... maybe he could get rid of this fucking itch.
Sam tore his eyes away from Dean and looked along the bar. He nodded at Kevin, a younger man that he'd had limited involvement with. He was one of the more stable people on the crew which meant Sam had no reason to have a "work" relationship with him. He smiled and looked down at his drink. Kevin was an attractive man, it might be worth exploring an encounter with him. It certainly couldn't hurt Sam's well-being. Apart from almost constantly wondering what would have happened had he and Dean hooked up the first time they met, Sam had little opportunity to get any sexual relief. He brushed his hair back off his face and glanced back up at Kevin, lingering eye-contact - Kevin had nice eyes. Sam leaned back on his chair, sliding down a little, letting his legs fall open to the sides, relaxing and letting his intentions be known.
Taking his card and pocketing it, Dean stood up and started heading toward Sam. He had crossed half the distance between them when he realized something was going on between Sam and another man. The looks were unmistakable, and then the other guy was sitting right across from Sam, the pair of them sharing easy laughter. it wasn't at all like the stilted, sometimes very difficult or awkward conversations between himself and Sam.
Then the man was nodding... Kevin, Dean thought that might be the guy's name... and Sam got up. Yeah, he recognized a hook up only too well. He should be happy, or at least he should feel nothing, right? What was this claw-like feeling in his gut? He didn't like it, didn't like it one bit. And he didn't like that guy Kevin either. Not even a little.
Sam liked Kevin, he was funny, charming and pleasant to speak to. It didn't hurt that he was really attractive. They agreed quickly to leave the club, heading for Sam's room. Laughing, they picked up their jackets, Sam finished his drink and they headed toward the door. He was looking across at Kevin as they moved across the room toward the exit and almost ran into Dean. Sam's eyes widened and he licked his lips, "Dean... nice to see you out relaxing. Have you met Kevin?" He gestured to the man at his side.
Dean nodded noncommittally, "Kevin. You too, nice to see you relaxing." His gaze slid away, "I didn't mean to block your way. Have a good evening, gentlemen." Stepping to the side, he made way for them, still struggling against strange, unfamiliar feelings, but doing his damnedest to keep them under control, seeing as he was standing inches away from a telepath... the very telepath responsible for this feelings.
Sam could feel Dean's uncertainty - it was strange - but he didn't focus on it. Glancing quickly over his shoulder he raised an eyebrow and caught Dean's eyes for a moment then slipped his hand in Kevin's and pulled him out the door.
* * *
"No... no you can't take him, you can't have him. He's mine Dad! Mom! Mom?! Daaaad!!!!!!!!!!!!"
The world once blue and white turned black and red.
Dean jackknifed up, his heart racing, a cold sweat covering him from head to toe, his hand clenched around the small twin medallions hanging from the chain around his neck. He tried to focus, tried to remember, tried to fucking see through the clouds... a face... he needed to see a face. He tried, harder than he had in years, tried until tears were streaming down his face. Fucking telepaths... damn them... damn them... God damn them to hell.
Getting out of bed, he headed into the shower, letting the powerful spray of water pound into his face and head... wanting it to drive the memories away. No, not gone... but he wanted them to stop torturing him. The past was the past. Dead and gone.