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brighteyedjillTitle: The Secret’s in the Telling, Epilogue
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Nathan/Peter (Heroes), Dean/Sam (Supernatural), and some cross-pollination.
Warnings: Graphic slash, fictional relatives in lust (consensual incest), violence (really), harsh language
Universe: SPN – vaguely Season 3 (sometime between 3x5 Bedtime Stories and 3x10 Dream a Little Dream of Me). Heroes – vaguely post Season 2 (general spoilers)
Author’s note: Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jaune_chat for listening to me gripe and for the beta. I don’t own Heroes or Supernatural.
Part I - Part II (A) - Part II (B) - Part III (A) - Part III (B) - Part IV
Six Weeks Later
Dean strode into the Evanston Township morgue and slapped his FBI badge down on the counter. The nurse looked up from chewing her pen and raised an eyebrow in interest. “Can I help you?” she asked, and looked up him and down with an appraising eye.
“Special Agent Tom Baldwin.” Dean flashed her a confident smile. “I need to take a look at that John Doe from Wilmette.”
“Sure.” The nurse grabbed a clipboard and beckoned to Dean to follow her down the hallway. “Your partner’s already inside.”
Dean almost tripped over his own feet. “Uh,” he said cleverly. Sure, he had faith in his ability to bullshit, but he’d rather avoid explaining himself to a real FBI agent.
Before he could spit out a plausible excuse, the door at the end of the hallway burst open. Another nurse was pointing out something on a clipboard to a man in a black suit. “Ah, there he is,” said the nurse at Dean’s side.
The fed looked up; his eyes flashed surprise for a moment before retreating into neutrality. “Nice of you to join us,” he said. Dean hesitated, torn between running and standing his ground. As they drew closer, Dean finally recognized the man in the suit: Nathan.
“I was just finishing up here,” Nathan said. “Why don’t I fill you in on our way to the car.” He turned back to the nurse. “Thanks for your help, ma’am.” Yes, the man was quick on his feet.
“Dean!”
“What?”
“That was Highway 14. We were supposed to turn there.”
“This is a shortcut.”
Sam threw up his hands and slumped back in his seat, glowering. Dean alternated between watching the road and looking back at Sam. The glower didn’t go away.
“Why have you been acting so weird?” Dean asked at last.
“Weird how?”
“I don’t know. Weird moody. Like moodier than usual,” Dean elaborated.
“I am not.”
“Yeah. Ever since that thing in Ohio.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Sam turned further toward the window.
“Sam…” Even if Sam was being a bitch about it, Dean had to at least try. “Is it what that demon said? About us? Do you think we’re damned because of—.”
“No,” Sam cut him off. “God no, Dean. How could you think that?”
Dean shrugged as if it was nothing, but the thought had been eating at him. If Sam wanted a change but didn’t know how to say so, Dean needed to give him a way out. “But something’s weird. What’s with the brooding, seriously?”
Sam didn’t say anything at first, but Dean knew to give him time. Eventually, he heaved a sigh. “I was just… thinking about the Petrellis. That’s all.” He blushed and slumped down in the passenger seat until his knees hit the dashboard.
That was when Dean began to get ideas.
With a last smile and wave at the nurses, Dean and Nathan walked out of the building in silence and emerged onto the sunny street. Nathan steered them into a nook along the side of the building, out of the flow of pedestrians.
“What are you doing here?” Dean asked immediately.
“Working,” Nathan said coolly. “Where’s your husband?”
“Where’s yours?” Dean parried.
Nathan loosened his tie, managing to look somehow both more disheveled and more dignified. “If you came here to see that John Doe, we must be working the same case.”
“Yeah, and it’s our case!”
Nathan nodded thoughtfully. “You may be right about that.”
“Of course I’m right,” Dean said. It seemed a little paranoid to think that Nathan had agreed too easily, but this was one occasion when Dean was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Well. I guess I’ll leave you to it.” Nathan hesitated a moment, as if debating whether to say something further, but then he gave Dean a curt nod and strode away.
Dean was halfway down the block before he realized that Nathan had neglected to tell him anything about the autopsy.
--
The lock on the back door was easy to pick. Sam was pretty sure the house didn’t have an alarm system, but classy neighborhoods like this one had more than their share, so he didn’t begrudge a few extra minutes to double-check for any security controls. When he was finally sure that no rent-a-cop was going to burst in on him, he set out to explore the rest of the house.
In the living room, a framed picture caught his eye: it was a middle-aged couple standing in front of a giant, lit Ferris wheel. Sure enough, the woman was Jessica Kings, the crazy lady he and Dean had taken care of last night. The other guy must be her philandering husband, Brian. It seemed a bit strange to keep a picture of you and your ex-wife in your house, but that would just about jive with the crazy stuff they’d learned about this couple so far. Some people’s lives just didn’t bear examining too closely.
“Sam?”
Sam had dropped this picture, pulled out his gun out and pointed it all in the space of a heartbeat. It took him a few seconds to recognize the man who stood at the bottom of the stairs, hands up in surrender.
“Peter?”
“Yeah,” Peter said, lowering his hands as Sam lowered the gun. “Wow… You’re… Here.”
“So are you,” Sam said. He shoved the gun back into his waistband.
“Yeah, well we’re working a case.”
“So are we.”
“Um… I don’t suppose they might be different cases?” Peter ventured a hopeful smile that Sam did not find at all cute.
“Not unless you broke in here for reasons that have nothing to do with that Jane Doe they found in Wilmette.” Sam picked up the framed photo from the floor. Its glass was cracked, but he put it back on the mantle anyway.
“That’d be a no, then,” Peter said, and drifted further into the room. “So, any theories?”
“A few. I’ll know more when Dean gets back from the morgue.”
“That’s where Nathan is.”
“Great.” And I can’t ask how he is. That would look weird. Or would it look weird not to ask. Well crap. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to check out the house.”
“Go right ahead.” Peter stepped aside. “There’s a body up in the master bedroom.”
“Great.” Sam started up the stairs, and was surprised when Peter fell into step next to him.
“So how’ve you been?”
“I’m trying to work. Do you mind?” He wasn’t too happy to see Peter in the first place, and he certainly wasn’t in the mood for coffee klatch, even if he was more than mildly curious how Nathan was doing. If he was working a job, he must be fully recovered from his run-in with the demon. Or not. Sam knew how Dean behaved when he was injured: restless and too eager to get back into the fight. He imagined Nathan was the same way.
“At first I thought this was something Nathan and I had tangled with before,” Peter said, pushing open a door at the top of the stairs. “Brains missing and all. But now I’m not so sure.”
Sam suppressed a smug smile. He was positive this case was in the bag; it was just icing on the cake that Peter would be here when he got definitive proof. He wasn’t ready to admit to himself why it was so important to show up Peter. Instead, he went to examine the mess on the floor: man with his head ripped open, lots of blood. It was probably Brian Kings, but it was hard to tell, he was so mangled.
“It’s the defensive wounds that confused me,” Peter said from the doorway. “Whatever attacked this guy got up close and personal.”
Sam looked at the skin caught under Brian’s fingernails. “Uh huh. Looks like we were right.” Sam stood up and brushed his hands off on his jeans.
“So what was it?” Peter asked.
Sam loved this part. “Zombies.”
Peter stared at him. “Zombies.”
“Yep. Zombies. Reanimated corpses. The living dead.”
“Zombies.”
“Yeah. Dean and I took care of the zombie master—the uh, person who called the zombie—yesterday.” Sam shuddered and made a mental note never to cheat on anyone who would think to call up his dead lover to eat his brains. “I’ll bet you a hundred bucks that the John Doe the police are so quiet on has really been dead for weeks.”
“Zombies,” Peter repeated.
“Yep. So that about wraps things up here.” Sam stood and met Peter’s eyes. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask where Nathan was, ask if they wanted to go get a drink—no, drinking with Nathan was a bad idea; maybe just a bite to eat, then maybe back to Nathan’s hotel room to make out. Nathan certainly wasn’t the zombie-calling type. Totally safe to make out with him.
“Anything… else?” Peter asked.
“Nathan this, Nathan that,” Dean mimicked. “If he’s so great, why don’t you go marry him?”
“You are seriously ten years old, Dean.” Sam took another bite of his short stack and waited for Dean to get this out of his system.
“Nathan’s so organized. Nathan’s such a good researcher. Nathan has great taste. Nathan shits rainbows and puppies.”
“And yet, you never say a word about Peter.” Sam stabbed his fork into his pancakes with more violence than was strictly necessary. “Spent two weeks with the guy and don’t have anything to say about it. Why is that?”
“It just means I’m not completely annoying.”
“Or you’re trying to hide something,” Sam snapped. He’d taken enough of his brother’s crap on this topic. “Don’t worry, Dean. I already know.”
Dean hesitate, just a second, but enough to give himself away, before asking, “Know what?”
“We saw your motel room in Baltimore. It was pretty obvious what you two had been doing.”
Dean had a slick reply ready, Sam could tell, but he stopped himself. Instead, he looked down at his coffee and shrugged. “What do you want me to say?”
“Something,” Sam said. That was really the issue. If Dean had fessed up, then Sam could have come clean too. But there was no way in hell—or out of it—that Sam was going to break down before Dean. “I just want you to say something.”
“Nope, nothing,” Sam said. “Zombies are taken care of.”
“Well, if you’re done with the job—,” Peter began.
“We’ll be moving on,” Sam said quickly. He couldn’t ask. He’d be a hypocrite after all that shit he gave Dean about Peter, so instead he tossed a, “See you around” over his shoulder as he fled the scene of the crime.
--
Dean hated the suburbs. Even if he was just trying to find his way back to the motel, he always got lost in a damn housing development and had to spend hours driving down twisty roads with names like “Hill Creek” and “Eagle Pond” and “Hickory Grove Mountain Forest Glen.” By the time he finally saw the gates of the development, he was so eager for freedom that he forgot to watch for pedestrians. When a man jumped out in front of his car, he barely slammed on the break in time to not make mincemeat of the dude.
“Watch it!” Dean shouted.
To his surprise, the guy came to the passenger side and opened the door to climb in. “Hey Dean.” It was Peter.
“You gave me a freaking heart attack,” Dean grumbled.
“Sorry,” Peter said, but he didn’t look sorry at all.
“I heard you were in town.”
“I saw your brother. At that house. Zombie victim and all.”
“Heh. Zombies. They’re so awesome.” At Peter’s skeptical look, he went on. “I mean, in a terrible, vicious way.”
“I talked to Nathan. He said that John Doe looked like it had been dead way longer than two days.”
“That’s what I thought,” Dean said, nodding sagely. So case closed. And damn he’d been ready to get out of Evanston, but if there was a reason to stay… Peter just watched him patiently. Dean had no idea what he was thinking, and that made him nervous. “So I’d say we’ve got everything wrapped up.”
“Sure,” Peter said quickly. “I’m supposed to meet Nathan at the library at five. He wanted to do some research while we were in town, helping a friend of ours with this list thing. That’s supposed to take a couple days.”
“Yeah well… Sam and I were probably heading out of town, so…”
Dean watched Sam pick at his chow mien for two whole minutes before he tossed down his chopsticks in disgust. “Sammy, would you please stop pining?”
“Pining? I didn’t even know you knew that word.” Sam shoved the noodles around his plastic plate.
“Ha ha. No, seriously. Do we need to get you a puppy or something? You look miserable.”
“No, I’m just…”
“Don’t say this is about me and Peter.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Okay then.” Dean endured another minute or so of noodle stirring. “You wanna… I dunno, call someone?”
“They don’t use phones. It’s this weird Big Brother technology thing.”
“Paranoid much?”
“Hey, if demons and vampires can exist,” Sam said vehemently, “I’m willing to believe there might be a disembodied woman working for a mysterious and evil Company who can intercept digital communication.”
“I guess. Taking a lot on faith there, Sammy.”
“Maybe so.”
Peter reached for the door handle, then paused and turned back. “Hey, Dean? You have time for a little vacation?”
“Maybe. Why?”
“Well, I was thinking about our brothers.”
--
When Nathan walked out of the library at five after five, he was surprised to see Sam Winchester sitting on the front steps, brooding. He sat down on the step next to him, and Sam nodded in greeting. “Heard you were in town,” he said. “Where’s Peter?”
Sam muttered something indistinct.
“Come again?”
“They ditched us,” Sam grumbled. “Here.” He shoved a note into Nathan’s hand: a half-sheet of notebook paper decorated in Peter’s scrawl.
Sam will be much better at researching all those genealogies. You know that’s where I’m useless. Dean wants my help tracking down some kind of flying monster in Duluth. We’ll see you back here on Sunday. Have fun. I mean it. Much love, Peter.
Nathan crumpled the note and shoved it in his pocket. “Dean leave you a note?”
Sam held up a cocktail napkin covered in chicken scratches. “Yep.”
“Son of a bitch,” Nathan said.
“You’ve gotta be careful saying that about your own brother.”
“Well, if the shoe fits.”
“Nathan?” Peter pushed back further into the circle of Nathan’s arms, letting the sheets slide off his shoulder. “Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
“When we were apart… You know, when you were with Sam… Did anything happen?”
Nathan sighed, and he felt Peter tense. “I know about you and Dean. Is that why you’re asking?”
“No,” Peter said softly, and Nathan was glad they weren’t facing each other. “I knew you knew.”
“So why are you asking?”
“It just seemed like Sam…”
Now it was Nathan’s turn to tense up. Maybe he’d caught his mind wandering to Sam in the past few weeks, but he didn’t think he’d been too obvious. “Like he what?”
“Never mind. Are you pissed?”
Nathan pressed a kiss to the back of Peter’s neck. “Not really.” And that was true enough. He’d learned long ago how to deal with Peter’s excess of love. “But a little apology wouldn’t hurt.”
Peter turned in the circle of Nathan’s arms, and now his eyes were bright with mischief. “I think that could be arranged.”
They sat there in silence for a moment, until Sam finally heaved a mighty sigh, pushed off the step, stretched, and turned back to Nathan. “So, diner?”
Nathan considered for a moment, and then he stood up. “No. No diner. No dive bar. No drive-through. If Dean and Peter want to take off and work their own case, they’re just going to have to miss out.” He strode off into the parking lot, and Sam followed. “Did Dean at least leave you clothes this time?”
With a puzzled expression, Sam hoisted his bulging backpack.
“I hope you packed a tie.” Nathan fished in his pocked for his keys. “We’re going to be civilized. Get in the car.”
“Which one’s yours?”
Nathan put his key in the door of a shiny black sedan. It took Sam a minute to recognize the model. “Is this an Impala?” he asked incredulously.
“It was Peter’s turn to choose,” Nathan grumbled. Even if he’d had to put up with endless complaining about how this Impala wasn’t nearly as nice as Dean’s Impala. Dean’s Impala had personality. Dean’s Impala purred. Dean’s Impala could get anybody’s pants off.
“Well, it’s no Bentley, but it could be considered civilized,” Sam offered.
Nathan didn’t have a response to that, but he was secretly pleased that Sam approved. Nathan slid into the driver’s seat, and popped the locks for Sam. “Dinner at Trio. The food there is supposed to be amazing. Tomorrow we can take in the Art Institute. Or maybe the Natural History Museum. What do you think?”
“Aren’t we supposed to be doing genealogy research?” Sam asked, tossing his backpack into the back seat.
“Yes. But it’s certainly not time sensitive. The archives will be here next Monday.” Nathan felt almost giddy with the possibility of playing hooky. “Besides, Peter isn’t too clear on the process. When he gets back, I’ll just tell him I’m not done. Then he’ll have to help, the weasely little bastard.”
“Huh.” Sam settled back in his seat. “Dean and Peter planned this somehow, didn’t they.”
When Nathan stopped to think about it, and about his previous conversations with Peter, he’d have to give his brother credit for being a pushy little matchmaker. “I’d say that’s a given, yes.”
“Jerks.”
--
Dean plopped down next to Peter where he sat on the swing on the porch of the Homestead Hotel. “You think they’re naked yet?” Dean asked, propping his feet up on the porch railing.
Peter looked at his watch. “Nah. Nathan’s a wine and dine sort of guy. I’d estimate midnight.”
They watched the sun creep lower over Lake Michigan for a few minutes, and then Dean turned in mock-horror to Peter. “Well, we don’t have to wait until then, do we?”
“Nope.” Peter stood and pulled Dean out of the swing. Hooking his fingers under Dean’s belt buckle, he led him slowly back into their room, and kicked the door shut behind them.
END.
Bonus Features Menu! A crack!porn alternate ending, soundtrack, deleted scenes, and author’s notes. [Or, if you're feeling naughty, go straight for the crack!porn.]
OR, go check out the missing Nathan/Sam scene (totally hot), Civilized byjaune_chat. You won't be sorry.
Oh yeah, and now there's also a sequel, co-written withjaune_chat: My Brothers' Keepers
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Nathan/Peter (Heroes), Dean/Sam (Supernatural), and some cross-pollination.
Warnings: Graphic slash, fictional relatives in lust (consensual incest), violence (really), harsh language
Universe: SPN – vaguely Season 3 (sometime between 3x5 Bedtime Stories and 3x10 Dream a Little Dream of Me). Heroes – vaguely post Season 2 (general spoilers)
Author’s note: Thanks to
jaune_chat for listening to me gripe and for the beta. I don’t own Heroes or Supernatural.Part I - Part II (A) - Part II (B) - Part III (A) - Part III (B) - Part IV
Six Weeks Later
Dean strode into the Evanston Township morgue and slapped his FBI badge down on the counter. The nurse looked up from chewing her pen and raised an eyebrow in interest. “Can I help you?” she asked, and looked up him and down with an appraising eye.
“Special Agent Tom Baldwin.” Dean flashed her a confident smile. “I need to take a look at that John Doe from Wilmette.”
“Sure.” The nurse grabbed a clipboard and beckoned to Dean to follow her down the hallway. “Your partner’s already inside.”
Dean almost tripped over his own feet. “Uh,” he said cleverly. Sure, he had faith in his ability to bullshit, but he’d rather avoid explaining himself to a real FBI agent.
Before he could spit out a plausible excuse, the door at the end of the hallway burst open. Another nurse was pointing out something on a clipboard to a man in a black suit. “Ah, there he is,” said the nurse at Dean’s side.
The fed looked up; his eyes flashed surprise for a moment before retreating into neutrality. “Nice of you to join us,” he said. Dean hesitated, torn between running and standing his ground. As they drew closer, Dean finally recognized the man in the suit: Nathan.
“I was just finishing up here,” Nathan said. “Why don’t I fill you in on our way to the car.” He turned back to the nurse. “Thanks for your help, ma’am.” Yes, the man was quick on his feet.
“Dean!”
“What?”
“That was Highway 14. We were supposed to turn there.”
“This is a shortcut.”
Sam threw up his hands and slumped back in his seat, glowering. Dean alternated between watching the road and looking back at Sam. The glower didn’t go away.
“Why have you been acting so weird?” Dean asked at last.
“Weird how?”
“I don’t know. Weird moody. Like moodier than usual,” Dean elaborated.
“I am not.”
“Yeah. Ever since that thing in Ohio.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Sam turned further toward the window.
“Sam…” Even if Sam was being a bitch about it, Dean had to at least try. “Is it what that demon said? About us? Do you think we’re damned because of—.”
“No,” Sam cut him off. “God no, Dean. How could you think that?”
Dean shrugged as if it was nothing, but the thought had been eating at him. If Sam wanted a change but didn’t know how to say so, Dean needed to give him a way out. “But something’s weird. What’s with the brooding, seriously?”
Sam didn’t say anything at first, but Dean knew to give him time. Eventually, he heaved a sigh. “I was just… thinking about the Petrellis. That’s all.” He blushed and slumped down in the passenger seat until his knees hit the dashboard.
That was when Dean began to get ideas.
With a last smile and wave at the nurses, Dean and Nathan walked out of the building in silence and emerged onto the sunny street. Nathan steered them into a nook along the side of the building, out of the flow of pedestrians.
“What are you doing here?” Dean asked immediately.
“Working,” Nathan said coolly. “Where’s your husband?”
“Where’s yours?” Dean parried.
Nathan loosened his tie, managing to look somehow both more disheveled and more dignified. “If you came here to see that John Doe, we must be working the same case.”
“Yeah, and it’s our case!”
Nathan nodded thoughtfully. “You may be right about that.”
“Of course I’m right,” Dean said. It seemed a little paranoid to think that Nathan had agreed too easily, but this was one occasion when Dean was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Well. I guess I’ll leave you to it.” Nathan hesitated a moment, as if debating whether to say something further, but then he gave Dean a curt nod and strode away.
Dean was halfway down the block before he realized that Nathan had neglected to tell him anything about the autopsy.
--
The lock on the back door was easy to pick. Sam was pretty sure the house didn’t have an alarm system, but classy neighborhoods like this one had more than their share, so he didn’t begrudge a few extra minutes to double-check for any security controls. When he was finally sure that no rent-a-cop was going to burst in on him, he set out to explore the rest of the house.
In the living room, a framed picture caught his eye: it was a middle-aged couple standing in front of a giant, lit Ferris wheel. Sure enough, the woman was Jessica Kings, the crazy lady he and Dean had taken care of last night. The other guy must be her philandering husband, Brian. It seemed a bit strange to keep a picture of you and your ex-wife in your house, but that would just about jive with the crazy stuff they’d learned about this couple so far. Some people’s lives just didn’t bear examining too closely.
“Sam?”
Sam had dropped this picture, pulled out his gun out and pointed it all in the space of a heartbeat. It took him a few seconds to recognize the man who stood at the bottom of the stairs, hands up in surrender.
“Peter?”
“Yeah,” Peter said, lowering his hands as Sam lowered the gun. “Wow… You’re… Here.”
“So are you,” Sam said. He shoved the gun back into his waistband.
“Yeah, well we’re working a case.”
“So are we.”
“Um… I don’t suppose they might be different cases?” Peter ventured a hopeful smile that Sam did not find at all cute.
“Not unless you broke in here for reasons that have nothing to do with that Jane Doe they found in Wilmette.” Sam picked up the framed photo from the floor. Its glass was cracked, but he put it back on the mantle anyway.
“That’d be a no, then,” Peter said, and drifted further into the room. “So, any theories?”
“A few. I’ll know more when Dean gets back from the morgue.”
“That’s where Nathan is.”
“Great.” And I can’t ask how he is. That would look weird. Or would it look weird not to ask. Well crap. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to check out the house.”
“Go right ahead.” Peter stepped aside. “There’s a body up in the master bedroom.”
“Great.” Sam started up the stairs, and was surprised when Peter fell into step next to him.
“So how’ve you been?”
“I’m trying to work. Do you mind?” He wasn’t too happy to see Peter in the first place, and he certainly wasn’t in the mood for coffee klatch, even if he was more than mildly curious how Nathan was doing. If he was working a job, he must be fully recovered from his run-in with the demon. Or not. Sam knew how Dean behaved when he was injured: restless and too eager to get back into the fight. He imagined Nathan was the same way.
“At first I thought this was something Nathan and I had tangled with before,” Peter said, pushing open a door at the top of the stairs. “Brains missing and all. But now I’m not so sure.”
Sam suppressed a smug smile. He was positive this case was in the bag; it was just icing on the cake that Peter would be here when he got definitive proof. He wasn’t ready to admit to himself why it was so important to show up Peter. Instead, he went to examine the mess on the floor: man with his head ripped open, lots of blood. It was probably Brian Kings, but it was hard to tell, he was so mangled.
“It’s the defensive wounds that confused me,” Peter said from the doorway. “Whatever attacked this guy got up close and personal.”
Sam looked at the skin caught under Brian’s fingernails. “Uh huh. Looks like we were right.” Sam stood up and brushed his hands off on his jeans.
“So what was it?” Peter asked.
Sam loved this part. “Zombies.”
Peter stared at him. “Zombies.”
“Yep. Zombies. Reanimated corpses. The living dead.”
“Zombies.”
“Yeah. Dean and I took care of the zombie master—the uh, person who called the zombie—yesterday.” Sam shuddered and made a mental note never to cheat on anyone who would think to call up his dead lover to eat his brains. “I’ll bet you a hundred bucks that the John Doe the police are so quiet on has really been dead for weeks.”
“Zombies,” Peter repeated.
“Yep. So that about wraps things up here.” Sam stood and met Peter’s eyes. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask where Nathan was, ask if they wanted to go get a drink—no, drinking with Nathan was a bad idea; maybe just a bite to eat, then maybe back to Nathan’s hotel room to make out. Nathan certainly wasn’t the zombie-calling type. Totally safe to make out with him.
“Anything… else?” Peter asked.
“Nathan this, Nathan that,” Dean mimicked. “If he’s so great, why don’t you go marry him?”
“You are seriously ten years old, Dean.” Sam took another bite of his short stack and waited for Dean to get this out of his system.
“Nathan’s so organized. Nathan’s such a good researcher. Nathan has great taste. Nathan shits rainbows and puppies.”
“And yet, you never say a word about Peter.” Sam stabbed his fork into his pancakes with more violence than was strictly necessary. “Spent two weeks with the guy and don’t have anything to say about it. Why is that?”
“It just means I’m not completely annoying.”
“Or you’re trying to hide something,” Sam snapped. He’d taken enough of his brother’s crap on this topic. “Don’t worry, Dean. I already know.”
Dean hesitate, just a second, but enough to give himself away, before asking, “Know what?”
“We saw your motel room in Baltimore. It was pretty obvious what you two had been doing.”
Dean had a slick reply ready, Sam could tell, but he stopped himself. Instead, he looked down at his coffee and shrugged. “What do you want me to say?”
“Something,” Sam said. That was really the issue. If Dean had fessed up, then Sam could have come clean too. But there was no way in hell—or out of it—that Sam was going to break down before Dean. “I just want you to say something.”
“Nope, nothing,” Sam said. “Zombies are taken care of.”
“Well, if you’re done with the job—,” Peter began.
“We’ll be moving on,” Sam said quickly. He couldn’t ask. He’d be a hypocrite after all that shit he gave Dean about Peter, so instead he tossed a, “See you around” over his shoulder as he fled the scene of the crime.
--
Dean hated the suburbs. Even if he was just trying to find his way back to the motel, he always got lost in a damn housing development and had to spend hours driving down twisty roads with names like “Hill Creek” and “Eagle Pond” and “Hickory Grove Mountain Forest Glen.” By the time he finally saw the gates of the development, he was so eager for freedom that he forgot to watch for pedestrians. When a man jumped out in front of his car, he barely slammed on the break in time to not make mincemeat of the dude.
“Watch it!” Dean shouted.
To his surprise, the guy came to the passenger side and opened the door to climb in. “Hey Dean.” It was Peter.
“You gave me a freaking heart attack,” Dean grumbled.
“Sorry,” Peter said, but he didn’t look sorry at all.
“I heard you were in town.”
“I saw your brother. At that house. Zombie victim and all.”
“Heh. Zombies. They’re so awesome.” At Peter’s skeptical look, he went on. “I mean, in a terrible, vicious way.”
“I talked to Nathan. He said that John Doe looked like it had been dead way longer than two days.”
“That’s what I thought,” Dean said, nodding sagely. So case closed. And damn he’d been ready to get out of Evanston, but if there was a reason to stay… Peter just watched him patiently. Dean had no idea what he was thinking, and that made him nervous. “So I’d say we’ve got everything wrapped up.”
“Sure,” Peter said quickly. “I’m supposed to meet Nathan at the library at five. He wanted to do some research while we were in town, helping a friend of ours with this list thing. That’s supposed to take a couple days.”
“Yeah well… Sam and I were probably heading out of town, so…”
Dean watched Sam pick at his chow mien for two whole minutes before he tossed down his chopsticks in disgust. “Sammy, would you please stop pining?”
“Pining? I didn’t even know you knew that word.” Sam shoved the noodles around his plastic plate.
“Ha ha. No, seriously. Do we need to get you a puppy or something? You look miserable.”
“No, I’m just…”
“Don’t say this is about me and Peter.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Okay then.” Dean endured another minute or so of noodle stirring. “You wanna… I dunno, call someone?”
“They don’t use phones. It’s this weird Big Brother technology thing.”
“Paranoid much?”
“Hey, if demons and vampires can exist,” Sam said vehemently, “I’m willing to believe there might be a disembodied woman working for a mysterious and evil Company who can intercept digital communication.”
“I guess. Taking a lot on faith there, Sammy.”
“Maybe so.”
Peter reached for the door handle, then paused and turned back. “Hey, Dean? You have time for a little vacation?”
“Maybe. Why?”
“Well, I was thinking about our brothers.”
--
When Nathan walked out of the library at five after five, he was surprised to see Sam Winchester sitting on the front steps, brooding. He sat down on the step next to him, and Sam nodded in greeting. “Heard you were in town,” he said. “Where’s Peter?”
Sam muttered something indistinct.
“Come again?”
“They ditched us,” Sam grumbled. “Here.” He shoved a note into Nathan’s hand: a half-sheet of notebook paper decorated in Peter’s scrawl.
Sam will be much better at researching all those genealogies. You know that’s where I’m useless. Dean wants my help tracking down some kind of flying monster in Duluth. We’ll see you back here on Sunday. Have fun. I mean it. Much love, Peter.
Nathan crumpled the note and shoved it in his pocket. “Dean leave you a note?”
Sam held up a cocktail napkin covered in chicken scratches. “Yep.”
“Son of a bitch,” Nathan said.
“You’ve gotta be careful saying that about your own brother.”
“Well, if the shoe fits.”
“Nathan?” Peter pushed back further into the circle of Nathan’s arms, letting the sheets slide off his shoulder. “Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
“When we were apart… You know, when you were with Sam… Did anything happen?”
Nathan sighed, and he felt Peter tense. “I know about you and Dean. Is that why you’re asking?”
“No,” Peter said softly, and Nathan was glad they weren’t facing each other. “I knew you knew.”
“So why are you asking?”
“It just seemed like Sam…”
Now it was Nathan’s turn to tense up. Maybe he’d caught his mind wandering to Sam in the past few weeks, but he didn’t think he’d been too obvious. “Like he what?”
“Never mind. Are you pissed?”
Nathan pressed a kiss to the back of Peter’s neck. “Not really.” And that was true enough. He’d learned long ago how to deal with Peter’s excess of love. “But a little apology wouldn’t hurt.”
Peter turned in the circle of Nathan’s arms, and now his eyes were bright with mischief. “I think that could be arranged.”
They sat there in silence for a moment, until Sam finally heaved a mighty sigh, pushed off the step, stretched, and turned back to Nathan. “So, diner?”
Nathan considered for a moment, and then he stood up. “No. No diner. No dive bar. No drive-through. If Dean and Peter want to take off and work their own case, they’re just going to have to miss out.” He strode off into the parking lot, and Sam followed. “Did Dean at least leave you clothes this time?”
With a puzzled expression, Sam hoisted his bulging backpack.
“I hope you packed a tie.” Nathan fished in his pocked for his keys. “We’re going to be civilized. Get in the car.”
“Which one’s yours?”
Nathan put his key in the door of a shiny black sedan. It took Sam a minute to recognize the model. “Is this an Impala?” he asked incredulously.
“It was Peter’s turn to choose,” Nathan grumbled. Even if he’d had to put up with endless complaining about how this Impala wasn’t nearly as nice as Dean’s Impala. Dean’s Impala had personality. Dean’s Impala purred. Dean’s Impala could get anybody’s pants off.
“Well, it’s no Bentley, but it could be considered civilized,” Sam offered.
Nathan didn’t have a response to that, but he was secretly pleased that Sam approved. Nathan slid into the driver’s seat, and popped the locks for Sam. “Dinner at Trio. The food there is supposed to be amazing. Tomorrow we can take in the Art Institute. Or maybe the Natural History Museum. What do you think?”
“Aren’t we supposed to be doing genealogy research?” Sam asked, tossing his backpack into the back seat.
“Yes. But it’s certainly not time sensitive. The archives will be here next Monday.” Nathan felt almost giddy with the possibility of playing hooky. “Besides, Peter isn’t too clear on the process. When he gets back, I’ll just tell him I’m not done. Then he’ll have to help, the weasely little bastard.”
“Huh.” Sam settled back in his seat. “Dean and Peter planned this somehow, didn’t they.”
When Nathan stopped to think about it, and about his previous conversations with Peter, he’d have to give his brother credit for being a pushy little matchmaker. “I’d say that’s a given, yes.”
“Jerks.”
--
Dean plopped down next to Peter where he sat on the swing on the porch of the Homestead Hotel. “You think they’re naked yet?” Dean asked, propping his feet up on the porch railing.
Peter looked at his watch. “Nah. Nathan’s a wine and dine sort of guy. I’d estimate midnight.”
They watched the sun creep lower over Lake Michigan for a few minutes, and then Dean turned in mock-horror to Peter. “Well, we don’t have to wait until then, do we?”
“Nope.” Peter stood and pulled Dean out of the swing. Hooking his fingers under Dean’s belt buckle, he led him slowly back into their room, and kicked the door shut behind them.
END.
Bonus Features Menu! A crack!porn alternate ending, soundtrack, deleted scenes, and author’s notes. [Or, if you're feeling naughty, go straight for the crack!porn.]
OR, go check out the missing Nathan/Sam scene (totally hot), Civilized by
jaune_chat. You won't be sorry.Oh yeah, and now there's also a sequel, co-written with
jaune_chat: My Brothers' Keepers
