Gears and Tears

Chapter 1 Nervous energy fizzled in Sam’s veins. He stood with his hand clenched, prepped to announce his presence at the door, but the hot rush in his body stopped him from going further. His heart drummed an excited rhythm against his ribcage, and the sensation in his stomach felt the same as when he was thrown around by a rollercoaster. Sam grazed his knuckles on the wood in a weak attempt, then huffed and knocked harder, with more force than intended. There was no answer, and he leaned back to check the bronze numbers nailed to the wall. He knew it was the right house, had been there hundreds of times before, but still looked in case he had been fooled by a clone garden and front door. He rapped his knuckles to the wood, and with no conscious thought tapped a tune, an extension of his hearts giddy thumping. He played a tune on the door until he heard a thump, a curse, and a metallic scratching. The lock clunked, and the door flew open. Dean appeared from the shadows rubbing tiredness out of his eyes. His sandy hair had a sprinkling of grey strands, and the T-shirt he wore was inside out. His brow was bunched with annoyed lines, and his jaw c****d to the side. When he finally cast his eyes on Sam, the irritation faded in an instant. The lines on his brow turned to relaxed wrinkles, and the skin around his eyes creased as he smiled in greeting. “Well, this is a surprise…Hello, Samuel.” No one else called him Samuel, and if anyone dared, he quickly corrected them. He liked the way Dean said it with his rumbly voice. The icy blue of Dean’s eyes unsettled Sam’s already squirming stomach. He shuffled on the spot, and tried to return the greeting with the least amount of humiliation. “Long time no speak, Doc…” Dean frowned, then shook his head. “As I’ve told you again and again, not a doctor, I’m a paramedic.” “Yeah I know, just habit.” “Why are you knocking at my door at this unearthly hour?” Sam frowned, then turned to reassess the street behind him. The sun was high in the sky, the paths were bathed in a bright glow, and the trees were still with the lack of breeze. The faint laughter of children carried on the wind, and the air held the scent of warmth and greenery. The perfect September day, some might say. “It’s Saturday, and lunchtime…” Dean pinched the top of his nose and sighed. “Not for me…it’s the middle of the night.” Sam narrowed his eyes at the blue sky, and the birds cawing as they flew by. “You feeling all right?” “I’m on night shift. What are you here for?” “Did Ellie not tell you I’d be coming over?” Dean huffed and rolled his eyes. “Nope, Ellie’s not said anything to me.” “She said I could borrow her text books.” “Text books?” Heat prickled in Sam’s cheeks, and he looked down. “After I failed my A-Levels so spectacularly— “I doubt you did that badly.” Sam glanced up. “I failed all of them.” Dean’s lips opened, and Sam could tell he was thinking of something comforting to say. He smiled almost apologetically instead, and Sam waved his hand. “It’s okay. At the time I bragged about it, thought it was funny, but three years on…Ellie’s in her last year at university, the rest of my friends have moved away, and I’m twenty, and going nowhere. I don’t want to be stuck working at the petrol station forever.” Dean nodded, then landed his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Good on you…” Sam widened his eyes and edged closer. “You think so?” He waited eagerly for a reply, and Dean didn’t disappoint. He grinned and patted him on the shoulder again. “Course I do.” Sam nipped his lip, and his cheeks burned with his blush. He swallowed uncomfortably, then released his lip with a wet pop. “Thanks. It’s nice to hear that, especially from you.” “Why from me?” “Cause—ya know…you’re my best friend’s dad. I value your opinion.” “People need approval from their best friend’s fathers?” Sam didn’t think it was possible for his face to feel any hotter, but he rivalled the sun. He opened his mouth, aborted several words, then turned to check the path was still behind him. He itched to run away, and hide in embarrassment, but Dean spoke just in time to stop him. “Come on in then.” Sam stood paralysed for a few seconds, then ducked his chin and shuffled inside. “Most people think I’m gunna mess it up.” “Well, that kind of people aren’t worth having in your life.” “Bit hard when it’s your own family.” Dean turned his head slightly but didn’t comment. Sam knew the reputation that went with his family name. People eyed him with scrutiny every day, but Dean didn’t look at him like that, not since he had proved himself as Ellie’s best friend. “If it’s what you want, and you’re willing to put the commitment in, you’ll pass, I’m sure of it.” “I hope so.” “Have more faith in yourself.” Sam craned his neck to see in the living room, then the kitchen. Dean lifted his eyebrow, then snorted when Sam peeked at the toilet under the stairs. “It’s the same as when you were last here.” “It’s been almost three years.” “Ellie’s leaving do. You never did tell me who smashed the window…” “I—I can’t remember.” “Sure, you can’t…” Dean smirked. He gestured to the clean, and tidy living room. “Perhaps there are some differences with Ellie gone. Hope her dorm mates are keeping her in check.” “Oh yeah, I hear they have a cleaning rota and everything. Apparently, David is untidier than her.” Dean raised his eyebrow. “Who’s David?” Sam slapped his hands to his mouth and took a step back. “I’m guessing you weren’t supposed to tell me about David.” “Not yet, just…when she says she’s got a boyfriend, act surprised.” “Why would she keep him from me?” “In case you went all protective dad on her, and drove to Scotland to meet him…” The thought of Dean going all growly, acting like an intimidating father, shouldn’t have heated Sam’s crotch, but it did, and he shifted to hide himself. Dean snorted. “Since when have I ever done that?” “You asked about my intentions the first few times I came over.” “Yeah, and you proved yourself.” “I think you only stopped narrowing your eyes at me when you found out I came out as gay.” “It was when I realized you were nice and looking out for Ellie.” “Always.” Dean gestured to the stairs. “The books will probably be in her room.” “Thanks’ Dean.” Sam bounded up the stairs with as much grace as a stampeding elephant. His face only cooled when Dean was no longer looking at him, and he slowed his breathing as much as he could. Being unbelievably attracted to Ellie’s dad was not part of the plan, but it had happened, and after two years of glimpses of him at the shop, and driving his car, Sam had finally ended the drought and had a conversation with him. The lust and emotions flooded back to him, and he was left a sweating, horny mess, even after two years and his rise to adulthood, it still floored him how strongly he felt. The first room at the top of the stairs was Dean’s bedroom. Despite the blind being lowered, Sam could see the twisted bedsheets where Dean must’ve climbed out. Two main activities happened in the bedroom, one sleep, the other intimacies. The thought of Dean creasing the sheets with someone else sprouted a suffocating vine in Sam’s chest, but when he thought of Dean being intimate with himself, the vine caught alight, and scorched into arousal. Dean stroking himself, Dean finishing with a groan, in a tissue or on the empty side of the double bed. Sam wanted to know, but there was no way he could find out. The next room was the bathroom, and Sam rushed to the sink, and spun the taps. He splashed cold water on his face and breathed through the gaps of his fingers. The sink was lined with Dean’s bathroom possessions. A toothbrush that looked sparkling clean, a toothpaste tube that hadn’t been squeezed and misshapen by many hands. There was a tub of shaving cream, and Sam studied the label. Lemon scented, Sam didn’t even like lemons, but he longed to press his nose to Dean’s jaw and take a deep breath. He picked up Dean’s razor, then stroked the slight stubble on his chin. He didn’t trust his own shaking hands, but he trusted Dean’s hands to neaten his jaw. He had to be calm under pressure, a trait of the job. Sam cursed himself and walked out of the bathroom. He pushed through the door with Ellie’s name on and wriggled his nose. The air held the scent of her favourite perfume. There was no dust on the window sill or desk, and Sam suspected Dean regularly cleaned the room. He glanced to the corkboard tiles above the bed and smiled at the photographs of them together. Then his smile faded, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. Ellie had moved on to university, and found herself a new group of friends, and a new best one in David. Her books were neatly stacked on the book shelf in alphabetical order. Biology, English, and Maths. Sam didn’t have a future job in mind, just wanted to put A-levels on his CV. He wanted to impress potential employers and Ellie’s dad in the process. Sam hugged the books to his chest and breathed a few calming breaths before descending the stairs. The expression out of the fire and into the frying pan didn’t do it justice. With each step towards the man of his fantasies, his internal temperature switched up a notch. Dean waited at the bottom of the stairs with his arms folded. His biceps bulged, and Sam tried not to think of them gripping him or pinning him. He looked more than capable of pinning Sam down, and rendering him helpless. “Find what you were looking for?” Sam smiled, mistimed his step, and dropped the books. He caught himself before he tumbled. He couldn’t imagine anything worse than falling into Dean’s arms after slipping on the stairs. Papers with Ellie scribbled notes fanned out, and Sam huffed, and crouched down. Dean started gathering the books and escaping notes, and Sam forced himself down the last few steps. “I’m sorry.” “There’s no need to apologise.” “I wanna pass my exams, and I can’t even walk down the stairs.” “It was my fault, I distracted you, besides, walking and learning are two completely different things.” “Yeah, one I should’ve mastered when I was a toddler.” Dean laughed and passed the stray papers back. “You’re not the first person to slip on the stairs, and you won’t be the last.” Sam clutched the books closer and snorted. “I guess.” “Trust me, I deal with at least one bad fall on the stairs a week.” Sam followed Dean to the door and paused on the mat. “Thanks.” “No worries, if you need anything else, just let me know.” He closed the door once Sam had gotten to the end of the path, and Sam sagged with the weight of the books. The whole experience had lasted no more than ten minutes, and half of the time he had been flaming from embarrassment, but he wanted to be around Dean again, he wanted to border the edge of his fantasy, and be in his house, sharing their brief conversations. He hadn’t seen Dean that close for years, and he didn’t want years more to pass without them talking. Dean’s words bounced around his head. It wasn’t an open invitation, it was meant as a polite statement when they were parting ways, but Sam wondered what else he might need as an excuse to knock on Dean’s door. Ellie’s textbooks were only the beginning. He returned to his house for his long-forgotten hoodie, for his DVD collection, and his favourite CD. Dean welcomed him inside, and the heat rushing through Sam’s body intensified all over again. They shared words for a few minutes, then Sam left having got his fix of his fantasy man, and on his way home he thought of something else he needed from Dean’s house. He could never voice the truth; never tell Dean it was him he needed.