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It hadn’t taken Dean long to track Sam down. For once, Jody was at the top of his list of people to call when he returned topside. In the excitement of welcome home hugs, “Where have you been, really?” interrogations, and fond slaps upside the head, she had slipped up, offhandedly mentioning going up to her cabin on the lake later that evening to check on the property. Lots of teen vandals around apparently. Dean glared at Jody as the blush of guilt began to shade her face and simply turned on his heel while she shouted at his back.
Dean pushed the Impala to its limit, making the hour-long drive in 30 mins. His knuckles blanched white around the leather steering wheel with every mile the tires ate up. If Sam had thought he could hide from him, hide after abandoning Dean, he had another thing coming. Dean cut the headlights as he pulled up to the small brown cabin tucked into dense forest. The metallic creak of the car door rang out among the chirp of crickets in the otherwise quiet night. Stalking up to the front door, Dean hid in the shadows as he made easy work of the lock. Maybe Jody should be worried about vandals after all.
With one hand braced against the door as he eased it open and the other curled around the grip of his gun, Dean crept into the small space. Dark but for the moon shining mutedly through gauze curtains and a soft yellow light coming from underneath a closed bathroom door. Eyeing the corners as he went, Dean bypassed the bathroom and soon found himself in the main bedroom at the end of the hall, walls washed blue in the moonlight. Standing in the middle of the room he turned to face the bed and the menagerie of pillows meticulously placed amongst rumbled sheets.
He ducked down, lifting the edge of the only pillow at the head of the bed and shook his head. No gun. He’ll never let Sam hear the end of this either. Letting the pillow drop back in place, Dean straightened up and finally took in the rest of the room. An armchair in the corner accompanied a little polished wood dresser, two of its drawers pulled open. The hamper next to it was overflowing which was nothing new. Sam had hated doing laundry since they were kids, why would that change now when Dean wasn’t around to do it?
The flush of a toilet jolts Dean out of his musing. He whips his head around, so quick in his search for a hiding place he almost misses it. Almost. The pale yellow crib tucked up against the far wall shines like a beacon in the dark. Dean’s breath stutters at the crisp, neatly laid sheets. A wild difference from the big bed across the room. He takes a silent step closer, stretching his neck to peer into the crib, hoping to see… nothing. Dean was so distracted by the plush moose and squirrel resting on the soft handmade quilt that he almost missed the snick of the bathroom door opening.
He slid in the shadows right as Sam entered the room, barefoot and backlit by the bathroom light - and belly first. Dean couldn’t believe his eyes as he marveled at the sight of his baby brother. His normally lean frame was now soft with baby weight that rounded out all his sharp edges. The shirt Sam wore was oversized but still managed to show off the full curve of the heavy belly and blue striped boxers beneath.
Dean held his breath, dazed and flushing hot as Sam shuffled over to the bed, huffing as he lowered himself down onto the mattress and back into the nest of pillows. His hair, now longer than it’s ever been - spilled out of the messy loose bun on the top of Sam’s head to cover the pillow beneath. Sam groaned to himself, reaching into the mass of curls and flinging the now snapped hair tie across the room.
It took him some time to get comfortable again, rolling this way and that. Tugging pillows that had shifted closer only to push them away again to find a different position. Finally Sam was able to settle on his side, one pillow tucked between plush thighs while another equally thick pillow cradled his belly from below.
Sam huffed a breath that turned into a yawn then the room fell back into silence. Dean still stood, frozen in the shadows as he stared awestruck at the bed. His mind raced. How long had he actually been gone? If he closed his eyes, Dean could fleetingly remember the arch of sweat damp skin beneath fingers and pleasure filled whimpers in his ear. But that all felt like a long dreamt fantasy now. Gritting his teeth, Dean felt the anger that has been building under his skin since he escaped from purgatory, melt off him completely. The resentment and grief can simmer a little while longer. Sammy needs him now more than ever.
Standing vigilant for a few more minutes, Dean makes sure Sam is deep into sleep before silently stepping his way across the room and back into the hallway. He turns back to face the bed, adoring the way the bathroom light touches Sam’s round sleep softened face and how it turns the highlights of his brown hair auburn red. Dean ached to reach out and touch every inch that tan skin for the first time in what felt like a millennia. But for now he refrains, he needs to plan. A few more hours won’t hurt.
“I'll see you in the morning, Sammy,” he whispers decisively, forcing himself away from the doorway and backtracking down the hall, closing and locking the front door quietly behind him.
Had Dean turned around for one last longing glance, he would have seen the ocean green eyes, wide with fear where they burned into his back and cherished the hot tears that streamed from them as the long familiar growl of the engine faded into the night.