The Masquerade
City of New Beginnings
The silence filled the impala, the small yellow lines zooming past, as the trees danced along side the road: side-stepping out of view. Dean set there in the passenger seat. His mind swirling with despair. He had been touched by someone....no something, and it was killing him that Sam held the look he did. The look he had shown him countless times when Dean was with a woman. When Sam wanted nothing more for Dean to be with him. Dean risked a look at Sam, the bruiting muscles in his face contracting in sorrow, his hands gripping the steering wheel in the attempt to calm himself down. Dean shifted his gaze back to the window, watching as the trees continued their dance. He was tired. He was tired of hiding his feelings for Sam, tired of always having to put on a mask to please people. But he didn't have to with Sam. With Sam there was no masquerade, there was not lying, deceit nothing tore between them. Until now.
“Sa-Sammy.” Dean began, his voice trailing off. Why would he want to talk to me. He thought to himself.
“What?” Sam answered back, the sorrow and pain filling his tone.
“I am sorry, Sam. I couldn't control it.”
“I know, it just hurt Dean. I walk in, well better yet stormed in and find his hands in your pants, and your eyes filled with pleasure. I am not going to get over it quickly.” Sam said. His words stinging Dean's heart, the very heart that knew it should feel the pain.
“I-I am sorry Sam. I didn't.” again Dean's voice failed him, the sorrow and anguish that he felt also seeping through.
“I know you are. Can we just forget about it?” Sam asked the pain still flowing. His hazel eyes turning to met Dean's. The two hazel hues meshing, forming a bond between them mentally.
One day later October 12, 2009. Lawton Oklahoma.
Sam still felt it. The sting that the memories brought to him, the sorrow that the image of Dean and the Incubus intertwined plagued him with. So he set in the dingy motel room, his mind trying to wrap around something that wasn't going to fill his minds with such pain. The door behind him opened and closed quickly. He turned to see Dean standing against the door holding a brown paper sack and a beer.
“Pie?” Sam asked smiling.
“Nope, better. Two pies!” Dean responded, grinning at Sam.
“Oh, well why are there two?”
“Because you and me are having a nice convenient store bought meal tonight by the television.” Dean retorted. His smile still not fading. All Sam could do was grin. His mood was lifting. Seeing Dean like this, it was warming to him. It made him feel safe.
Dean could see it now, the brilliant neon painting the skyline. The bright lights exposing even the darkest of alleyways. He glanced over, the muscular form of Sam's body contorted to the form of the lain back seat of the impala. He smiled, the same smile he seemed to let off every time Sam looked at him now. He glanced back now to the glimmering city. Vegas! He thought in his head. The City of New Beginnings. Sam moved in his sleep, the tight leather of the seat squirming as it rubbed against Sam's jacket. The Nevada skyline darkened, the neon becoming more and more noticeable as Dean drove closer. From Ohio to Nevada, from adultery to pure love of Sam.
Dean pulled into the parking lot of the Desperado Motel. The same bright neon painting the advertising on the sign. Sam still remained asleep in the seat as Dean approached the door to the lobby to check in. The man who looked about 43 glanced at him under half moon glasses, doing a crossword puzzle in his book. Not even looking up completely, he spoke.
“King or two queens?” he asked, trying to look past Dean and into the confides of the impala.
“One King, please.” Dean responded, as the man rose from his seat. His eyes widening as he saw Sam sleeping in the car, his face twisting with rage.
“NO! I will not let you and your fucked up lifestyle stay in my rooms. I run a pure business.”
Dean leaned over the counter, the man backing away from the firm lines on Dean's face.
“Listen here you fucking senile fool. That out there is the man I LOVE! I will not have you trashing him or me. Now give me the damn key and we will get out of your way.” The man huffed, his face still holding the rage and fury.
“Fine.” the man said, surrendering his rage, and placing the key within Dean's hands. Dean smiled and strode out of the lobby. The dark parking lot only filled by two cars. The impala and a shimmering black Mustang GT, one he recognized to be a hunters. Not only by the Devils Trap decal, but also because sitting on the hood of the car smiling at Dean as he walked back was none other then the sexy brown haired 25 yr old hunter, Tristen Alexander Doles...the third
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“Sa-Sammy.” Dean began, his voice trailing off. Why would he want to talk to me. He thought to himself.
“What?” Sam answered back, the sorrow and pain filling his tone.
“I am sorry, Sam. I couldn't control it.”
“I know, it just hurt Dean. I walk in, well better yet stormed in and find his hands in your pants, and your eyes filled with pleasure. I am not going to get over it quickly.” Sam said. His words stinging Dean's heart, the very heart that knew it should feel the pain.
“I-I am sorry Sam. I didn't.” again Dean's voice failed him, the sorrow and anguish that he felt also seeping through.
“I know you are. Can we just forget about it?” Sam asked the pain still flowing. His hazel eyes turning to met Dean's. The two hazel hues meshing, forming a bond between them mentally.
One day later October 12, 2009. Lawton Oklahoma.
Sam still felt it. The sting that the memories brought to him, the sorrow that the image of Dean and the Incubus intertwined plagued him with. So he set in the dingy motel room, his mind trying to wrap around something that wasn't going to fill his minds with such pain. The door behind him opened and closed quickly. He turned to see Dean standing against the door holding a brown paper sack and a beer.
“Pie?” Sam asked smiling.
“Nope, better. Two pies!” Dean responded, grinning at Sam.
“Oh, well why are there two?”
“Because you and me are having a nice convenient store bought meal tonight by the television.” Dean retorted. His smile still not fading. All Sam could do was grin. His mood was lifting. Seeing Dean like this, it was warming to him. It made him feel safe.
Dean could see it now, the brilliant neon painting the skyline. The bright lights exposing even the darkest of alleyways. He glanced over, the muscular form of Sam's body contorted to the form of the lain back seat of the impala. He smiled, the same smile he seemed to let off every time Sam looked at him now. He glanced back now to the glimmering city. Vegas! He thought in his head. The City of New Beginnings. Sam moved in his sleep, the tight leather of the seat squirming as it rubbed against Sam's jacket. The Nevada skyline darkened, the neon becoming more and more noticeable as Dean drove closer. From Ohio to Nevada, from adultery to pure love of Sam.
Dean pulled into the parking lot of the Desperado Motel. The same bright neon painting the advertising on the sign. Sam still remained asleep in the seat as Dean approached the door to the lobby to check in. The man who looked about 43 glanced at him under half moon glasses, doing a crossword puzzle in his book. Not even looking up completely, he spoke.
“King or two queens?” he asked, trying to look past Dean and into the confides of the impala.
“One King, please.” Dean responded, as the man rose from his seat. His eyes widening as he saw Sam sleeping in the car, his face twisting with rage.
“NO! I will not let you and your fucked up lifestyle stay in my rooms. I run a pure business.”
Dean leaned over the counter, the man backing away from the firm lines on Dean's face.
“Listen here you fucking senile fool. That out there is the man I LOVE! I will not have you trashing him or me. Now give me the damn key and we will get out of your way.” The man huffed, his face still holding the rage and fury.
“Fine.” the man said, surrendering his rage, and placing the key within Dean's hands. Dean smiled and strode out of the lobby. The dark parking lot only filled by two cars. The impala and a shimmering black Mustang GT, one he recognized to be a hunters. Not only by the Devils Trap decal, but also because sitting on the hood of the car smiling at Dean as he walked back was none other then the sexy brown haired 25 yr old hunter, Tristen Alexander Doles...the third
Comment please