Of Sam and Dean (or Babysitter Tickles)

Ch.2: Poetic Playtime

        (i)

Dean entered the house, his usually vibrant aura replaced by a shadowed demeanor. His strong, muscular frame moved with a hint of weariness, like a weary warrior returning from battle. His expressive eyes, usually sparkling with mischief and charm, now held a deep sadness, as if he carried the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

With an air of quiet contemplation, Dean closed the door behind him, allowing the silence of the house to envelop him. The dim light cast elongated shadows across the room, mirroring the heaviness in his heart. He took a moment to steady himself, running a hand through his tousled hair, a gesture of frustration and introspection.

As Dean moved further into the house, his gaze fell upon Sam, the young housekeeper whose presence brought a spark of brightness to his otherwise gloomy world. Sam, with her captivating smile and intelligent eyes, had always been perceptive to his emotions, and she immediately sensed the turmoil brewing within him.

Dean's parents had left her in charge of their only son for some months now. Both were forced to travel abroad for long stretches of time due to their work: Sam had been living at Dean's house during this time, while studying and taking classes in college nearby.

Her voice carried genuine concern as she greeted him, her tone laced with warmth. "Dean, you're back. Is everything alright? You seem troubled."

Dean's eyes met Sam's, and for a fleeting moment, he allowed his guard to drop. The weight of his emotions lay bare in his gaze, a vulnerability that only she could see. He hesitated for a moment, struggling to find the words to convey the depths of his turmoil.

Sam's concern deepened, her heart reaching out to him. She knew the weight of his troubles, and her nurturing nature compelled her to offer solace. Her voice softened as she continued, her words wrapped in compassion. "If you want to talk, Dean, I'm here to listen. You don't have to face it alone."

Dean's gaze softened, appreciating Sam's unwavering support. But then his eyes hardened again, and he finally spoke, his voice carrying a mix of sadness and determination. "Thanks, Sam. But I... It's really nothing. I'm fine."

Sam noticed Dean's resistance, his introverted nature holding him back from sharing his troubles. She understood his reticence but also knew that keeping everything bottled up would only amplify his pain. With a mix of firmness and warmth, she gently pressed him to open up, her voice tinged with a hint of playfulness.

"Come on, Dean. You know I can see right through that brooding exterior of yours. You can't hide your troubles from me. Remember, I have the power of tickling on my side," Sam said, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

Dean's lips twitched, a flicker of a smile breaking through his somber expression. He couldn't help but be amused by Sam's playful teasing, even in the midst of his melancholy. Her lighthearted approach was a reminder of the bond they shared and the moments of joy they had experienced together.

"Tickling, huh? Is that your secret weapon to make me spill my deepest secrets?" Dean replied, his voice a mix of skepticism and amusement.

Sam leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with warmth. "Well, it has worked before. But seriously, Dean, I can tell something's bothering you. You know I'm here to listen, right? No judgments, just a friendly ear."

Dean sighed, a mixture of relief and trepidation coursing through him. He appreciated Sam's unwavering support, yet the fear of judgment lingered in the back of his mind. Slowly, he let down his guard, allowing himself to be vulnerable.

"It's... it's about what happened at school today," Dean began, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "We had this assignment for literature class, and we were supposed to compose a poem. Most of the students wrote just a few stanzas, the bare minimum. But I... I couldn't help myself. I poured my heart into it, Sam. It became this epic tale, reminiscent of the old legends, with Beowulfish characteristics."