Graveyard Digger, Coffin Case Sinner

Violence Inherent In The System (1)

Summary: "I think you owe me for letting you use my pool, boy." Sam sneaks a swim & gets caught. The guy didn't know what he in for when he put his hands on that which belongs to Dean.

[tags: minor character death; violence; stabbing; dark dean]

It was one of those hot summer nights that makes your clothes stick to your skin. Sam was lying on the large bed, hot and sweaty and mentally cursing the motel room's air conditioning for taking so long to work. They hadn't been there long, checked in half an hour ago; he knew from experience that it would probably take half the night before the room actually cooled down.

His eyes shifted toward the bathroom as his brother exited. The man paused upon seeing him stretched out on the bed; Dean's eyes flicked over his bare torso – he had discarded his t-shirt five minutes after entering the room- took in his worn, nearly thread-bare jeans, his bare feet. The man licked his lips, smirk touching his mouth.

"Going to get some beer," Dean moved to stand beside the bed, reached out to brush fingers down his cheek and throat, "Damn baby boy, you look good."
Sam raised a hand and traced it down Dean's arm. "Stay, then," he suggested with a mischievous grin. He bit his bottom lip as Dean leaned over, palms flat on the bed to support himself.

"Soon," the older man promised, grazing his jawline with his lips, "Gonna go pick up some beer, then I'm gonna come back, get you drunk, and fuck you senseless."

Sam sat up, staring after his brother as Dean crossed toward the door. He blinked, shook his head slightly as he tried to cling to a shred of coherency. Dean had the ability to take him apart with just a sentence or two. He shoved himself off the bed and padded, bare-foot, to his brother's side.

"Gonna sneak in and take a swim in that motel's pool across the street," he told the man, leaning in to brush his mouth against Dean's. The other glanced up at him – at 17 he was almost two inches taller than his brother now, though he still hadn't filled into his build yet. "I'll be careful," he promised, recognizing the concern in Dean's narrowed gaze, "I'll keep an eye out for cameras, and I won't stay long."

Dean nodded, "I'll be back in a few. I'll come over when I get back."

Sam watched from the room's doorway as Dean had pulled out of the parking lot in the Impala: he loved seeing his brother behind the wheel of the sleek, black car. When the tail lights had disappeared from sight, he padded across the street, barefoot and shirtless. It was late, nearly 11 pm, so he figured the pool would be closed for the night.

Climbing over the chain link fence that surrounded the outdoor pool was easy. He glanced around for cameras, searching the shadowed crevices around the dimly lit patio; Dean had taught him years before how and where to search for surveillance. He was over the waist-high fence in seconds, and moving to the pool's edge.

The water looked fairly clean and very inviting. Sam hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at the pool's motel: the windows on this end of the building were dark. He shucked off his nearly thread-bare jeans, down to his boxers, and stepped in the pool's shallow end. He sighed in bliss as he waded deeper, enjoying the feel of the water lapping against his heated skin. When he was waist-deep, he kicked off with his feet and swam to the other end. Upon reaching it, he let himself sink beneath water and swam back to the other end. He surfaced again in the shallower end, hair dripping in his face and sticking to his neck.

Sam enjoyed the pool for ten or fifteen minutes; he was sitting on the edge, feet in the water, when he heard footsteps. He glanced over, startled, as someone came around the building's corner. The boy pushed himself to his feet, soaked boxers clinging to his still-wet form, and moved toward the jeans he had discarded earlier.