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runedgirlTitle: Mid Summer At The No Tell Motel
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Word Count: 2500
Summary: Sam and Dean take a little break from the road at an off-the-beaten-path motel in the Pine Barrens of south Jersey, and the motel clerk gets some free entertainment. Early seasons classic SPN, Outsider POV
A/N: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
spnspringfling which is always so much fun!
It’s mid July and feels like it hasn’t rained in a month, the asphalt of the little motel parking lot steaming in the 95 degree heat, the smell of melted tar thick in the air. Lucy wants to be anywhere other than here, stuck in New Jersey at the Three Pines Motel between two towns with names no one knows, not close enough to the ocean to be beach towns and too far from the highway to be truck stop destinations.
I’m gonna die of boredom, she thinks, flipping the pages of the latest People Magazine because her dad still likes to keep reading material in the office as though there might be a wait to get to the front desk to check in.
This place was his dream, once upon a time, when the state highway ran close enough to make a motel convenient for beach-goers who wanted to save on rental fees and didn’t mind driving the 38 minutes to the ocean every day. Once they built the bypass, cars could zip by at 70 mph and never notice the optimistic VACANCY sign blinking on and off. They had never really had crowds to speak of – Lucy wasn’t sure the NO had ever been lit in the two decades she’d been alive – but now it was mostly the occasional young couple escaping protective parents for a few hours of getting physical or some guy cheating on his wife.
Six weeks until the 2006 summer season would end and she’d be back in school, on the other side of the country where the ocean felt so different. She’s leafing through ‘People’ when the crunch of gravel and the rumbling purr of a big old engine makes Lucy look up and out the front window. An unfamiliar car, easily as old as the cherry red Thunderbird her Dad keeps out back and starts up every weekend “to keep her running.” Big, black, shiny.
“Look, we deserve a few days off, that’s all I’m saying,” the passenger says as he unfolds himself from the car, long legs and long lean body and shaggy brown hair that he shakes out of his eyes impatiently.
“Yeah, yeah,” the driver answers, standing and stretching after he gets out, slice of pale flat stomach exposed for a moment beneath a threadbare tee shirt. “I said okay, you don’t have to keep trying to convince me, Sammy.”
Sammy? Guy’s gotta be 6’5” and does not look like a Sammy.
Driver is just as handsome as Sammy, green eyes and freckles and the hint of day after scruff darkening his jaw line.
“We need a room,” the driver says as he strides into the office, smile shifting into flirty. “If you have any available.”
“I don’t know, you can tell by the crowded parking lot that we’re pretty full right now.”
Her response seems to surprise the driver; his smile seems a little more genuine.
“If you can squeeze us in, ma’am.”
Sammy rolls his eyes. “Dean,” he says, and Dean looks maybe a tiny bit contrite. He tones his smile down to half wattage; it’s still enough to light up a small town.
“I think I can find you something. Second cottage on the left, Number 7. There’s a microwave and a mini fridge, vending machines out back.”
Dean raises his eyebrows, pretending to be impressed.
“It’s our deluxe cottage.”
At that, Dean actually laughs, elbowing Sammy in the side and then waggling his eyebrows comically.
“Only the best for my baby brother,” he says.
Ah, brothers. That explains the elbowing and eye rolling, but also the affection that’s as clear as the blue sky between them.
Sammy eye rolls again, but he also blushes, which is adorable. She guesses he’s embarrassed to be called baby brother.
Dean, Sam chides, and Dean chuckles and scoops up the keys.
“Is there a pool?” Sammy asks, sounding hopeful and suddenly very young. “The sign said you had a pool.”
“Sammy likes to swim,” Dean adds, and Lucy feels like he’s going to be very disappointed in her if she says no.
“It’s Sam,” Sammy says, grumpy.
“There is, yeah. Uh, it might need a little cleaning up though. I mean, it’s got its chemicals and all that, but it just isn’t used very much. Might have, you know, some leaves in it. I can try to –“
“You got a scoop?” Dean interrupts.
She nods.
“I’ll get it,” he says, already turning to go. “Grew up around enough motel pools to know how to clean one up.”
“You gonna skinny dip?” she hears Dean tease as they grab their bags from the car. Lucy laughs at the scowl Sam turns on his brother, but she’d be lying if she said that wouldn’t be something she’d like to see.
The pool is on the other side of the parking lot, fenced and surrounded by the pine trees that gave the motel its name. They’re gigantic now, towering over the buildings and providing some welcome shade. In between are rhododendrons and a few small dogwoods that turn coral pink in the spring and then drop their petals in the pool and are a bitch to get out.
She guesses she should offer the Patterson brothers a discount. Dean is apparently a nickname; the credit card says George on it.
It’s not like Lucy’s some kind of peeping Tom, it’s just that there’s really nothing else to do but wonder what Sam and Dean are up to. Not even ten minutes goes by before she hears them through the open window heading to the pool, both in shorts that may have been the jeans they were wearing when they arrived, cut off above the knees. Dean’s got a black tee shirt on; Sam is shirtless.
“Sonofabitch!” Dean cusses as the heat of the blacktop registers on their bare feet.
Sam laughs, and then they’re running, knocking into each other playfully. Dean hops on one foot then the other when they reach the grass around the pool, still cursing. Sam laughs at him, and Lucy gets the feeling Dean’s playing it up, though he keeps scowling like his burnt feet are the worst kind of affront.
“Such a big baby,” Sam says, but it’s fond.
“Shut your face,” Dean retorts, but it’s equally fond.
Sometimes Lucy wishes she’d had a sister or brother. Someone to share the endless chores that came from running a motel. Someone else to be pressured to take it over someday so Lucy didn’t have to feel guilty about wanting something different.
“Do you need me to carry you?” Sam jokes, and before Dean can answer, Sam scoops his brother up bridal style and carries him through the gate and into the pool area.
“Asshole!” Dean yells, and kicks until Sam puts him down, but even from across the parking lot Lucy can see he’s fighting back a grin. She grabs some flip flops for them from the basket of spares in the corner, and some sun screen too, and makes her way across the parking lot to the pool.
Sam and Dean are standing just inside the gate, regarding the pool with dismay.
“Well, shit,” Dean says finally.
He looks at Sam.
Sam looks at the pool, disappointment written all over his face.
Dean looks back at the pool.
“We don’t have to…” Sam starts, but Dean waves him off.
“No big deal, I’ve cleaned worse,” he insists, retrieving the scoop and getting to work. “Remember that motel in Idaho? Had a big sign advertising a pool with a slide? You were so excited, you’d think it was a Six Flags or something. When Dad said it was too dirty to swim in, you cried half the night. Remember?”
Dean’s cleaning while he talks, efficiently scooping out god knows what and dumping it in the rapidly filling trash can.
“Soon as he left, I started on it. Had it all spiffy by the time you woke up, all red faced and snot nosed from crying half the night. Remember?”
Sam’s looking at Dean; his expression is heartbreakingly soft.
“Yeah,” he says after a pause. “I remember. You doin’ that again now? For me?”
Dean pauses, strips off his already sweat-soaked tee shirt. He puts it down on a chair next to where Sam is standing and then straightens, standing in front of his brother.
“Don’t go gettin’ all sentimental on me,” he says, and his voice is pitched low, rumbling like the car he drives. “Baby brother.”
“Dean,” Sam says, and there’s something so off about the way he says it, the way he’s looking at his brother. Neither of them move for way too long and neither does Lucy, frozen ten feet from the gate and grateful for the big pine tree’s thick trunk between her and them.
Sam finally breaks the spell, reaches out and brushes his hand over Dean’s side, just a brief touch.
“You want me to finish cleaning this pool or not?” Dean asks, and Sam smiles.
Lucy turns around and goes back inside, flip flops and sunscreen still in her hand. She wonders why it felt wrong to interrupt, why her stomach flipped when Sam said his brother’s name. You’ve been alone at this goddamn motel too long, she tells herself, and pours another cup of coffee.
When she looks out the window again, Dean’s leaning out over the water, muscles in his arms and back working as he hauls the net in again and again. Sam’s stretched out on his belly on one of the bargain Walmart lounge chairs that they bought a few summers ago, his feet hanging off the end, the breadth of his shoulders tapering to a sweat-slicked slim waist.
Her dad comes back with a new air conditioner for Cottage 3, and the smile on his face when he sees the unfamiliar car in the parking lot makes Lucy realize how rarely she sees one on him.
“They’re cleaning the pool too,” she adds, and he beams even more, walking over to thank them.
“No problem,” she hears Dean say. “Sammy here wants to swim, so what Sammy wants…”
Sam protests, like she knew he would, but Dean just laughs, and he sounds as happy as her dad. They talk about the filter and the weather and her dad tells them that back in the day the Motel was full all the time and the pool was barely big enough to fit everyone, and the three pine trees were just scraggly little things, not the towering trees they are now. Sam and Dean listen, and nod, and Lucy thinks, they must have a dad they’re used to placating a little bit too.
“Make sure you use some sunscreen if you’re out here a while,” she hears her dad say.
“Yessir,” they answer in unison, and her dad is still smiling as he heads over to Cabin 3 to install the new A/C.
She hears it when Dean deems the pool Sam-ready, because they both whoop like kids as they plunge in. Lucy watches from the office as they splash and dunk each other, until it looks like half the water in the pool has splashed out the sides.
By the time the sun is going down, the splashing has quieted down. The brothers must have gone back to their room, so Lucy heads over to the pool to lock up the gate. She gets almost to the first pine tree and then stops, realizing suddenly that the pool isn’t empty after all. The sun has almost set, just a red glow in the western sky, reflecting in the ripples in the water. Sam and Dean are in the far corner, where the water’s deepest. Dean’s leaning back, arms propped behind him on the sides to hold himself partly out the water. Sam’s right in front of him, caging Dean in with both muscular arms as Sam leans in closer. Dean’s voice is startling in the early evening quiet.
“Good day, Sammy? You have fun?”
“Yeah,” Sam answers. He’s treading water with his feet, churning little ripples that slosh rhythmically against the sides of the pool.
“Gonna be wrinkled like a prune,” Dean teases, and Lucy can see his smile, white teeth flashing in the waning sunlight.
“Worth it.”
Neither of them says anything for a long time, Sam treading water, Dean looking at his brother. Then Sam lifts one hand and cups Dean’s face, pulls him even closer. It’s clear what’s happening even as Lucy can’t quite make herself believe it.
“Thanks, Dean. For today. For all those other days.”
Sam leans in and captures Dean’s mouth, kisses him softly. It’s quick, but unmistakable.
“’s what you deserve,” Dean answers, smirking a little. “Baby brother.”
Sam honest to god growls at that, leaning in again and kissing Dean anything but softly. He brings their bodies together, kicking his long legs and driving Dean backwards until he’s leaning back on his elbows with the force of Sam’s kiss. Sam lifts himself half out of the water, hovering over Dean, water sluicing down his broad back and shoulders, mouth working like he wants to devour Dean whole.
The water laps and splashes around them as they kiss, completely caught up in each other. Dean shifts, his toes breaking the surface of the water as he wraps his legs around Sam’s hips and Sam groans, grinds against him, trapping him against the side of the pool. There’s something primordial about it, the rhythm of Sam’s hips echoed in the slap slap slap of the water against the side of the pool. Dean gets one hand on the back of Sam’s head, tangles his fingers in Sam’s hair, hanging on, and then both of them slide right off the corner of the pool and go under.
Lucy gasps, realizing she’d been holding her breath, watching as they surface, laughing and spluttering and grabbing at each other as they try to resume their making out and not drown simultaneously.
Dean finally breaks away and swims to the shallower water. When he stands up to climb out, Lucy can clearly see the bulge of his dick in his wet shorts, slung low beneath the cut of his hipbones. Sam follows, reaches out and slaps Dean on the ass as they clamber out of the water, his shorts even more tented.
Dean tosses Sam a towel; it lands on his head.
“Fuck you,” Sam says good naturedly, and Dean turns and gives his brother – his… Sam – a cocky grin.
“Works for me,” he says, and winks.
They leave the next day. Lucy wants to say, I know you’re not really brothers, but it doesn’t seem like something they’d want to hear.
The pool stays clean for weeks.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Word Count: 2500
Summary: Sam and Dean take a little break from the road at an off-the-beaten-path motel in the Pine Barrens of south Jersey, and the motel clerk gets some free entertainment. Early seasons classic SPN, Outsider POV
A/N: Written for
spnspringfling which is always so much fun!It’s mid July and feels like it hasn’t rained in a month, the asphalt of the little motel parking lot steaming in the 95 degree heat, the smell of melted tar thick in the air. Lucy wants to be anywhere other than here, stuck in New Jersey at the Three Pines Motel between two towns with names no one knows, not close enough to the ocean to be beach towns and too far from the highway to be truck stop destinations.
I’m gonna die of boredom, she thinks, flipping the pages of the latest People Magazine because her dad still likes to keep reading material in the office as though there might be a wait to get to the front desk to check in.
This place was his dream, once upon a time, when the state highway ran close enough to make a motel convenient for beach-goers who wanted to save on rental fees and didn’t mind driving the 38 minutes to the ocean every day. Once they built the bypass, cars could zip by at 70 mph and never notice the optimistic VACANCY sign blinking on and off. They had never really had crowds to speak of – Lucy wasn’t sure the NO had ever been lit in the two decades she’d been alive – but now it was mostly the occasional young couple escaping protective parents for a few hours of getting physical or some guy cheating on his wife.
Six weeks until the 2006 summer season would end and she’d be back in school, on the other side of the country where the ocean felt so different. She’s leafing through ‘People’ when the crunch of gravel and the rumbling purr of a big old engine makes Lucy look up and out the front window. An unfamiliar car, easily as old as the cherry red Thunderbird her Dad keeps out back and starts up every weekend “to keep her running.” Big, black, shiny.
“Look, we deserve a few days off, that’s all I’m saying,” the passenger says as he unfolds himself from the car, long legs and long lean body and shaggy brown hair that he shakes out of his eyes impatiently.
“Yeah, yeah,” the driver answers, standing and stretching after he gets out, slice of pale flat stomach exposed for a moment beneath a threadbare tee shirt. “I said okay, you don’t have to keep trying to convince me, Sammy.”
Sammy? Guy’s gotta be 6’5” and does not look like a Sammy.
Driver is just as handsome as Sammy, green eyes and freckles and the hint of day after scruff darkening his jaw line.
“We need a room,” the driver says as he strides into the office, smile shifting into flirty. “If you have any available.”
“I don’t know, you can tell by the crowded parking lot that we’re pretty full right now.”
Her response seems to surprise the driver; his smile seems a little more genuine.
“If you can squeeze us in, ma’am.”
Sammy rolls his eyes. “Dean,” he says, and Dean looks maybe a tiny bit contrite. He tones his smile down to half wattage; it’s still enough to light up a small town.
“I think I can find you something. Second cottage on the left, Number 7. There’s a microwave and a mini fridge, vending machines out back.”
Dean raises his eyebrows, pretending to be impressed.
“It’s our deluxe cottage.”
At that, Dean actually laughs, elbowing Sammy in the side and then waggling his eyebrows comically.
“Only the best for my baby brother,” he says.
Ah, brothers. That explains the elbowing and eye rolling, but also the affection that’s as clear as the blue sky between them.
Sammy eye rolls again, but he also blushes, which is adorable. She guesses he’s embarrassed to be called baby brother.
Dean, Sam chides, and Dean chuckles and scoops up the keys.
“Is there a pool?” Sammy asks, sounding hopeful and suddenly very young. “The sign said you had a pool.”
“Sammy likes to swim,” Dean adds, and Lucy feels like he’s going to be very disappointed in her if she says no.
“It’s Sam,” Sammy says, grumpy.
“There is, yeah. Uh, it might need a little cleaning up though. I mean, it’s got its chemicals and all that, but it just isn’t used very much. Might have, you know, some leaves in it. I can try to –“
“You got a scoop?” Dean interrupts.
She nods.
“I’ll get it,” he says, already turning to go. “Grew up around enough motel pools to know how to clean one up.”
“You gonna skinny dip?” she hears Dean tease as they grab their bags from the car. Lucy laughs at the scowl Sam turns on his brother, but she’d be lying if she said that wouldn’t be something she’d like to see.
The pool is on the other side of the parking lot, fenced and surrounded by the pine trees that gave the motel its name. They’re gigantic now, towering over the buildings and providing some welcome shade. In between are rhododendrons and a few small dogwoods that turn coral pink in the spring and then drop their petals in the pool and are a bitch to get out.
She guesses she should offer the Patterson brothers a discount. Dean is apparently a nickname; the credit card says George on it.
It’s not like Lucy’s some kind of peeping Tom, it’s just that there’s really nothing else to do but wonder what Sam and Dean are up to. Not even ten minutes goes by before she hears them through the open window heading to the pool, both in shorts that may have been the jeans they were wearing when they arrived, cut off above the knees. Dean’s got a black tee shirt on; Sam is shirtless.
“Sonofabitch!” Dean cusses as the heat of the blacktop registers on their bare feet.
Sam laughs, and then they’re running, knocking into each other playfully. Dean hops on one foot then the other when they reach the grass around the pool, still cursing. Sam laughs at him, and Lucy gets the feeling Dean’s playing it up, though he keeps scowling like his burnt feet are the worst kind of affront.
“Such a big baby,” Sam says, but it’s fond.
“Shut your face,” Dean retorts, but it’s equally fond.
Sometimes Lucy wishes she’d had a sister or brother. Someone to share the endless chores that came from running a motel. Someone else to be pressured to take it over someday so Lucy didn’t have to feel guilty about wanting something different.
“Do you need me to carry you?” Sam jokes, and before Dean can answer, Sam scoops his brother up bridal style and carries him through the gate and into the pool area.
“Asshole!” Dean yells, and kicks until Sam puts him down, but even from across the parking lot Lucy can see he’s fighting back a grin. She grabs some flip flops for them from the basket of spares in the corner, and some sun screen too, and makes her way across the parking lot to the pool.
Sam and Dean are standing just inside the gate, regarding the pool with dismay.
“Well, shit,” Dean says finally.
He looks at Sam.
Sam looks at the pool, disappointment written all over his face.
Dean looks back at the pool.
“We don’t have to…” Sam starts, but Dean waves him off.
“No big deal, I’ve cleaned worse,” he insists, retrieving the scoop and getting to work. “Remember that motel in Idaho? Had a big sign advertising a pool with a slide? You were so excited, you’d think it was a Six Flags or something. When Dad said it was too dirty to swim in, you cried half the night. Remember?”
Dean’s cleaning while he talks, efficiently scooping out god knows what and dumping it in the rapidly filling trash can.
“Soon as he left, I started on it. Had it all spiffy by the time you woke up, all red faced and snot nosed from crying half the night. Remember?”
Sam’s looking at Dean; his expression is heartbreakingly soft.
“Yeah,” he says after a pause. “I remember. You doin’ that again now? For me?”
Dean pauses, strips off his already sweat-soaked tee shirt. He puts it down on a chair next to where Sam is standing and then straightens, standing in front of his brother.
“Don’t go gettin’ all sentimental on me,” he says, and his voice is pitched low, rumbling like the car he drives. “Baby brother.”
“Dean,” Sam says, and there’s something so off about the way he says it, the way he’s looking at his brother. Neither of them move for way too long and neither does Lucy, frozen ten feet from the gate and grateful for the big pine tree’s thick trunk between her and them.
Sam finally breaks the spell, reaches out and brushes his hand over Dean’s side, just a brief touch.
“You want me to finish cleaning this pool or not?” Dean asks, and Sam smiles.
Lucy turns around and goes back inside, flip flops and sunscreen still in her hand. She wonders why it felt wrong to interrupt, why her stomach flipped when Sam said his brother’s name. You’ve been alone at this goddamn motel too long, she tells herself, and pours another cup of coffee.
When she looks out the window again, Dean’s leaning out over the water, muscles in his arms and back working as he hauls the net in again and again. Sam’s stretched out on his belly on one of the bargain Walmart lounge chairs that they bought a few summers ago, his feet hanging off the end, the breadth of his shoulders tapering to a sweat-slicked slim waist.
Her dad comes back with a new air conditioner for Cottage 3, and the smile on his face when he sees the unfamiliar car in the parking lot makes Lucy realize how rarely she sees one on him.
“They’re cleaning the pool too,” she adds, and he beams even more, walking over to thank them.
“No problem,” she hears Dean say. “Sammy here wants to swim, so what Sammy wants…”
Sam protests, like she knew he would, but Dean just laughs, and he sounds as happy as her dad. They talk about the filter and the weather and her dad tells them that back in the day the Motel was full all the time and the pool was barely big enough to fit everyone, and the three pine trees were just scraggly little things, not the towering trees they are now. Sam and Dean listen, and nod, and Lucy thinks, they must have a dad they’re used to placating a little bit too.
“Make sure you use some sunscreen if you’re out here a while,” she hears her dad say.
“Yessir,” they answer in unison, and her dad is still smiling as he heads over to Cabin 3 to install the new A/C.
She hears it when Dean deems the pool Sam-ready, because they both whoop like kids as they plunge in. Lucy watches from the office as they splash and dunk each other, until it looks like half the water in the pool has splashed out the sides.
By the time the sun is going down, the splashing has quieted down. The brothers must have gone back to their room, so Lucy heads over to the pool to lock up the gate. She gets almost to the first pine tree and then stops, realizing suddenly that the pool isn’t empty after all. The sun has almost set, just a red glow in the western sky, reflecting in the ripples in the water. Sam and Dean are in the far corner, where the water’s deepest. Dean’s leaning back, arms propped behind him on the sides to hold himself partly out the water. Sam’s right in front of him, caging Dean in with both muscular arms as Sam leans in closer. Dean’s voice is startling in the early evening quiet.
“Good day, Sammy? You have fun?”
“Yeah,” Sam answers. He’s treading water with his feet, churning little ripples that slosh rhythmically against the sides of the pool.
“Gonna be wrinkled like a prune,” Dean teases, and Lucy can see his smile, white teeth flashing in the waning sunlight.
“Worth it.”
Neither of them says anything for a long time, Sam treading water, Dean looking at his brother. Then Sam lifts one hand and cups Dean’s face, pulls him even closer. It’s clear what’s happening even as Lucy can’t quite make herself believe it.
“Thanks, Dean. For today. For all those other days.”
Sam leans in and captures Dean’s mouth, kisses him softly. It’s quick, but unmistakable.
“’s what you deserve,” Dean answers, smirking a little. “Baby brother.”
Sam honest to god growls at that, leaning in again and kissing Dean anything but softly. He brings their bodies together, kicking his long legs and driving Dean backwards until he’s leaning back on his elbows with the force of Sam’s kiss. Sam lifts himself half out of the water, hovering over Dean, water sluicing down his broad back and shoulders, mouth working like he wants to devour Dean whole.
The water laps and splashes around them as they kiss, completely caught up in each other. Dean shifts, his toes breaking the surface of the water as he wraps his legs around Sam’s hips and Sam groans, grinds against him, trapping him against the side of the pool. There’s something primordial about it, the rhythm of Sam’s hips echoed in the slap slap slap of the water against the side of the pool. Dean gets one hand on the back of Sam’s head, tangles his fingers in Sam’s hair, hanging on, and then both of them slide right off the corner of the pool and go under.
Lucy gasps, realizing she’d been holding her breath, watching as they surface, laughing and spluttering and grabbing at each other as they try to resume their making out and not drown simultaneously.
Dean finally breaks away and swims to the shallower water. When he stands up to climb out, Lucy can clearly see the bulge of his dick in his wet shorts, slung low beneath the cut of his hipbones. Sam follows, reaches out and slaps Dean on the ass as they clamber out of the water, his shorts even more tented.
Dean tosses Sam a towel; it lands on his head.
“Fuck you,” Sam says good naturedly, and Dean turns and gives his brother – his… Sam – a cocky grin.
“Works for me,” he says, and winks.
They leave the next day. Lucy wants to say, I know you’re not really brothers, but it doesn’t seem like something they’d want to hear.
The pool stays clean for weeks.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2021-05-09 09:35 am (UTC)💗
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Date: 2021-07-08 05:31 pm (UTC)