"You want a beer?" Sam asked as he turned to head to the bar, the words almost a statement and not a question, because of course Dean wanted a beer.
"No." Dean said, and almost looked surprised himself.
"Whiskey?" Sam questioned. Dean usually only drank whiskey when he was really messed up or in pain. Sam looked at Dean a little closer, maybe he had missed something, and he was a little concerned now.
Dean shook his head once, brow furrowed. "No. I don't want anything to drink. Water maybe?"
Sam looked even more confused, but headed toward the bar and Dean took a seat in a booth at the back of the small bar.
Dean felt strange. Something was off and he had felt it since they had been in the witch's cabin. 'Fuckin hate witches.'
Returning from the bar with a beer for himself and water, what the fuck, for Dean, Sam slid into the opposite side of the booth, eying Dean curiously. "Dude, water?"
"Yeah." Dean turned to look around the bar, avoiding Sam's eyes and even he wasn't sure why.
A blonde with big tits and a small waist, short shorts and cowboy boots gave Dean a sly smirk and a small wave as she caught his eye from across the room. Sam snorted, 'well, that was quick.' But Dean didn't return the wave, in fact he didn't seem to really register the interest, and Sam knew something was wrong. Not that he was complaining about Dean refusing to acknowledge the first skank that looked his way, but it certainly wasn't classic Dean. She was precisely his type, cheap looking, cute and easy.
"What's wrong with her?" Sam questioned, watching Dean closely.
"Nothing is wrong with her. " Dean answered quickly, but didn't turn his attention to Sam.
"So, why aren't you already out the door with her?"
Dean appeared to be gritting his teeth, but the answer came quickly enough, "I don't want her."
"Seriously? Are you feeling sick, Dean?" Sam hadn't taken his eyes off Dean, something was going on.
"Yes. No. Just shut up, Sam. Shit, you talk a lot."
Sam didn't acknowledge the demand or the insult. "So, if you don't want her…and I don't see anything else here you might wanna screw, and you aren't drinking…you wanna just go? Back to the room, I mean?"
Dean sighed, looked slightly pained. "No. I don't want to go back to the room." Dean was looking at the table, concentrating on something, like he was trying hard to figure something out. "Can we please just not talk, Sam? Give me five minutes of peace."
But Sam wasn't playing along, too intrigued to be quiet. Everything had to be explained, sorted out, figured out, answered with Sam. Shit.
"Dean, when was the last time you got laid?"
Dean hesitated, looked like he was thinking hard, like he had to get the answer right. "Seven months and three days ago."
"When was the last time you jerked off?"
Dean's shot daggers at Sam, but again, the answer was immediate, "This morning. Shut the fuck up, Sam. Shut up. Can you fucking hear me? Shut up. I don't want to fucking talk anymore."
So why was he? Sam had never gotten so many answers to his questions out of Dean so easily. And he wasn't going to let it drop.
Dean was starting to sweat. Fucking witches. It was obvious that he wasn't able to fucking lie, wasn't able to just not answer. This was fucking painful. Sam was starting to catch on, and he was terrified what was going to come out. Shit shit fuck.
Sam was trying to figure out what the best questions were. Because Dean was answering and for whatever reason, he wasn't going to let this opportunity pass. "What's the kinkiest thing you ever did?"
"I let some girl tie me up and spank me."
Sam resisted smiling, wasn't sure if he wanted to smile. Somehow the answer made his dick twitch in his pants. "Did you like it?"
"I liked being tied up. I didn't like being spanked." Dean refused to meet Sam's eyes.
"Huh. Tell me about it."
Dean glared at him, but said nothing. 'Huh.' Apparently only direct questions worked in this situation. "Why did you like being tied up?"
"I liked someone else being in control." Dean wanted to scream. He felt like his skin was too tight, like he was going to lose it completely.
Sam knew he was pushing Dean to the limit, but this was irresistible. He would pay later, he knew.
"Stop asking me questions, Sam. Please?"
It almost worked. Sam cringed inwardly. But too many years of secretive Dean made him push onward. There were too many things he wanted, felt like he needed, to know.
"Have you ever been in love?" Sam held his breath, wishing he could take back that question, not sure he was ready to hear the answer.
"Yes." Dean dropped his head onto his hands. Sam was going to torture him. This was getting worse. This was going to ruin his life. If Sam got to the ugliest things, he couldn't lie and it would mean watching Sam walk away again, this time for good.
"A girl I knew?" Sam heard himself ask, and damnit but he wanted to stop himself.
"No." Dean felt relief tingle through him. Temporarily averted crisis. Thank God.
Sam scrunched his eyes. No more of that. He needed not to hurt them both with that shit anymore. More interesting questions, less gut wrenching ones.
"Do you love your car more than me, Dean?" Sam grinned, trying to tease Dean.
Sam's smile broadened, not that he didn't know that one, but it felt good to make Dean say it.
"Do you think about the same thing all the time when you jack off?"
"No." Dean's voice was muffled, since he hadn't raised his head from his hands resting on the table.
"Mmmm, do you think about the same person all the time when you jerk off?" Sam thought about his own fantasies, sadly all revolving around Dean. Damn but he was glad he wasn't the one with the truth spell on him. Not that Dean didn't have any idea he was interested, but that would be too much.
"Yes." Dean's head came up, but he stared at the wall. "Ok, Sam. I'll do whatever you want if you stop asking me these fucking questions. Please, dude. This is fucking torture. You are gonna be sorry."
Sam thought about it for a second. He was tempted to ask for something, something he really wanted, but he wouldn't force Dean to do that, couldn't. Besides, it wouldn't work that way, even though it was tempting…. but this was the chance of a lifetime, and he was pretty sure he would eventually break Dean on the kissing thing. Maybe not more, but seriously—kissing? Dean had never really denied Sam anything he truly wanted.
Sam bit his tongue and held his breath, but pressed on. "Have you ever had sex with another guy?"
"No!" Dean looked at Sam momentarily, hoping this was going to throw him off the subject he feared most.
"Have you done anything sexual with a guy?"
"No. I'm not gay, Sam." That came out easily, it wasn't a lie, and Dean felt better. He wasn't gay.
"You are going to hurt me when this wears off, I know it. But you would do the same thing, Dean. You know you would. You wont admit it…wait. You would, wouldn't you?"
"Yes." Damnit, of course he would.
Dean thought about punching Sam in the face. That might shut him up. Of course, it would probably also get them thrown into jail. He would get up and leave, but without the public forum, this would be even scarier and more out of control. There was nothing to be done but let Sam beat him to death, until he asked that one question that sent him running away. It was coming, he was shocked one of them hadn't already broken the fucking seal, exposed the ugly shit inside him.
"Why don't you want to leave the bar, Dean?"
"Because there are people here and I don't want to be alone with you while I can't lie." Dean looked surprised at his own answer, but probably only because he didn't want to say it, not because he didn't already know it.
Sam thought for a moment, then realized he wanted to know. Maybe he needed to know.
Dean's breath caught. The question wasn't specific enough apparently , because he didn't feel the need to answer, but he knew it would be in just a second. He bolted for the door. He was to the car, and almost had the door open before Sam caught up with him, wrapping his arms around him from behind.