Someday, Someone’s Going To Pay Me To Do This
Salvation ‘verse ficlet, but pre-Salvation. Dean is still in school, and gets news. Sam fanboys his brother. 998 words, PG-13 for language.
Sam felt his phone vibrate and ignored it. Part of being an intern meant not being interested in anything but what members of the firm said, especially in a meeting where they were talking about sticking it to the next biggest competitor.
Ten minutes later, things broke up and Sam stepped into an empty conference room to check his messages.
“Sammy. You have to call me, like, right now. Now. Hurry up. I don’t care what you’re doing. You’re not going to believe this.”
Dean was babbling. He didn’t sound distressed. He sounded more like he was geeking out so hard that he couldn’t contain himself. That meant something gross or weird or world-ending, usually, or a monster classically awesome in all its movie-created glory popping up in real life. His voice actually lilted up an octave at the end, making Sam laugh.
Sam looked at his watch. Dean only acted like that once every...decade or so, so he really had to get to him and watch it happen. He didn’t want to miss it, even if it turned out to be about something he didn’t share his brother’s enthusiasm for.
Dean picked up on the first ring. “Dude. Where have you been?”
“I was in the middle of a meeting, college boy,” Sam said. “Some of us work. What happened? Did the ghost of Steve McQueen appear and try to blow you?”
Dean was nearly done with school, but Sam could never pass up the opportunity to mention it.
For once, Dean let a smart remark pass, and it made Sam raise his eyebrows in surprise. “Better. Oh my God, do you know what I’m doing tomorrow? Guess. You have to guess.”
Sam looked at his watch again and wondered how long it would take him to get to Dean at that time of day, because he could imagine the look on Dean’s face and it was no fair to have to listen to that kind of rare glee and not see it firsthand. “Okay, I’ll guess, but where are you?”
“What? What difference does that make?”
“Because I’m coming over. I’m almost done for the day. Tell me when I get there.”
“I’m trying to tell you now.”
“Okay, but, this is obviously really cool, so you have to tell me in person,” Sam said. “Can you hold on, for, like, fifteen minutes?”
“You’re harshing my buzz, Sam,” Dean said, but he still had a little-kid note to his voice.
“If it’s that great, then I imagine you want to break it to me in person,” Sam said. “Just tell me it’s not about getting a date with somebody who’s been playing hard to get.”
“It’s not about chicks,” Dean said. “I’m in the older med building, but I’ll just –“
“Okay, here I come,” Sam said, then clicked the phone shut.
He finished a few things mechanically and then took off, ducking anyone who might try to assign him something at the last minute. Dean, in full geek mode, was more important.
Dean was waiting for him outside the main entrance, backpack slung so casually over one shoulder, looking a lot younger than he was but already trying to put the lid back on his excitement.
Sam was having none of it. “Tell me, tell me tell me. Hurry up.”
“Why did you have to come all the hell the way over here to –“
“Because it’s important to you, so it’s important to me too,” Sam said.
Dean cocked his head back to look at him for a moment, searching automatically for a hint of sarcasm even though he was well aware that Sam loved to say that kind of thing to him. Sam knew he just never learned how to handle it well.
“You’re such a girl,” Dean said. He glanced around to see if anyone was closer than he wanted them – Sam recognized that move – and then ushered Sam off to one side, under one of the trees near the entrance. He dropped his backpack and his eyes lit up, and Sam leaned in conspiratorially. “You’re not going to believe this. It’s fuckin’ unbelievable.”
“If you don’t tell me, I’m going to shake it out of you,” Sam said.
“Tomorrow, three of us are headed over to Morgan Hill. There’s a smaller cemetery there, and somebody’s reopening an old murder case from the sixties. A request has been made by the Santa Clara County medical examiner’s office to exhume a body.”
Sam raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Yeah?”
Dean grabbed the front of Sam’s shirt in both hands. “Sam. Stay with me, here. We’re going to dig somebody up. Legally. On purpose.”
Sam’s initial mirth came out as a tight-lipped whimper as he tried to suppress it. “You’re shitting me.”
“No. Sam. Sammy. Listen. Someday, someone is going to pay me to dig people up.”
Sam brought his hands down on Dean’s shoulders, trying not to crack up, voice broken with it. “I need you to be really careful tomorrow and not toss a match in there by reflex.”
Dean started to laugh, and Sam joined him, and then they were both howling with it, clinging to each other.
“That would really screw my grade,” Dean said, and Sam hugged him, laughing. Dean was laughing too hard to care right then.
“Heeeeeeey, geta room, you two,” a male voice jeered from several yards away.
Sam looked around. It was just a classmate of Dean’s that they both knew. They both flipped him off in perfect tandem, earning a hoot of laughter as the guy kept walking.
“You have to keep a straight face,” Sam said to Dean. “What are you gonna do?”
“I’m a professional,” Dean said with mock affront. “This is serious business.”
Then they both broke up laughing again.
“For this, I’m buying dinner,” Sam said. “C’mon.”
Dean was happy. That was how it was supposed to be. It was worth all the work and what it had taken to get there.
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