Dean's POV
It was 7:15 when I arrived at the house. I pulled into the driveway and took the keys out of the ignition, the low rumble of the engine becoming silence.
I sighed and grinned. That was the best night of my life, I thought.
I opened the Impala's door and climbed out, then closing the door and walking to the front door. It was unlocked.
Obviously.
Sam probably unlocked it because he knew I had detention tonight. I sighed again and shook my head as I opened the door. Sammy, Sammy, Sammy, what am I gonna do with you?
I tried my best to keep quiet as I tiptoed into the living room. Just because it's seven, doesn't mean that I can't sneak in. Besides, Sam's probably gonna have my ass on the wall once he figures out that I was late again. Lying to him is slowly killing me.
Looking around, I realized no one was in the living room. I walked to the kitchen and slowly looked inside.
No one.
I stepped fully into the kitchen and walked to the refrigerator. I opened the door and grabbed a beer, popping the lid off and taking a sip. After a minute, I felt a warmness in my stomach and sighed quietly.
I turned around and froze.
Sam was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed and Bitch Face #69 on his face. "Where were you?" He asked, anger seeping into his voice. "You were supposed to be back thirty minutes ago."
I opened my mouth and closed it again, not knowing what to say. "Uh, I was late because," I stuttered, "because Mr. Novak...made me...wash the desks."
Sam rolled his eyes. "That's manual labor," he said, "I doubt a teacher is allowed to do that to a student."
"Yeah, well." I shrugged my shoulders. Sam and I stared at each other for a few awkward seconds before I spoke again. "Uh, Sammy, I gotta get ready for bed."
Sam continued to glare at me. "It's almost eight, Dean," he said. "You haven't even eaten dinner."
I looked away from Sam. "I'm not hungry," I muttered and pushed past him, walking out of the kitchen and to my room. I could feel Sam's eyes on my back, glaring holes into me. I shivered. Man, that boy can glare.
I opened the door to my room and walked in, closing it behind me. I sighed again and leaned my back on my door, closing my eyes.
Lying to Sam is terrible. This is going to eat me alive. We never lie to each other. He was the first person I came out to. How the fuck am I supposed to lie to him? After Dad...
I shook my head. I'm not even going to think about him.
I stood up and walked to my dresser, taking off my shirt as I did so. I tossed it somewhere behind me before opening the top drawer to my dresser. I shuffled through some of the shirts before sighing.
'I'm doing that a lot recently,' I realized.
Closing the dresser drawer, not even bothering to get a shirt. It's way too hot in my room to sleep with one anyway.
I turned around and stifled a scream.
Sam stood in the doorway of my bedroom, a confused look on his face. "Damnit, Sammy!" I exclaimed, holding my heart and trying to breathe normally. "Don't do that to me!"
"Sorry," Sam said, staring at me but not at me. He was looking at my...collarbone. "Dean, what's that?" He pointed at my collarbone, where I had a hickey from Mr. Novak.
I blushed and tried hard to make sure Sam didn't notice it. He probably did but he didn't say anything. "Uh, i-it's no-nothing," I stuttered over my words, mentally face palming myself.
Sam squinted his eyes at me and moved forward. I took an involuntary step back, trying my hardest to get away from him.
I know, I know. It's hilarious that Dean Winchester, the most amazing person in the world, is afraid of his younger brother.
That's not true!
Only in this case it is.
Keep this in mind that Sam is almost as tall as me and almost as buff as me. My little brother can intimidate anybody with his size and words. He's extremely smart and will figure out anything if he puts his mind to it. Him figuring out that I have a hickey is absolutely nothing to him.
Sam glared at me. "That's a hickey, Dean," he stated, anger seeping into his voice again. His glare softened until he was just staring at me with a blank face. "Why do you have a hickey, Dean?"
I looked away from him, not able to look at him. Lying. Again. It's going to cast me into Hell. "It's nothing, Sam," I whispered. "Just drop it."
I turned away but Sam grabbed my arm, pulling me towards him to face him. "This isn't nothing, Dean," he said. "You were at detention. I know you were. But you're thirty minutes late and you have a hickey on your collarbone. Now what does that tell me?"
"Sam," I started but I couldn't say anything else.
"Dean," Sam said slowly, "are you having an affair with your history teacher?" His brown eyes bore into me and I didn't know what to say.
My mouth opened and I blurted out, "What the fuck are you even talking about, Sam?" I shook my head and stuck my tongue out in fake disgust. "That's disgusting! Why would you even think that?!"
Sam stepped away from me, nodding. "Did you get back together with Lisa?" He asked. "Or skipped detention?"
I shook my head. "I just hooked up with Cassie Robinson from physics," I said quickly, trying hard to make it sound normal.
"Oh, alright." Sam nodded his head and turned to leave before looking back at me. "Just...no more lying to me. Okay?" I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and Sam left my room, closing my bedroom door behind me.
Tears formed in my eyes and wiped them away angrily before stalking over to my bed and flopping down onto it, face first.
This. Is. Terrible.
Lying to Sam, pretending to be disgusted with loving Mr. Novak, and the list goes on. I can't do this anymore. Should I break it off with Mr. Novak? Should I keep going with it?
I groaned and turned on my back, rubbing my face with my hands wearily. I don't know what to do anymore. It feels right, but what if it's wrong?
I stared at the ceiling and it felt like hours before my eyes closed and I was asleep.
Tomorrow's gonna be a bitch.
