kaleidoscope, sam winchester

04. home

the four of us were in dean and char's dimly lit motel room as we tried to figure out what to go after next.

"alright. i've been cruisin' some websites. i think i found a few candidates for our next gig. a fishing trawler found off the coast of cali — its crew vanished. and, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in west texas.." dean kept looking between his laptop and sam as he went on.

char was in the shower, getting ready for the day.

sam and i were sitting up and leaned back against a headboard, my cheek pressed to sam's shoulder. the material of his long sleeve was soft.

i hated physical touch. ironically, it was my love language. it was like i craved it in all senses of it, but detested it when it really came down to it.

growing up, i was the child who didn't really receive much affection. my sister got all the hugs, all the kisses. i knew my parents didn't give me the same affection because i'd always made it clear that it made me uncomfortable.

that didn't mean i didn't need it, and i hadn't realized that until recently.

my entire childhood, i was extremely selective of who i was and wasn't comfortable receiving hugs from. it wasn't even a conscious decision, i just felt it.

the only people i'd ever felt comfortable receiving hugs from were my grandparents from my mom's side and sam.

i never asked or sought it out from them, but i always wanted it, needed it.

he had a knee propped up to support his sketch pad. he'd been drawing some trees for the past 30 minutes. they looked familiar, but i couldn't tell from where.

"looks cool so far," i murmured, my words slightly muffled against him.

"yeah?" sam glanced at me, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"mhm."

"hey!" dean's voice pierced through the room, irritation evident in his tone. sam turned his attention to him, albeit gradually. "am i boring you with this hunting evil stuff?" dean asked, annoyed.

"no. i'm listening," he looked back down at his sketch pad for a second before looking back at dean. "keep going."

dean tapped his pencil a couple times on the small table he was at. "and, here, a sacramento man shot himself in the head. three times," he held up three fingers, his gaze locked on sam, followed by waving his hand in the air as if to grab sam's attention. "any of these things blowin' up your skirt, pal?"

sam was flipping through the previous pages on his sketch pad, he'd drawn the same thing repeatedly.

i finally got why it looked familiar. "wait are you drawing-"

sam realized it too when i did. "yeah."

he straightened up as if to signal that he was gonna get off. i sat up, so i was no longer leaning on him.

he walked over to the door and walked out of the motel room, the door shutting behind him.

"what's that about?" dean's gaze shifted to me.

i sighed, "i mean i know what he was drawing, but i'm not sure why he just got up and left." i shrugged.

"the dork," dean snorted, looking back over at his laptop. he scratched the back of his neck. "did you hear anything i said?"

"about the cases?" i walked over to take a seat next to him. he nodded.

"i think the cattle mutilations in texas could be something.." i missed home.