floorboards creak...[ch:one]

[CH: ONE]

Dean smiles to himself as he sees this tweet, he’s so glad he got a Twitter because he can see opinions he holds but never bothers to tell anybody. A good echo chamber, at the shop all he hears is Rush Limbaugh and Fox News and whatever sports game is on ESPN. Occasionally, there will be a NASCAR event of some sort but Dean feels pretty trapped in a media bubble. He’s excited, though, because this is the last week he’ll have to deal with it. This time next week he’ll be starting at a new shop outside of Kansas; next stop for him and Stephen is whatever little corner of New York is nearest NYU. Dean’s only seen it in movies and magazines but at 29, he’ll see it himself with his little brother at his side learning whatever nerd stuff he wants with a friggin’ full ride. Which is great, Sam just has to stay fed and clothed and use his brain. Dean loves that for him, that’s what Dad would have wanted if he had lived. Dean stops his brain from continuing on with that thought. He looks down at his phone.

The guy, Tom, whose tweet he just saw followed him. How? Why? Dean looks back and sees he accidentally liked the tweet, and scurries to unlike it. Dean was careful with his political neutrality around these parts. He can go on a liking spree when he finishes blocking all his Kansas buddies in his long curated “To Block After Kansas” list. He’s been building it since Sam left for Oberlin and Dean went to the tech college to learn enough to take over the shop when Uncle Bobby passed. At least until his son Garth was old enough to take over at 25. All according to Bobby’s will. Dean wishes their dad John had done something like that instead of leaving them a mess at Bobby’s with nothing posthumous to work with. Dean shakes all those thoughts out of his head and peers into his phone waiting for a new distraction. The guy liked his selfie with Sam. Dean’s eyebrows budge together. He mutes the guy, he’s too good-looking and Dean can’t chance it. He goes back to packing boxes in the kitchen instead. That’s good busy work, anti-idle hands, that’s the way to be.

Sam walks into the living room and peers into the kitchen from where he’s standing.

“Hey, man. I said I’d start all packing tomorrow. What’s got you jazzed to start early?,” Sam asks. He’s covered in what Dean can only hope is dirt from running. Sam had been talking his ear off about joining a rugby team when they got up north and started running again to prove it. At this rate, when he’s not eating or sleeping, Sam’ll barely be in the house. Grad school is going to take up a lot of time, maybe Allen will finally get to live a little...alone. But when Sam looks at him with humor in his smile, Dean’s thought fades away; his little bro isn’t a burden, he’s Allen’s greatest accomplishment so far.

“Yeah, well. I didn’t want your Sammy-sweat all over our good plates, Samuel. So go shower and come help, I’m getting antsy, dude. We have, like, three days left in this town and I don’t wanna forget anything or lose it because you got so caught up in labeling stuff that a chunk of it ends up staying here.” Dean scrunches his nose comically. Sam indulges his diversion and laughs. Truth be told, they’re both ready to dip. The house is sold, split into each of their savings and their positions in New York are locked and loaded. It really is go time. Seventeen years after Dad was long enough.

Sam rounds the corner and heads towards the bathroom. Dean hears him squawk when he realizes Allen busted the showerhead on purpose again to end the prank war. Dean wheezes out a laugh that doubles him over but shoots right up when he feels a buzz in his pocket. Over Sam’s indigence, Dean’s ears are ringing. His phone holds a message request from the Twitter guy. What’s up with him? I mean technically this is normal right? Guys follow each other? Right? Except this guy is cute and lives...oh, no.

According to the guy’s bio and media section, he lives in New York. An opportunity. Dean’s first big one since Benny...