contorting. “Oh. Damn.”
Without thinking of what he was doing, Sam wound an arm around Bo’s waist and drew him close. “You’re hurting again.”
Sam wasn’t surprised when Bo pushed away from him, but it still hurt a little. Bo gave him a strained smile. “No, it’s actually better now. I just tripped over a tree root. I’m fine.”
The lie was obvious, to Sam at least, but he didn’t say anything. Bo was nothing if not stoic, especially in front of people he didn’t know well. At least Bo had agreed to let Dean take a look at his leg, which was more than Sam had expected.
We’re only a few minutes from the cabin, he reminded himself. And Bo’s a grown man. Just leave it.
Tamping down his irritation, Sam glanced around at the rest of their group. Just ahead, Darren, Dean and Anne were deep in conversation about what sounded like current theories on the nature of higher dimensions. Darren darted a keen look over his shoulder, dark gaze flicking between Sam and Bo. Sam recognized the furtive expression in his eyes. He’d seen it before, mostly on the faces of people who’d never been around a gay couple before. Curiosity, veiled with a vague distaste.
It was a relief, in a way. Darren would be uncomfortable if confronted with physical evidence of Sam and Bo’s relationship, but he wouldn’t give them any trouble over it.
Dean, however, would not be getting into the man’s pants.
When they reached Sam and Bo’s cabin, Bo thanked Anne for her time, everyone shook hands and Anne and Darren headed toward the kitchen. Sam watched them go. They had their heads together, holding a whispered discussion. Anne shot a glance backward as Bo unlocked the cabin, and Sam saw unveiled disgust in her eyes. His gut clenched.
Inside, Dean drew the curtains, then dug his flashlight out of the equipment bag. “Okay, Bo, let’s have a look at that leg.”
Without a word, Bo shucked his jacket, sat in the chair and started unlacing his hiking boots. He kept his gaze fixed on his feet. His lips were pressed together in a thin line. Sam suppressed a sigh. Bo was angry with him, probably over the incident on the trail, and Sam would be hearing all about it as soon as Dean left.
He hated that. Hated the continuing arguments over other people finding out about them. Hated being lulled into a comfortable openness around their friends, then being slapped in the face with the knowledge that what he and Bo had was still little more than a dirty secret.
Sam took off his jacket, threw it onto the bed and perched on the edge of the bottom bunk, hunched over to keep from hitting his head on the sturdy wood frame of the top bunk. He watched Bo stand and slip his jeans off. He wore dark red boxer briefs. The color brought out the rich caramel of his skintone.
As usual, the sight of Bo’s smooth skin dissolved Sam’s melancholy in a wash of desire. He bit his lip and forced himself to focus on the old wound in Bo’s thigh.
The surgical scar ran from just above the kneecap nearly all the way to the bend of Bo’s hip. Emergency surgery, the doctor had explained at the time, necessitated a larger incision, the need to remove the rapidly spreading infection taking precedence over cosmetic concerns. They’d had to remove some of the damaged subcutaneous tissue, leaving a faint depression in Bo’s leg a few inches above the knee. Luckily, none of the actual thigh muscle had needed to be excised. Bo’s strength and range of motion in that leg was almost as good as in the other one.
Dean knelt on the floor and handed Sam the flashlight. “Here, Sam, shine this on the scar.”
Sam switched the flashlight on and trained the beam on Bo’s thigh. The puckered scars around the stillvisible furrows from the creature’s teeth shone in the light.
“I’m going to palpate all along your incision, Bo,” Dean said. “Tell me if anything I do hurts or feels strange in any way.”
Bo nodded. “Okay.”
Dean worked his way down the thin pink