This is just a little drabble I wrote earlier today when I was supposed to be working (go figure P)
Hope you Enjoy.
Sam always considered himself to be a relatively reasonable man. In the back of his mind and the pit of his stomach, he had known things between he and Dean weren't meant to last. Much as he had known something from hi past would come and shatter the brittle façade that was SamandJess. It wasn't meant for he and Dean to share intimacy in the way, he understood that now.
Understanding did little to lessen the pain. His heart was still cracked and his mind's eyes still squeezed shut. He hadn't known it would be so traumatic to walk into a men's bathroom and find his brother, best friend, lover, supernatural-fighting partner leaned against a wall for support while some greasy looking man did wonders with his tongue. Too shocked to do a damned thing really didn't describe Sam's reaction. It was more like numb speechlessness which eventually turned to cold emptiness.
Sam wasn't even sure if Dean was aware it was him that walked in and promptly ran out of the bar's bathroom. He doubted it because Dean would have stumbled and fumbled with some sort of apology.
The worst part was that Sam knew, without a doubt, that when Sean did come in, Sam wouldn't say a word about what he had seen. And if Dean did apologize, Sam would accept it without question. He knew it made him pathetic. Why did he always cling to Dean and turn the other cheek while his brother got sexed up and sexed down by everything with two legs?
There was a very simple reason as to why. He was a realist. If he walked away from Dean, there was absolutely nowhere to go and no way to get there. Moreover, Sam didn't want to go anyway; he needed Dean, and not just for the obvious things like the car and protection. Dean was his constant and his crutch- the only person that when Sam thought back, had always just been there when he needed him and when he didn't. He already knew from his Stanford days that without Dean, he was left with this restless, jumpy feeling in his stomach. He just couldn't lose Dean- not again.
So when Dean did stumble in, hours after Sam saw him in the bathroom, smelling of beer, smoke, and sex, Sam silently stood, ushered him to the bed, placed a bucket by his brother's head and climbed in.
The next morning, Sam rose with the sun and walked to the Starbucks down the road. He bought Dean straight black coffee and spent the rest of the morning pressing a cool cloth onto Dean's forehead and rubbing his back as he retched into his bucket.
Done.
Let me know what you thought -whether you liked it or not. Please. Kay, thanx!