Words: 1,212
Author's Note: Yes, the song title is from a Rascal Flatts Song. This fic is extremely personal to me, but I decided to share it anyhow. Remember to drink in moderation and never drive while under the influence. Buckle your seatbelt and drive safe! You're all precious to me. :)
Swaying Side to Side
Sam didn't remember the last time he saw Dean sober. He could always smell the faint scent of beer on his breath even when he hadn't seen his older brother with a bottle for hours.
Dean couldn't even drive while he was sober anymore.
Sometimes Sam would quake restlessly in his seat when Dean had too much and would sway back and forth in the lane, sometimes dipping dangerously close to the yellow lines. Dean was careful though, refusing adamantly not to hurt his precious car, but sometimes that wasn't enough to stop the fear that gripped him when Dean refused to let him drive.
Dean was like that now, dipping into the other lane of the back road. Sam's stomach clenched painfully in fear when Dean had drifted into the wrong lane. He prayed in these moments, whispering a small plea that Dean would be safe. He didn't care about himself, as long as Dean was okay.
"Dean," he bit out, grabbing the attention of his older brother. Dean corrected the wheel and sighed. "Next Motel, we'll stop," his brother murmured in almost annoyance. They hadn't made it to their destination.
"Why don't I just drive," Sam ventured with an almost hesitant, but his inquiry was ultimately denied with a grunt. It took Dean swerving dangerously close to an oncoming car to finally pull over to the side of the road and let Sam take the wheel.
Sam gave a soft sigh of relief. Dean grumbled for a moment, agitated that he couldn't even drive his baby properly at the moment, but he snuggled down into the too warm seat left by the normal impression of his younger brother's body.
The younger Winchester drove cautiously, unnerved a bit by Dean's reckless driving skills while being not entirely sober, or at least functionally drunk. He focused on the road, not noticing when Dean fell asleep on the passenger side of the Impala, he just drove to make it to their destination and hoping Dean would be sober enough to drive when he woke up and started bitching about having to hand over the wheel.
Dean had built up a larger resistance to getting drunk - he noticed as he spent more money buying beer and feeling less of the drunkenness that would help him sleep or relax. It annoyed him, but he didn't know what else do to.
It came to a point where if he didn't drink one as soon as he woke up he would get agitated, snapping at his little brother violently for no reason. He would be achy, sore. Not hungover achy, but something entirely different. The feeling wouldn't leave until he started drinking it away.
It didn't take long for him to figure out the cause of that feeling, and fixed it with the fastest solution.
Which unfortunately meant spending more money on booze and trying not to snap at Sammy when he drank one of his beers.
This time, though, he went to far. He downed an entire six pack in quick succession before getting behind the wheel. He ignored his brother's annoying worrying and drove, but sometimes the road didn't look as clear as it should. It blurred around the edges and he had to blink hard to force it back into clarity.
He didn't know why it took him nearly killing both of them to finally relent and let Sam drive. It shouldn't have come this point, but it wasn't like he could stop now.
He was fighting off the drowzy hum of sleep and the achyness he associated with his need to drink when they finally pulled into the parking lot to a small Motel. He didn't even care to know the location, but Sam scurried out of the car and fled to check them in, noticeably taking the keys with him.
Sam was just being safe. He didn't want his brother to decide to drive off without him to some bar to get drunk, or more drunk, and leave him without any of his things and no way to find his brother.
He was just... Worried. He was always worried. Dean was all he had, and was damned well not going to lose him to an accident because he drank too much. He didn't want to lose him at all, if he could help it.
So he checked them in, dragging the bags in once he grabbed a key from the front desk and dragging them into another badly decorated motel room with questionable stains. He returned only to the car to prompt Dean to follow him, slipping on of the motel keys into his brother's pocket with ease and leading Dean to the room.
Hopefully Dean would sleep it off.
But as it was, hope really had no meaning to them and Dean shuffled through his bags, finding a warm beer stashed away in his bag. He didn't chug the bottle like he had in the morning, instead drinking from it with slow pulls.
"Dean...?" he ventured softly, sitting across from his brother. He didn't know what he would say once his brother responded, but some sort of acknowledgement would be nice. Dean simply took another pull from his beer, setting it on his knee half empty. "Yeah?" he asked after a moment of silence, and Sam sat close but tried to keep his distance.
"Are you okay?" he asked after a moment, grimacing when Dean pulled a sour face, answering with an pissy, "I'm fine!" Sam would have called bullshit, but the look on Dean's face prompted him to drop the subject. Dean gave a sigh, shaking his head and a grumble. Sam just looked like a lost puppy who needed to reassured that, no, he wasn't getting left behind. Not again, never again.
And he pulled Sam into his personal space, cradling the taller man to his chest like he was four years old again. He set the unfinished beer on the side table, and allowed Sam to curl into his side. Sam clung to him, clutching his older brother as if he didn't the other would disappear entirely (and he just might - Sam didn't know and he didn't want to take any chances.)
Dean pressed his face into Sammy's hair and squeezed his eyes shut. It was so much easier when they were young. Not to say it was easy at all, but now... Now they were on their own and so much shit stirred up, and he was just tired.
So tired.
But he would keep fighting. For Sammy, because nothing else really mattered in the world. Sam needed him, and Dean - Dean needed to protect him with all he had, and he couldn't do that if he was gone.
The brothers stayed there for a long while, curled on Dean's bed, wrapped around each other and assuring the other that they weren't gone yet. They would never speak of this moment again, but the reassurance would not be lost easily.
The next day, nothing had really changed. Sam bitched about the lack of soap in the cheap motel. They went out for burgers and salad. Dean woke up and opened a beer, chugging the bottle in one go. But this time, Dean handed Sam the key.