Can we talk?
"So Dean are we gonna talk about this?" Sam asked with concern.
"No." Was the terse reply.
Sam looked at his brother seated at the small motel room table reading a newspaper. He was eating a bagel and sipping at a cup of coffee, Sam was relieved to see anything other than alcohol in his hand.
"Come on Dean I think we really need to don't you?" Sam was starting to feel a little desperate that would Dean do his usual thing, and completely shut down when anything remotely related to his emotions reared its head.
"No I don't Sam, it was what it was, I'm fine you seem fine, and I don't think we need to talk about anything ok!" Dean replied forcefully.
"Alright Dean whatever." Sam sat heavily on the bed and ran his hand through his fringed locks.
Dean sighed, god why did Sam always have to pick at everything, couldn't he just leave it alone.
"Well Dean at least tell me is it going to happen again?" Sam asked Deans beloved puppy eyes in full force.
Dean laid down the newspaper and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Aw shit Sammy, I don't know." He replied.
Sam's stomach sank a little further as Dean picked up his newspaper again and enveloped himself in it.
Then came a soft voice "probably".
Sam sighed with relief and lay back on the bed arms behind his head.
"Good." He breathed out again feeling like he had taken his first breath of the morning.
Behind the newspaper Dean heard that single word and smiled to himself, yeah things were looking as fucked up as usual, but just for once he didn't feel too bad about it.
