"Dean, you have to call him eventually."
Sam left two weeks ago. Dean was still drunk, miserable and pouting in his bed.
"Dean. I'm serious. Sober up and call your brother. You need him."
He sits up, clearly too fast, and puts a hand out to steady himself. "Sammy is gone. Period" his s's were slurring and his vowels too long, "If he wanted to hunt with us, or even to be with us, he'd be here, with us."
"I know that but he's not. You know he does this like once every 3 years. Hunting was never his thing."
"Whatever. I need more drink." He begins to stand up but his legs disagree and he stumbles forward. I catch him as best I can and ease him onto the ground. He plops his head into my lap and gazes up at me.
"Why are you still here?"
"Excuse me?"
"Like, why are you still here with Sammy and me? You never liked hunting. Ever. The first time you shot a gun I thought you were gonna pass out. So why did you stick around, buttercup?" He says the last p with an extra pop. Well, he's drunk; I doubt he'll remember this.
"I liked the scenery."
"Like the impala? Yeah, my baby is pretty pretty, huh?"
"No silly. I like the…. Company." It takes him a moment but I can see him beginning to understand what I'm saying. He moves to sit up and look at me.
"Wait. You like us company? That's silly. You're silly." And he slumps back into my lap.
"Maybe I am silly but at least my not drunk off my ass and melted to the ground. C'mon sweet cheeks. Let's put you to bed." He throws his right arm over my shoulder and I struggle to stand. "Dean, help me out. Use your legs dude." He pushes off the ground and we're up. I drag him back to his bed and throw him down but his left arm catches me around my waist and he pulls me down with him.
"So, who's your favorite? And it can't be Sam because he's not here." He gives me his dopey smile. I want to tell him now because I know he won't remember this conversation in the morning.
"You are Dean." I change the tone of my voice to a more serious one. "It's always been you. Now, I'm going to bed and you need to sleep this off." I stand up to leave but his hand hangs on to mine.
"Hang on, please." He starts to sit up. I can tell that his brain is turning back on. So much for him not remembering this.
"Dean-"
"No. It's my turn." He gently tugs on my hand so I sit back down on the bed. "Are you serious? Because, if you are, and all of me hopes you are, then I need you to know that," he pauses and inhales deeply, "you're my favorite too. You have been for a while."
"Dean, you're drunk and I'm leaving." I start to slip away but he grabs my arm and pulls me into a kiss. At first, I was so confused, but then our lips just made sense. He wasn't being greedy or forceful but he wasn't being a dead fish. He wanted me.
I kissed him back and parted my lips just enough to let his tongue in for a moment. He pulled me closer and entangled his fingers in my hair. I could feel his body begin to warm up as his kisses intensified.
"Wait, Dean, wait." It took all of my strength to pull away from him. He looked at me like I had struck him. I reached up and cradled his face in my hand. "Not like this. Not with you drunk and bitter. I want you. God, I want you right now but we can't. I want you to remember everything and I want you to be here fully. Does that make sense?" He closed his eyes and leaned into my hand.
"Yes." It was just a whisper, and I knew how much I had thrown him off. He knew I was right and pulled away from me. "I need to sleep." He lay down and turned his back on me.
I stood up and took off his boots and pulled the covers over him. "Dean?" I whispered but he was already asleep. I leaned down and kissed his forehead before left. "I hope you still love me in the morning."