A/N: I own nothing. Sorry for any mistakes.
TITLE: Lightweight
"Sam?"
"Deeeeanh?" Sam slurred and drowned down another bottle of beer.
"You're so wasted, man." Dean laughed, not feeling so sober himself.
"Soooooo…'s all goodgh, ain't it?"
Yeah, yeah it was all good. They were out in a bar, with a case successfully finished, he just hustled them some money so that they could at least sleep in some decent motel, they were having a few drinks, a few more than just a few, he was flirting with some ladies, he was feeling really good actually… but… he knew his limits and he knew his brother's too. And right now… Sam was way beyond his limits, hell he was way beyond Dean's too and he knew he could take a lot more than Sam could.
"Yeah, well… come on, we're leaving."
He got up from his chair and moved closer to Sam, because well, Sam was really never gonna move if he won't physically drag him out of that chair himself.
He griped Sam's arm and tugged his brother up, both unsteady on their feet, attracting a few glances from the table opposite of theirs.
"No, no, no, no, nooooooo…" Sam placed both of his hands on Dean's shoulders, looking him in the eyes with hair falling all over his own, "…come on, dude… 'm good." Sam swayed on his feet, or maybe he did. It was hard to tell at this point, because Sam was high up on alcohol and Dean was afraid that the fall would be … painful. Or maybe, on second thought, maybe falling on his ass would sober Sam up.
"Let's have another beer, Deeean. Come on, the night's still youngh."
Dean glanced from Sam's half open eyes to his watch. It was 3.37 am… the night was way beyond being young and Sam was starting to drool a little. It was not a pretty sight.
"Sam, come on. Happy time's over. You can go hug the toilet now."
He rotated his brother so that he could hook one arm under Sam's armpits and started dragging him out of the bar, when his brother stopped again, swayed on his feet and almost spat in his face when he said: "Come on, man, one more drink."
"No." it was a firm 'no', the one he always used when Sam wanted something as a kid and there was no money to afford whatever he wanted.
"Now, come on, stop making an ass out of yourself and let's go."
Sam smirked: "Bossy."
Dean rolled his eyes and pushed his brother out the bar's door.
They were hit by cold morning air, but Dean could already see his baby waiting for them.
Ah… just a few more minutes and maybe they'd be able to crash in the car. He'd put Sam in the back, the kid needed some space and besides, if Sam'll puke, he at least wouldn't puke all over the dashboard. Or all over Dean.
"Watch your head; my baby doesn't like to get hit with drunken heads. She has standards." He mumbled when he helped Sam lie down in the back seat.
-:-
Sam breathed out a content sight, when his back hit the seat, and the air hit Dean's face full on.
"Jesus man, your breath's toxic. The fumes are gonna kill me."
Sam laughed loud enough, to wake the dead.
"Shh."
"Sowwy."
He seemed genuine sorry, but a glint in his eyes told Dean that he really wasn't.
"Shut up and get some sleep."
"You're such a jerk, man. A bossy, short jerk."
"Bitch."
Silence.
Okay.
He closed the door, walked to the front of the car and sat down in the driver's seat, his ass settling in the groove.
"Dad's dead." Sam slurred.
He turned around and saw his little brother running a hand over his eyes. Tired. Sleepy. Drunk.
"Yeah, yeah he is. Now go to sleep, alright."
Silence.
Okay.
He turned back and looked at the parking lot. Empty. Silent. A few lights illuminating the space.
"I hate you."
Dean laughed and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, lowering himself down on the seat, getting as comfortable as he'd ever get.
"Yeah, yeah, I hate you too. Now go to sleep, drunkboy."
Silence and some rustling from the back seat. When Dean looked up into the rearview mirror – he was just too tired to turn around again - he saw his brother sitting up, watching him. Eyes obscured with darkness... completely sober.
"No, man…" Sam leaned closer, leaned his arms on the back of the seat, right at the back of Dean's head, "I mean I really hate you."
The snap Dean's neck made when Sam broke it, echoed through the Impala.
-:-
Sam woke up; sweating in his T-shirt and sweatpants, with no air in his lungs and Dean's light snores filling his ears.
"Fuck." He breathed and ran a hand through his sweaty hair.
A snort and a groan made him look to his left, across the divide between the two beds, right at Dean's head smashed into the pillow.
"What did you do?"
The words were a grumble, sleepy.
"I had a dream 'bout you." He rasped.
"Oh, what was I doin'?"
"I- I killed you."
Oh, that… wasn't… really a very awesome start of the day.
The End