I'm a war, of head versus heart,
And it's always this way.
My head is weak, my heart always speaks,
Before I know what it will say.

- Death Cab for Cutie, "Crooked Teeth"

"Shit."

Sam closed his eyes, slouched on his bed with text books strewn about. He swore again. Rubbed at a sore spot on his shoulder. "I'm a fucking idiot, aren't I?" No one was there to answer but he felt fairly certain that the proper response would be a resounding "Yes." He sighed, and leaned back into his pillows, abandoning his semantics homework. The screen of his laptop glowed at him accusingly. He shut it.

"He's eighteen years older than me." Sam covered his face with both hands, so his voice came out muffled. "And I slept with him."

Why?

Sam had no idea. Lucifer terrified him. Lucifer was also very handsome. And handsy. Very rough but strangely gentle. Still terrifying. Maybe that was why. That kind of alluring danger that always seemed to draw Sam in, now that he thought of it. It'd been the same with Ruby. She had that dark glint in her eye that made Sam overheat. Lucifer had a spark in his that sent shivers up Sam's spine and down his legs and through his brain.

Sam groaned against his palms.

His cell rang. He snapped it open with bothering to open his eyes and mumbled, "Hello?"

"A little birdie told me you had some fun with your boss last night."

Sam grimaced. "Dean? What the hell, man." He sat up and opened his eyes, before sweeping his bangs out of his eyes. "How the hell d'you even know about that." Sam blinked. "I mean. Uh."

Dean laughed, and it came out tinny and too loud from the phone's speakers. Sam fell back against his pillows again with a grunt. "Shut up, jerk."

"Bitch." Dean paused. "Seriously, though. Did you... you know?"

Sam rolled his eyes. He hoped Dean could hear his annoyance. "Yeah, okay? I did." He chewed briefly on his thumbnail, but noticed and pulled his hand away from his mouth. Didn't want a frayed nail to get caught on a lower string and tear. "So what?"

"So... maybe that was a bad idea." Sam heard Dean rustling a paper bag, and the next sentence came out muffled, like Dean probably had food in his mouth. (Definitely had food in his mouth.) "I mean, he's almost old enough to be your dad, Sammy."

Sam threw his head back. "Ugh, Dean, don't remind me. It just." He ran his fingers through his hair. "It seemed like a good idea at the time and I enjoyed it but... I just hope he doesn't think it was like... I dunno. A sign of more to come, you know?" He frowned, picking at the hem of his shirt.

"What, so you want it to just be a one-night stand? Who are you?"

Sam snorted. "Screw you, man."

"No thank you. Ya little slut."

"Fuck off, Dean."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Dean laughed.

Sam snapped his cellphone shut with a grumble, tossing it onto the nightstand. He shoved at a book with his foot 'til it was out of the way and sprawled out more comfortably on his bed. He let out a long breath. Maybe he'd go to bed early, sleep on it. Figure it out in the morning. Before going to classes, and then work, where he'd face the man he spent the previous night with.

"I am so screwed."