Not mine, don't own. I don't currently have a beta-reader, so please forgive the typos. My thanks to my husband for giving this a once-over. I claim ownership of any mistakes. And I guess I own mean Mrs. Brown from the bakery, that unreasonable old biddy.

I appreciate everyone who has favorited or is following this story. I have one more scene in mind, so there should be at least one more chapter, maybe two. Thanks for sticking with me. :)

Cross-posted at Archive of Our Own.

Sam tried not to drag his feet as he approached Jessica, but it was hard. Every line of her body was taut, fraught with emotion, and Sam could see it all perfectly while wearing his glasses. It struck him then that during his years at Stanford, he'd been walking around with everything slightly blurred and out of focus, both literally and figuratively. Having Dean back was comparable to putting on a new pair of glasses. He had a sudden crystal clarity about his life, but he didn't like what he saw. Now that Dean had reappeared, Sam couldn't imagine letting their relationship grow so strained again. Yet, he had no idea how to reconcile his former life with this new one.

Sam swallowed hard. Is that even possible? He ran his hands through his hair, tucking the loose strands behind his ears. Stopping in front of Jess, Sam feigned a calmness that he didn't feel. He shoved both hands into the pockets of his jeans, but withdrew one immediately when his abused knuckles began to sting.

"Hey," Sam said, ever eloquent under pressure. He shook out his right hand.

Jess raised an eyebrow, but didn't otherwise move. Her long hair lifted slightly in the breeze. "You all right?"

Sam's mind bounced around like a washing machine set on agitate, stopping several days earlier when he'd punched the vending machine. Jess had been so tactile and nurturing afterward. Normally, she jumped in to help anyone at the first sign of pain or injury.

My girl's gonna make a great nurse one day. That thought was quickly replaced because Jess still hadn't checked his hand today. She's definitely pissed at me.

Sam sighed. "What's wrong, Jessie?"

Jess grimaced, whether at the nickname or at him, Sam couldn't be sure. Her dark mood swirled across her features. "You tell me, Sam." The look she gave him was not reassuring.

Damn it. "Jess, I don't know, and frankly, I'm too tired to figure it out." He leveled her with a frustrated glare. "Whatever I did, I'm sorry. I'll never do it again." The petulance in his voice nearly caused him to wince from embarrassment.

"Try what you -didn't- do," Jess growled, standing up to face him.

Oh boy, here we go, Sam's brain helpfully supplied. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to stem the tension before it started.

"What I didn't do?" Sam parroted back, wrinkling his brows in a bitch face he normally reserved for Dean. "Just spit it out, Jess. It's been a helluva week."

"Our engagement party..." Jess began, tapping one sandal, arms crossed. Sam regarded her with a "So what?" look, and Jess rolled her eyes. "Seriously?" she demanded.

"Seriously," Sam repeated, deadpan, wishing he could just end this stupid conversation already. "Your dad cancelled our party, Jess." He threw his arms wide. "You were there!"

Jess talked over him. "Do you have any idea," she began, her voice dropping as she started to over-enunciate her words, "just how humiliating it was to have to call all of our friends and tell everyone not to come?"

Sam swallowed. No, he hadn't thought of that. He'd been too wrapped up in taking care of Dean, in dealing with the aftermath of Dad and the plethora of confusing, conflicting emotions that John's presence always wrought.

"I had to call the caterer, and the DJ, too." Jess' voice sped up, rising in pitch. He moved toward her cautiously, arms raised in supplication. "The rental company had already set up half of the tables in the backyard, and the florist..." Sam missed what the florist had done because his girl was breaking down in front of him, each complaint falling like a rock from a fieldstone wall, dropping the façade to reveal the hurt young woman beneath.

"It was too late to cancel the linen service..." Jess' voice hitched as Sam gawped, grappling with the idea that they had even ordered linens. He gingerly closed the gap between them to clasp her bare shoulders. Jess' raspy voice hitched slightly as he pulled her close. She sniffled into his flannel. "And Mrs. Brown at the bakery said we couldn't get the money back for the cake..."

"Shh, Jess, it's okay..." He began to stroke her hair.

"No, it isn't!" she cried, pulling away from him. "You weren't there!"

"I'm sorry, Jess." Her glare softened as he drew her into his arms.

The blond buried her face in his chest and Sam massaged her shoulders. "Everyone asked what happened, if we broke up, if we were still getting married, and I didn't know what to say!" Her words were muffled by his shirts.

He kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry, Jess. I should've been there. Thanks for taking care of everything." He rested his chin on top of her head. "Why didn't your mom and dad help?"

Jess gave a bitter laugh and pulled away. "They said it was my responsibility. Our responsibility." She met Sam's eyes and bit her lip. "They paid for it, so they said we had to take care of everything else." Jess sniffed. "They weren't really mad. It was like..." Her voice dropped. "Like they don't care if we call off the engagement. Like I'm the only one who wants this marriage." She gazed up at Sam for confirmation.

He shook his head. "I do care, Jess." Sam swallowed over the lump in his throat. "I want this to work too." His voice wobbled over the words, revealing more emotion than he had intended to convey.

Sam took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, feeling the pull of a headache starting. He had no idea where to go from here. Hell, he'd never even had a real girlfriend before Jess. When he regarded her, though, Sam saw his own feelings mirrored in her eyes. Jess was just as confused and conflicted as he was. And she still loved him, even now, even after meeting his crazy family. He blinked back the sudden wetness in his eyes. Jess smiled.

Sam tucked his glasses into a pocket and clasped his girl close. They rocked back and forth for a few minutes, as if dancing in place, swaying to the beat of their own private music. After dropping a few more kisses into her hair, Sam drew back and cradled the back of her head in one of his large palms.

"Why didn't you call me?" Sam said softly.

Her returning smile was small and sad. "I tried. It kept going to voicemail."

Sam lowered his gaze. He hadn't even thought of checking his phone yesterday, too busy doling out pain medication to Dean. Trying to keep his brother from using his arm. Attempting to ensure that his stubborn sibling had something reasonably healthy to eat. It was like trying to rein in a toddler and Sam had his hands full.

"Ever since Dean..." Jess started, echoing Sam's thoughts. She swallowed and looked away. "I know I shouldn't be jealous of your brother, but I am. He's your whole focus right now, and I ... I miss you." Her slate blue eyes met his, and Sam pulled her in for a kiss, a light caress of lips.

"I've missed you too," he whispered, not wanting to break the moment. "Dean's out getting a haircut," he added, gesturing in the direction of the barbershop. "Why don't you come inside?" He smiled at her.

Jess twisted her mouth as if giving the matter careful consideration. Sam wove the fingers of his left hand into hers. She was still wearing the small diamond ring he'd bought her. Sam lifted her chin with his right hand.

"Please?" he added, putting his puppy dog eyes to full use.

Jess gave a small smile and a nod in reply. Still holding hands, Sam led Jess down the steps and into the basement apartment he currently shared with Dean.