As usual, haven't read it all in one go, it's too late and I want my bed. Hope it makes sense. It's extra long for my absence
Xx
"Hey Sammy," A distant voice called, ringing in Sam's head, "Come on princess open those eyes for me."
Princess? The name rang bells in his head - he knew that voice, that ridiculous pet name. Sifting through the mountainous fog clouding his mind it came to him.
"D'n." Sam tried to respond, his voice too weak and muddled to be clear yet. It took him a few seconds to realize why he was so groggy, why it was so difficult to open his eyes, why his body felt numb and tingly at the same time. Everything was slowly coming back.
"Yeah it's me dude, right here. Open your eyes." Dean coaxed softly, running a hand through Sam's unruly hair. Finally Sam did and a rush of colors and light blinded his blurry sight.
"'S too bright." Sam mumbled wrenching them closed again. He felt Dean move from beside him before the room went dark and his brother's presence returned. "Better." Sam whispered in appreciation.
"Yeah, now look at me brother."
Sam did. "There ya are Sammy. Nice to see you conscious again, how do you feel?" Dean asked lightly, leaning on the edge of the bed.
"Uh…weird. Groggy. A little hungry." Dean laughed and shook his head.
"Yeah I'm not surprised there, but," he shrugged, "long as you're not in any pain, guess that's good."
"No I'm okay. How long was I out? And how did you guys move me?" Sam asked, looking around as his surroundings focused and he saw he was now in their bedroom with an IV stand next to him.
"You've been out a while actually, Meyer kept you sedated. It's…been a little over a day." Dean revealed reluctantly hurrying to finish his answers, "And we got you up here using a stretcher thing Meyer found, had to keep you still…"
"What do you mean over a day?" Sam exclaimed quickly trying to sit up.
"Whoa, easy Sam." Dean calmed keeping him down with gentle hands pressed to his shoulders, "Everything's okay. It was just to make sure you didn't move at all unnecessarily. I had to beg Meyer for over an hour just to get you up here, he's really worried the stitches will pop again. And if they do he said he's worried they won't get a chance to heal at all now that the little monsters are really starting to grow."
Sam's head pushed back into the pillow in frustration, "Great, he's gonna go crazy to keep me still now. Probably even have me bed ridden." He whined, but his attention was pulled when he saw Dean stiffen slightly at his side.
"What?" Sam asked intently, but the answer was unnecessary as he saw what Dean was anxious about. A thin clear tube was running out from under his sheets and a Foley bag was attached at the end.
"Oh you're kidding me." Sam croaked eyeing it wearily.
"Yeah, sorry dude, don't envy ya there." Dean said rubbing up Sam's bicep, "M'sure it'll come out soon, don't stress over it."
"Easy for you to say." Sam muttered, self-pity evident in his tone.
"But uh, even once this thing does come out, I still don't think you're getting out of bed for a while. At least not for anything more than the bathroom." Dean muttered apologetically.
"Okay...a while's like, today, tomorrow…what?" Sam asked apprehensively.
"Well he didn't give a specific time frame, but I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess he meant just a little longer."
"God damnet." Sam mumbled through clenched teeth, "Things just keep getting better every fucking day." He kept ranting, finally cutting off as the door creaked open and Meyer came in.
"Ah, good. Glad to see you're up Sam, how do you f-?"
"How long am I stuck in this bed and when are you getting this thing out of me?" Sam deliberately interrupted, his expression stern and completely unforgiving.
Meyer cleared his throat and brushed off the rude disruption, giving Sam a small, apologetic smile. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that Sam. We can take it now if you'd like, since you're up I see no reason to keep it in."
"Sounds great. And how long?" Sam bit out, not allowing Meyer to weasel out of the answer he really wanted.
"About a week Sam, I think that should give enough time-"
"A week?" Sam interjected again.
"That's about how long the stitches will need before you can actively move around again, yes." Meyer explained patiently, "If they tear we may not get another chance to fix this which could potentially be fatal for both of your babies. This is serious Sam, I know-"
"Fatal?" Sam whispered in horror, his face paling instantly and his anger completely dissipating. Dean immediately shot Meyer an incensed glare and knelt down beside Sam grabbing his hand firmly as he turned his face toward him.
"That isn't going to happen Sammy, member what I told you, I'm not letting anything else hurt this family. You're gonna heal just fine and be outta this bed in no time. Right Meyer." Dean said, once again directing his irritated stare up toward the doctor who was now looking sheepishly down at the boys.
"Of course. I wasn't trying to scare you Sam, just let you know that this should be taken seriously. Don't get out of bed and try and walk around to stretch your legs, or get yourself food or something – that's all I'm saying. Then you and the babies should be perfectly fine." Meyer consoled patting Sam gently on the arm.
Sam sniffed and nodded, giving Meyer a small, unconvincing smile before they were left in an awkward silence.
Meyer eventually remembered what he was supposed to be doing and asked Sam if he'd still like him to remove the catheter, which of course was an uncomfortable question with the tension still as thick as it was, but Sam agreed nonetheless.
"You want Dean to stay?" Meyer asked as he gloved his hands and began deflating the balloon.
Sam shrugged at Dean, his face heating as he debated - half despising the idea of being exposed in front of Meyer and Dean at the same time, and half hating the idea of sending Dean away.
"Fuck I don't care. It'll take two seconds, just do it." Sam snapped, irrationally angry at the doctor. But all the stress of the past few days was getting to him - being put in one awkward or painful situation after the other, he was tired of it.
Meyer didn't respond though, simply pulled away the sheets, lifted up the cheap, ugly hospital gown and did as he was told, ignoring his patient's tetchy attitude, knowing full well it was justified.
Sam grumbled and winced as the doctor started and Dean grabbed his wrist, rubbing slow circles into his skin. "Woulda rather just pissed the damn bed for a day." He cussed, "Or a diaper, woulda taken a diaper too." He muttered as Meyer finished and threw the supplies away along with his gloves.
"Sorry bud, haven't seen any super-sized diapers around here. Maybe next time." He joked patting Sam on the shoulder.
Sam huffed giving him a rueful smile, "No next time."
Meyer smiled back, finished cleaning up and left the boys to themselves, shutting the door quietly behind him.
"Your interview's tomorrow isn't it?" Sam asked after a few seconds of quiet had passed.
"Yeah, at eleven. And the construction company got back to me while you were out, they want to interview me tomorrow too, at one." Dean announced, a small but satisfied smile playing on his lips.
"That's great Dean. I'm proud of you man. I know you're gonna get whichever one you want." Sam encouraged tiredly, his pain medication clearly working into his system again, fighting his will to stay awake.
Dean nodded brushing his hand through Sam's hair, "Yeah, hope so. You look wiped man, go back to sleep. I'll wake you up for dinner." He whispered watching as his brother gradually drifted back into unconsciousness without another word.
Hours passed before dinner rolled around and Sam woke up to a light touch on his shoulder.
"There ya go kid," A familiar gruff voice stirred him; he blinked his eyes open.
"Bobby." Sam whispered in quiet surprise, slowly coming back to himself from his sleep.
"Yep. Brought some dinner up for ya. Don't know what you're in the mood for but I've got lasagna if you're hungry." He offered kindly, nodding to the tray he'd set on the nightstand.
Sam was still too stuck on how uncharacteristically gentle and caring his old friend was being to process whether he was hungry or not.
"Thanks Bobby," Sam replied, trying to disguise the surprise in his tone as he tried to get his arms under him to sit up.
"Oh hang on son." Bobby said, standing abruptly to help Sam scoot up the bed before placing pillows behind him to prop him up. "There ya go, so you feel like eatin' now?" He asked, sitting down in the chair Dean had been occupying earlier and leaning forward on his knees, his attention devoted completely to Sam. It was unnerving for the youngest Winchester to see Bobby so compassionate, especially given their recent past.
"Um sure, thank you again Bobby, you didn't have to bring this up." Sam said, once again floundering in his thanks - at a loss of what to say or where he stood with the man.
"Well, it ain't much like you can just go down and get it yourself." He shrugged, "It was no problem." Bobby said placing the try on Sam's lap.
Sam nodded, half shrugging in resentful agreement before picking up his utensils and cutting up his pasta. Bobby sat there watching Sam's food for a moment, his eyes spacy and his mouth hanging slightly open as if he were about to speak. Sam watched him worriedly, waiting, his attention slowly wavering from his food.
"Sam I-" Bobby started finally lifting his eyes, "I want you to know, I'm sorry. I know…I know I haven't exactly been here for you, or Dean, since the whole," The man waved a hand through the air, replacing words he couldn't find, "But, damn, last night really put things back in perspective, ya know? I mean, watching you two, pulling each other through this…impossible situation, I don't know," Bobby shrugged, "I guess I just, well, I understand if you boys need this." He admitted somewhat unwillingly, "And I guess I really can't bring myself to hold that against ya." Bobby shook his head again, looking at the ground, "You're my boys," He added softly, squinting back up to meet Sam's eye, "And I love you both to death. I…just…needed to make sure you remembered that."
Sam sighed shakily, blinking away the welling tears as he tried to smile at his oldest friend, his mentor and guardian in so many ways, and nodded in response, his throat too tight to speak.
Bobby patted his hand, smiling back in understanding and stood to leave.
"Bobby," Sam whispered just before he got to the door, "Thank you. It's not enough I know…I'm not sure anything ever will be, but thank you."
The old man just tilted his head in a final nod and grinned, sincerity glazing over his eyes before he turned and left.
Sam remained alone in his overwhelming silence, going over and over everything Bobby had said, until Dean came in and took him from his thoughts.
"Hey man, how's dinner?" Dean asked as he sat down. Sam had all but forgotten his food.
"Has Bobby talked to you lately?" Sam questioned, ignoring what Dean asked.
"Yeah, while you were asleep. I was guessing that's what he wanted to do when he offered to bring you up dinner." Dean alleged, "Explained a lot, apologized…it was nice. Hopefully things can start going back to how they were now, I've missed the old geezer."
Sam laughed a little hysterically, thrown by the all-seriousness of Bobby's heartfelt speech and Dean's blasé response.
"Yeah, me too. I'm…really glad he came around. But surprised. Honestly, I thought it would take longer, a lot longer. Ya know?" Sam said distractedly, taking a small, hesitant bite of his food.
"Nah, I never had any doubt that old softy would give in." Dean brushed off before dropping his eyes, "He loves us." He explained simply, "Knew he didn't stand a chance."
Sam merely smiled back, but it was the first real, dimpled smile he'd given in a long time and it felt truly good to wear it. "Yeah, I guess you're right."
Dean's interview arrived quicker than Sam had expected - not that he'd given it much thought, but now that it was here he was feeling oddly thrown and he couldn't pinpoint why. Half of him felt only excitement and pride for his brother, but the other half was overwhelmed with inexplicable unease, fear.
Almost like separation anxiety, and damn did that do a number on his ego. He felt entirely too dependent on his brother as it was, but with this? It just felt ridiculous. His haywire emotions were completely shredded and determinedly throwing him all over the place.
But then Dean stepped out of the bathroom and immediately Sam was pulled from his whirling head. The sight of half-naked Dean usually did that to him and this time was no exception. His brother had a red towel wrapped around his waist and steam billowing out around him, droplets still trailing down his body. Sam forgot what'd been stressing him out.
Dean smirked at Sam before going to the closet and dropping his towel, patting himself dry and rubbing at his wet hair. Sam's eyes were riveted and wide as he studied Dean's perfectly flawed body: the bullet wounds and burn marks – every imperfection creating a clean map of their life together. Displaying every trial they'd overcome.
Sam was dazed with a wave of warmth and comfort and security as he watched Dean; so much love it felt like someone was inflating his heart like a balloon.
"Come on Sammy you're makin' me blush." Dean said, playing bashful, and once again taking Sam from his thoughts. He'd been noticeably staring.
Sam chuckled and shook his head, averting his eyes, "Sorry man, I spaced out."
"Well who wouldn't, lookin' at me." Dean returned shrugging, his crooked smirk in place again.
"True." Sam conceded shamelessly, cocking his head to the side as he appraised Dean's now clothed appearance. He had on a fitted, black button down and ironed jeans, his hair tastefully disheveled and his face freshly clean-shaven. "You look good."
"Well that's the whole point, right? This is a job interview." Dean shrugged, "I just hope my charm's enough." He half-heartedly joked, "Not like I have any real job experience."
"Dean," Sam halted, "You're going to do fine. Just relax, alright? Our lives don't depend on this job. If you don't find something this first try, then we'll keep looking okay? It'll be fine."
Dean nodded, smiling his agreement, "You're right." He walked over to Sam's bedside and leaned down, pecking him on the lips.
It was meant to be just that, quick and chaste, but Sam quickly caught Dean's face in his hands, holding his jaw securely as he deepened their kiss, opening his lips to invite him in. Dean did gladly, his surprise rapidly vanishing in place of pleasure and passion; he was lost in it in a second.
"Whoa," Dean muttered as they parted a few inches, leaning his forehead against Sam's, "That was a surprise." He whispered smiling before opening his eyes.
But Sam's expression pulled the smile right off his face. He didn't look happy or sated like Dean had expected, he was smiling softly but his eyes were sad, lost somehow. "Sammy what's wrong?" Dean asked, nervous.
"What? Nothing's wrong." Sam dismissed, his features quickly masking over.
"Dude, talk to me. You can't just kiss me like that, give me those puppy dog eyes then close off. You know I won't leave it alone till you tell me." Dean reminded, his eyes soft but his voice stern, "What's goin' on?"
"I don't know Dean, it's stupid…nothing. Just, don't worry about it. I don't even know what's wrong." Sam tried but Dean didn't give an inch.
"Fine, I'm a little…fuck man it's ridiculous-"
"Sam." Dean warned.
"I'm just – I'm gonna miss you! Alright?" Sam yelled, throwing his hands out as his face heated, "Told you it was stupid." He mumbled much quieter but quickly moving on to explain, "I just feel like, I don't know, this is the first time we're really gonna be apart in five months, ya know? We've always been within twenty feet of each other since this whole mess started and now – as much as I'm glad you're getting a job and everything – I just feel like this is the beginning of all this time we're gonna spend constantly apart…" Sam rambled, "And I really couldn't sound any more pathetic, huh." He shook his head ashamedly, "I don't know man, I feel kinda trapped in this bed and the…hormones, I guess I'm a little crazy right now. Please just forget it Dean. I don't want this shit to jeopardize your interview."
Dean looked at his brother, quickly schooling over his shock and calming himself for his brother's sake, gathering all the information Sam had just unloaded on him.
In a way it made sense, sure, but it was still hard to process that Sam felt so strongly about something he'd had no idea about until now. And Dean couldn't help but agree that it was a little ridiculous, what Sam was feeling, even if he'd never say that to him.
"Sam, I don't know what you want me to say…you're the one who wanted me to get a job." Dean defended not knowing what else to do. Sam's features quickly gave away that that had been the wrong thing to say.
"I just told you I don't want you to say anything. Forget it okay? And it's not like I'm forcing you to get a job, you know I'd be working too if I could." Sam snapped back, replacing his embarrassment with anger.
"Of course I do Sam, just…I guess I'm not sure where this is coming from. It's not like I'll be out partying without you or something, I'll be working to bring home money for baby clothes and diapers and formula and maybe a place of our own someday – I'm doing this to provide for us. What else do you want me to do?" Dean asked, his question sounding harsher than he'd meant it to.
"Dean." Sam bit out, "Like I said before, forget it. I don't want you to do anything, you asked what was wrong and I told you. Just go to your interview." He shooed, shaking his head away from his brother.
"Don't be like this Sam. Come on I'm just trying to help."
"You're not helping Dean, I already feel like enough of a child. I don't need you babying me about this. Just go, you're gonna be late."
Dean sighed heavily, "Okay." He relented, "I'll be back as soon as I'm done, or I could stop on the way home and bring you something for dinner?" He asked, hoping to brighten his brother's mood.
"If you want to, I don't care." Sam replied tersely, still masking his insecurity with unjustified anger.
Dean sighed again getting tired of Sam's attitude and stood, "Alright. I'll have my cell if you need anything."
"Bobby and Meyer are here, think I'll be alright." Sam retorted cynically, looking at Dean condescendingly.
Dean shook his head pressing his thumb and forefinger to his eyes, "Whatever Sam. Guess I'll see you later."
It didn't take long after the door had shut before Sam had silent tears trailing down his face, realizing just what a jerk he'd been to his nothing-but-supportive brother for practically no reason but his own insecurities and hating himself a little more for being so damn pathetic about it.
It was only a few minutes later that Sam was sobbing into his pillow as he heard the Impala rumble out of Bobby's lot and drive away. Some part of him had actually thought Dean would come back to fix this before leaving. Being proven wrong…it was like a sledgehammer to his chest. He didn't think he could feel any lower.
At some point someone must have heard him balling like a child because there was a quiet knock at the door before someone stepped inside. Sam didn't bother turning to check who it was.
"Sam?" It was Bobby. "What's 'a matter kid?" His grumbling voice sounded behind him before footsteps moved around the bed and he came into view. Sam yanked the covers above his head before Bobby could see the evidence of his tears, even if he knew he'd already heard him.
"Oh come on boy don't be like that." Bobby chastised.
"Get out." Sam demanded, wishing his voice hadn't cracked so pitiably; he really wanted to be left alone.
"Sam talk to me son. Did…Dean do somethin' to upset ya?" He asked hesitantly, still a little uncomfortable talking about the two of them together.
"Bobby, go away."
"No."
Sam didn't reply.
"Alright, I'll call Dean. He'll tell me what happened."
Sam yanked down the covers.
"Why is it any of your business Bobby?" Sam asked, meaning to sound angry but coming off as desperate.
"Because I'm makin' it my business. Now tell me what the hell happened."
Sam sighed in rapid defeat, too tired to fight him anymore as his tears resurfaced and spilled over quietly, "I-" He puffed out his breath, "I'm a fucking idiot." Sam stuttered over another breath, "And I pissed him off by being a baby and feeling sorry for myself, and now he's going to an interview to try and get a job so he can take care of us and get us baby clothes and diapers and formula…" Sam said, using Dean's earlier words before shuddering in another breath, "He's not gonna do well because he'll be thinking about my sorry ass and wondering why the hell I was being such a dick for no reason…God what is wrong with me?" Sam cried, trying to stop his tears as they were not at all helping with his current self-deprecating mood.
"There's nothing wrong with you Sam." Bobby timidly patted Sam's shoulder, "Don't beat yourself up kid, that's not gonna do anything for either of ya. And besides, Dean's gonna do just fine. He'll come back here in a few hours with a new job or a second interview, and then you two can talk, work this out…it'll be fine Sam." He comforted reassuringly.
"Whatever." Sam dismissed, shaking Bobby's hand off his shoulder, "I told you. Now can I be alone?"
Bobby nodded, knowing there was nothing more he could do and trying not to take offence in Sam's attitude.
"Alright Sam. Just yell if ya need anything."
Sam ground his teeth together until the door shut, signaling Bobby's departure and then he let his turmoil take over, crying until he couldn't anymore, finally falling into a disturbed sleep.
Dean's interview was not going as well as he'd hoped. The store manager, Jeff, kept looking at him with this skeptic, condescending glare that threw him off every time. And he was pretty sure he kept getting those disbelieving looks because he couldn't get Sam out of his head for more than a few seconds, which also threw him off.
He'd already stuttered over three answers, laughed at himself inappropriately – getting cricket silence and a death glare in return, and spaced off for almost half a minute, unable to answer one of the most simplest of questions: 'what do you think qualifies you to work here,' because all he could think was desperation.
Sam was overruling every one of his thoughts; he'd never felt so jumbled up or off-kilter in his life. Sam, Sam, Sam: it was a never ending mantra in his head – 'take care of Sammy', 'watch out for your brother', 'make sure Sammy's safe'.
His head was spinning with it; he needed this job. And then he needed to go home and talk to Sam, work whatever had happened out with him because he couldn't concentrate on anything with this hanging over his head.
"Dean." Jeff barked, dragging Dean back into the small office room and the interview, startling him in his seat. He jerked his head up and met the manager's incredulous stare.
"I'm sorry." He shook his head, rubbing his eyes, "I-" Dean sighed, abandoning his thought after a moment's pause, "Alright sir…please, let me just be straight with you."
"-Gladly." Jeff interjected, "Be a nice change of pace considering the rest of the interview."
Dean agreed with a sheepish tilt of his head, "About that. I know I've been all over the place so far and I'm sorry for that, but you have to understand…I'm not usually like this – so nervous and unfocused." He shook his head apologetically, "I'm about to be a father, to twins," Jeff's doubt shifted into surprise, "And just before this, me and my, partner, got into this fight and, well, I guess everything…piled up and it's kind of getting to me. I truly do apologize for this crazy interview, it was probably a waste of your time and I'll stop rambling excuses now if you'd like, but I think you should know first that there is no one in this town that will work harder for this job than me." Dean swore passionately, "If there's one thing I am, it's loyal…and desperate." He conceded, "I'll do just about anything for a chance to work here and even more to keep it."
Jeff took a moment before saying anything, keeping Dean on the edge of his seat. "Well what do ya know, you can speak coherently," Jeff said in mock surprise, smirking. Dean huffed a laugh.
"Yeah, who knew?" He joked along with him.
"Well Dean, you may have just hit the jackpot with this one, 'cause I don't know of another person on the planet who would hire you after that interview," He chuckled, shaking his head, "But lucky for you I know what its like to be in that kind of position." Jeff explained, his eyes slowly sobering, "Started here when I was fifteen, paying for bills I shouldn't have been responsible for. I know what it's like to be desperate and I respect you takin' a stand to provide for your family." He nodded approvingly, "You seem like a stand-up guy, and I do believe you're willing to do just about anything for this job, which works out great for me." He shrugged tapping his pen on his desk, "So welcome to Jack's Hardware." He announced, smiling broadly at the shell-shocked expression on Dean's face before standing to shake his hand.
"Wow, sir. Thank you so much. I promise my desperation will work in your favor." Dean nodded enthusiastically, laughing at the giddy feeling of accomplishment and pride bubbling through his system.
Jeff laughed with him, "I don't doubt it. We'll get you started in training next Thursday - go over payments and dates and your shifts, all that good stuff. Be here at eight, you'll be done around twelve. See you then Dean."
"Yes sir, eight o'clock. I'll be here." Dean promised whole-heartedly, thanking his new manager one last time before leaving his office. "Hell, fuckin', yes." He hissed as he descended the stairs to the main floor where the customers were: browsing around and asking questions, testing stuff out.
Dean eyes appraised over everyone, realizing then as he took in the few people he spotted wearing red vests with Jack's Hardware on the back that he had his work cut out for him. The employees were weaving around all over the place, it was no wonder they needed help.
Dean walked down the rest of the stairs, his stomach still flipping at the idea of a stable source of money, and began his way toward the exit when a voice stopped him.
"You get it?" A petite red head in her twenties asked, tilting a dark brow at him as her lips curved into a sweet smirk.
Dean looked around him quickly to make sure it was him she was talking to, but there was no one looking their way, "Get what?"
She laughed and glanced up at the office overhead, "The job. Jeff said someone was comin' in today to interview. How'd it go?" Dean only then noticed she was wearing the red uniform vest: she worked there. Of course.
"Oh, right. Uh, yeah…it was…well, I got the job." Dean shrugged, giving her his best smile but otherwise ignoring the chance to shamelessly flirt with the gorgeous redhead. He backed up towards the door, still facing her. "But I'm sorry, I gotta go. Guess I'll be seein' you around though…" He glanced at her nametag, "Jesslyn. Bye." He lifted his hand in a quick wave before heading off to his car, more than excited to get back to Sam.
He couldn't wait to tell him – simply skip his next interview and go home to him, forget their earlier discussion-fight thing and celebrate.
"Hey Meyer." Dean greeted as the front door slammed shut behind him.
"What happened between you and Sam, Dean?" Meyer asked, his tone haltingly accusatory and wiping the smile from Dean's face, "We don't need him stressing over anything unnecessary, let alone up their crying himself dry for hours! I was ready to sedate him until he finally fell asleep."
"What?" Dean bellowed, "Crying for hours-? Why didn't either of you call me! I would've come back…he was crying? What the hell, I didn't do anything!"
"Shh, Dean calm down, he might still be asleep." Meyer shushed, "We didn't call because you would've come straight back, and that would've upset Sam even more. He already thought he ruined your interview." Meyer explained more calmly, his expression softening as he watched how distraught Dean was over the news, "You know, it's probably just hormones," He shook his head, "Sometimes it doesn't take much to set them off. Sometimes it takes nothing. His emotions are all over the place – maybe you didn't do anything wrong. Sorry I jumped to conclusions. I was worried about him."
"Like hell it wasn't my fault." Dean countered heatedly, ignoring the apology, "Obviously I'm what set him off. I wasn't sensitive enough about what he said. I should've been more sensitive." He berated, "It's just…all this emotional shit's been wearing on me, ya know?" He justified, as if Meyer had any idea what he was talking about, "I just wanted to handle it without all the hand-holding reassurance…but that was fuckin' selfish. God that was selfish! He's pregnant. Dealing with this shit, he should get all the girly comfort he wants, right? I should've comforted him."
"Dean." Meyer interjected, "Calm down. Go upstairs and talk to him. You can make up for your lack of girly hand-holding when you get there, huh?" He suggested with a small but amused smile, "Sam will be fine. Oh, and by the way, how was the interview?"
Dean shrugged, "Got the job." He answered simply, racing off toward the stairs.
"Well…congratulations." Meyer said to the empty foyer.
"Sam." Dean whispered as he entered their room, immediately taking notice of a strange smell. Sweat and stale air, from used tissues; his heart lurched in his chest with guilt knowing he'd left his brother here to sob himself into such exhaustion.
Sam rolled over with hopeful eyes at the sound of Dean's voice.
"Sammy," Dean whispered dejectedly, his face falling as he took in the sight of his brother's red eyes and nose, his colored cheeks and lips, his wet lashes and the trails of tear stains on his face.
"I'm sorry Dean. I'm really sorry," Sam apologized as he pulled himself higher up on the bed, "Did I mess you up for your interview? I was such an ass, and for no reason…and now I can't stop crying like a little friggin' girl, but I'm still sorry." Sam rushed sucking in a deep breath once he was finished.
Dean climbed up on the bed curling his arm over Sam's chest, bringing his head down into the crook of his neck, "I got the job Sammy. The one for the store. I'm gonna call and cancel the interview for the construction place, the stores really nice and it's good pay, the hours will work better for us anyway."
Sam was looking up at him in awe when Dean glanced down, "You got a job?" Dean nodded, grinning wide and encouragingly at his brother.
"Thank god, can we forget everything I said this morning? I was being an insecure, needy idiot and-"
"Done." Dean interrupted, "And you weren't being any of that, I understood where you were coming from and I should've been more sensitive about it. I'm as much to blame for all that as you are. I'm sorry Sammy." He whispered pressing his lips to Sam's cheek, "But I'll be around more than you think, don't have to worry about that. And we'll find something for you to do around here while I'm gone. It's gonna be great Sam, and it'll be nice having a stable source of income for once."
Sam agreed unswervingly, his eyes bright with excitement for his brother, "I'm really proud of you Dean."
Dean beamed, "Thanks Sammy. Now let's get you cleaned up man, the place smells like shit." He teased, laughing as he helped Sam out of bed.
"Oh, wow, thanks man. Just what I needed to hear." He deadpanned, shooting Dean a sarcastic smile.
"I figured." Dean said turning the bath on and sitting Sam on the toilet seat, "And uh, well, to celebrate the whole job thing, I was thinking we could go out." He suggested, adjusting the water temperature, "There's this summer carnival thing that's coming up next weekend. If Meyer approves, I was thinkin' maybe we could go, if nothing but for the kick ass food." Dean shrugged, smiling hopefully at his brother, "What do ya say Sammy? Up for a second date, it'll be settin' a record for me."
A slow smile blossomed across Sam's face, "You really are a romantic at heart." He shook his head, "You'll probably even try and take me to the top of the Ferris wheel, steal a kiss…or more appropriately for you a blow job or something." Sam shrugged nonchalantly, pretending to seriously consider the idea.
Dean laughed throatily, throwing his head back, "Damn you know me well." He took a breath, "So…? Is that a yes?"
"Hell yes."
Review my sweets, and don't complain about any shit writing, just deal;)
Love