[I don't know if this is even close to what you're looking for... Probably not, lol XD; Gave it a shot, tho! ... Also, icon is appropriate heh.]
"I'm sorry, Sammy."
Sam looks up to see Dean chase his apology with the rest of his fifth beer. Dean's words are slightly slurred, his eyes overly bright. Sam would point out that getting piss-drunk isn't exactly the best way to deal with the oncoming Apocalypse, but considering he's on his sixth bottle and just as bleary-eyed, he figures he's not really in a position to judge.
"I'm sorry," Dean repeats, and this time he looks up to meet Sam's eyes.
"None of this is your fault," Sam says. He downs the rest of his beer, sets down the empty bottle next to Dean's.
"I should've been there for you. Should've stayed with you in that panic room the whole time, no matter what."
"You and Bobby wouldn't have had to put me in that room in the first place if I'd just listened to you in the first place," Sam says bitterly. "You were right about Ruby all along. I just couldn't bring myself to
( ... )
"I didn't... I never said... Sam, I left you a message to say that I'm sorry," Dean says, sounding at once furious and terrified. Sam blinks at him and Dean's hands move up to grip Sam's arms, shaking him slightly, his fingers digging in almost painfully in his desperation. "No. No, Sammy, listen to me. I never said that to you. That wasn't me."
Sam feels something like relief wash over him -- not Dean, that wasn't Dean, those hateful words weren't his -- but he shakes his head slowly. "You gotta do it, though. Look at what I've done. What I'm capable of doing." Sam looks up into Dean's eyes and sees horror reflected in them. He smiles weakly and lays a hand on Dean's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Just think of it as correcting a past mistake. Do it, Dean. While I'm still me enough to let you."
There's a moment of still, shocked silence. Dean stares at Sam for what feels like forever, unblinking and unmoving.
And then he slaps Sam across the face.
Sam is too shocked to even say ow, his hand clutching at his burning cheek as he
( ... )
You punch someone when you want to hurt them. You slap someone to wake them up. When Sam looked at him like he was waiting for a punch, Dean realized that a slap wasn't going to do it, and he had to do something else. Dean would probably say that's the only reason he resorted to a kiss. Dean's had a tough season, so I'm not going to argue with him.
"I'm sorry, Sammy."
Sam looks up to see Dean chase his apology with the rest of his fifth beer. Dean's words are slightly slurred, his eyes overly bright. Sam would point out that getting piss-drunk isn't exactly the best way to deal with the oncoming Apocalypse, but considering he's on his sixth bottle and just as bleary-eyed, he figures he's not really in a position to judge.
"I'm sorry," Dean repeats, and this time he looks up to meet Sam's eyes.
"None of this is your fault," Sam says. He downs the rest of his beer, sets down the empty bottle next to Dean's.
"I should've been there for you. Should've stayed with you in that panic room the whole time, no matter what."
"You and Bobby wouldn't have had to put me in that room in the first place if I'd just listened to you in the first place," Sam says bitterly. "You were right about Ruby all along. I just couldn't bring myself to ( ... )
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Sam feels something like relief wash over him -- not Dean, that wasn't Dean, those hateful words weren't his -- but he shakes his head slowly. "You gotta do it, though. Look at what I've done. What I'm capable of doing." Sam looks up into Dean's eyes and sees horror reflected in them. He smiles weakly and lays a hand on Dean's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Just think of it as correcting a past mistake. Do it, Dean. While I'm still me enough to let you."
There's a moment of still, shocked silence. Dean stares at Sam for what feels like forever, unblinking and unmoving.
And then he slaps Sam across the face.
Sam is too shocked to even say ow, his hand clutching at his burning cheek as he ( ... )
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