Chapter Text
“So, you got time for a beer, or will you lose your glass slipper if you don’t get back in time?”
Sam had thought about it. On the one hand, being with Dean was making him feel weirdly exposed, which was not a feeling he usually associated with his brother- when Sam let himself think about him, that is. It made him feel like all the work he’d put in to reconstructing himself at college, into someone who was normal, was all going to waste; like Sam was an onion and all of his layers, that he’d accumulated to hide the inconsistencies in his back story, were being peeled back.
On the other hand… It was Dean.
The adrenaline from their hunt, the rush of success that Sam was silently and desperately trying to squash down, did not help matters.
So he’d agreed and now they were both sitting on the ground, leaning against the side of the Impala, bottles in hand. It almost felt like old times, with their shoulders brushing against each other, Dean’s foot tapping mindlessly against Sam's to a rhythm in his head, even their breathing almost in sync- four years back, they might have just been waiting for Dad to finish hustling and join them.
“So, what’s she like?” Dean broke the silence. “You know, your… Your girl?”
“Jessica,” Sam reminded, with just a fissure of irritation that Dean was pretending not to remember her name. “You really wanna know?”
Dean shrugged and waved his hand in a ‘go on' motion.
Sam took a second to gather his thoughts. “She’s a dream,” he murmured. “We met in sophomore year, at a party. I'm telling you, I have never clicked with anyone so quickly, even if we’re total opposites at times. She loves being the center of attention, hates mainstream music, can’t cook at all- but at the same time, she's so smart that it's scary. And she’s sweet too, you know, and she’s such a mother hen.” He said it all in one breath, like he'd been waiting so long to tell Dean about the girl he loved, and couldn’t help the small chuckle as he recalled the time he and Becky had fallen sick at the same time and Jess had strong-armed them both into their beds. “I fell in love with her so quickly that it actually does feel like a dream sometimes. Like, it's too good to be true.”
He turned to Dean, who was watching him. This close, Sam had no trouble reading the wistfulness in his eyes. Sometimes, he thought that if Dean weren’t so hell bent on living up to Dad’s expectations, then he’d probably realize that he wanted the same things Sam did.
“I think you’d like her, you know,” he went on, quieter now. “I mean, if you got to know her… Maybe, after finding Dad, if you…” He’d never admit it, but part of him wanted Dean to approve of Jessica, approve of Sam and this life he was making for himself. More than that, he wanted Dean to be a part of that life.
But that was a dream too. And the weight of the ring box in his sweatshirt’s pocket was real.
Dean cleared his throat, looking away. “Nah, Sammy, I don’t do well in cozy, apple pie settings, you know that. ‘Sides,” he drawled, mouth curling up into a smirk. “She'd probably think I'm trying to steal you away from her for more weekend trips.”
I'm not unfaithful. I've never been.
You will be.
Sam looked away too. On second thought, maybe he shouldn’t try to reconcile Dean and his life. Otherwise, Dean would end up doing just that. And one of those weekend trips would end up lasting forever.