Work Text:
“What the fuck.”
That was the first thing any of them had said in minutes, sitting on the bed beside each other in complete silence. Sam just looked at him. Maybe the kiss hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
“You- WE.. we’re brothers.” Sam spoke again.
Again, there was no response from Dean. He was really fucking this up and he couldn’t stop thinking about the way Sam’s lips had almost, just almost, kissed back. Apparently he was just imagining it. There was no mistaking the way he looked when Dean pulled away though, an expression on Sam’s face that he couldn’t quite make out even though knowing Sam was all he knew how to do.
“I know.”
Dean's voice was low, scared—almost. Mistake, mistake, mistake.
“And you still did that. Why?”
Sam’s voice on the other hand was frantic, searching for an explanation Dean wasn’t familiar with. He could go on and on with small excuses, but it wasn’t good enough. He just wanted to make Sam feel loved. Losing Amelia couldn’t have been easy and he wanted to be there for Sam and he didn’t want to lose him again, etc., etc.
“I don’t want you to feel alone,” he said instead, his eyes fixed on the TV in front of him. There was no way he was going to look at his brother. “I figured it couldn’t be that easy breaking up with Amelia—”
“So you kissed me because I broke up with my girlfriend?”
“Yes! Wait, no. I just.. I don't know!” Dean pretended to rub his eyes with his palms, but really it was more like hiding. He didn’t want anyone—especially not Sam—to look at him at that moment. Everything was just so fucked and he didn’t make it any better by doing all of this.
“Do you even realize how fucked up that is? Jesus Christ, dude!”
Dean said nothing.
Sam stood up from the bed and pointed with his thumb towards the door.
“I’m gonna go get another room.”
What the fuck just happened?