sam winchester (neversurrender) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2015-01-04 14:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, dean winchester, sam winchester |
Who: Sam & Dean Winchester
What: brotherly bachelor party bonding.
When: the 29th or 30th or whenever Sam's bachelor party was
Where: B Flat? I think.
Warnings: brofeels of the heartwarming variety.
I think he fears you don't need him.
The words kept running through Sam's head: over his morning cup of coffee, during his run. They echoed in his mind as he teleported to Russia, while he smiled and went along with the celebrations for Illyana's birthday. The impending "pre-wedding stuff" she'd mentioned crossed his mind once or twice, and eventually he was back in New York City, out with his friends. Still celebrating, but this time it was about him.
Cas's words were running almost nonstop through his head now, but it wasn't the right moment to act on them. He waited until after last call, when everyone else was leaving, in the early hours of the morning and (in most cases) still at least a little bit buzzed.
"Hey," he said to his brother, before he could disappear back to Cas's apartment. He did appreciate the extra space to pay special attention to his fiancée, but right in this moment, he needed to pay attention to his brother. "Thanks for doing all this."
---
Dean was actually a little... not drunk, but he'd had enough to be particularly cheerful. It was definitely an odd sight; over the years, Sam had seen his brother drunk maybe twice, and at least once had been for a job with some Japanese booze spirit. Dean put the "function" in "functional alcoholic", but he'd been really good since becoming human again. He'd meant to stay dry for this party, and failed, and the result was that Dean Winchester, for the first time in a long time, was rocking some inebriation.
He'd been in such a good mood when he started drinking that he was still in it by the end of the night. It made him not-so-eager to just book it, even as the night was long and the morning was getting closer, and Dean seemed happy to linger instead of following Cas and going inside.
"What? Nah, Sammy, don't thank me. This bachelor thing is my job." He gave Sam a friendly thump on the arm, smiling. "As long as you had a good time, I'm happy. Good people here. They know how to have fun."
---
“Yeah,” Sam said, with a smile. “They do.” He considered pointing out that many of them also had had tough lives-- that they could party hard but also come through when the chips were down-- but it didn’t seem necessary. He also thought about making some kind of joke about the fact that his friends weren’t entirely nerdy, but it just didn’t feel like it suited the moment. Or even mattered.
What mattered to him was how cheerful his brother was. Some of that was probably the alcohol, but if he’d been drinking just to get through it then it would have showed. He seemed to have genuinely had a good time, which meant that Sam’s initial approach-- to make sure Dean wasn’t doing all this as a sort of sacrificial gesture, to throw Sam’s bachelor party and his wedding as a last act of being part of Sam’s life before pulling away and heading into another downward spiral. Maybe, hopefully, things weren’t quite that bad.
He tried a different, happier approach rather than bringing them down by asking about that. “I’m glad to have friends like them, but mostly… I’m glad you’re here. ‘Cause, you know, the other times I thought about getting married or settling down… well, you weren’t. And that’s my own fault,” he added, “But I’m glad it’s happening the right way this time.”
--
"Hey, come on, you're diggin' up old crap, that was a long time ago. And if I was at your creepy Becky wedding and not this one, something would be wrong with the universe, okay?" Dean squeezed Sam's arm, almost reluctant to let him go. "It's gonna go fine. You're not getting rid of me anytime soon. Besides, if I wasn't going to the wedding for you, I'd have to go for Cas, 'cause he's the only one around here getting cold feet. I'll drag him in myself if I have to."
For once, Dean's sentiment didn't seem complicated. For all his repression, he'd always been pretty expressive, if not in his face than in his body. He wasn't nearly drunk enough for false optimism; he really did just look happy about this whole situation. Maybe it was seeing the family Sam had made for himself here, but ... yeah, you know what? Dean felt good about all this. This was going to be fine.
--
Sam made a face at the mention of Becky. “You didn’t have to go and dig up future stuff, either,” he retorted, but there was enough amusement in his tone that it didn’t have much bite. There were many things he was glad he’d only lived through in his memories, and being roofed into a marriage with his creepiest fan was one of them. “I’m not worried about how it’s going to go. Even if Cas gets stage fright and starts singing the Beatles. I just want to stand up there with Veronica, and have you watching my back, and everyone else, too. That’s all I want. Resolution for the rest of my life.”
The liquor was definitely loosening his tongue a little, but that was fine. He was happy to chalk the sentiment up to that. Dean was being far more open than usual, too, and that felt really good. Cas had worried him, but based on this conversation, Sam was pretty sure they were going to be okay.
Impulsively, sensing that it would be a welcome gesture from Dean’s grip on his arm, Sam reached out and hugged his brother tightly. “You’re not getting rid of me anytime soon, either. You know that, right?”
--
Dean hugged back just as hard, thumping Sam on the back. It was a manly hug, if there ever was one, and Dean had definitely gotten a lot more touchy feely with people in general in the last few years. "I better not. It's way easier for me to hunt your ass down if you're not dead."
When the hug finally ended, Dean held Sam at arm's length and just gave him a once-over before nodding, an unmistakable look of pride on his face. "So. No cold feet? Not even a little?"
--
“Likewise,” Sam said, a little dryly. And he laughed, although the sound cracked a little with emotion, or maybe alcohol. He was pretty sure they were going to blame it on the alcohol, anyway.
He didn’t concern himself with the manliness of the hug, but held on as though his life depended on it, because in many ways, it did. He had survived Dean’s absence, better here than at home— partially because he had Veronica and his other friends, also partially because Dean hadn’t been dead, only living in another universe— and he had survived the estrangement from him that had been due to him being a demon, but whether his brother’s absence was physical or emotional, it always left Sam feeling hollow. As if a part of his being had been clawed out of his chest and he was walking around with the raw, open wound. Hugs had always gone a long way towards stitching him up, emotionally speaking, or quieting the fear of being hollowed out again even when he wasn’t.
For whatever reason, in whatever intangible way, he would always need his brother. He couldn’t imagine a time or a life in which he wouldn’t.
He was content to be held at arm’s length for the moment, though, and smiled at the question. “No. I got scared, you know that, but not the same way.” He looked away, around them, as if searching their general vicinity for a glimpse of Veronica, but she wasn’t here. So he looked back at Dean. “Whatever happens, even accounting for the special kind of awfulness that follows us around, I know I’ll want her in my life. And I know she’ll stick around, too, no matter what.”
--
"Just remember you said that when she comes crying to me about your rancid burrito farts." Dean gave Sam an affectionate smack on the arm. When he was sobered up, he'd probably have a more meaningful reaction; as it was, he wasn't making this depressing, he wasn't making it weird, he wasn't reminding Sam that it was probably going to go ass up at some point because of course it would. If Dean was going to be anxious about this wedding, he wasn't picking tonight to do it.
"Isn't it late? I feel like it's late." Reaching over to mess up Sam's hair, he added, "Go to bed, weirdo, you got a long day tomorrow. I'm not going to drag your bum ass down the aisle."
--
Sam laughed, ducking away from the hand tousling his hair. “I think it’s easier to put up with everything when you’re not stuck in a car with them,” he pointed out. “And at least I don’t insist on listening to the same music over and over.”
He wasn’t sure what time it was, and didn’t really want to know. “You definitely would drag me down the aisle,” he retorted, grinning. “But if you want to go to bed, I’ll let you go.” He reached in for another hug, this one much more relaxed and less intensely sentimental. “Night, Dean.”
--
"Night, little brother. Try not to get into any trouble on the way home."
After the hug broke, Dean lingered by the door to watch Sam go, only turning away once he disappeared from sight. For the first time in a long time, there didn't seem to be any room in his mind for sadness or paranoia.
Optimism was a weird color on Dean Winchester, but... he could get used to it.