A/N: This was done for a drabble prompt from a friend of mine, who requested Sam and Dean, with the prompt "Jerk". I own neither Sam nor Dean, or Supernatural.
Dean finds Sam in a bar a few miles down the road, Dean full of guilt, Sam full of whiskey and tequila and a half-bottle of rum spilling out of his mouth as he takes another shot. The face he turns to Dean is flushed, strands of hair plastered against his forehead, eyes bloodshot, and he twists away on the barstool when Dean sits down.
"You're a jerk," Sam slurs, tears blurring with the traces of alcohol, and he sways. "And not the good kind. The bad kind."
"There's a good kind?" Dean attempts to joke, but the words stick heavy in his throat and Sam rolls his eyes, the movement sending him careening off the stool, smashing into the floor with a sickening crack that has Dean instantly by his side.
"Go away!" Sam yells, and the eyes of the bar are on them, Sam staggering to his feet and out the door, Dean at his elbow. "That's what you want to do anyway, isn't it?"
"Huh?" is all Dean can muster, his exhausted brain racing to keep up with Sam's anger.
"You threw away my present!" Sam cries, voice cracking as he suddenly crouches in the mud, hands over his head as if ready for the next blow. And Dean is there, hands on Sam's face, urgently forcing their eyes to meet.
"You mean this?" Dean says softly, eyes glistening as he pulls the amulet from under his shirt, the metal shining with fresh polish and rain. Sam stares, and Dean cannot help laughing at the wide-eyed wonder in his eyes. "I scared the crap out of the cleaning lady, rushed her and her pile of trash bags. Ended up dumpster diving, but I found it. When I got back to the room, you were gone."
"Sorry," Sam whispers, and Dean sighs, wiping Sam's eyes with the one corner of dry sleeve he has left, catching him as the alcohol and exhaustion hit and he sags towards the ground. Dean slings one of Sam's arms around his shoulders and heads for the car, then hears Sam's voice in his ear. "Can we stop and get some fireworks?"
"When it stops raining, Sammy," Dean whispers back, grinning as he slings Sam into the passenger side. "I promise."