Summary: If Sam had to take a guess, he would blame the locals. But right now, all he wanted was Dean off the freaking roof. Set somewhere in season two.
Warnings: Drugged!Dean, not much else. Little swearing maybe.
Disclaimers: I don't own Supernatural.
If Sam had to take a guess, he would blame the locals who Dean beat in pool. He had completely trashed them, taken their money and generally being a happy man the rest of the night despite their glares. But yeah, Sam blamed it all on them. Definitely their fault. One of them had bumped into Dean later when the man had just gotten a drink of some sorts, and Sam was convinced it was in that moment it had happened.
Didn't matter much now though. All he wanted was Dean off the freaking roof.
"Come on, Dean," he said and held out a hand. Dean swayed on the spot, arms out, staring down at the ground five floors down. Sam did not want him to fall because that would kill him and while Dean was annoying at times it wasn't really what Sam wanted. Sam might regret it in the morning but it would be a nice regret.
"I'm gonna fly," Dean replied, turning his head and showing Sam a lopsided smile. "Gonna fly and never come down!"
"That sounds nice but can't we do that tomorrow? Let's just go and get some shut-eye tonight, come on, bro."
"No!" What was wrong with his brother and his stubborness to never agree with what Sam had to say? Just once, man, just once he would like to year a freaking 'Yes'. "Gonna fly!" Aaaand that brought Sam's thoughts back to the present problem.
"We're not going flying," Sam said and had managed to creep closer without Dean overreacting to it. If he reached out a little more he could grasp Dean's jacket. Not good enough. The jacket could be removed, his arms could slide though and then all Sam would have was the leather jacket so it wasn't good enough.
"I'm goin'," Dean declared, stumbling to the side, then the grin is back and it's so horrible twisted Sam just wants to cry.
He tips forward but Sam lungs, arms around his waist, pulls back and they both fell down, Dean on top of Sam. The younger rolled them to their sides and got up, hauling Dean to a sitting position. The older blinked slowly at him.
"I didn't fly," he mumbled and patted Sam's arms. "Hey, S'mmy, tha' you?"
"Yeah, it's me, Dean," Sam replied, tears retreating. Just down the stairs and to the motel room; Sam would kick the guys' asses once he knew Dean was snugly tucked in and asleep. "Come on, dude, time for you to get some sleep."
"Sorry, I'm in charge." And so Dean got up on his feet, Sam's arm wrapped around his waist, his arm slung over Sam's shoulders and then they were making their way down the stairs.
Dean was more or less docile now in his arms, drowsily following him although he kept talking about flying:
"I just really, really wanted to fly, S'mmy…"
"You hate flying," Sam replied as they came up to their motel room, and he fished out the key from his pocket. Dean lurched to the side. "Wow! Stay up, Dean, come on, just a little longer."
Dean giggled and it's the most terrifying sound Sam had heard in a long time, because it was totally wrong and so he wrestled his brother inside and shuts the door with his foot, locked it without looking and helped Dean over to the bed furthest away from the door. For once he was going to take charge. Dean could rant at him for all he wanted later.
Sam threw the boots over his shoulder, and Dean found it so funny he was soon bent over his own knees, gasping and giggling. The younger one would laugh too if it wasn't so past any kind of funny for him.
"Alright, dude, jacket off," Sam said and helped Dean out of it, and the jeans, socks and shirt followed, leaving his brother in underwear and a T-shirt. "No, don't fall asleep yet. You're gonna have some water, then you can sleep."
Did Dean just sound like a five-year old?
"Ah, yeah, I promise. Scout's honour."
Dean made a face-plant into his pillow and Sam pulled him away to make sure he wouldn't suffocate.
Managing to coax a glass of water into his drugged brother, Sam finally allowed Dean to actually sleep, and he was out as a light right where he was, just as he had turned to his side and at the same time curled up. It looked kinda cute.
Sam shook his head and tucked Dean in, then stood to find some guys who had a date with his fists.
Hearing Dean bitch as he woke was as if being in heaven. Sam turned his head and saw Dean gag at the taste of his mouth, still curled up and swearing. Then the startling green eyes turned to him, and the brothers stared at each other for a while.
"Dude…" Dean finally said. "What the fuck happened?"
"Your drink got spiked," Sam said. His knuckles were throbbing but it was a good throb. He could live with it.
"Fuuuuck," Dean managed and coughed. "I feel like crap, man."
"I'll get you some water." Sam was up before he had finished that sentence.
He didn't let Dean get up, not that the man complained, and after getting the water in him he curled down comfortably again even as Sam went to get something to eat.
"Bring some suitable fat to me, bitch!" Dean called after him.
Sam had never heard anything so good in a long time, and as long as Dean didn't want to go flying anywhere anytime soon life would be perfect.
Yeah, short. It was nice to write it.
Until another time,