Moving On (Destiel)

65: Just for a minute, let's pretend. Let's forget, and try to be happy.

Sam was pouring himself a drink while Dean hovered in the doorway, trying to figure out what the hell to say. He might not entirely be happy with the age gap of Sam and Gabe, but if it made his brother happy... and anyway, he wasn't going to fight with his little brother on his first day back, for fuck's sake. He just hoped to successfully convey that message before Sam got too involved into a fight.

He was still debating whether it wouldn't be smarter to just go, that the tension would unload itself and no apologies needed – they'd just all be back to normal like they'd always been, no need for communicating a disagreement if avoidance was possible, ever, so fuck Gabe, when Sam quietly spoke, without turning his head over his shoulder. "What is it now, Dean?"

Although all he saw was Sam's – admittedly, broad – shoulders and back, Dean could picture the frown on his face all too well. His eyes were scrunched and his nose crinkled, but not in a good way. In an unattractive, pissed-off way, that would only cause Dean to be even more pissed off in return.

"I just-" Dean left it there because words.

"You just barged into my room without knocking because it's not like you care about my privacy anyway and then were bold enough to get angry because I was having fun, and enjoying myself. That's what you wanted to say? No? Well, that's what happened." Sam turned around at that, and yes, that face.

Dean pressed his lips together tightly; he needed to control his tongue or a snarky response might ruin all his good intents of making peace. "It wasn't... I wasn't angry." Dean was uncertain what else to say – there was more, sure, but his phrasing depended on Sam's reaction on the already said. Seeing as Sam didn't show much of a reaction, he sighed in despair, running his hand through his hair. God, he was already wearying out. "Look, Sammy, I get that my reaction could have come off like that, but I didn't mean it like that. You happy with Gabe? Fine, be happy! Who am I to say a word against it?"

"Right, who are you?", Sam bit out bitterly.

Dean stilled. "What?"

"Oh, you heard me just fine. I get that changes happen, but I feel like I don't even know you at all anymore, Dean."

"Oh, yeah? Well, right back at ya!", Dean felt the rage boiling inside him. "I'm apologizing, alright? I'm sorry that this happened, I'm sorry for having changed, I'm sorry for having gone to jail at all and leave you alone with it - Now that we're on it, I'm sorry for my entire frickin' existence!"

"Dean," Sam gritted through his teeth. "That was NOT the fucking point! Jesus, why do you always have to dramatize everything-"

"Because I fucking can, and fucking will!", Dean threw back, "So put up with me for just one more moment, would you? And it very much IS the point, by the way. I'm sorry that you feel so miserable and that I couldn't be there to change it, that even when I was there, I apparently didn't do enough, wasn't enough. I'm apologizing, you hear me? I'm sorry. But you know what? The old Sam, my Sammy, he would have been fine with that. We used to fight, too, but we were good again when one if not both apologized. That's what I'm doing right now - to save this, to fix this, for heaven's sake. I don't see why you're so... so defiant. Why does it seem like you don't WANT to accept my apology, like you don't WANT me to fix it?!" He breathed heavily, staring his little brother down, a little angry, a little hopeless.

Sam didn't respond for a while. When he did, he did so very quietly. "Because I think that maybe it can't be fixed."

It can't... what? "I-", Dean sputtered out. "Everything can be fixed, Sam."

Sam didn't answer, and Dean felt something inside of him go numb.

"Does Gabriel mean that much to you? 'Cause, listen, Sammy, I'll say it again: I don't have a problem with him-"