Better Sorry than Safe

Glimpses of the Future FINAL

2.5 years, a few weeks, half a liquor store, and about twelve hours of sleep later

There was a bottle of water and an aspirin sitting on the nightstand in front of Sem. This was interesting to say the least. 

Drunk-Sem usually wasn't smart enough to arrange anything against the hammering migraines that came with waking up after a night of drinking. No, he usually woke up to the scent of greasy junk food which he'd thought would be a great idea to eat (it wasn't - it amplified the rotten eggs breath), and a pounding head.

Sem was mildly impressed with himself as he opened the bottle and downed the aspirin with some gulps of water. He hoped the pounding in his head would soon lower to manageable levels, and the disgusting taste in his mouth would fade. 

Then, the bedroom door opened. Connor stepped inside with an uncharacteristically sheepish expression on his face, and in a flash, Sem remembered it actually wasn't normal he'd woken up at Connor's place. He swallowed, eyes darting to the door behind Connor. 

It hadn't been normal for a couple of months now, ever since they broke up. Yet, it didn't feel as out of place as it should either. 

In fact, the only thing out of place, was noticing Connor hadn't slept next to him. Plus, he was still here rather than at the garage tinkering on some car. He'd probably taken the couch like a gentleman and waited for him to wake up... rather than saying fuck it and sleeping in his own bed and kicking him out at 6 when he needed to leave. 

Oh God, Sem hadn't been a gentleman at all. 

There were some major holes in his memories, but little snippets here and there, brief moments of what transpired yesterday slowly came back to him. Most of all: one particular moment that explained the putrid taste in his mouth.

 Sem groaned, covering the top of his face with the pillow in shame. "Please tell me I didn't throw up in your car."

Connor cleared his throat. "Well, I can safely say there's no vomit in my car. I already cleaned it out. If it's any consolation."

"Ugh, I'm sorry." Sem groaned louder, curling up into a ball. That was no consolation. No consolation whatsoever.

Sem heard Connor step closer to the bed. The mattress squeaked and sank as he sat down. "You know, you have a weird way of showing your love," he said.  

This remark finally made Sem toss the pillow on his head aside. He glared at Connor, feeling heat rising to his cheeks. Shit, if only Connor had been drunk too and wouldn't have remembered that part. If only he didn't remember that part himself. 

"I already said I was sorry! I would've cleaned it myself."

Connor actually had the audacity to smile at his embarrassment, and Sem narrowed his eyes further. But Connor's smile was fleeting, and swiftly made place for a more thoughtful expression.

"Sem," he said, seemingly trying hard to formulate his words. "But this... this wasn't how I planned us talking again after months."

Sem raised his brows in fake-surprise. "Oh, really? Because everything went exactly according to my plan. I wanted to lose my dinner in front of you and pass out."

"Sem..." Connor didn't even crack a smile at his sarcasm. He was dead-serious, and Sem quieted down. Connor often needed a little time to get words out right during difficult conversations. Apparently this was a difficult conversation. Hell, Sem would say it was.

Another memory came floating to the surface. I missed you. Shit. Had Connor actually said that in the car, or was his mind playing tricks on him? You can't trust your memory... especially not your drunken memories.