Fish out of Water (A Sequel to Flightless Bird, SPN FanFic)

Not a Potato (2)

"Hey Sammy," I say from the doorway, leaning against the pane. He doesn't respond and instead, continued to read through a book, flipping pages relentlessly. "Sam," I still get no response. "It's three in the morning." I tell him and he heaves a sigh, un slouching and straightening his back. He turns to face me, giving me an expecting look.

"What Scar?" he asks, annoyed. I shrug, staring at him still wearing the clothes from the day before as I stood in his house coat.

"It's 3am, Sam."

"What's your point?" he wonders and I let out a shaky breath, my eyes shooting from one end of the room to the other and back again. I could feel the tears presenting them and I kept my eyes flickering from place to another, not focusing on anything as I fought the tears back.

"Please come to bed," I plead. Suddenly, he drops his angry facade and shows the torn up little brother he really is. He licks his lips, nodding and standing up. He walks to me and takes my hands.

"I'm sory Scar," he whispers, lifting them and kissing the tops. "let's go to bed." he succumbs, wrapping his arm around my waist and we walked, side by side.

The next morning when I woke up, I woke up alone. Sam isn't in our bed and the shower isn't running. I sit up and turn to my alarm clock. 9:30.

"Sam?" I call out and swing my legs out of bed, placing my bare feet on the cold floor and hauling Sam's house coat over my tank top and shorts.

I could tell that we've been doing it all the time since we were reunited... but I'd be lying. We had done it a total of two times and then, Dean died. It kills us both thinking about him, so we just lie together and cuddle and an occasional kiss. It's all either of us can handle right now, and I know it's for the better we put it off until we've healed enough to even talk about how Dean's dead body got up and walked out of the bunker. The only talking we've been doing is yelling and fighting and exchanging bits of facts we got from all the research we've been doing. We don't have shit.

"Sam?" I find a note on the table and the memories pile on like the roof collapsed. Sammy, Scar, let me go. I cringed at the thought, but swallowed my anger as I read what Sam had written.

Stay in the bunker. I'm going to get some groceries. I mean it Scar, stay in the bunker.
-Sam

I roll my eyes, walking back to our room, hauling out a clean pair of jeans and a hoody. I tied my hair up in a messy bun and then hauled my shoes on and jogged out the door. When I got outside, Sam was rolling up in the impala. I licked my lips as he stopped the car, jumping out and walking towards me.

"Did you get my note?" he wonders. I shrug.

"What note?"

"Scar," he says, raising a brow in a I-know-you-did tone. I sigh.

"Yeah I got it," I tell him. "I was just coming out here to wait for you." he nods.

"Okay," he says, sounding unconvinced but lets it slide anyway as he walks by me.

"Sam," I say, stopping him. He turns around. "can you take me for a ride?" I wonder. He shakes his head.

"I've wasted too much time today already Scar," he tells me, turning away. I sigh heavily.

"Can I at least have the keys then?" he stops again, taking them out of his pocket and tossing them in my direction.

"Where're you going?" he asks and I shrug.

"I shouldn't be too long," I tell him and walk towards the impala, jumping in the front seat.

I end up in a coffee shop, having a cup while reading through the paper. I can't really focus on the paper, though. I see Dean in everything. The little boy playing with the model car to the right of me, the deep color green in a pin on some woman's dress, the cold air that blows through the small cafe every time the door opens. Every inch of this place makes me think about him and wonder where the hell he is. I want to punch him in the face and then hug him and give him a kiss and tell him I love him, because I didn't get to do that while he was here.