#sammyalamode

"No! No, it's fine. Totally fine. I'm wide awake. Hi." Dumbass, he berated himself, wishing it didn't feel like he'd almost forgotten what Sam's voice sounded like over the year and a half that they'd gone without seeing each other. 

"You...you doing okay?"

"I--yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Really good, Dean." 

Dean swallowed around a lump in his throat, nodding even though there was nobody around to see it. 

"Good. I'm glad."

"Yeah," Sam said quietly, "I...I'm sorry I didn't call."

Dean had no idea how to respond to that, so he didn't, lapsing into a silence punctuated only by the sound of his breaths. Sam apparently took that the wrong way, because he started babbling, like he was afraid Dean would hang up on him before he could tell him whatever it was he wanted to tell him. "I fucked up, man, you have no idea how many times I started to dial your number--but I chickened out every time, thought you wouldn't wanna talk to me anyway. And, hey, if you're angry at me, I get it, I deserve it for not keeping in touch like I promised, but I--after a bit, I started writing these letters, whenever I felt like talking to you. I've got 'em all in a drawer somewhere, and they're all yours, if you ever wanted to--but that's not important right now, what's important is--"

"Sam, shut up for a second."

"Huh?"

"I'm not angry at you, you self-centered little shit."

"Um. Are--are you sure? Because that's not what it sounds like to me."

Dean couldn't help himself, he laughed, a sound tinged with something halfway bitter. "Did I say something funny?" Sam asked tentatively, sounding slightly hurt.

"Sam, it's not all your fault that we didn't keep in touch. I could've picked up the phone, too, could've looked you up in the White Pages. Same boat, here--I kept telling myself I would call, but I always pussied out at the last second." 

"Oh."

"Yeah...we're  both pretty stupid." 

"I really missed you, Dean." 

"Okay, okay, don't go getting too sentimental on me." Dean tried to keep his voice gruff, but he was grinning from ear to ear, and he hoped Sam wouldn't be able to tell. 

"No, look, this's been building up for months, and I haven't seen your stupid face in ages, and you're gonna shut up and let me say this." 

"O-okay, then. Lay it on me." 

Sam cleared his throat. "My life...isn't complete without you in it. And before you laugh at me, I'm being one hundred percent serious here. I've been thinking--maybe you could move in? With me, I mean? And I get it if that's the last thing you want, I really do. But...I can't--I can't do it without you. I don't want us to be split up for my entire undergrad education. So, at least; could you maybe drop by and visit me sometimes, when you're hunting in the area, or whatever? Assuming you even want to..." Dean waited silently for Sam to finish, listening as his brother's nervous voice tripped through the last of what he had to say. 

"Dean? Was I pushing it? I was, wasn't I. Is it too late to take that all back?"

Dean blew out an impatient breath. "Of course I'll fucking visit you, you moron! Do you know how badly I've wanted to--god, we were so stupid." 

"You--you will?"

"Hell yeah. I can head out today, be there before nightfall. As for the other thing..." Dean considered it for a moment, having Sam within arm's reach again, getting to hear him spout off about all the old dead guys he loved and seeing him rocket his way through higher education. During the past year and a half, Dean had had lots of time to think about Sam walking out of the family business, and he'd decided along the way that he was fine with it.

All that mattered was that Sam was happy. And that Dean wasn't cut out of his life. Dean thought that even he'd consider giving up hunting altogether, if it would mean he and Sam could live together again. As long as they were together, anything was possible.

"Better make some space for me, Sammy, 'cause I'm gonna be sticking around for a long time."