#samxcrowley

At first, Sam had started coming to the anger management groups with his brother as a way to show support for Dean - and to make sure that he was actually going to the court mandated therapy group, but hey, Dean probably already knew that Sam was tagging along to keep track of him. But Sam has really, somehow, enjoyed sitting in a musty church basement with a group of grouchy men who are allergic to being nice.

He gets along well with the therapist that heads the group, Garth. Garth is way too much sunshine and smiles packed into a bean-pole body, but no matter how angry some of the men in the group get or how much they yell, Garth always keeps his calm and Sam finds that admirable. The art projects and community volunteering are a great way to get the group involved in things, and Sam is more than happy to help.

Crowley is one of the guys that always hangs around in the back and is very reluctant to actively participate in any kind of sharing and caring activities. He and Dean get along way too well. Sam thinks that Crowley could use a friend.

“There. Good enough.”

Huffing and crossing his arms over his chest, Crowley glares at the teddy bear. Sam pokes a little stray stuffing into it and lines up the seams.

“Here, why don’t you sew it while I hold it closed.”

Grumbling and shifting in his seat, Crowley glances around the room at the other pairs of men who are helping each other make teddy bears as Garth goes from table to table helping.

Still holding the seams of the bear closed, Sam leans his elbows on the table and offers something personal.

“I remember, when I was nine, I got a Barbie Doll for Christmas from Dean, and I thought he was just making fun of me because he always calls me girly, but it turns out he’d stolen it from under this donation tree thing our school had set up. Didn’t even know what was under the wrapping. But Dean always made sure I had presents for Christmas and my birthday, ‘cause our dad wasn’t always around.”

Now a days, Sam makes sure to drop a few presents in the Salvation Army toy drive boxes around this time of year. He’s happiest as a giver.

Crowley harrumphs. “Really, do you think I want to hear about your pathetic childhood? Do you think I actually enjoy being here? Are you trying to get me to, to, open up about my ‘feelings’?”

The last word is practically spit out.

“I’m just saying, someone’s really going to appreciate this bear. Help me finish?”

Garth is strolling over to their table, so Crowley picks up the needle and gets back to work.

“We’re fine here.” He says before Garth can even ask how the project is going.

Sam smiles, “Yep, doing good.”

“Alright, great job guys!”

Garth claps Sam on the shoulder before moving on.

For all his grumbling, Crowley sews up the bottom of the bear very carefully and ties it off neatly. Setting the small toy on the table, Sam picks up a length of red ribbon from the mess of supplies scattered across the table.

“You want to tie it on?”

“Probably should,” Crowley takes the ribbon and deftly ties it around the bear’s neck. “Your giant sausage fingers would make a mess of it.”

“So, you do care how the bear looks?”

“I never said that.”

“I think we did a good job.”

Tightening the bow in the center of the bear’s neck, Crowley frowns across the table at Sam.

“You’re pathetic you know, coming to these things, trying to pretend like you’re here for your brother, but all you want is to feel better about yourself.”

“You know, I think we’re becoming good friends, Crowley.”

Standing from the table, Crowley shoves his hands in his pockets and takes a step towards the table at the side of the hall with it’s large industrial pot of coffee and tray of stale cookies, then pauses and turns back towards Sam. “Do you want a coffee?”

“Sure, hey do you think we could finish another one of these?”