Sam and Dean (finally) getting together after Sam turns 18, because Dean just had to wait for Sam to be legal, and Sam happily settling into the routine of hunting, sleeping, and having sex with his older brother. But Sam coming back from grabbing dinner for them both after a routine salt and burn at one in the morning to find Dean on their bed with the waitress from the diner where they had had breakfast that morning, and Sam being so confused, wait, they’re not exclusive? But Dean said that Sam was it. He was the end game, no passing go, that was that. Sam certainly wasn’t even allowed to look at girls, let alone touch them. Dean always kicked Sam in the shin when he looked at a waitress for too long and smacked him upside the head for watching the ass in front of them bounce as whatever random girl walked down the street, always punched him in the arm for letting his eyes slip down to a girl’s chest. But Dean was allowed to sleep with other people? How was that fair? Righteous anger filled Sam as he stormed back out the door, dropping dinner on the table as he went. He strode back to the Impala and climbed into the back seat, debating on whether or not he should just leave Dean’s ass there and drive off without him. But Sam’s stuff was still in his duffle in the corner, and his favorite gun was underneath the pillow on his side of the bed.

Sam sulked in the car for well over 2 hours before the waitress stumbled out of their motel room, so drunk that she could barely walk, giggling on her way back to her car. Sam should’ve keyed it or something. After waiting until the girl left the parking lot, Sam skulked back into their room to find Dean passed out on their bed and the food eaten. Sam could smell the booze practically pouring off Dean, and one look at Dean’s blissed out face had all the indignant anger Sam felt whoosh out of him. Dean looked…happy, not like he did whenever he and Sam went at it. He always looked so worried whenever he fucked Sam, his face always drawn tight and his eyes unreadable, and Sam thought Dean was just concentrating, not hiding whatever he was feeling. So Sam packed up his things while Dean snoozed on, pulling his gun out from under Dean’s head without so much as a sleepy snort from Sam’s drunk older brother. Sam left his key on the table next to an empty take out box and quietly left, headed towards the one place he could; Stanford.