Fic: Swish-Thud
Title: Swish-Thud
Rating: pg-13, for topic
Word Count: 284
Pairing: Gen
Warnings: Implied eating issues, self harm
Summary: Whatever lets you sleep at night. Dean deals.
Disclaimer: :( Not mine.
Yeah, okay, he knows it’s fucked up. And maybe that makes him fucked up. Probably. But on nights like these - with Sammy an arm’s length away, snuffling into his pillow, and Dad down for the count next to a pile of empties - he just…fuck it.
There’s this one rib, right smack in the center, that juts out just a little more than the rest. Dean presses down and drags his thumb across its width, elbow sticking out like a chicken’s wing. Swish-Thud. Swish-Thud. Swish-Thud.
A thin rope of muscle follows the rib line. It snaps back and forth as he prods the bone.
When he’s had his fill of that, when that weird ache that’s wedged in his stomach finally dulls, he’ll slide his hand down to his hips and pinch. Rap his knuckles against the sharp point, listen to the light clack of bone on bone.
He’ll trace the hollow on his leg, the one on the side of his knee that he likes - yes, it’s fucking weird, he’s aware - pinch at his stomach, try to dig his fingers around his collarbone. Checking and rechecking. Making sure nothing’s changed in the last five goddammed seconds.
Christ, he just wants to sleep.
Sam coughs and smacks his lips and Dean suddenly wants to punch him. Launch himself across the room and freaking wail on the kid. Instead, he rolls onto his side and jams his thumb against his chest. Hard enough that he knows he’ll have to miss a block tomorrow at training to cover the bruise.
In the other room, the television’s still on. Dean thinks about turning it off, digs his thumb deeper. Sammy sighs.
Christ. He just wants to sleep.