Mini-Nano: Dark Side of the Moon (4)
Okay, so I was going to be answering comments tonight but I am dead on my feet, have not even unpacked my bag and have to be in the office for 8am tomorrow. So I'm posting and running, but please please don't think I don't appreciate the absolutely lovely feedback from you all, because I really really do. ♥
Oh and we're getting into the more definitely wincestuous undertones now, people. C'mon, it's part four already, how long did you expect me to wait? *g*
The Dark Side of the Moon
(790 words)
1: 2:3:4:5:6:7:8:9:10:11:12:13:14:15:16:17:18:19:20:21:22:23: 24:25:26:27:28:29:30
4
When Sam was seventeen, an angry spirit threw him down the stairs and he ended up breaking his arm. So John had left Sam behind, with Dean to take care of him, in a cabin in the middle of nowhere for three whole weeks, while he went off to finish the hunt. Back then, it was the longest they ever spent together, just the two of them.
Caleb had owned the cabin and aside from it being situated in the back of beyond, there are no large bodies of water in the surrounding environment (no lakes, significant rivers or even a well, so far as Sam can tell) and the bathroom has a shower but no bathtub.
As such, after Dean tries to drown himself for no apparent reason and while Sam figures out how to restore his brother's sight and/or hearing, it's perfect for Sam's purposes.
The autumn sun catches the cabin's windows, turning them to glaring sheets of light, and Sam is blinded for a moment. Then he hears Dean's car door opening and he rushes round to help. There's a hesitation every time Dean moves, something tentative that never used to be there. He only moves like he used to when he's got Sam to anchor him. He grips Sam's forearm - and already, Sam knows to expect bruises there from how tightly Dean holds him - and walks with him as Sam brings them to the door.
Scrabbling behind the loose plank for where the keys are hidden is made more awkward than it should be because Dean won't let go of Sam for even a second, like once he takes his hand off him he'll never find Sam again in his empty world. Sam comes up with whole handfuls of old spider nests before he stubs his fingertip of the end of the keys.
He tries to usher Dean straight inside but Dean stops and lets his head fall back. The morning sunlight turns his skin to rosy gold and glints off the wet film over his eyes. Three birds sweep across the sky in a sudden flutter of wings and their shadows flicker over Dean.
"It's warm," he says.
Sam touches his shoulder and Dean smiles a little - almost at Sam but his gaze is just off to the side - and lets Sam bring him into the cabin. It's pretty basic: bathroom, kitchen plus pantry, a television that only picks up two channels and shows them in a distinct hue, and two beds in the main living area, but it's all they need.
There are two antique shotguns mounted on the wall. They're long past being useful, nothing more than ornaments now but Sam can remember Dean taking them down the last time they were here, hefting the weight of them, checking the sights with an expert eye. Sam remembers watching him with an embarrassed sense of hero worship he knew he should have grown out of long ago.
So he catches Dean's wrist and brings his fingertips up to brush against the wood.
"Do you remember the last time we were here?" says Sam, watching Dean's face closely. Dean moves his fingers along the length of the gun.
"Hey! This is Caleb's place, isn't it? You were all banged up, right?" Dean's mouth slips into a grin and his free hand fumbles about to catch at Sam. "Remember that last night, before Dad came back? Not a goddamn thing left to eat so we had a bottle of Jack between us! That was awesome! You remember, Sammy?"
Sam does remember. He remembers the ache of an empty stomach being drummed away by the hazy throb of too much alcohol. It had been Dean's plan, typically a little crazy but effective. They were stranded and out of food and John hadn't been due back 'til the next day so Dean'd done the only thing he could think of to help them pass the unplanned fast and got them both drunk.
Sam remembers the hangover he had the next day, which he was sure he would prove fatal. He remembered John bawling them both out about it, his concern that they'd run out of food rapidly turning itself to anger. He remembered spending most of the night giggling at something that had seemed hilarious at the time but has apparently not passed the test of time and has since been forgotten.
Most of all, Sam remembers his sudden, startlingly lucid desire to kiss his brother.
He hadn't, of course. And the next day John had taken them on to a rawhead hunt in Ohio and not long after that, Sam applied to Stanford.
He curls his fingers lightly about Dean's hand.
"Yeah," he says. "I remember."
Oh and we're getting into the more definitely wincestuous undertones now, people. C'mon, it's part four already, how long did you expect me to wait? *g*
The Dark Side of the Moon
(790 words)
1: 2:3:4:5:6:7:8:9:10:11:12:13:14:15:16:17:18:19:20:21:22:23: 24:25:26:27:28:29:30
4
When Sam was seventeen, an angry spirit threw him down the stairs and he ended up breaking his arm. So John had left Sam behind, with Dean to take care of him, in a cabin in the middle of nowhere for three whole weeks, while he went off to finish the hunt. Back then, it was the longest they ever spent together, just the two of them.
Caleb had owned the cabin and aside from it being situated in the back of beyond, there are no large bodies of water in the surrounding environment (no lakes, significant rivers or even a well, so far as Sam can tell) and the bathroom has a shower but no bathtub.
As such, after Dean tries to drown himself for no apparent reason and while Sam figures out how to restore his brother's sight and/or hearing, it's perfect for Sam's purposes.
The autumn sun catches the cabin's windows, turning them to glaring sheets of light, and Sam is blinded for a moment. Then he hears Dean's car door opening and he rushes round to help. There's a hesitation every time Dean moves, something tentative that never used to be there. He only moves like he used to when he's got Sam to anchor him. He grips Sam's forearm - and already, Sam knows to expect bruises there from how tightly Dean holds him - and walks with him as Sam brings them to the door.
Scrabbling behind the loose plank for where the keys are hidden is made more awkward than it should be because Dean won't let go of Sam for even a second, like once he takes his hand off him he'll never find Sam again in his empty world. Sam comes up with whole handfuls of old spider nests before he stubs his fingertip of the end of the keys.
He tries to usher Dean straight inside but Dean stops and lets his head fall back. The morning sunlight turns his skin to rosy gold and glints off the wet film over his eyes. Three birds sweep across the sky in a sudden flutter of wings and their shadows flicker over Dean.
"It's warm," he says.
Sam touches his shoulder and Dean smiles a little - almost at Sam but his gaze is just off to the side - and lets Sam bring him into the cabin. It's pretty basic: bathroom, kitchen plus pantry, a television that only picks up two channels and shows them in a distinct hue, and two beds in the main living area, but it's all they need.
There are two antique shotguns mounted on the wall. They're long past being useful, nothing more than ornaments now but Sam can remember Dean taking them down the last time they were here, hefting the weight of them, checking the sights with an expert eye. Sam remembers watching him with an embarrassed sense of hero worship he knew he should have grown out of long ago.
So he catches Dean's wrist and brings his fingertips up to brush against the wood.
"Do you remember the last time we were here?" says Sam, watching Dean's face closely. Dean moves his fingers along the length of the gun.
"Hey! This is Caleb's place, isn't it? You were all banged up, right?" Dean's mouth slips into a grin and his free hand fumbles about to catch at Sam. "Remember that last night, before Dad came back? Not a goddamn thing left to eat so we had a bottle of Jack between us! That was awesome! You remember, Sammy?"
Sam does remember. He remembers the ache of an empty stomach being drummed away by the hazy throb of too much alcohol. It had been Dean's plan, typically a little crazy but effective. They were stranded and out of food and John hadn't been due back 'til the next day so Dean'd done the only thing he could think of to help them pass the unplanned fast and got them both drunk.
Sam remembers the hangover he had the next day, which he was sure he would prove fatal. He remembered John bawling them both out about it, his concern that they'd run out of food rapidly turning itself to anger. He remembered spending most of the night giggling at something that had seemed hilarious at the time but has apparently not passed the test of time and has since been forgotten.
Most of all, Sam remembers his sudden, startlingly lucid desire to kiss his brother.
He hadn't, of course. And the next day John had taken them on to a rawhead hunt in Ohio and not long after that, Sam applied to Stanford.
He curls his fingers lightly about Dean's hand.
"Yeah," he says. "I remember."