Supernatural: Desire of Fault Lines [Soulless-Sam-learns-to-love!Verse]
Title:
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13 for a lot of touching and language.
Word Count: 1,107
Author’s Note: For sagetan who requested a timestamp to All Fired Up, This Soul in which Sam suffers a setback in recovery.
Summary: They've been coasting by for almost two months with no nightmares, no blackouts, not even a botched hunt. Sam was bound to snap again sometime.
It's the crying that wakes him. Dean's not surprised by it, not after yesterday. They've been coasting by for almost two months with no nightmares, no blackouts, not even a botched hunt. Sam was bound to snap again sometime, and it's no surprise that the angel hunt is the straw that broke his brother's back.
He sits up in bed and shuffles over to Sam, sliding in closer. He wraps an arm around his brother's middle and puts his lips to Sam's ear, shushing him quietly. Just that is usually enough to bring Sam back, but now instead of relaxing into Dean's arms, Sam lashes out.
"No, no, no," he murmurs. "You're not him."
Dean's soothing sounds all get caught in his throat. Sam hasn't said that to him since Dean finally convinced him to-oh, shit. Sam's burying his face in the pillow as if he's trying to black out any chance he has of seeing Dean.
"Sammy," he whispers, trying to push the pillow away, but Sam's grip on it is too tight. "Sammy, we went through this already, remember? You can look at me, it's safe."
"No," Sam replies. The word gets caught in the thick fabric of the pillow and Sam adds a stubborn little shake of his head that reminds Dean of when he was a whiny, petulant little brat. Not much has changed, really, just the fact that Sam's not so little anymore...and the tricks Dean uses to calm him.
"Hey," he says, running his index finger down Sam's spine. He feels Sam tense up under his touch, but he keeps going until his hands are on Sam's hips. He grips tight to the side of them and brings his brother back until his ass is flush against Dean's groin. This isn't sexual, not now. This is about putting as much of himself as possible between Sam and whatever nightmare he woke up in. "Tell me, does Lucifer do this?"
Dean inches forward, grabbing Sam so that his massive back is against Dean's chest, and Dean seals his mouth over one of the moles on the back of Sam's neck.
Sam whimpers, and Dean smiles against his flesh, even though he's not really in the smiling mood. He needs Sam to feel it. "Hmm?" Dean brushes the short hairs on the back of Sam's neck aside as much as possible and kisses the newly exposed skin. "Did he know how much you like that?"
Sam is still crying. It's quieter now, and Dean doesn't tell him to stop. Sam needs to let it out anyway he can, and they've been through too much for Dean to still get uncomfortable over a little crying.
Instead he brings his hand around to rub a circle on Sam's stomach before tucking his fingers into the top of Sam's boxers. Sam is shivering. Dean remembers that too well. It's been six months of slow improvements since Sam finally opened his eyes, and the first three, it didn’t matter how damn hot Dean made the room. He fell asleep every night to the sound of Sam's teeth chattering.
"'m gonna warm you up, Sam," Dean promises, draping a leg over both of Sam's. Trying to get a little body heat going, but Sam's the one who used to be a furnace, and Dean feels mostly useless. "Want me to get another blanket?"
Sam doesn't answer, so Dean starts to rise, but Sam reaches up with the hand he'd had tucked under his pillow and holds Dean in place. "Dean."
Dean settles back into him again. "Yeah, baby. It's me."
"The voice said Dean needed me. I tried to follow the voice." Sam's not making any sense, but Dean doesn’t need him to, as long as he gets it all out. He talks about this voice a lot, and Dean's still got no clue what the fuck it means, but it has something to do with his soul coming back, he knows that much. "I had to fight so hard and I never found it."
"You found it," Dean tells him. "You came back for me, Sam." Dean kisses him on the shoulder blade and hugs him closer. "Thank you, Sammy. I'm real glad you came back. Can you do that again? For me? Come back, okay?"
"I can't," he cries. "I can't find him and you're not real and I need you to be real. I'll give up if you're not real."
Dean hesitates. "Look at me."
Sam starts to struggle, but Dean is expecting the bad reaction. He pins Sam down. "Sam, I know you're scared. But you gotta. You gotta look at me and see that I'm okay and you're okay. Or you're never going to come back. And I do need you to, Sam. The voice was telling you the truth."
"Not gonna," Sam insists, continuing to fight until Dean's got no damn choice but to wrestle him flat onto his back, straddle him and hover above him, holding Sam's arms down against the mattress.
Sam's eyes are closed under him. No surprise there.
"Look at me," he demands again.
Sam peeks out of one eye and then opens the other, staring up at Dean. Dean can see the dazed expression as it fades from his eyes until finally he blinks, says, "Dean?"
"Yeah," Dean replies, letting go of one arm and brushing hair out of Sam's face. "See? I'm okay. You're okay. It's like a fucking party up in here."
Sam tilts his head a bit, moving to place one hand on each side of Dean's hips. "I'm glad to hear that. Is that all you woke me up to say, or did you have a little more in mind?"
Sam rolls his hips under Dean and grins wickedly. He scared the fucking life out of Dean, and he doesn't even remember. It's not fair to Dean, but then what is?
In the moonlight, Dean sees Sam's eyebrows draw together. He sits up just enough to reach up and stroke a thumb on Dean's cheek. "Dean, are you okay? You look terrified."
Dean's voice gets caught in his throat, but he manages to recover himself after a few more seconds of shock. "I-I just told you I'm okay, didn't I? Idiot."
Sam smiles softly, like he's kind of happy and really okay, and Dean always knew there would be stumbles. Maybe it's for the better if Sam can't even remember them. No reason for Dean to let on anything's wrong.
He bends down and presses his lips to Sam's, hoping if he kisses hard enough, he'll forget, too.
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13 for a lot of touching and language.
Word Count: 1,107
Author’s Note: For sagetan who requested a timestamp to All Fired Up, This Soul in which Sam suffers a setback in recovery.
Summary: They've been coasting by for almost two months with no nightmares, no blackouts, not even a botched hunt. Sam was bound to snap again sometime.
It's the crying that wakes him. Dean's not surprised by it, not after yesterday. They've been coasting by for almost two months with no nightmares, no blackouts, not even a botched hunt. Sam was bound to snap again sometime, and it's no surprise that the angel hunt is the straw that broke his brother's back.
He sits up in bed and shuffles over to Sam, sliding in closer. He wraps an arm around his brother's middle and puts his lips to Sam's ear, shushing him quietly. Just that is usually enough to bring Sam back, but now instead of relaxing into Dean's arms, Sam lashes out.
"No, no, no," he murmurs. "You're not him."
Dean's soothing sounds all get caught in his throat. Sam hasn't said that to him since Dean finally convinced him to-oh, shit. Sam's burying his face in the pillow as if he's trying to black out any chance he has of seeing Dean.
"Sammy," he whispers, trying to push the pillow away, but Sam's grip on it is too tight. "Sammy, we went through this already, remember? You can look at me, it's safe."
"No," Sam replies. The word gets caught in the thick fabric of the pillow and Sam adds a stubborn little shake of his head that reminds Dean of when he was a whiny, petulant little brat. Not much has changed, really, just the fact that Sam's not so little anymore...and the tricks Dean uses to calm him.
"Hey," he says, running his index finger down Sam's spine. He feels Sam tense up under his touch, but he keeps going until his hands are on Sam's hips. He grips tight to the side of them and brings his brother back until his ass is flush against Dean's groin. This isn't sexual, not now. This is about putting as much of himself as possible between Sam and whatever nightmare he woke up in. "Tell me, does Lucifer do this?"
Dean inches forward, grabbing Sam so that his massive back is against Dean's chest, and Dean seals his mouth over one of the moles on the back of Sam's neck.
Sam whimpers, and Dean smiles against his flesh, even though he's not really in the smiling mood. He needs Sam to feel it. "Hmm?" Dean brushes the short hairs on the back of Sam's neck aside as much as possible and kisses the newly exposed skin. "Did he know how much you like that?"
Sam is still crying. It's quieter now, and Dean doesn't tell him to stop. Sam needs to let it out anyway he can, and they've been through too much for Dean to still get uncomfortable over a little crying.
Instead he brings his hand around to rub a circle on Sam's stomach before tucking his fingers into the top of Sam's boxers. Sam is shivering. Dean remembers that too well. It's been six months of slow improvements since Sam finally opened his eyes, and the first three, it didn’t matter how damn hot Dean made the room. He fell asleep every night to the sound of Sam's teeth chattering.
"'m gonna warm you up, Sam," Dean promises, draping a leg over both of Sam's. Trying to get a little body heat going, but Sam's the one who used to be a furnace, and Dean feels mostly useless. "Want me to get another blanket?"
Sam doesn't answer, so Dean starts to rise, but Sam reaches up with the hand he'd had tucked under his pillow and holds Dean in place. "Dean."
Dean settles back into him again. "Yeah, baby. It's me."
"The voice said Dean needed me. I tried to follow the voice." Sam's not making any sense, but Dean doesn’t need him to, as long as he gets it all out. He talks about this voice a lot, and Dean's still got no clue what the fuck it means, but it has something to do with his soul coming back, he knows that much. "I had to fight so hard and I never found it."
"You found it," Dean tells him. "You came back for me, Sam." Dean kisses him on the shoulder blade and hugs him closer. "Thank you, Sammy. I'm real glad you came back. Can you do that again? For me? Come back, okay?"
"I can't," he cries. "I can't find him and you're not real and I need you to be real. I'll give up if you're not real."
Dean hesitates. "Look at me."
Sam starts to struggle, but Dean is expecting the bad reaction. He pins Sam down. "Sam, I know you're scared. But you gotta. You gotta look at me and see that I'm okay and you're okay. Or you're never going to come back. And I do need you to, Sam. The voice was telling you the truth."
"Not gonna," Sam insists, continuing to fight until Dean's got no damn choice but to wrestle him flat onto his back, straddle him and hover above him, holding Sam's arms down against the mattress.
Sam's eyes are closed under him. No surprise there.
"Look at me," he demands again.
Sam peeks out of one eye and then opens the other, staring up at Dean. Dean can see the dazed expression as it fades from his eyes until finally he blinks, says, "Dean?"
"Yeah," Dean replies, letting go of one arm and brushing hair out of Sam's face. "See? I'm okay. You're okay. It's like a fucking party up in here."
Sam tilts his head a bit, moving to place one hand on each side of Dean's hips. "I'm glad to hear that. Is that all you woke me up to say, or did you have a little more in mind?"
Sam rolls his hips under Dean and grins wickedly. He scared the fucking life out of Dean, and he doesn't even remember. It's not fair to Dean, but then what is?
In the moonlight, Dean sees Sam's eyebrows draw together. He sits up just enough to reach up and stroke a thumb on Dean's cheek. "Dean, are you okay? You look terrified."
Dean's voice gets caught in his throat, but he manages to recover himself after a few more seconds of shock. "I-I just told you I'm okay, didn't I? Idiot."
Sam smiles softly, like he's kind of happy and really okay, and Dean always knew there would be stumbles. Maybe it's for the better if Sam can't even remember them. No reason for Dean to let on anything's wrong.
He bends down and presses his lips to Sam's, hoping if he kisses hard enough, he'll forget, too.