(no subject)
Sick
Dean Winchester is sick
wrong
filthy
perverted
disgusting
Because there is the most wonderful
awful
smart
stupid
selfless
selfish
perfect
beautiful boy who should not mean so much to him
and every time Dean catches a sideways glimpse of his eyes,
hair,
smile,
or hears him talk,
laugh,
hum,
whine,
it’s not so much of an and/or as it is a both when he thinks he’s an annoying little shit.
the best thing on the whole fucking planet.
Sometimes he’ll actually have to suppress the urge
to lean over and brush the hair from his eyes,
a hand across his cheek,
lips over lips,
and he can barely make it out of the room fast enough
to vomit somewhere safe because he is sick
wrong
disgusting
filthy
and he just wants it to stop.
It’s been this way for as long as he can remember;
they’re driving and everything is normal until
Dean sees him laughing
staring out the window
sleeping
singing (badly)
and a pang of want
love
need
please hits him so hard he can’t think straight.
The hatred
guilt is as constant as the
perversions they are based upon.
He can remember when he was seventeen and this
thing
had only just begun.
He doesn’t think he screwed up
jumped in the way of that creature on purpose
but he can hardly remember that hunt at all.
What he does remember is being surprised
relieved when he sees
the shock of red seeping through his clothes
and thinking that maybe now this sickness
disease
infection
virus will leave him alone.
Lately, though, there have been occasional moments of calm
acceptance
quiet.
Dean’ll see him sleeping with his hair
splayed across the pillow
and instead of thinking “why him”
“please make it stop”
“anyone else”
“I’m sorry Mom”
the only word that comes to mind is bitch
brother
want
love
need
please
and, for once, he doesn’t hate this thing,
because Dean Winchester may be sick,
disgusting,
filthy,
wrong,
but Sammy isn’t.
Dean Winchester is sick
wrong
filthy
perverted
disgusting
Because there is the most wonderful
awful
smart
stupid
selfless
selfish
perfect
beautiful boy who should not mean so much to him
and every time Dean catches a sideways glimpse of his eyes,
hair,
smile,
or hears him talk,
laugh,
hum,
whine,
it’s not so much of an and/or as it is a both when he thinks he’s an annoying little shit.
the best thing on the whole fucking planet.
Sometimes he’ll actually have to suppress the urge
to lean over and brush the hair from his eyes,
a hand across his cheek,
lips over lips,
and he can barely make it out of the room fast enough
to vomit somewhere safe because he is sick
wrong
disgusting
filthy
and he just wants it to stop.
It’s been this way for as long as he can remember;
they’re driving and everything is normal until
Dean sees him laughing
staring out the window
sleeping
singing (badly)
and a pang of want
love
need
please hits him so hard he can’t think straight.
The hatred
guilt is as constant as the
perversions they are based upon.
He can remember when he was seventeen and this
thing
had only just begun.
He doesn’t think he screwed up
jumped in the way of that creature on purpose
but he can hardly remember that hunt at all.
What he does remember is being surprised
relieved when he sees
the shock of red seeping through his clothes
and thinking that maybe now this sickness
disease
infection
virus will leave him alone.
Lately, though, there have been occasional moments of calm
acceptance
quiet.
Dean’ll see him sleeping with his hair
splayed across the pillow
and instead of thinking “why him”
“please make it stop”
“anyone else”
“I’m sorry Mom”
the only word that comes to mind is bitch
brother
want
love
need
please
and, for once, he doesn’t hate this thing,
because Dean Winchester may be sick,
disgusting,
filthy,
wrong,
but Sammy isn’t.