Dean turns over, the sheets soft against his skin and his head on a just-right angle to his pillow. Dad’s snoring somewhere to his left, softer than his usual chainsaw timbre. This is heaven. Dean’s finally bit it. Seventeen’s not a bad time to go. At least he left behind a good-looking stiff.
So this must be his eternal reward (minus the hundred virgins): sleeping in on a Sunday morning in a bed he can stretch out in-except he’s kinda hungry, and stretching hurts like a motherfucker and if he has all this room it means…
Sam?He blinks, letting the dark room come into focus. Sam’s not next to him, not scrunched up against his side in the double bed
( ... )
“Sorry, Sam, sorry. I gotta. You know I’ve gotta…”
Sam whimpers. “’Sokay. Okay.”
On the one hand, he’s relieved to hear Sam speak, but Dean wishes he’d stayed passed out just a little longer so he wouldn’t have to feel this.
And Sam’s looking straight at him, teeth sunk into his lower lip and all Dean can see is trust. Lousy, since Dean’s the one who passed out on him in the woods
( ... )
Wow this was intense. Loved your use of words and detail, especially on describing the blood and both John and Dean were spot on in this one, and Sam drifting off with Dean's amulet in hand was perfect.
I freakin LOVED this. Sam saving and patching up both of them was just magnificent! But I especially loved Dean waking up hurt and trying to put the pieces together while his head's still kind of swimming. And when he finds Sam hurt he goes super protective and won't even let John take care of him. I especially loved that John TRIES to take care of his son; not his fault though that Dean is overprotective.
And Sam pulling Dean's amulet... and Dean whispering reassurances as he does something he KNOWS hurts like hell.
I love when one of the brothers saves the other. And this fic's got a lovely two-for-one deal on that. Thanks!
Dean turns over, the sheets soft against his skin and his head on a just-right angle to his pillow. Dad’s snoring somewhere to his left, softer than his usual chainsaw timbre. This is heaven. Dean’s finally bit it. Seventeen’s not a bad time to go. At least he left behind a good-looking stiff.
So this must be his eternal reward (minus the hundred virgins): sleeping in on a Sunday morning in a bed he can stretch out in-except he’s kinda hungry, and stretching hurts like a motherfucker and if he has all this room it means…
Sam?He blinks, letting the dark room come into focus. Sam’s not next to him, not scrunched up against his side in the double bed ( ... )
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Because Sam’s in there alright, slumped over the toilet while his side leaks blood onto the floor. It pools, thick and dark, drying into a crust.
“Sam, Jesus Christ, Sam,” the words spill out of Dean as he collapses to the floor beside his brother ( ... )
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“Sorry, Sam, sorry. I gotta. You know I’ve gotta…”
Sam whimpers. “’Sokay. Okay.”
On the one hand, he’s relieved to hear Sam speak, but Dean wishes he’d stayed passed out just a little longer so he wouldn’t have to feel this.
And Sam’s looking straight at him, teeth sunk into his lower lip and all Dean can see is trust. Lousy, since Dean’s the one who passed out on him in the woods ( ... )
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And Sam pulling Dean's amulet... and Dean whispering reassurances as he does something he KNOWS hurts like hell.
I love when one of the brothers saves the other. And this fic's got a lovely two-for-one deal on that. Thanks!
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