Everything and Nothing (is in the Space Between All Things)
I WROTE WINCEST O.O
or at least implied, past wincest I think. It's also the first time I've ever written SPN fic :S
This is a Sam POV coda to 5.04, PG-13? maybe. 512 words
Supernatural does not belong to me, etc.
Title comes from the song by Idlewild
Everything And Nothing (Is In The Space Between All Things)
The motel room smells musty and like a million other places they have stayed in all over the country. Sam burrows his nose into the pillow, breathing in the familiar scent that is practically synonymous with home these days, after the smell of leather and the cheap shampoo that Dean buys.
There is a crack in the curtains that allows the pale yellow light from the parking lot to highlight the rumpled beds and the beat-up dresser next to the door. It bleaches all color from the room and for a moment Sam feels like he is caught in an old-fashioned photograph that has turned yellow with age. Dean shifting in his sleep breaks the spell and Sam watches the light play over his brothers back. As he stills, his breathing slips once more into the deep, regular patterns of sleep. Sam listens to the quiet noises of Dean’s breathing and it’s like a salve to the lonely nights that have gone before.
In a way it had almost been worse than the previous summer, then Dean was dead, out of reach and it had all been for Sam; Sam had been too numbed by the horror and pain to really function at all. The past few weeks though, he hadn’t had a choice but to live with the bone deep ache of knowing that Dean was only a phone call away, knowing that he could get into his car and be by his side in a couple of hours, but also knowing that Dean just didn’t want him there. Sam thinks that he’s never seen anything more painful than the relief that showed in Dean’s eyes when Sam suggested that it might be better for them to go their separate ways for a while.
Even now, now that Dean has let him come back and given him this chance to prove himself, there is a chasm that yawns open between them. Sam longs to be able to just touch his brother’s arm or even lean comfortably into his space like he used to, but Dean seems to be projecting a barrier around himself, a metaphorical no-fly zone that Sam doesn’t know how to breach.
The desire to be closer to Dean builds as his gaze fixes on the curve of his shoulder and the line of his neck disappearing into his shirt. Sam is moving before he even realizes it, slipping out from beneath his covers and into the chilly air of the room, Dean’s bed dips under his weight as he climbs in and pulls the blankets over himself, trying his best not to wake Dean in the process. He places his head on the spare pillow and inches forward until he can feel the heat from Dean’s body warming his skin. He doesn’t dare move any closer, but lets the comfort of having Dean next to him again lull him into a contented sleep.
When Sam wakes in the morning, Dean has turned in the night to face him and the space between them is a little bit less.
Now continued here
or at least implied, past wincest I think. It's also the first time I've ever written SPN fic :S
This is a Sam POV coda to 5.04, PG-13? maybe. 512 words
Supernatural does not belong to me, etc.
Title comes from the song by Idlewild
Everything And Nothing (Is In The Space Between All Things)
The motel room smells musty and like a million other places they have stayed in all over the country. Sam burrows his nose into the pillow, breathing in the familiar scent that is practically synonymous with home these days, after the smell of leather and the cheap shampoo that Dean buys.
There is a crack in the curtains that allows the pale yellow light from the parking lot to highlight the rumpled beds and the beat-up dresser next to the door. It bleaches all color from the room and for a moment Sam feels like he is caught in an old-fashioned photograph that has turned yellow with age. Dean shifting in his sleep breaks the spell and Sam watches the light play over his brothers back. As he stills, his breathing slips once more into the deep, regular patterns of sleep. Sam listens to the quiet noises of Dean’s breathing and it’s like a salve to the lonely nights that have gone before.
In a way it had almost been worse than the previous summer, then Dean was dead, out of reach and it had all been for Sam; Sam had been too numbed by the horror and pain to really function at all. The past few weeks though, he hadn’t had a choice but to live with the bone deep ache of knowing that Dean was only a phone call away, knowing that he could get into his car and be by his side in a couple of hours, but also knowing that Dean just didn’t want him there. Sam thinks that he’s never seen anything more painful than the relief that showed in Dean’s eyes when Sam suggested that it might be better for them to go their separate ways for a while.
Even now, now that Dean has let him come back and given him this chance to prove himself, there is a chasm that yawns open between them. Sam longs to be able to just touch his brother’s arm or even lean comfortably into his space like he used to, but Dean seems to be projecting a barrier around himself, a metaphorical no-fly zone that Sam doesn’t know how to breach.
The desire to be closer to Dean builds as his gaze fixes on the curve of his shoulder and the line of his neck disappearing into his shirt. Sam is moving before he even realizes it, slipping out from beneath his covers and into the chilly air of the room, Dean’s bed dips under his weight as he climbs in and pulls the blankets over himself, trying his best not to wake Dean in the process. He places his head on the spare pillow and inches forward until he can feel the heat from Dean’s body warming his skin. He doesn’t dare move any closer, but lets the comfort of having Dean next to him again lull him into a contented sleep.
When Sam wakes in the morning, Dean has turned in the night to face him and the space between them is a little bit less.
Now continued here