Today DruCT: 10.28 --Linking soon! My fic: Slash (Wincest: Dean/Sam) oneshot Adult rating Preseries ~570 words
- - - - -
Dru’s Pic Pick
Sam sat outside, looking up into the sunlight so that it made him squint. Squint enough that the tears in his eyes could be blamed on the burning light and not on the crumpled newspaper in his hand.
Dean had picked up the paper on his way home from the garage, a job that he’d picked up during their first week here and a job that would last until Dad was home again to take them away from all this. As usual, Dean came inside the small duplex they shared with a young married couple on the other side, tossed the paper on the table, and toed off his boots.
“Anything new?” Dean asked, poking his head in the refrigerator. He grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator, popped the cap with his ring, and came back to where Sam was studying at the table.
“Not that I know of,” Sam said with a shrug. Senior year in high school, and he was doing everything he could to stay ahead and stay on top of things, while not exposing himself and his secret-college-to Dean. Not just yet.
Dean reached for the newspaper and flicked it open. As usual, he checked the obituaries first. It was common practice.
“Always sucks to see somebody die young,” Dean said after a long pause.
“Huh?”
“Here.” Dean opened the paper further so that Sam could see it, laid it down on the table between them and pointed to the small black and white photo in the corner of the page. “Eighteen years old. Just like you.” Dean frowned. “Too damn young.”
Sam’s heart dropped somewhere past his stomach, past his cock, past his knees and down right into his ankles. “I knew him,” he said at last.
“What?” Dean looked up, puzzled.
“We came here a few years ago, remember? He and I…we were sort of good friends. I wondered what happened to him when we came back this time. I…” Sam shook his head. Standing, he pushed his chair out from the table. “I need to get some air.” He grabbed the front section of the newspaper and walked towards the door.
Now, here he was, staring at the sun, watching the shadows that fell like staircases against the opposite wall, and wondering why somebody so young had to die. Sure, it was one thing for him and Dean to expect a short lifespan. It was just par for the course, really. But for someone so normal? Someone who had so much going for him?
Sam shoved at his eye with his fist, as if willing the tears to stop with his knuckle alone. God, he hadn’t even known the kid that long. But, it had been long enough. Someone who had befriended him despite his quirks, despite the secrets, and looming darkness.
“Hey, Sammy?”
Sam furiously wiped away the last of his tears. But, he couldn’t turn around and look at Dean, who sat down beside him.
“You all right?” Dean asked.
Sam nodded, thick, warm lump in his throat. He wanted to say so much to Dean. Bout how it wasn’t fair. And it wasn’t right.
But, Dean seemed to know it already. He leaned in, wrapped an arm around Sam’s waist and pulled him in tight. “It’ll be okay,” he whispered, nose pressed into the top of Sam’s hair. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”