FIC - Ever lovin' baby
My ever lovin’ baby
Sam/Dean:
NC-17, underage, character death, suicide, dark and sad
a/n: Inspired by Emmylou Harris and friends singing “Didn’t Leave Nobody But the Baby”, if you don’t know it you might want to youtube the song before reading.
summary: This does not have a happy ending and it’s gotten mixed reviews from my beta-readers, to whom I am incredibly grateful. I am happy for feedback, whether it’s good or bad, as always.
It started the way you’d think it would start. Two teenage boys who shared a room and sometimes just one bed, rarely having contact with anyone but each other.
(Your mama’s gone away and your daddy’s gonna stay)
Given the circumstances of the way they grew up, Dean had always taken care of Sam, and part of that was sleeping next to his little brother and holding him when he was scared or feeling lonely. It’s just that they didn’t grow out of it, didn’t stop when they started getting older.
Dean still saw Sam as his responsibility, and Sam still needed comfort and that sense of closeness he felt when he was surrounded by Dean when it was cold or dark or he heard a noise outside the window.
(Don’t you weep, pretty baby)
Eventually, the inevitable occurred, and one night as they were holding onto each other in bed, both boys realized they were rock-hard and not just headed toward sleep. Not surprisingly, it was Sam who made the first move into “that” territory. Dean wanted to, Jesusfuck he wanted to, but he never would have, because Sammy was his baby brother and there was no way he was going to fuck him up at the ridiculous age of fourteen because he had some kind of twisted switch in his brain that forced him to imagine touching and kissing Sam, even more than that, but it was wrong, of course it was wrong, how could it not be wrong? And Sam was still just a kid, right?
(You’re a sweet little baby)
But he wasn’t looking so much like a kid these days, which made it more difficult for Dean to keep those feelings in check. And right this minute, he sure as hell wasn’t acting like a kid.
As soon as Sam realized that Dean was as turned on as he was, he took the moment to act on their shared fantasy. Not that they had previously shared the fantasy to each other, but shared all the same, because they both had it. Sam pushed his cock against Dean’s. He was nervous and scared but he had wanted it for so long, at least two years, maybe more than that before he even knew what it was, but it felt like forever that he’d been waiting for this. So he just forced all the inhibitions away because he could hear the sounds of pleasure coming from Dean’s lips.
If his brother had shown in any way that he wasn’t on board, Sam would have backed off and pretended to be asleep, turned over, tried to pretend it was a teenage sex dream. (the normal kind, not the kind involving a close blood relative). But Dean’s mouth was still making those sounds and his body was reacting as if he wanted Sam as much as Sam wanted him.
Mouth, body, lips. Yes. Sam wanted those lips against his, so he moved his head enough to put his lips on Dean’s. He’d never really even kissed a girl, not like this, so he was unsure, a little apprehensive, but no matter what kind of bravado Dean portrayed, Sam had always been the gambler. Knowing what to throw away, knowing what to keep. And this…the feeling of Dean opening his mouth to let him in, Dean grabbing at his messy hair, Dean grinding back against him…Sam wanted to keep this.
(You and me and the devil makes three)
Dean’s head was spinning, caught between WRONG, you’re not looking out for his safety, you’re corrupting him, you’re taking advantage of him, and RIGHT, this is exactly what you need and what he needs and he’s the one who’s initiating this contact so I’m not doing anything that I shouldn’t. I mean, aside from making out with my little brother and letting our dicks grind against each other under the covers. Speaking of which, Dean’s dick was so totally not coordinating signals with his brain right that second. So his cock told his brain to shut up, his brain promptly shut up, and all was right with the world.
And so it went, the consummation of what had become, over the years, a love story that would leave all other epic love stories of history in the dust. They were the ones who would go anywhere, do anything, give up whatever they had to just so long as they could stay with each other.
A decade later, with time apart and together, loving and leaving and missing and furious and desperate weaved into the years indelibly; they loved each other just as much as that first moment when they realized exactly how connected they were.
So while it may have started the way you’d think it would start, it didn’t end the way you thought or hoped or wanted it to end.
Sam screamed and cried and stood helplessly as he stared as his brother’s body. He’d taken care of the Wendigo, all right, but it was too late. By the time the monster was gone, so was Dean. Logically, he’d always known. Most hunters don’t die peacefully in their beds at an old age, right? Everyone knew that. But like this? Already? How? It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, Dean was a fucking hero, an invisible and transient hero who never got any recognition, yeah, but still, yes, he gave everything he had to protect innocent people and ended up lying dead on the ground of some forest in the middle of nowhere not having seen his thirtieth birthday. Sam dropped to his knees and wept and screamed again and cursed and dared the Wendigo to come back so he could kill it again.
Didn't leave nobody but the baby
Then it was just the two of them, Sam held onto Dean’s lifeless body, staring into green eyes that were as empty as Sam’s own heart. Something inside him snapped, and his grief was assuaged by a calm, determined decision.
Dean was all he had. There was no one else left.
(Everybody’s gone in the cotton and the corn)
He pulled out the knife that Dean always kept in his boot, kissed the still warm body of his brother, his lover, his entire world. His tears fell onto Dean’s slack face, and Sam took a moment to pray for a miracle, but he knew in his heart that his prayers fell on deaf ears.
He slashed through his jeans and right into his femoral artery, screaming with the pain. For good measure, he used what strength he had left to cut open his own carotid, feeling the blood rush out of both spots. No more than a few minutes later, he felt himself slipping away.
In his head, there was a faint echo of a lullaby, come and lay your bones on the alabaster stones, and he settled into the fact that this was the only happily ever after they’d ever get. They weren’t Edward and Wallis, they were Tristan and Isolde. They were the ones who could not live if the other wasn’t with him. He slid his body onto Dean’s and waited to be taken, because he already knew that life without him wasn’t really life at all. Wherever they were going, they would be together. Together was all they had. Sam turned his head and pressed his lips to Dean’s bloody chest as he felt the darkness take him over and felt so much less scared than he thought he would about dying. Because he knew that he was going with Dean. He would follow his big brother, even if it meant following him into death.
(Go to sleep, you little baby)
Sam/Dean:
NC-17, underage, character death, suicide, dark and sad
a/n: Inspired by Emmylou Harris and friends singing “Didn’t Leave Nobody But the Baby”, if you don’t know it you might want to youtube the song before reading.
summary: This does not have a happy ending and it’s gotten mixed reviews from my beta-readers, to whom I am incredibly grateful. I am happy for feedback, whether it’s good or bad, as always.
It started the way you’d think it would start. Two teenage boys who shared a room and sometimes just one bed, rarely having contact with anyone but each other.
(Your mama’s gone away and your daddy’s gonna stay)
Given the circumstances of the way they grew up, Dean had always taken care of Sam, and part of that was sleeping next to his little brother and holding him when he was scared or feeling lonely. It’s just that they didn’t grow out of it, didn’t stop when they started getting older.
Dean still saw Sam as his responsibility, and Sam still needed comfort and that sense of closeness he felt when he was surrounded by Dean when it was cold or dark or he heard a noise outside the window.
(Don’t you weep, pretty baby)
Eventually, the inevitable occurred, and one night as they were holding onto each other in bed, both boys realized they were rock-hard and not just headed toward sleep. Not surprisingly, it was Sam who made the first move into “that” territory. Dean wanted to, Jesusfuck he wanted to, but he never would have, because Sammy was his baby brother and there was no way he was going to fuck him up at the ridiculous age of fourteen because he had some kind of twisted switch in his brain that forced him to imagine touching and kissing Sam, even more than that, but it was wrong, of course it was wrong, how could it not be wrong? And Sam was still just a kid, right?
(You’re a sweet little baby)
But he wasn’t looking so much like a kid these days, which made it more difficult for Dean to keep those feelings in check. And right this minute, he sure as hell wasn’t acting like a kid.
As soon as Sam realized that Dean was as turned on as he was, he took the moment to act on their shared fantasy. Not that they had previously shared the fantasy to each other, but shared all the same, because they both had it. Sam pushed his cock against Dean’s. He was nervous and scared but he had wanted it for so long, at least two years, maybe more than that before he even knew what it was, but it felt like forever that he’d been waiting for this. So he just forced all the inhibitions away because he could hear the sounds of pleasure coming from Dean’s lips.
If his brother had shown in any way that he wasn’t on board, Sam would have backed off and pretended to be asleep, turned over, tried to pretend it was a teenage sex dream. (the normal kind, not the kind involving a close blood relative). But Dean’s mouth was still making those sounds and his body was reacting as if he wanted Sam as much as Sam wanted him.
Mouth, body, lips. Yes. Sam wanted those lips against his, so he moved his head enough to put his lips on Dean’s. He’d never really even kissed a girl, not like this, so he was unsure, a little apprehensive, but no matter what kind of bravado Dean portrayed, Sam had always been the gambler. Knowing what to throw away, knowing what to keep. And this…the feeling of Dean opening his mouth to let him in, Dean grabbing at his messy hair, Dean grinding back against him…Sam wanted to keep this.
(You and me and the devil makes three)
Dean’s head was spinning, caught between WRONG, you’re not looking out for his safety, you’re corrupting him, you’re taking advantage of him, and RIGHT, this is exactly what you need and what he needs and he’s the one who’s initiating this contact so I’m not doing anything that I shouldn’t. I mean, aside from making out with my little brother and letting our dicks grind against each other under the covers. Speaking of which, Dean’s dick was so totally not coordinating signals with his brain right that second. So his cock told his brain to shut up, his brain promptly shut up, and all was right with the world.
And so it went, the consummation of what had become, over the years, a love story that would leave all other epic love stories of history in the dust. They were the ones who would go anywhere, do anything, give up whatever they had to just so long as they could stay with each other.
A decade later, with time apart and together, loving and leaving and missing and furious and desperate weaved into the years indelibly; they loved each other just as much as that first moment when they realized exactly how connected they were.
So while it may have started the way you’d think it would start, it didn’t end the way you thought or hoped or wanted it to end.
Sam screamed and cried and stood helplessly as he stared as his brother’s body. He’d taken care of the Wendigo, all right, but it was too late. By the time the monster was gone, so was Dean. Logically, he’d always known. Most hunters don’t die peacefully in their beds at an old age, right? Everyone knew that. But like this? Already? How? It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, Dean was a fucking hero, an invisible and transient hero who never got any recognition, yeah, but still, yes, he gave everything he had to protect innocent people and ended up lying dead on the ground of some forest in the middle of nowhere not having seen his thirtieth birthday. Sam dropped to his knees and wept and screamed again and cursed and dared the Wendigo to come back so he could kill it again.
Didn't leave nobody but the baby
Then it was just the two of them, Sam held onto Dean’s lifeless body, staring into green eyes that were as empty as Sam’s own heart. Something inside him snapped, and his grief was assuaged by a calm, determined decision.
Dean was all he had. There was no one else left.
(Everybody’s gone in the cotton and the corn)
He pulled out the knife that Dean always kept in his boot, kissed the still warm body of his brother, his lover, his entire world. His tears fell onto Dean’s slack face, and Sam took a moment to pray for a miracle, but he knew in his heart that his prayers fell on deaf ears.
He slashed through his jeans and right into his femoral artery, screaming with the pain. For good measure, he used what strength he had left to cut open his own carotid, feeling the blood rush out of both spots. No more than a few minutes later, he felt himself slipping away.
In his head, there was a faint echo of a lullaby, come and lay your bones on the alabaster stones, and he settled into the fact that this was the only happily ever after they’d ever get. They weren’t Edward and Wallis, they were Tristan and Isolde. They were the ones who could not live if the other wasn’t with him. He slid his body onto Dean’s and waited to be taken, because he already knew that life without him wasn’t really life at all. Wherever they were going, they would be together. Together was all they had. Sam turned his head and pressed his lips to Dean’s bloody chest as he felt the darkness take him over and felt so much less scared than he thought he would about dying. Because he knew that he was going with Dean. He would follow his big brother, even if it meant following him into death.
(Go to sleep, you little baby)