9.
LOL I just signed up as a guest-reccer for spnroundtable. Maybe this'll finally get me 'round to tagging all my memories into delicious. (Fuck those fuckers for taking away the full stops. You don't wanna know how long it took me to memorise where to put them.)
where the sunsets are all breathtaking (9/?)
PG-13, eventual wincest, AU.
Spoilers for s3 finale.
1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.
nine
Coldplay- Trouble
When Mr Rhodes makes the call a few days later, Dean doesn’t put up much of a fight when Sam insists he stay behind. He doesn’t bother asking why. Sam runs his hands up and down Dean’s arms, like he’s checking for breakages, and grips his biceps a shade too tight and says- intones- “Stay safe,” before he leaves.
He traces a finger down Dean’s face, when Dean is seeing him off at the door feeling a little too much like a housewife for comfort, and adds in a whisper, “Please.”
Without Sam, there isn’t an awful lot for Dean to do. He sprawls on his bed and thinks about sleeping, as he stares up at the ceiling. The room is too big without another person in it; too cold and empty, and Comfort Inn just is not fucking comfortable. He figures there’s only so much sleeping a guy can do before his body rebels against him.
Fuck it, Dean decides, when fifteen minutes have passed by that feel like an hour, and he grabs his jacket on the way out.
*
Calling Pierre a city is kinda pushing it.
On the other hand, it’s biggest place Dean’s been to since Sam pulled him out. People bump into him as they hurry down the street, their elbows knocking into his elbows no matter how tightly he draws them in; and it’s really not that busy, Dean knows it’s really not that busy, nothing like the bustle of Chicago or New York, but--
When he finds a park at the end of the block, he ducks into it without a second thought. It’s not empty, but it’s close enough: a mom and a baby; a guy jogging; couple holding hands as they stroll down the path. A huddle of teenage girls walk past as he sinks down onto a bench, giggling as they look his way, and Dean realises with a jolt that he’s got no idea what day it is, whether they’re skipping class or it’s the weekend already.
He’s not really sure if it matters anymore, anyway.
The jogger gives Dean a nod as he approaches, huffing for breath, but by the time Dean remembers he’s supposed to nod back the guy’s passed by. So Dean leans back, resting his head against the back of the bench and lacing his hands over his stomach. There are clouds overhead. Maybe, he thinks, maybe it’s gonna rain…
His cell is ringing.
He jerks awake, neck stiff as hell and fingers already fumbling his cell phone out of his pocket. The sky’s gone grey, but it’s still bright enough that he has to squint after the darkness of his doze, rubbing a hand across his face as he finally gets his cell out and flips it open.
“Dean, Jesus, are you okay?” Sam’s saying, voice tinny and frantic, the second he answers the call. “Tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” Dean says. “Sorry, man, just went to the park. How’d things go with--”
“Never mind that,” Sam snaps. “Where are you? Which park? The one at the end of the block?”
“Yeah--”
“Don’t move. I mean it, Dean, do not move. I’m coming to get you.” And with that, Sam hangs up.
Dean stares down at the cell phone in his hand for a couple seconds, then slips it back into his pocket. It’s not a big park, and he didn’t go very far into it anyway, figuring the first bench he saw was the one for him, so he’s got a clear view of the entrance when Sam comes running through it not even a minute later.
He’s running; he’s really, really running, and when he spots Dean he just gets faster.
Dean’s already on his feet, arms spread and hands splayed, hey look I’m fine, when Sam reaches him. He barely slows down, sure as hell doesn’t bother pausing to say hi, just grabs hold of Dean and draws him in tight. One arm goes around Dean’s shoulders and the other wraps around his back and Sam’s head buries itself in the crook of his neck, and before Dean knows it he’s enveloped in-- in Sam.
“Thought you were gone,” Sam says, mouth against the hollow of Dean’s throat. “Thought you were gone. Jesus, Dean, don’t do that to me. Don’t you ever fucking-- It’s like I’m walking around with no eyes and no hands. Used to be able to feel you, just know you were alive, but now I. I. God, don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”
“Hey,” Dean murmurs. “Hey.”
He wraps his free arm around Sam, rubs a hand up and down his back. Sam’s shaking, he realises.
“I won’t leave you,” Dean says, and he’s almost certain it’s the truth.
where the sunsets are all breathtaking (9/?)
PG-13, eventual wincest, AU.
Spoilers for s3 finale.
1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.
nine
Coldplay- Trouble
When Mr Rhodes makes the call a few days later, Dean doesn’t put up much of a fight when Sam insists he stay behind. He doesn’t bother asking why. Sam runs his hands up and down Dean’s arms, like he’s checking for breakages, and grips his biceps a shade too tight and says- intones- “Stay safe,” before he leaves.
He traces a finger down Dean’s face, when Dean is seeing him off at the door feeling a little too much like a housewife for comfort, and adds in a whisper, “Please.”
Without Sam, there isn’t an awful lot for Dean to do. He sprawls on his bed and thinks about sleeping, as he stares up at the ceiling. The room is too big without another person in it; too cold and empty, and Comfort Inn just is not fucking comfortable. He figures there’s only so much sleeping a guy can do before his body rebels against him.
Fuck it, Dean decides, when fifteen minutes have passed by that feel like an hour, and he grabs his jacket on the way out.
*
Calling Pierre a city is kinda pushing it.
On the other hand, it’s biggest place Dean’s been to since Sam pulled him out. People bump into him as they hurry down the street, their elbows knocking into his elbows no matter how tightly he draws them in; and it’s really not that busy, Dean knows it’s really not that busy, nothing like the bustle of Chicago or New York, but--
When he finds a park at the end of the block, he ducks into it without a second thought. It’s not empty, but it’s close enough: a mom and a baby; a guy jogging; couple holding hands as they stroll down the path. A huddle of teenage girls walk past as he sinks down onto a bench, giggling as they look his way, and Dean realises with a jolt that he’s got no idea what day it is, whether they’re skipping class or it’s the weekend already.
He’s not really sure if it matters anymore, anyway.
The jogger gives Dean a nod as he approaches, huffing for breath, but by the time Dean remembers he’s supposed to nod back the guy’s passed by. So Dean leans back, resting his head against the back of the bench and lacing his hands over his stomach. There are clouds overhead. Maybe, he thinks, maybe it’s gonna rain…
His cell is ringing.
He jerks awake, neck stiff as hell and fingers already fumbling his cell phone out of his pocket. The sky’s gone grey, but it’s still bright enough that he has to squint after the darkness of his doze, rubbing a hand across his face as he finally gets his cell out and flips it open.
“Dean, Jesus, are you okay?” Sam’s saying, voice tinny and frantic, the second he answers the call. “Tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” Dean says. “Sorry, man, just went to the park. How’d things go with--”
“Never mind that,” Sam snaps. “Where are you? Which park? The one at the end of the block?”
“Yeah--”
“Don’t move. I mean it, Dean, do not move. I’m coming to get you.” And with that, Sam hangs up.
Dean stares down at the cell phone in his hand for a couple seconds, then slips it back into his pocket. It’s not a big park, and he didn’t go very far into it anyway, figuring the first bench he saw was the one for him, so he’s got a clear view of the entrance when Sam comes running through it not even a minute later.
He’s running; he’s really, really running, and when he spots Dean he just gets faster.
Dean’s already on his feet, arms spread and hands splayed, hey look I’m fine, when Sam reaches him. He barely slows down, sure as hell doesn’t bother pausing to say hi, just grabs hold of Dean and draws him in tight. One arm goes around Dean’s shoulders and the other wraps around his back and Sam’s head buries itself in the crook of his neck, and before Dean knows it he’s enveloped in-- in Sam.
“Thought you were gone,” Sam says, mouth against the hollow of Dean’s throat. “Thought you were gone. Jesus, Dean, don’t do that to me. Don’t you ever fucking-- It’s like I’m walking around with no eyes and no hands. Used to be able to feel you, just know you were alive, but now I. I. God, don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”
“Hey,” Dean murmurs. “Hey.”
He wraps his free arm around Sam, rubs a hand up and down his back. Sam’s shaking, he realises.
“I won’t leave you,” Dean says, and he’s almost certain it’s the truth.