fic: Letting Go - Sam/Trickster
Title: Letting Go
Author: wolfish_willow
Pairing: Sam/Trickster
Rating: R
Genre: angst, hurt/comfort(sorta...)
Spoilers: Mystery Spot (3.11)
Warnings: unbeta'd
Word Count: 969
Disclaimer: Not my characters. Just using them for a bit of fun. They belong to Kripke.
Summary: Sam's seen his brother die a hundred times. He'll take comfort from whoever is willing to give it.
A/N 1: Written for the first prompt in spn_las. I saw that we were allowed to repost our stories now, and decided, why not?
A/N 2: Okay, I had a lot of fun writing this. More fun than I thought I would have. And I had a helluva time keeping this within the 1000 word count maximum. I'm thinking about possibly expanding this somehow, because I really didn't want to stop writing this when I did. I'm not sure. If anyone would be interested in seeing that, let me know. It might motivate me to get to it. (More than likely after I get my Big Bang fic finished, as it's currently eating my brain...)
The room is different from the one he's woken up in every morning so many times now. Honestly, Sam thinks he might be starting to go a little insane. He can't think of any other reason that he isn't reaching for the nearest stake he can find and lunging into the Trickster sitting in a chair across from his own. It didn't do any good last time, obviously, but that doesn't explain why Sam is just sitting back in his own oversized armchair, like it's normal, like he shouldn't be trying to kill the thing that has killed his brother over a hundred times and doesn't seem ready to stop any time soon.
When the Trickster stands up from his chair, Sam doesn't tense like he knows he should. He just follows the Demi-god's movements with his eyes, watches as the Trickster walks towards him with steady strides. Sam knows he should move, too. Should get out of the seat and as far away from the creature in front of him as possible or find that stake he knows he had on him earlier. But he doesn't and the only explanation he can come up with is that he's finally started going insane. He's surprised it didn't happen sooner. Watching your brother killed over and over again probably has that effect on a person.
Before Sam knows it, the Trickster is standing in front of him, over him, and the first thought in his head is how weird it is to be looking up at the creature for once. Any other thoughts he might have freeze halfway through forming as he watches the Demi-god's hand lift towards him, and Sam is frozen in place; knows he wouldn't be able to get away even if he had the energy to try.
Sam closes his eyes at the first touch of the Trickster's fingers on his head, carding through his hair. He knows he should stop this; get up, move away, scream, something, but he doesn't. He's exhausted, all the Tuesdays catching up with him, nights without real sleep, and the fingers combing through is hair feel enough like comfort that he finds himself pushing his head into the touch, and when the hand moves down to cup his cheek he nuzzles into it before opening his eyes to look up at the Trickster once more.
"Please," he says, voice cracking and hoarse like he's been crying, even though he finally stopped crying ten deaths back. Sam doesn't know what he's asking for, knows he should be trying to persuade this creature to stop killing his brother, to let the time loop end. He wants it all to be over, but he doesn't know how to ask for that, how to get this being to listen to him. The Trickster above him smirks down at him, but Sam decides the softer edge to it is all his imagination.
The Demi-god leans forward and down and Sam stays where he is, leans his head into the hold of the Trickster's hand. When those lips cover his own Sam opens his mouth on a gasp and lets the other man in, taking comfort in letting himself go, in not thinking about what's going to happen next. He allows himself to be pulled up off the seat and steps back, following the other's lead until the backs of his legs hit a bed and he falls back onto it, sprawled in front of the being who still somehow manages to form a smug smirk, even with kiss-swollen lips.
Sam remembers the rest as a blur of snapshots in his mind. Clothes snapped away, skin against hot skin driving him crazy as their lips come together again. The feeling of being full, in a way he had never even thought to try before, and coming harder than he ever had, before falling together in a tangle of limbs on the bed and letting sleep take him, feeling relaxed and sated for the first time since they arrived at the Mystery Spot.
When he wakes up, the Trickster is tracing a finger in random shapes on his back and Sam doesn't want to move, to face another day of watching his brother die, but knows he doesn't have a choice. He lifts his eyes to meet the Trickster's hazel ones and knows this hasn't changed anything, it's still going to be Tuesday whenever he's snapped back into his motel and he's going to keep trying to find a way to end the time loop. Sam will keep trying to make it to midnight because he refuses to believe that he can't save his brother, won't let that be an option.
Sam thinks the almost sad look that flashes through the Trickster's eyes at that moment is yet another product of his obviously fragile mind, and doesn't hesitate to push up into the fingers in his hair once more before he hears a snap and everything goes dark.
Asia's Heat of the Moment fills the air once more as Sam's eyes snap open and he looks over to see Dean going through the same motions he's done over a hundred times now. Nothing's changed, it's like the night before never happened. And maybe it didn't, maybe it was just Sam's imagination getting the better of him. But he feels almost better than he did the last Tuesday he woke up to Dean's "rise and shine, Sammy". Like letting go, letting something happen without fighting it the whole way helped to balance him out a little.
But whatever it is, he can't let himself think on it for long. He's got another day of trying to keep his brother alive.
It doesn't occur to Sam that letting go, the way he'd done that night, is all it might take.
Author: wolfish_willow
Pairing: Sam/Trickster
Rating: R
Genre: angst, hurt/comfort(sorta...)
Spoilers: Mystery Spot (3.11)
Warnings: unbeta'd
Word Count: 969
Disclaimer: Not my characters. Just using them for a bit of fun. They belong to Kripke.
Summary: Sam's seen his brother die a hundred times. He'll take comfort from whoever is willing to give it.
A/N 1: Written for the first prompt in spn_las. I saw that we were allowed to repost our stories now, and decided, why not?
A/N 2: Okay, I had a lot of fun writing this. More fun than I thought I would have. And I had a helluva time keeping this within the 1000 word count maximum. I'm thinking about possibly expanding this somehow, because I really didn't want to stop writing this when I did. I'm not sure. If anyone would be interested in seeing that, let me know. It might motivate me to get to it. (More than likely after I get my Big Bang fic finished, as it's currently eating my brain...)
The room is different from the one he's woken up in every morning so many times now. Honestly, Sam thinks he might be starting to go a little insane. He can't think of any other reason that he isn't reaching for the nearest stake he can find and lunging into the Trickster sitting in a chair across from his own. It didn't do any good last time, obviously, but that doesn't explain why Sam is just sitting back in his own oversized armchair, like it's normal, like he shouldn't be trying to kill the thing that has killed his brother over a hundred times and doesn't seem ready to stop any time soon.
When the Trickster stands up from his chair, Sam doesn't tense like he knows he should. He just follows the Demi-god's movements with his eyes, watches as the Trickster walks towards him with steady strides. Sam knows he should move, too. Should get out of the seat and as far away from the creature in front of him as possible or find that stake he knows he had on him earlier. But he doesn't and the only explanation he can come up with is that he's finally started going insane. He's surprised it didn't happen sooner. Watching your brother killed over and over again probably has that effect on a person.
Before Sam knows it, the Trickster is standing in front of him, over him, and the first thought in his head is how weird it is to be looking up at the creature for once. Any other thoughts he might have freeze halfway through forming as he watches the Demi-god's hand lift towards him, and Sam is frozen in place; knows he wouldn't be able to get away even if he had the energy to try.
Sam closes his eyes at the first touch of the Trickster's fingers on his head, carding through his hair. He knows he should stop this; get up, move away, scream, something, but he doesn't. He's exhausted, all the Tuesdays catching up with him, nights without real sleep, and the fingers combing through is hair feel enough like comfort that he finds himself pushing his head into the touch, and when the hand moves down to cup his cheek he nuzzles into it before opening his eyes to look up at the Trickster once more.
"Please," he says, voice cracking and hoarse like he's been crying, even though he finally stopped crying ten deaths back. Sam doesn't know what he's asking for, knows he should be trying to persuade this creature to stop killing his brother, to let the time loop end. He wants it all to be over, but he doesn't know how to ask for that, how to get this being to listen to him. The Trickster above him smirks down at him, but Sam decides the softer edge to it is all his imagination.
The Demi-god leans forward and down and Sam stays where he is, leans his head into the hold of the Trickster's hand. When those lips cover his own Sam opens his mouth on a gasp and lets the other man in, taking comfort in letting himself go, in not thinking about what's going to happen next. He allows himself to be pulled up off the seat and steps back, following the other's lead until the backs of his legs hit a bed and he falls back onto it, sprawled in front of the being who still somehow manages to form a smug smirk, even with kiss-swollen lips.
Sam remembers the rest as a blur of snapshots in his mind. Clothes snapped away, skin against hot skin driving him crazy as their lips come together again. The feeling of being full, in a way he had never even thought to try before, and coming harder than he ever had, before falling together in a tangle of limbs on the bed and letting sleep take him, feeling relaxed and sated for the first time since they arrived at the Mystery Spot.
When he wakes up, the Trickster is tracing a finger in random shapes on his back and Sam doesn't want to move, to face another day of watching his brother die, but knows he doesn't have a choice. He lifts his eyes to meet the Trickster's hazel ones and knows this hasn't changed anything, it's still going to be Tuesday whenever he's snapped back into his motel and he's going to keep trying to find a way to end the time loop. Sam will keep trying to make it to midnight because he refuses to believe that he can't save his brother, won't let that be an option.
Sam thinks the almost sad look that flashes through the Trickster's eyes at that moment is yet another product of his obviously fragile mind, and doesn't hesitate to push up into the fingers in his hair once more before he hears a snap and everything goes dark.
Asia's Heat of the Moment fills the air once more as Sam's eyes snap open and he looks over to see Dean going through the same motions he's done over a hundred times now. Nothing's changed, it's like the night before never happened. And maybe it didn't, maybe it was just Sam's imagination getting the better of him. But he feels almost better than he did the last Tuesday he woke up to Dean's "rise and shine, Sammy". Like letting go, letting something happen without fighting it the whole way helped to balance him out a little.
But whatever it is, he can't let himself think on it for long. He's got another day of trying to keep his brother alive.
It doesn't occur to Sam that letting go, the way he'd done that night, is all it might take.