spn fic: feel the beat within my heart
Feb. 11th, 2008 04:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
withimpunityTitle: Feel the Beat Within My Heart
Pairing: Lite!Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Words: 705
Disclaimer: All your cute, angst boys are belong to Kripke & co. Not I.
A/n: Spoilers for S2 finale, title from a Zep song.
It's not dark out anymore when they finally make it back to the hotel room, but the nine o'clock sun doesn't mean anything to them; bedtime has always been whenever they finished up with a hunt. They stumble through the door, punch drunk and dead on their feet, still reeling from everything that’s happened in the last few days, the last year.
Sam drops his backpack at the foot of the bed and plops down on top of the covers while Dean makes sure to close all the blinds and pull the drapes shut, blocking out as much daylight as possible. He looks over at Sam and still, he can't help but stare. Every time he catches a glimpse of his brother, even out of the corner of his eye, its like he can't look away. It's Sam. Sammy. Alive and well, color in his cheeks and life in his eyes, walking and talking and smarting off at him and being a general pain in the ass know-it-all, and shit - Dean quickly wipes away a tear before it can roll down his face.
He walks over to his bed, sitting on the edge as he unlaces his boots and pulls them off, eyes still wandering every couple of minutes to the long, lanky body sprawled out on the bed across from him. Dean stares at Sammy‘s bruised and bloody body as Sam's back and shoulders rise and fall with each inhalation and breathy sigh of air, and it's the most beautiful thing Dean’s ever seen as. Dean smiles; Sammy's already asleep. He whispers bitch, grinning as he crawls under his own covers, and prays for dreamless sleep.
***
Dean rolls onto his side some time later, the reddish orange numbers on the alarm clock next to his face telling him its only been an hour since he laid down. He sighs and rolls onto his other side, watching Sam sleep, blinking his eyes a couple of times to try and adjust to the dimly lit hotel room. His pulse starts to race when he can't make out the rise and fall of Sammy's shoulders. He listens closely for Sammy's soft, pattern-like breathing; he hears nothing.
"Sam! Sammy!" He jumps out of bed in an instant, tripping over the sheets that twist around his calves, and crawls onto the bed next to his brother, rolling him onto his back. "SAM!"
"Gfffurhk," Sam mumbles, rubbing at his eyes with balled up fists, staring at Dean like he's grown a second head when he finally opens his eyes. "Dean? Wha'th hell're ya doin?" He asks sleepily, wiping away drool from the side of his face with the back of his hand.
"Just…" Dean breathes a sigh of relief, his pulse rate beginning to slow dramatically. He‘s a little dizzy and wonders if he just had a heart attack. "Nothing. Go back to sleep."
"Mmm," Sam thinks this is probably the best idea Dean's ever had, rolling over onto his right side with his fists curled up into his chest like a small child.
Dean doesn't think, just pulls the sheets out from under Sammy and slides in next to him, wrapping Sammy tightly in the sheets and comforter, letting his hand drape over his brother’s chest.
"Dean?" Sam asks curiously and Dean knows what he's asking, his voice quiet and muffled by the quilt.
"Shh," He whispers next to Sam's ear, flattening his palm out over Sam's beating heart, feeling blood pumping underneath his fingertips. "Just let me, Sammy."
"Ok," Sam murmurs after a beat, his body relaxing against into Dean’s careful touch. "Dean... I love you."
He knows Dean won't answer, never does, but Sam says it anyway. Maybe Dean can't say it; maybe it'd be too much for him and if he actually ever did say it out loud, the wall he'd had up for as long as Sam can remember might come crumbling down and he'd finally break, and Sam doesn’t want that. He doesn’t ever want to see Dean broken.
Dean says something almost too quiet for Sam to hear, lips grazing the shell of Sam's ear as warm, salt water soaks through the fabric on his shoulder. It didn't sound like I love you too; Sam's pretty sure it sounded like, "What was I supposed to do?"
Pairing: Lite!Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Words: 705
Disclaimer: All your cute, angst boys are belong to Kripke & co. Not I.
A/n: Spoilers for S2 finale, title from a Zep song.
It's not dark out anymore when they finally make it back to the hotel room, but the nine o'clock sun doesn't mean anything to them; bedtime has always been whenever they finished up with a hunt. They stumble through the door, punch drunk and dead on their feet, still reeling from everything that’s happened in the last few days, the last year.
Sam drops his backpack at the foot of the bed and plops down on top of the covers while Dean makes sure to close all the blinds and pull the drapes shut, blocking out as much daylight as possible. He looks over at Sam and still, he can't help but stare. Every time he catches a glimpse of his brother, even out of the corner of his eye, its like he can't look away. It's Sam. Sammy. Alive and well, color in his cheeks and life in his eyes, walking and talking and smarting off at him and being a general pain in the ass know-it-all, and shit - Dean quickly wipes away a tear before it can roll down his face.
He walks over to his bed, sitting on the edge as he unlaces his boots and pulls them off, eyes still wandering every couple of minutes to the long, lanky body sprawled out on the bed across from him. Dean stares at Sammy‘s bruised and bloody body as Sam's back and shoulders rise and fall with each inhalation and breathy sigh of air, and it's the most beautiful thing Dean’s ever seen as. Dean smiles; Sammy's already asleep. He whispers bitch, grinning as he crawls under his own covers, and prays for dreamless sleep.
***
Dean rolls onto his side some time later, the reddish orange numbers on the alarm clock next to his face telling him its only been an hour since he laid down. He sighs and rolls onto his other side, watching Sam sleep, blinking his eyes a couple of times to try and adjust to the dimly lit hotel room. His pulse starts to race when he can't make out the rise and fall of Sammy's shoulders. He listens closely for Sammy's soft, pattern-like breathing; he hears nothing.
"Sam! Sammy!" He jumps out of bed in an instant, tripping over the sheets that twist around his calves, and crawls onto the bed next to his brother, rolling him onto his back. "SAM!"
"Gfffurhk," Sam mumbles, rubbing at his eyes with balled up fists, staring at Dean like he's grown a second head when he finally opens his eyes. "Dean? Wha'th hell're ya doin?" He asks sleepily, wiping away drool from the side of his face with the back of his hand.
"Just…" Dean breathes a sigh of relief, his pulse rate beginning to slow dramatically. He‘s a little dizzy and wonders if he just had a heart attack. "Nothing. Go back to sleep."
"Mmm," Sam thinks this is probably the best idea Dean's ever had, rolling over onto his right side with his fists curled up into his chest like a small child.
Dean doesn't think, just pulls the sheets out from under Sammy and slides in next to him, wrapping Sammy tightly in the sheets and comforter, letting his hand drape over his brother’s chest.
"Dean?" Sam asks curiously and Dean knows what he's asking, his voice quiet and muffled by the quilt.
"Shh," He whispers next to Sam's ear, flattening his palm out over Sam's beating heart, feeling blood pumping underneath his fingertips. "Just let me, Sammy."
"Ok," Sam murmurs after a beat, his body relaxing against into Dean’s careful touch. "Dean... I love you."
He knows Dean won't answer, never does, but Sam says it anyway. Maybe Dean can't say it; maybe it'd be too much for him and if he actually ever did say it out loud, the wall he'd had up for as long as Sam can remember might come crumbling down and he'd finally break, and Sam doesn’t want that. He doesn’t ever want to see Dean broken.
Dean says something almost too quiet for Sam to hear, lips grazing the shell of Sam's ear as warm, salt water soaks through the fabric on his shoulder. It didn't sound like I love you too; Sam's pretty sure it sounded like, "What was I supposed to do?"
no subject
Date: 2008-02-12 05:00 am (UTC)*slams face into angst cream pie*
If you could stop being so amazing, that would make me feel better.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-12 05:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-12 05:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-13 07:01 pm (UTC)Also, I love the little bit of exposition, mentioning how their bedtime is right when the hunt is over. The imagery is pleasing to the mind's eye.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-14 12:45 am (UTC)