un-schmoopy
Apr. 24th, 2008 04:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
withimpunityI got roused out of sleep for this one, so I'm posting it lol. It was originally supposed to be for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tvm 's Accidental Schmoop Meme, but it seems I'm pretty incapable of writing Winchester schmoopage. Thus, we have this.
Title: Exit Night
Pairing: SamnDean
Rating: PG-13
Words: 473ish
Prompt: Nightmares
When he wakes up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and trembling down to his bones, its to find Sam’s thick arms wrapped around him. It’s been like this ever since he got back, Sam always a breath away from him, right there whenever he needs him, and strangely enough, he does need this. Doesn’t tell Sammy to get the hell back over to his own bed or get the fuck off of him, he just lets him do this, lets him be there.
Dean breathes in the scent of motel shampoo they both used earlier and the faint aroma of coffee and French fries from dinner, and shifts into a more comfortable position. He tries desperately to forget the nightmares that never miss a beat, every single time he closes his eyes, screams and sulfur, flames and blood. They’re always there, echoing in the back of his mind, a constant reminder of the weeks that seemed like years he spent in Hell.
“I’m sorry,” Sam whispers at the back of his neck, arms tightening around Dean’s waist. “I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sorry.”
“Sammy,” Dean whispers, rolling onto his back to look up at Sam. “Don’t say you’re sorry. Please. Don’t ever say you’re sorry for getting me out of that place.”
“Took too long,” Sam mutters against Dean’s skin, tasting salt and soap, a lingering memory of sulfur underneath it all. “Shouldn’t have went at all, Dean. You didn’t deserve to go to-”
“Shh,” Dean lays two fingers across Sam’s lips, hushing him. It’s not something he wants to think about during waking hours, gets plenty of replays of his time spent in the pit at night, when the darkness reaches out and pulls him under. “You got me, Sam. You got me out of there, just like you promised. That’s all that matters, okay?”
He pulls Sam’s face toward his, cautiously brushing his lips against his brother’s, waiting for Sam to make the next move, to wordlessly assure Dean that this is okay. When he does, he takes Dean’s breath away. They spend hours tasting each other, touching skin to skin, grounding each other in each other. If Sam notices how rough Dean is with him, biting his lip until Dean tastes warm copper on his tongue, fingernails digging bloody crescents into his back, Sam doesn’t say anything about it; and if Dean notices the way Sam’s face has hardened, the methodical way he moves, and the slight golden tint to his eyes, he doesn’t pay attention. Sam got him out and that’s all that matters. They’ll deal with the rest later.
tvm 's Accidental Schmoop Meme, but it seems I'm pretty incapable of writing Winchester schmoopage. Thus, we have this.Title: Exit Night
Pairing: SamnDean
Rating: PG-13
Words: 473ish
Prompt: Nightmares
When he wakes up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and trembling down to his bones, its to find Sam’s thick arms wrapped around him. It’s been like this ever since he got back, Sam always a breath away from him, right there whenever he needs him, and strangely enough, he does need this. Doesn’t tell Sammy to get the hell back over to his own bed or get the fuck off of him, he just lets him do this, lets him be there.
Dean breathes in the scent of motel shampoo they both used earlier and the faint aroma of coffee and French fries from dinner, and shifts into a more comfortable position. He tries desperately to forget the nightmares that never miss a beat, every single time he closes his eyes, screams and sulfur, flames and blood. They’re always there, echoing in the back of his mind, a constant reminder of the weeks that seemed like years he spent in Hell.
“I’m sorry,” Sam whispers at the back of his neck, arms tightening around Dean’s waist. “I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sorry.”
“Sammy,” Dean whispers, rolling onto his back to look up at Sam. “Don’t say you’re sorry. Please. Don’t ever say you’re sorry for getting me out of that place.”
“Took too long,” Sam mutters against Dean’s skin, tasting salt and soap, a lingering memory of sulfur underneath it all. “Shouldn’t have went at all, Dean. You didn’t deserve to go to-”
“Shh,” Dean lays two fingers across Sam’s lips, hushing him. It’s not something he wants to think about during waking hours, gets plenty of replays of his time spent in the pit at night, when the darkness reaches out and pulls him under. “You got me, Sam. You got me out of there, just like you promised. That’s all that matters, okay?”
He pulls Sam’s face toward his, cautiously brushing his lips against his brother’s, waiting for Sam to make the next move, to wordlessly assure Dean that this is okay. When he does, he takes Dean’s breath away. They spend hours tasting each other, touching skin to skin, grounding each other in each other. If Sam notices how rough Dean is with him, biting his lip until Dean tastes warm copper on his tongue, fingernails digging bloody crescents into his back, Sam doesn’t say anything about it; and if Dean notices the way Sam’s face has hardened, the methodical way he moves, and the slight golden tint to his eyes, he doesn’t pay attention. Sam got him out and that’s all that matters. They’ll deal with the rest later.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-24 12:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-24 06:07 pm (UTC)