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Nov. 6th, 2008 03:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
withimpunityThere was watching mouths, sharing peach pie, little Sammy getting jealous over Randy the cute waitress, rocking out to AC/DC, the best day ever, then the best angst ever and Sammy running away and Dean having to find him, and boytouching! \o/ \o/ \o/ I'm so glad to finally be here roflrofl.
So, here's what's going on. Sam and Dean had a great day, went to the shooting range then went to Kelly's Diner where there was Dean picking fries off Sam's plate and Sam sharing Dean's pie with him, and Sammy getting jealous of the waitress flirting with Dean. THEN they went home and John's all \o/ "there's a spot open for you at the academy, isn't it AWESOME?" and Dean's all *looks at sammy* *looks at John* "Err." And John basically guilts him into saying yes and Dean doesn't want to dissapoint him of course, so he says yes, and Sam gets upset and runs away. All righty then. So now you sort of know what's going on. At least as much as I do. Which isn't much, tbh.
Dean drives with the windows down and the headlights on high beam through town. He makes a couple of stops, at Sam's friend Aaron's house, at the game stop, but he can't find him anywhere. He drove by the library, but it was already closed.
“Dammit, Sam!” He beats on the steering wheel and sighs. The last twelve hours feels like such a blur he can hardly breathe. They'd been getting along so well, catching up and joking around, and it felt so much like a few years ago, when Dean was still in school and Sam was still Sammy, before all the teen angst started setting in. When Dean didn't have to work all the time and they just sat around, watching tv every night, wrestling and playing nintendo. They were like brothers then, and Dean hasn't felt that way around Sam in a long time; not until today.
Dean turns onto sixth street, on his way back to the house because maybe the little shit just hopped up on the roof and has been there the entire time. Of course, if he has, Dean's going to beat the ever living crap out of him when he gets home, but at least he'll know where he is. He drives by the park a couple blocks from their house and by chance, looks out his window, noticing a lanky figure sprawled out on top of one of the picnic tables. Dean turns the wheel so sharp the tires squeal in protest across the asphalt and he's barely put the car in drive before he's opening the door and getting out, squinting his eyes in the fading sunlight.
Sam's laid out on top of the picnic table, hoodie bunched up underneath his head like a pillow and a cigarette perched between his lips, tip of it glowing bright red.
“You little son of a bitch,” Dean pants, one hand resting on his hip. His body is give out, exhausted from the rush of adrenaline and panic. “And since when do you fucking smoke, Sam?”
Sam rolls his shoulders casually, pinches the cigarette between two fingers and pulls it from his lips, exhaling a cloud of greyish smoke to his left. “Since when do you care?”
“Whatever, Sam. Quit being a bitch and get in the damn car.” Dean's not sure how to handle this Sam, defiant and careless and so, so angry. Part of him wants to hug him or ruffle his hair, and part of him kind of wants to throw down with him, give him a matching black eye and teach him a fucking lesson. Life sucks, you lose people. Just the way it fucking is.
“I'm not going home,” Sam says as casually as stating the weather, taking another drag from his cigarette.
“Yes, you are, Sammy.”
“NO I'M NOT!” Sam stands on the ground and shouts at him; his hand are shaking by his side, ashes littering the grass. “I can't do it anymore, Dean! I – I hate what he does and you know it, and you – you just don't care! You'll do whatever he wants you to do. No one cares what I want! I don't matter!” His body crumples and falls down onto the bench, cigarette rolling out of his fingers into the dirt.
“Sam,” Dean says softly, squashing the glowing embers with the toe of his boot and sitting down next to Sam at the table. “Sammy.” He reaches out, fingers curling around Sam's bony shoulder and its like a trigger for Sam's waterworks. The tears flow freely down his cheeks as he sobs and Dean's body aches to hold him close, touch his head, and tell him, promise him, that everything's going to be all right.
“C'mere,” he says, wrapping his hand around the back of Sam's neck, tugging him forward.
“No!” Sam resists, sobbing and sniffling. “No.” But he leans into Dean's touch anyway, presses his face, soaked with hot, wet tears, against Dean's neck and let's Dean arms envelop him.
“Please,” Sam mumbles against Dean's skin, his tears saturating the neck of Dean's t-shirt. “Don't, Dean. Please. I can't-”
“Shh,” Dean says, rubbing soothing circles down Sam's back, stroking the nape of his neck with his thumb. “Don't worry, Sammy.”
“You don't understand,” Sam sniffles, wipes his nose with the back of his hand and looks up at Dean. “You. I can't. I don't have anybody else.” His eyes close, face falling forward until his forehead is pressed against Dean's and he can feel Dean's breath on his lips when he exhales through his nose. He holds onto Dean as tight as he can, like he thinks it might change something. He wants to stay like this, just like this, wrapped up inside the one person he thinks might actually love him, forever.
“Sam.” Dean's voice is startled and Sam doesn't understand why he's pushing him away now when he was just pulling him close, but oh, he notices how close their faces are and he can feel the tingle on his lips from where they just brushed Dean's, and oh. Oh God. Not Dean, not his brother. Not-
He just barely makes it to the trash can before he starts throwing up; it tastes like chocolate malt and peaches and stomach acid. It feels like the beginning of the end.
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Date: 2008-11-06 09:48 am (UTC)I seriously flailed a little and was like OMG SHE POSTED SOME but you DIDN'T. Do you see what that did to me? Made me overuse the "shift" button.
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Date: 2008-11-06 05:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-07 06:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-07 06:22 am (UTC)I'm glad you like the little details! I'm glad you like it at all!
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Date: 2008-11-07 06:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-07 06:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-06 04:46 pm (UTC)P.S. Almost spelled "read" as "wread." The hell?
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Date: 2008-11-06 05:56 pm (UTC)Ps, I updated the post with a wee snippet. :D
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Date: 2008-11-06 07:28 pm (UTC)Angsty Dean/Sam is my crack. Well, plain Dean/Sam is my crack, but angst is like crack mixed with something else.
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Date: 2008-11-07 06:51 pm (UTC)