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errant_janeTitle: Though There's Nothing Left To Say
Genre: Wincest (Sam/Dean)
Spoilers: Through 5x02
Rating: R
Word Count: 1165
Summary: The first time Dean kisses Sam, he whispers, "This won't last forever."
Author's Notes: Ridiculous AN are ridiculous.
Though There's Nothing Left To Say
The first time Sam and Dean kiss, it isn't about sex. Hell, with them sex wasn't about sex. And, anyway, they'd jumped the sex hurdle years ago on a hunt in the Ozarks. Their first real hunt without Dad, because he said they were ready. Though, in retrospect, Sam suspects Dad's decision was at least partially motivated by the desire to avoid driving through rural Arkansas.
Sex, that first time, was due entirely to the fact that they'd both nearly died. Out in the middle of nowhere, shaking with adrenaline, their options really came down to handjobs or beating the shit out of each other.
Maybe they made the wrong decision. It quickly became one more thing they did together, those times when the job got to them and they needed a release from the tension. Something quick, dirty and efficient. Helping each other out when there was no one else around, just like they did in every other respect. They knew it was wrong, like the credit card scams, but chalked it up to their way of life. To the point where maybe they forgot it was wrong eventually.
Sam remembered when he went off to school, when he was around civilians all the time, that brothers didn't typically jerk each other off. He forgot again after Jess died.
But the kissing has nothing to do with sex. It's something else entirely, one of those nights where the nightmares threaten to overwhelm him, even after he wakes up. Sam's entire body shakes with it and somehow Dean knows, because he slides out of his own bed and crawls into Sam's.
"Dean." Sam wants to tell him how fucking scared he is, of what he is, of what he might become. Of the things he sees and can't change, of the things he sees and can. He wants to, but the words lock up in his throat with the knowledge that Dean's as scared as he is and Sam isn't sure if he can handle Dean lying about it. Not tonight.
He's not sure he can handle Dean telling the truth, either.
The first time Dean kisses Sam, he whispers, "This won't last forever." Which isn't a lie, nor is it any truth Sam has to fear.
And, really, he could've been talking about anything. The nightmares, their search for Dad, this startling new intimacy. But Sam wants to believe he's talking about the hunt altogether. That one day they will find the yellow-eyed demon and kill it and magically they will have the life Sam's always dreamed of.
Sam wants to believe it, so he doesn't ask for clarification. Instead, he kisses Dean back, slow and deep. They exist in that cocoon for awhile, together and easy until Dean breaks it off and says, "Get some sleep, Sammy. I'm right here."
Dean wraps an arm around his waist and settles against him and Sam closes his eyes, sees none of the terrifying images that woke him up. In the morning, Dean will be back in his own bed and they won't talk about it.
Because while it isn't about sex, it's about all the things they can't actually say. It is the only comfort they have left to offer each other when they both know It'll be okay is a lie. In this moment, if nothing else, it is enough.
***
The second time they kiss, it's like a slideshow being viewed through negatives. Everything is standing wrong in stark relief, dark where it should be light. Dean's been to hell and back and it's his nightmares that wake them both.
Tonight Sam gets up, knowing it's okay when Dean moves over to make room for him.
"Sam." It's all Dean will say because he won't talk about it and Sam won't try to make him.
"This won't last forever." Sam doesn't mean to echo Dean's statement. It comes out of its own volition.
"Yeah," Dean says, and Sam wonders what it is Dean thinks he's referring to.
He's not even sure it's clear in his own mind. He wants to be referring to Dean's pain, their impending war, the nightmares at the very least. In one deeply cynical moment, Sam thinks he might only be talking about this temporary truce of theirs, here under the blankets of one bed.
Dean rolls on top of him, sudden and fierce and Sam gives a startled bark of laughter. "Dean," he says calmly, because Dean doesn't want that. Not really. If he did Sam would give it to him, if he thought it might actually help.
"Yeah," Dean says again, sighs and rolls off.
Sam moves back onto his side and cups Dean's face in his hand. He kisses the corner of Dean's mouth and Dean relaxes against him, opens his mouth when Sam kisses him again.
I'm sorry, Sam thinks. God, I'm so sorry. I missed you so much. I tried, Dean. I tried everything and I couldn't save you. I could never save you. He doesn't say it, because this is not about Sam. It's not even about Dean.
It's about connecting in the only way they can with the gulf between them widening every day. Here, now, breath and lips and Dean's pulse beating under his thumb is a connection. Sam knows it's not enough. It's not even close.
It won't last through the night. Tomorrow, they'll pretend like everything is okay as they silently redraw their battle lines. These few stolen moments of peace are all they get, so Sam makes the best of a bad situation and pulls Dean a little closer.
***
Sam knows the third time will never come.
It's a stupid thing to be thinking about right now. But here at the End of Times when they've both agreed that the best thing to do is go their separate ways, all Sam wants is to be under the covers somewhere. He wants to learn the shape of Dean's mouth one more time, wants to taste the flavor of Dean's goodbye.
But the gap is too wide, they're already been laid too bare. Every mistake they've made is spread out on the table between them, clear and horrible in the bright, cheery sunshine. Dean thinks Sam is a monster and Sam's not sure he's wrong, despite his best intentions. Because of Sam's best intentions.
Neither of them could save the other but they managed to destroy the world in trying.
Still, Sam is tempted to reach out and pull Dean to him. The only thing that stays his hand is the fact that if anything could destroy Dean completely, this would be it.
So he walks away instead. Manages it somehow. It's not until Dean doesn't call him back that Sam realizes he was expecting it. His last minute reprieve never comes, so Sam lets go as the truck drives off. It's not about them anymore, Sam and Dean against the world.
Maybe it never was.
***
ETA: A sequel (of sorts) - I Like to Know You're There
Genre: Wincest (Sam/Dean)
Spoilers: Through 5x02
Rating: R
Word Count: 1165
Summary: The first time Dean kisses Sam, he whispers, "This won't last forever."
Author's Notes: Ridiculous AN are ridiculous.
Though There's Nothing Left To Say
The first time Sam and Dean kiss, it isn't about sex. Hell, with them sex wasn't about sex. And, anyway, they'd jumped the sex hurdle years ago on a hunt in the Ozarks. Their first real hunt without Dad, because he said they were ready. Though, in retrospect, Sam suspects Dad's decision was at least partially motivated by the desire to avoid driving through rural Arkansas.
Sex, that first time, was due entirely to the fact that they'd both nearly died. Out in the middle of nowhere, shaking with adrenaline, their options really came down to handjobs or beating the shit out of each other.
Maybe they made the wrong decision. It quickly became one more thing they did together, those times when the job got to them and they needed a release from the tension. Something quick, dirty and efficient. Helping each other out when there was no one else around, just like they did in every other respect. They knew it was wrong, like the credit card scams, but chalked it up to their way of life. To the point where maybe they forgot it was wrong eventually.
Sam remembered when he went off to school, when he was around civilians all the time, that brothers didn't typically jerk each other off. He forgot again after Jess died.
But the kissing has nothing to do with sex. It's something else entirely, one of those nights where the nightmares threaten to overwhelm him, even after he wakes up. Sam's entire body shakes with it and somehow Dean knows, because he slides out of his own bed and crawls into Sam's.
"Dean." Sam wants to tell him how fucking scared he is, of what he is, of what he might become. Of the things he sees and can't change, of the things he sees and can. He wants to, but the words lock up in his throat with the knowledge that Dean's as scared as he is and Sam isn't sure if he can handle Dean lying about it. Not tonight.
He's not sure he can handle Dean telling the truth, either.
The first time Dean kisses Sam, he whispers, "This won't last forever." Which isn't a lie, nor is it any truth Sam has to fear.
And, really, he could've been talking about anything. The nightmares, their search for Dad, this startling new intimacy. But Sam wants to believe he's talking about the hunt altogether. That one day they will find the yellow-eyed demon and kill it and magically they will have the life Sam's always dreamed of.
Sam wants to believe it, so he doesn't ask for clarification. Instead, he kisses Dean back, slow and deep. They exist in that cocoon for awhile, together and easy until Dean breaks it off and says, "Get some sleep, Sammy. I'm right here."
Dean wraps an arm around his waist and settles against him and Sam closes his eyes, sees none of the terrifying images that woke him up. In the morning, Dean will be back in his own bed and they won't talk about it.
Because while it isn't about sex, it's about all the things they can't actually say. It is the only comfort they have left to offer each other when they both know It'll be okay is a lie. In this moment, if nothing else, it is enough.
***
The second time they kiss, it's like a slideshow being viewed through negatives. Everything is standing wrong in stark relief, dark where it should be light. Dean's been to hell and back and it's his nightmares that wake them both.
Tonight Sam gets up, knowing it's okay when Dean moves over to make room for him.
"Sam." It's all Dean will say because he won't talk about it and Sam won't try to make him.
"This won't last forever." Sam doesn't mean to echo Dean's statement. It comes out of its own volition.
"Yeah," Dean says, and Sam wonders what it is Dean thinks he's referring to.
He's not even sure it's clear in his own mind. He wants to be referring to Dean's pain, their impending war, the nightmares at the very least. In one deeply cynical moment, Sam thinks he might only be talking about this temporary truce of theirs, here under the blankets of one bed.
Dean rolls on top of him, sudden and fierce and Sam gives a startled bark of laughter. "Dean," he says calmly, because Dean doesn't want that. Not really. If he did Sam would give it to him, if he thought it might actually help.
"Yeah," Dean says again, sighs and rolls off.
Sam moves back onto his side and cups Dean's face in his hand. He kisses the corner of Dean's mouth and Dean relaxes against him, opens his mouth when Sam kisses him again.
I'm sorry, Sam thinks. God, I'm so sorry. I missed you so much. I tried, Dean. I tried everything and I couldn't save you. I could never save you. He doesn't say it, because this is not about Sam. It's not even about Dean.
It's about connecting in the only way they can with the gulf between them widening every day. Here, now, breath and lips and Dean's pulse beating under his thumb is a connection. Sam knows it's not enough. It's not even close.
It won't last through the night. Tomorrow, they'll pretend like everything is okay as they silently redraw their battle lines. These few stolen moments of peace are all they get, so Sam makes the best of a bad situation and pulls Dean a little closer.
***
Sam knows the third time will never come.
It's a stupid thing to be thinking about right now. But here at the End of Times when they've both agreed that the best thing to do is go their separate ways, all Sam wants is to be under the covers somewhere. He wants to learn the shape of Dean's mouth one more time, wants to taste the flavor of Dean's goodbye.
But the gap is too wide, they're already been laid too bare. Every mistake they've made is spread out on the table between them, clear and horrible in the bright, cheery sunshine. Dean thinks Sam is a monster and Sam's not sure he's wrong, despite his best intentions. Because of Sam's best intentions.
Neither of them could save the other but they managed to destroy the world in trying.
Still, Sam is tempted to reach out and pull Dean to him. The only thing that stays his hand is the fact that if anything could destroy Dean completely, this would be it.
So he walks away instead. Manages it somehow. It's not until Dean doesn't call him back that Sam realizes he was expecting it. His last minute reprieve never comes, so Sam lets go as the truck drives off. It's not about them anymore, Sam and Dean against the world.
Maybe it never was.
***
ETA: A sequel (of sorts) - I Like to Know You're There
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2009-09-24 02:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-24 10:21 pm (UTC)