Supernatural: Somewhere Only We Know
Title: Somewhere Only We Know
Author: papered
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 622
Summary: On a winter night, Dean Winchester can't help but wonder how quickly his heart can accelerate before it fails altogether.
Notes: Written for spadul for Christmas 2007. ILU, Julia. Request: Sam/Dean, angst
His lips are crushed, almost violently, as large hands press him into the wall. His head is spinning wildly, and his fingers clutch helplessly at the other’s shoulders as a moan he isn’t quite able to suppress rings in the air.
A few more ticks of the second hand, and he gathers his strength, switching their positions without letting go so that the tables are turned and the next thing he knows, he’s the one pressing the larger body against the wall, their tongues entwined in a complex dance only they can follow…
Adrenalin rushes though his veins as his eyes snap open, his heart pumping furiously as if he’d been running a marathon. Goosebumps are raised along his arms, and he shivers as he sits up in the Impala.
It’s goddamn freezing outside. He can see that it’s snowed again while he’d been asleep, and without any heating, it feels like his fingertips are going to freeze over and form ice cubes any minute. He would’ve stopped somewhere for the night, but they’d been travelling along an abandoned stretch of highway for a while, and who knew how long it would be until the next motel. For tonight, it was just him and Sam and his beloved Impala on an endless road.
Heart finally slowing to a regular pace, he carefully shifts, still groggy but careful not to wake up his brother who’s sleeping in the backseat. With his freakishly long legs, it’s the only spot in the car where Sam can rest comfortably. Dean’s limbs ache from the odd position he’d been sleeping in. He stretches, trying to make himself more comfortable, and is ready to settle back into sleep when some unknown instinct abruptly makes him twist in his seat to look back.
The backseat is empty.
Goddamnit. Not again.
I promised myself it wouldn’t happen again.
He closes his eyes in a futile attempt to calm himself down. It would almost be funny if it weren’t so painful that it feels like he was being ripped apart from the inside.
There are so many moments each day when he absentmindedly calls out to his brother, fully expecting an annoyed answer or geeky response - and every time there is none, it’s like a fresh blow to his heart.
It’s almost been a month since Sam had gone. Carelessly ripped apart by the vampire nest they’d been hunting for weeks, Dean had gotten there too late to do anything but take in the sight of his brother’s mangled body.
Not a single vampire had left the nest alive that day.
It’s almost been a month, and you’d think that’s long enough for him to fucking realize by now that Sam’s gone for good. But no, his subconscious apparently hasn’t gotten the memo, and Dean can’t help but wonder how quickly his heart can accelerate before it fails altogether.
His body aches to reach out and rest in Sam’s warmth, to feel that mop of floppy hair against his chest and those fingers trace his back in that motion that’s grown so familiar over the past year. And it always takes him a few, painfully long moments to remember that even those small comforts are no longer open to him. Sam is gone, and now his brother is only his to savour in dreams.
He pulls his leather jacket closer around himself, attempting to ward off the suddenly impossibly cold wind. He tries to make his clenched fists relax, but his muscles refuse to cooperate.
Three hundred miles away, an old church clock rings, striking the large brass bell exactly twelve times and signalling the arrival of Christmas.
Outside the Impala, the road is covered in an endless sheet of white.
Finis.
written Nov. 30
+ Feedback would be greatly appreciated.
+ Like what you've read? Please friend!
Author: papered
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 622
Summary: On a winter night, Dean Winchester can't help but wonder how quickly his heart can accelerate before it fails altogether.
Notes: Written for spadul for Christmas 2007. ILU, Julia. Request: Sam/Dean, angst
His lips are crushed, almost violently, as large hands press him into the wall. His head is spinning wildly, and his fingers clutch helplessly at the other’s shoulders as a moan he isn’t quite able to suppress rings in the air.
A few more ticks of the second hand, and he gathers his strength, switching their positions without letting go so that the tables are turned and the next thing he knows, he’s the one pressing the larger body against the wall, their tongues entwined in a complex dance only they can follow…
Adrenalin rushes though his veins as his eyes snap open, his heart pumping furiously as if he’d been running a marathon. Goosebumps are raised along his arms, and he shivers as he sits up in the Impala.
It’s goddamn freezing outside. He can see that it’s snowed again while he’d been asleep, and without any heating, it feels like his fingertips are going to freeze over and form ice cubes any minute. He would’ve stopped somewhere for the night, but they’d been travelling along an abandoned stretch of highway for a while, and who knew how long it would be until the next motel. For tonight, it was just him and Sam and his beloved Impala on an endless road.
Heart finally slowing to a regular pace, he carefully shifts, still groggy but careful not to wake up his brother who’s sleeping in the backseat. With his freakishly long legs, it’s the only spot in the car where Sam can rest comfortably. Dean’s limbs ache from the odd position he’d been sleeping in. He stretches, trying to make himself more comfortable, and is ready to settle back into sleep when some unknown instinct abruptly makes him twist in his seat to look back.
The backseat is empty.
Goddamnit. Not again.
I promised myself it wouldn’t happen again.
He closes his eyes in a futile attempt to calm himself down. It would almost be funny if it weren’t so painful that it feels like he was being ripped apart from the inside.
There are so many moments each day when he absentmindedly calls out to his brother, fully expecting an annoyed answer or geeky response - and every time there is none, it’s like a fresh blow to his heart.
It’s almost been a month since Sam had gone. Carelessly ripped apart by the vampire nest they’d been hunting for weeks, Dean had gotten there too late to do anything but take in the sight of his brother’s mangled body.
Not a single vampire had left the nest alive that day.
It’s almost been a month, and you’d think that’s long enough for him to fucking realize by now that Sam’s gone for good. But no, his subconscious apparently hasn’t gotten the memo, and Dean can’t help but wonder how quickly his heart can accelerate before it fails altogether.
His body aches to reach out and rest in Sam’s warmth, to feel that mop of floppy hair against his chest and those fingers trace his back in that motion that’s grown so familiar over the past year. And it always takes him a few, painfully long moments to remember that even those small comforts are no longer open to him. Sam is gone, and now his brother is only his to savour in dreams.
He pulls his leather jacket closer around himself, attempting to ward off the suddenly impossibly cold wind. He tries to make his clenched fists relax, but his muscles refuse to cooperate.
Three hundred miles away, an old church clock rings, striking the large brass bell exactly twelve times and signalling the arrival of Christmas.
Outside the Impala, the road is covered in an endless sheet of white.
Finis.
written Nov. 30
+ Feedback would be greatly appreciated.
+ Like what you've read? Please friend!