And you keep going round and round… (Supernatural)
Title: And you keep going round and round…
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, mentions of others probably more disturbing.
Rating: R (mostly to be safe, I think).
Spoilers: Up to 4x19. It’s sort of coda for 4x19.
Warnings: incest, dub-con probably, angst.
Words: 501.
Beta: NONE!
A/N: Written late at night, because it didn’t let me sleep.
"...but you're more like him that I'll ever be. And I see that now."
There's a bit. Dean feels Sam's gaze. He refuses to look back at him. To meet this almost completely unmoved, almost slightly not understanding gaze. Dad's look upon Dean saying he once wanted to count the stars, but never had the time to try.
"So I take this as a compliment."
It's not.
"Take it anyway you want."
Dean gives him a short look, just to check. If he's still Sam. Or at least something
Sam-like. Not John himself. He wonders if Adam would be more like him. Probably not. If Dean was not like dad, it seemed he should be more like mum. And Adam had different mum, so he was probably just another Johny-clone.
Only Dean turned out different.
"Maybe that's why you and dad seemed to always communicate so well," says Sam, when they're back into the car, driving to the motel.
Sam is weakened and still in the slowly-turning-evil-not-worth-trust faze and yet he drives again. Dean's not sure how it turned out, but he tries not to think about it. It's dad's car. No matter what, it's dad's car. Sam has a right to drive it at all times.
Dean has a right to bleed on the backseat.
"What do you mean?"
"Well... If you say you're not like dad, then... maybe you're like mum. I don't know, you're the one who've met her. But if she was able to deal with dad and somehow... I don't know. You think you are more like her?"
Dean snorts and stares at the road ahead of them. Sam waits for an answer; he doesn't
remember mum, the photos and freaky ghost apparition aside. He has his theory and he wants it proven, but Dean can only smirk, because there's really only one thing that comes to his mind.
"Sure," he says. "Mum was a babe."
Sam shakes his head and huffs a little. Dean actually missed this sound. These days Sam rarely huffs at anything... Apocalypse is probably too serious to huff at and everything else is too small to even be registered.
"Yeah, there's always that," says finally Sam, his big, warm hand falling on Dean's thigh.
Dean flinches and Sam raises an eyebrow.
Dean flinches again, when they're back in theirs room. Jackets thrown away, door's closed and Sam wants to touch. Dean can't stop concentrating on the thick bandages on Sam's
forearms. On the smell of blood surrounding them.
Sam had enough of this dance, tough.
He pushes Dean against the wall, pressing tightly into him and holding him in place. That's like it always was. Sam just finally pushed hard enough and Dean gave in.
"Dean," says Sam slowly and he sounds almost amused.
"Hm?" answers Dean just because he can't really stop himself. Needs to answer.
"I'm not dad, okay? I'm not that much like him," he says and leans into the kiss, savoring Dean's mouth greedily.
Yes, you are.
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, mentions of others probably more disturbing.
Rating: R (mostly to be safe, I think).
Spoilers: Up to 4x19. It’s sort of coda for 4x19.
Warnings: incest, dub-con probably, angst.
Words: 501.
Beta: NONE!
A/N: Written late at night, because it didn’t let me sleep.
"...but you're more like him that I'll ever be. And I see that now."
There's a bit. Dean feels Sam's gaze. He refuses to look back at him. To meet this almost completely unmoved, almost slightly not understanding gaze. Dad's look upon Dean saying he once wanted to count the stars, but never had the time to try.
"So I take this as a compliment."
It's not.
"Take it anyway you want."
Dean gives him a short look, just to check. If he's still Sam. Or at least something
Sam-like. Not John himself. He wonders if Adam would be more like him. Probably not. If Dean was not like dad, it seemed he should be more like mum. And Adam had different mum, so he was probably just another Johny-clone.
Only Dean turned out different.
"Maybe that's why you and dad seemed to always communicate so well," says Sam, when they're back into the car, driving to the motel.
Sam is weakened and still in the slowly-turning-evil-not-worth-trust faze and yet he drives again. Dean's not sure how it turned out, but he tries not to think about it. It's dad's car. No matter what, it's dad's car. Sam has a right to drive it at all times.
Dean has a right to bleed on the backseat.
"What do you mean?"
"Well... If you say you're not like dad, then... maybe you're like mum. I don't know, you're the one who've met her. But if she was able to deal with dad and somehow... I don't know. You think you are more like her?"
Dean snorts and stares at the road ahead of them. Sam waits for an answer; he doesn't
remember mum, the photos and freaky ghost apparition aside. He has his theory and he wants it proven, but Dean can only smirk, because there's really only one thing that comes to his mind.
"Sure," he says. "Mum was a babe."
Sam shakes his head and huffs a little. Dean actually missed this sound. These days Sam rarely huffs at anything... Apocalypse is probably too serious to huff at and everything else is too small to even be registered.
"Yeah, there's always that," says finally Sam, his big, warm hand falling on Dean's thigh.
Dean flinches and Sam raises an eyebrow.
Dean flinches again, when they're back in theirs room. Jackets thrown away, door's closed and Sam wants to touch. Dean can't stop concentrating on the thick bandages on Sam's
forearms. On the smell of blood surrounding them.
Sam had enough of this dance, tough.
He pushes Dean against the wall, pressing tightly into him and holding him in place. That's like it always was. Sam just finally pushed hard enough and Dean gave in.
"Dean," says Sam slowly and he sounds almost amused.
"Hm?" answers Dean just because he can't really stop himself. Needs to answer.
"I'm not dad, okay? I'm not that much like him," he says and leans into the kiss, savoring Dean's mouth greedily.
Yes, you are.