Supernatural Fic: Atop the Sheets
Oh snap, after 11 months I'm finally posting something. Don't freak out people. Anyway...
Title: Atop the Sheets
Author: Ani (ani_coolgirl)
Beta: none
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairings/Characters: Dean/Sam
Rating: PG
Warnings: slash, incest, mild spoilers for My Bloody Valentine (5x14)
Word Count: 593
Summary: Despair in the hours of darkness.
Author's Notes: A little coda for 5x14, but not terribly spoiler-y. Written hastily and not in my usual style.
That night, Sam screamed and Dean prayed to an empty sky.
The next night they curled up together like babes atop the bed sheets, Sam’s head tucked under Dean’s chin as they shivered together through the hours of darkness that wouldn’t seem to end. Neither cried, for all they wanted to, but both bore the signs from yesterday’s ordeal: bloodshot whites rimmed in exhausted black. Sam shook violently, the aftershocks of withdrawal still setting his nerves alight. Dean trembled frailly and irregularly, a leaf just barely clinging to its branch. Neither spoke. Neither slept.
Yet again another day had confirmed that their world was shattering away, breaking apart piece by piece. Their future was set and their past wouldn’t stop chasing them, hounding after them day after day, unwilling to lose their scent. And worse still, each other’s presence made it hurt just a little bit more.
Their world was changing and so were they. Sam drifted farther and farther away from being the younger brother Dean could protect. Almost gone was the older brother Sam could rely on for reassurance and strength. Dean was broken. Sam’s innocence was dead.
Still, they clung to each other.
They pretended the world couldn’t change. Sam’s fingers dug painfully into Dean’s shoulder, but Dean didn’t feel it; he clutched back just as tightly. Sam buried his face into his brother’s neck, gasping for air like he couldn’t breathe. Dean’s fingers ghosted over the nape of his neck and threaded through the long brown hair. Their legs twined around each other.
Despair. Oh despair, so unfathomably deep that it could not be soothed with drink or food or sex. Nothing could ease it away and the locks that kept it out of sight for so long were rusting away. No rescue from what lay within. But they could try.
Sam’s lips rested against Dean’s bare collarbone and for a very long time, the shaking stopped. Then Dean pulled away and Sam twisted his hands tightly into Dean’s t-shirt - but Dean didn’t go anywhere, only kissed Sam’s eyelids, soft as butterflies, and pulled Sam closer against his chest. Dragging against Dean’s sides, Sam’s hands moved from Dean’s shoulders to his hips, desperate but slow. Dean took in the smell of his brother’s hair.
Demons and monsters. Blood and torture. Black magic and angels. Destiny and vessels. Were they all to blame? Was the world shattering them? Or were they just shattering the world?
Dean didn’t flinch when Sam softly stroked his stomach beneath his shirt. More could have happened, that night. They could have done so much more to try to make the ache and the hunger and the emptiness go away.
But they only held each other.
Good. It was simple goodness. So simple that it had to be kept secret, even from themselves. The weight of everything had finally worn them down enough for simple, uncomplicated goodness, but they couldn’t enjoy for long. The days still moved forward, the sun still chased them, and destiny still forcefully beckoned from a distance that wasn’t far enough away.
How long could they pretend the world away? How long could the agonizing night, which lay open and exposed everything kept hidden for so long, last? How long did they want it to last? An hour? Two? Until midnight or three? How could they survive such a thing?
Sam lifted his head one last time to kiss Dean’s cheek. He wound his arms around Dean’s torso and Dean sighed like wistful heartbreak.
And they held each other, trembling, until morn.
Title: Atop the Sheets
Author: Ani (ani_coolgirl)
Beta: none
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairings/Characters: Dean/Sam
Rating: PG
Warnings: slash, incest, mild spoilers for My Bloody Valentine (5x14)
Word Count: 593
Summary: Despair in the hours of darkness.
Author's Notes: A little coda for 5x14, but not terribly spoiler-y. Written hastily and not in my usual style.
That night, Sam screamed and Dean prayed to an empty sky.
The next night they curled up together like babes atop the bed sheets, Sam’s head tucked under Dean’s chin as they shivered together through the hours of darkness that wouldn’t seem to end. Neither cried, for all they wanted to, but both bore the signs from yesterday’s ordeal: bloodshot whites rimmed in exhausted black. Sam shook violently, the aftershocks of withdrawal still setting his nerves alight. Dean trembled frailly and irregularly, a leaf just barely clinging to its branch. Neither spoke. Neither slept.
Yet again another day had confirmed that their world was shattering away, breaking apart piece by piece. Their future was set and their past wouldn’t stop chasing them, hounding after them day after day, unwilling to lose their scent. And worse still, each other’s presence made it hurt just a little bit more.
Their world was changing and so were they. Sam drifted farther and farther away from being the younger brother Dean could protect. Almost gone was the older brother Sam could rely on for reassurance and strength. Dean was broken. Sam’s innocence was dead.
Still, they clung to each other.
They pretended the world couldn’t change. Sam’s fingers dug painfully into Dean’s shoulder, but Dean didn’t feel it; he clutched back just as tightly. Sam buried his face into his brother’s neck, gasping for air like he couldn’t breathe. Dean’s fingers ghosted over the nape of his neck and threaded through the long brown hair. Their legs twined around each other.
Despair. Oh despair, so unfathomably deep that it could not be soothed with drink or food or sex. Nothing could ease it away and the locks that kept it out of sight for so long were rusting away. No rescue from what lay within. But they could try.
Sam’s lips rested against Dean’s bare collarbone and for a very long time, the shaking stopped. Then Dean pulled away and Sam twisted his hands tightly into Dean’s t-shirt - but Dean didn’t go anywhere, only kissed Sam’s eyelids, soft as butterflies, and pulled Sam closer against his chest. Dragging against Dean’s sides, Sam’s hands moved from Dean’s shoulders to his hips, desperate but slow. Dean took in the smell of his brother’s hair.
Demons and monsters. Blood and torture. Black magic and angels. Destiny and vessels. Were they all to blame? Was the world shattering them? Or were they just shattering the world?
Dean didn’t flinch when Sam softly stroked his stomach beneath his shirt. More could have happened, that night. They could have done so much more to try to make the ache and the hunger and the emptiness go away.
But they only held each other.
Good. It was simple goodness. So simple that it had to be kept secret, even from themselves. The weight of everything had finally worn them down enough for simple, uncomplicated goodness, but they couldn’t enjoy for long. The days still moved forward, the sun still chased them, and destiny still forcefully beckoned from a distance that wasn’t far enough away.
How long could they pretend the world away? How long could the agonizing night, which lay open and exposed everything kept hidden for so long, last? How long did they want it to last? An hour? Two? Until midnight or three? How could they survive such a thing?
Sam lifted his head one last time to kiss Dean’s cheek. He wound his arms around Dean’s torso and Dean sighed like wistful heartbreak.
And they held each other, trembling, until morn.