Freight Train Running [Sam/Dean, unrequited John/Dean, R]
So, listen. July has been a weird month for me. First, I posted my Big Bang, which, at 45k, is roughly twenty times the size of the average fic I write. Then, my next story? Went backwards. Literally. After that came the watersports. And now, there's this. I don't doubt that some expansion of my horizons was in order, but I really have no explanation for why it's suddenly all expansion all the time lately!
Freight Train Running [Sam/Dean, unrequited John/Dean, R]
In which Sam is seventeen and Dean's twisted around him like a tree root on a water pipe and John gives and takes.
Originally posted at spnkink_meme. Title stolen from Springsteen's "I'm On Fire".
Freight Train Running
Sam is seventeen and Dean's twisted around him like a tree root on a water pipe, and you know they don't deserve this life, so you give them what you can, blind eyes in the darkness.
You take, too. Because they're not the only ones marked for suffering. One way or another, one monster or another, so you take, let their breathing pull your release from you untouched, wake up sticky, and sometimes Sam looks at you like he suspects, but Dean never does.
Dean looks at you like he knows.
Some days, you hunt. Some days, you call and say, one more night and I'll have the damn thing, and then you press the down button on some out of the way motel's remote until the channels start over again at the top. When sunrise eventually grays out the screen, your thoughts start to wander, and you wonder what Dean thinks you meant when you said take care of your brother tonight.
When you stand up, your shorts are a mess and it's time to go home.
Dean's waiting when you get there, but the only wounds you're wearing are underneath your skin, and he leaves the first-aid kit for you to put away. It reminds you of the girl you saved the last time you were chasing a monster and not an escape. How her father's arms wrapped tight around her back, how his voice shook when he said, you got any kids?
You didn't even answer.
Didn't say a damn word, but there's an old picture of Dean in your wallet, and you sat in your truck afterward and ran your thumb across his face. It's the closest you've come to touching him in months.
You're buried in a bottle before Sam even gets home from school, and dinner's a blur of laughter that spins by before you've had a chance to get the joke. You doze on the pull-out until springs creak across the room.
Dean whispers, Sammy, in the darkness. Sam doesn't correct him, and you wonder how Dean's name would sound whispered from your lips, but you don't let yourself say it.
Morning's another unspoken bargain. He can have that if you can have this, and you give it to him because you owe him something more than this cage of a life you've built for them. You don't explain yourself, can't tell him what it's like to see evil everywhere, but it doesn't matter. Dean already knows, you can see it in the way he looks at you.
When Sam leaves, Dean cries in the middle of the night. Quiet, hitching breaths that are close enough to the real thing, and you cry through it too, build and release that hits you like a freight train.
When sunrise leaks through the windows, Dean is in Sam's bed. His ankle is bare, and you touch your fingers to the sheet underneath it, then continue on to the bathroom, scrub your skin clean under water so hot it burns.
###
Freight Train Running [Sam/Dean, unrequited John/Dean, R]
In which Sam is seventeen and Dean's twisted around him like a tree root on a water pipe and John gives and takes.
Originally posted at spnkink_meme. Title stolen from Springsteen's "I'm On Fire".
Freight Train Running
Sam is seventeen and Dean's twisted around him like a tree root on a water pipe, and you know they don't deserve this life, so you give them what you can, blind eyes in the darkness.
You take, too. Because they're not the only ones marked for suffering. One way or another, one monster or another, so you take, let their breathing pull your release from you untouched, wake up sticky, and sometimes Sam looks at you like he suspects, but Dean never does.
Dean looks at you like he knows.
Some days, you hunt. Some days, you call and say, one more night and I'll have the damn thing, and then you press the down button on some out of the way motel's remote until the channels start over again at the top. When sunrise eventually grays out the screen, your thoughts start to wander, and you wonder what Dean thinks you meant when you said take care of your brother tonight.
When you stand up, your shorts are a mess and it's time to go home.
Dean's waiting when you get there, but the only wounds you're wearing are underneath your skin, and he leaves the first-aid kit for you to put away. It reminds you of the girl you saved the last time you were chasing a monster and not an escape. How her father's arms wrapped tight around her back, how his voice shook when he said, you got any kids?
You didn't even answer.
Didn't say a damn word, but there's an old picture of Dean in your wallet, and you sat in your truck afterward and ran your thumb across his face. It's the closest you've come to touching him in months.
You're buried in a bottle before Sam even gets home from school, and dinner's a blur of laughter that spins by before you've had a chance to get the joke. You doze on the pull-out until springs creak across the room.
Dean whispers, Sammy, in the darkness. Sam doesn't correct him, and you wonder how Dean's name would sound whispered from your lips, but you don't let yourself say it.
Morning's another unspoken bargain. He can have that if you can have this, and you give it to him because you owe him something more than this cage of a life you've built for them. You don't explain yourself, can't tell him what it's like to see evil everywhere, but it doesn't matter. Dean already knows, you can see it in the way he looks at you.
When Sam leaves, Dean cries in the middle of the night. Quiet, hitching breaths that are close enough to the real thing, and you cry through it too, build and release that hits you like a freight train.
When sunrise leaks through the windows, Dean is in Sam's bed. His ankle is bare, and you touch your fingers to the sheet underneath it, then continue on to the bathroom, scrub your skin clean under water so hot it burns.
###