The Buzzing - Standalone
Title: The Buzzing
Author: Blink-sum-new-muse
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Supernatural
Summary: Sam doesn't know how to stop the buzzing, so he tries the good old Winchester way of ignoring it. Turns out that doesn't quite work...
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of Supernatural. I do, however, own Adam and Jason from A, Matt and Dom from Muse, and Bryan Holland from The Offspring. Yes indeedy. But they can be rented out. Prices negotiable.
Status: Finished.
Spoilers: Only the pilot, heh.
Notes: Uhm, so this was originally supposed to be an entirely different fic based off of something that ended up being in no way relevant in this. I don't really know where this came from and I can't really explain it, but I quite like this and I think it makes sense just based on the characters.
Sam felt it, that same old buzzing energy he always used to get when they got too close to one another. When Dean got all up in his personal space, it was like someone had turned a vibrator on inside him [all sexual innuendo intended, Sam thought wryly], but it made every nerve and muscle and bone in his body tingle with anticipation. Anticipation of being closer to Dean, maybe? The closer he got the more intense it became, until it got so that if Dean hugged him for more than a couple of seconds, he could actually feel the shaking start to move through Sam's body. But Sam started to learn when to pull away and Dean learned not to hug him any more because Sam didn't seem to like it, and he certainly didn't want to talk about why. So they did things the old Winchester way and just stopped and let it be.
It didn't stop the buzzing though. Sam thought maybe it would, that maybe a prolonged period of keeping them just far enough apart would help, but it didn't. Because a few months down the line when he dared to test it, tackled Dean for the last piece of candy in some hotel room, when they fell onto the bed wrapped up in one another, he felt it so bad it was like dying and he had to pull away just to actually breathe. Dean got worried then, he knew; he asked Sam if he was all right and kept concerned eyes on him until Sam went into the bathroom, but he didn't ask what it was about and he wasn't stupid enough to try to comfort him with touch, like he had been doing for years before all of this came about.
Dean had always been very tactile with Sam. As a four year old, he didn't know the words to say to make his little brother feel comforted and it was clear from the very beginning that that was his job. Even before they learned anything about hunting - before John had even heard about it, back when he was still drinking himself into oblivion every night in a motel room in Lawrence and Dean still wasn't even sure what the hell had happened, why they couldn't go home - he knew that keeping Sam safe and happy was up to him. God knows John wasn't going to do it. And even when he pulled himself together [or rather, got his emotions out through killing rather than drinking] and started to try to bring them both up, albeit as hunters rather than children, he was never the protector to Sam that Dean was. And he never tried to be.
Of course, he protected his son because he loved him, both of them, and he couldn't stand to see another part of his family be taken away. But the love and the guidance and all the things that are important to the healthy mental state of a baby - that was Dean. Dean in return got his emotional needs taken care of through TV sitcoms and diner waitresses who liked his goofy smile, but mostly from the way Sam always came to him when he was hurt, not dad, and the way Sam's first word was 'Dean' and a million other things that made it clear that even if no one else in the world gave a shit about Dean, Sam did. And somehow that was just enough to get them both through.
So John didn't pay that much attention, really, other than when he was teaching them what he now deemed to be the important things - gun cleaning, and bow-hunting, and the uses of salt. So he never noticed that Sam and Dean were a lot closer, physically, than most brothers were, and he never noticed later on when they became further apart, physically, than they should have been, living as they did. Not, if he had noticed, that he would have questioned it, because that was the Winchester way. But it made things a little easier for Sam that Dean was the only one who noticed because even if he did and he was burning to know, he wouldn't ask and Sam wouldn't have to tell, and he wouldn't treat Sam any differently for it except in the ways he knew would help, like not hugging him any more or wrestling with him or sleeping in the same bed.
Which was difficult for Sam, and probably even more so for Dean, because that was the way they had always shown affection. Four year old Dean didn't know the words and six month old Sammy didn't know the meaning, but they both understood touch, and so somehow along the way they never really learned the words. Sam didn't think he'd ever heard the words, "I love you," spoken to him in his life, even though he knew dad and Dean loved him more than life itself. Quite literally, because more than once they'd almost been killed to protect him. Jessica was the first person to say that to him and it had surprised him so much that he hadn't known what to say back, but she'd understood, somehow, that he wasn't like that and although he could talk about almost anything at length, he wasn't so good at talking about feelings because he'd never learnt. She understood he loved her [even if not as much as she loved him] through the touches; the fingers carding through her hair when he thought she was asleep, the way he pulled her to stand at his side whenever they stood still anywhere longer than a few seconds, and especially the ridiculously gentle way he made love, like he thought she might break but also like she might float away if he wasn't touching her somewhere, everywhere, all the time throughout.
That was due to Dean and dad, too. He'd learnt very early on from a couple of mishaps at school that most kids weren't as strong or as hard or as endurant as he was, and later on that this was because most kids didn't spend three hours a day doing physical fitness exercises and things such as rock-climbing or target practice with military rifles. John got called in more than once to have to sheepishly explain, "He just doesn't know his own strength. He's always fought with his brother but he never intends to hurt anyone," before Dean had a quiet word with him about it and ever since then he'd treated everybody else as though they were wrapped in cotton wool because in his mind, they were. He didn't understand the idea that someone could not be able to run for five miles because he'd been doing that since he was what, four? He'd never known a life where this wasn't normal and to be surrounded by kids who knew an entirely different reality was overwhelming, so he took Dean's advice and muddled through it by just going for the lowest common denominator.
Over the years he managed to gauge it a bit better, coming into contact with a lot more kids in a lot more schools, and when he went in for sports he learned that some of the guys at least could take a pretty hard bashing so it was safe, then, to play a bit rougher. But he always held back, and with girls especially. He'd never learnt how far it was safe to go and he couldn't test the waters for fear of hurting or offending some of them, so he just copied Dean, playing the hero, the gentleman, and stayed with that illusion that girls, at least, were all made of cotton candy. Evidently, he never saw Dean in bed, because maybe then he would've realised that he could definitely play a little rougher then. But it never mattered because Jessica didn't seem to mind - in fact, she thought it quite amusing, privately, how such a huge and strong man could be so gentle - and that was that.
So for a teenage Sam to go from being able to play as rough as he liked only with Dean, and getting most of his attention and affection from his brother because even if they had settled in one place long enough to make proper friends, he would've still been branded a geek, to not being able to touch him at all for fear of embarrassing himself and even perhaps not being able to breathe...it was tough. He knew though why he had to do it, so he did, and kept quiet about it hurting, and brooded like the moody teenager he was supposed to be and nobody called him out on it. It was worse for Dean, maybe, who hadn't the slightest inkling why he now couldn't even hit his brother on the arm with a grin when he was being an idiot, but Dean had learned coping mechanisms far earlier than he should've done and so by then, to a nineteen year old Dean, it was easy enough to shrug it off and go and screw some cheerleader from Sam's school behind the bleachers or blag his way into a bar and drink himself into oblivion, just the way John taught him, even if he didn't mean to.
That was the reason, in the end, that Sam left for Stanford. The deciding factor in the agonising college application decision was the buzzing, because since Sam was fifteen he hadn't touched Dean more than a half a dozen times, and it was killing him. He knew it was killing Dean too, although Dean had outlets, mostly in the form of killing other things, either evil supernatural creatures or his braincells. Obviously just not touching him at all hadn't helped the feeling to subside, so maybe just separating them entirely for a few years would do the trick? Maybe when he didn't wake up to Dean's face and Dean's smell and have to be around Dean all the damn time that he wasn't in school, his body would learn to stop reacting in idiotic ways and they could then be around each other again like they used to be. Or maybe even if it didn't change his reactions, he could at least stop hurting so much seeing Dean every day and not being able to touch. Law seemed like a suitable enough distraction, and when Jessica appeared in his room on the second day, bright and cute and friendly, she seemed like an even better one.
Apparently, Sam realised, in the seconds after Dean appeared back in his life out of nowhere, fought him to the ground and then Jess turned on the light to see them both breathing heavily and staring at one another, when Dean was flirting with his girlfriend - those years of separation had been a good distraction, but they'd done nothing to lessen the effect. It was the reason why he had to step towards Jessica as soon as the thought crossed his mind, as if to convince himself that the lingering feeling in his groin was due to her and her Smurfs shirt, and to get the rest of the feeling, the buzzing, to go away. Dean totally clocked it again the moment he stepped away, but again, he didn't talk about it, which was a good thing really because they had bigger problems on their plate at that moment, like the reason Dean was there in the first place.
It wouldn't have mattered, if they'd just killed the woman in white and Sam had been able to go back and Jess hadn't been killed. If Dean had just left and Sam had carried on living the life where he could pretend that the buzzing didn't happen. But apparently the universe had decided that Sam had been playing that game for long enough now, and it was time to throw him back into the world where the only person he had was Dean, and now neither John nor school were even around as a short-term distraction. It was just them, Sam realised about three days after Jessica's death. Just them, and the buzzing.
Maybe it was time to think about that, because another god knows how many months or even years of just them alone but not being able to touch each other? He might actually die. And he knew, somewhere in his gut, although he couldn't explain it to Dean and he wouldn't because it wasn't what Dean needed to hear, anyway, that it would be a while before they found their father. If they ever did.
So he tested it, a few times, more than he had done in the last seven years, and every time it was as potent as ever. But he knew he either had to get past it or just kill himself, because with the life they lead there was no question of their being able to stay totally separate. And he saw it in Dean's eyes, too, whenever they touched; he couldn't just let his brother not touch him any more because it was killing Dean, too. That's what Dean had really been talking about, outside Sam's apartment, when he said he didn't want to find dad on his own. He couldn't stand being away from Sam any longer. And it had been harder on Dean, Sam guessed, because while Sam had distractions in the form of law school and Jessica and real friends, all Dean had was dad and hunting and sex and booze, and god knows none of those ever lasted long enough and in between all of that was endless driving. Sam knew driving was the best way to overthink anything, and maybe it had just gotten to Dean too much.
He'd never bothered to question it before because really, he just didn't want to know why the hell he practically vibrated every time his brother got near. But he was pretty sure that near-erection he got when Dean tackled him in his apartment answered all the questions he might have had. The buzzing was because he wanted more, and every time Dean got close, got all up in his personal space, his body expected it. His mind hadn't quite caught up with that fact, not up until now, but his body had apparently known this ever since he was an awkward teenager.
If Dean hadn't got that look in his eyes every time he tested the waters and then pulled away, that look that said he'd come because he needed to resolve this, he might not have said anything. He might have just tried to outlive it and carry on as long as he could and then let himself go out on a hunting trip, like dad would have wanted. Because he did not want to have the discussion about how he obviously wanted to touch Dean all the time, forever, and never let him go, if Dean was just going to turn around and tell him he was a freak and of course they couldn't do that. But the eyes said he wouldn't do that, so Sam risked it.
He stepped into Dean's space as soon as his brother walked in the door of the motel room and slammed it behind him, throwing takeout food onto the dresser. Dean blinked, raising his eyebrows, but accepted what he assumed was a challenge, because that's the kind of guy Dean was.
"Do you ever get the buzzing?" Sam asked, carefully placing his arms around Dean in an awkward sort of hug. The buzzing racheted up a notch, and then even further when Dean slowly returned the gesture. He laid his head on Dean's shoulder, closing his eyes as it became just a constant white noise in his ears; it made him feel sick and want to fall over but he knew Dean would catch him and he had to figure this out.
There was a long silence after the question and just when he was about to repeat it Dean replied with a breathy, "Yeah, I do."
Sam lifted his head and pulled back just enough to see into Dean's eyes. Dean looked hopeful, terrified, sick all at once. So Sam did the only thing that made sense, and kissed him, and the buzzing lessened enough so that it was like they were just standing close but with a hand on the other's shoulder, some touch but not enough.
They kissed with a sort of desperation, both of them, like this was what would save them, and maybe it was because it would. At the very least it would save them from the buzzing. When Sam slipped a hand under Dean's shirt to press, warm and cold and hard and soft all at the same time, and Dean's own hand started to creep under the waistband of Sam's boxer shorts, it was like they were just standing facing each other, close enough to touch but not doing so.
When they were grasping one another, jerking and squeezing and at the same time grinding against one another like they were trying to crawl into the other's skin, still with tongues battling for dominance and for what felt like life itself, it was as though they were just on the edges of each other's personal space, just at the hesistant perimeter.
And when they came, Sam just seconds before Dean, and their mouths came apart because they needed oxygen now and they didn't have the energy to keep fighting, and their heads rested against each other as they closed their eyes and breathed deep, they both realised at the same moment that the buzzing had stopped.
Pic//Blink-sum-new-muse
Author: Blink-sum-new-muse
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Supernatural
Summary: Sam doesn't know how to stop the buzzing, so he tries the good old Winchester way of ignoring it. Turns out that doesn't quite work...
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of Supernatural. I do, however, own Adam and Jason from A, Matt and Dom from Muse, and Bryan Holland from The Offspring. Yes indeedy. But they can be rented out. Prices negotiable.
Status: Finished.
Spoilers: Only the pilot, heh.
Notes: Uhm, so this was originally supposed to be an entirely different fic based off of something that ended up being in no way relevant in this. I don't really know where this came from and I can't really explain it, but I quite like this and I think it makes sense just based on the characters.
Sam felt it, that same old buzzing energy he always used to get when they got too close to one another. When Dean got all up in his personal space, it was like someone had turned a vibrator on inside him [all sexual innuendo intended, Sam thought wryly], but it made every nerve and muscle and bone in his body tingle with anticipation. Anticipation of being closer to Dean, maybe? The closer he got the more intense it became, until it got so that if Dean hugged him for more than a couple of seconds, he could actually feel the shaking start to move through Sam's body. But Sam started to learn when to pull away and Dean learned not to hug him any more because Sam didn't seem to like it, and he certainly didn't want to talk about why. So they did things the old Winchester way and just stopped and let it be.
It didn't stop the buzzing though. Sam thought maybe it would, that maybe a prolonged period of keeping them just far enough apart would help, but it didn't. Because a few months down the line when he dared to test it, tackled Dean for the last piece of candy in some hotel room, when they fell onto the bed wrapped up in one another, he felt it so bad it was like dying and he had to pull away just to actually breathe. Dean got worried then, he knew; he asked Sam if he was all right and kept concerned eyes on him until Sam went into the bathroom, but he didn't ask what it was about and he wasn't stupid enough to try to comfort him with touch, like he had been doing for years before all of this came about.
Dean had always been very tactile with Sam. As a four year old, he didn't know the words to say to make his little brother feel comforted and it was clear from the very beginning that that was his job. Even before they learned anything about hunting - before John had even heard about it, back when he was still drinking himself into oblivion every night in a motel room in Lawrence and Dean still wasn't even sure what the hell had happened, why they couldn't go home - he knew that keeping Sam safe and happy was up to him. God knows John wasn't going to do it. And even when he pulled himself together [or rather, got his emotions out through killing rather than drinking] and started to try to bring them both up, albeit as hunters rather than children, he was never the protector to Sam that Dean was. And he never tried to be.
Of course, he protected his son because he loved him, both of them, and he couldn't stand to see another part of his family be taken away. But the love and the guidance and all the things that are important to the healthy mental state of a baby - that was Dean. Dean in return got his emotional needs taken care of through TV sitcoms and diner waitresses who liked his goofy smile, but mostly from the way Sam always came to him when he was hurt, not dad, and the way Sam's first word was 'Dean' and a million other things that made it clear that even if no one else in the world gave a shit about Dean, Sam did. And somehow that was just enough to get them both through.
So John didn't pay that much attention, really, other than when he was teaching them what he now deemed to be the important things - gun cleaning, and bow-hunting, and the uses of salt. So he never noticed that Sam and Dean were a lot closer, physically, than most brothers were, and he never noticed later on when they became further apart, physically, than they should have been, living as they did. Not, if he had noticed, that he would have questioned it, because that was the Winchester way. But it made things a little easier for Sam that Dean was the only one who noticed because even if he did and he was burning to know, he wouldn't ask and Sam wouldn't have to tell, and he wouldn't treat Sam any differently for it except in the ways he knew would help, like not hugging him any more or wrestling with him or sleeping in the same bed.
Which was difficult for Sam, and probably even more so for Dean, because that was the way they had always shown affection. Four year old Dean didn't know the words and six month old Sammy didn't know the meaning, but they both understood touch, and so somehow along the way they never really learned the words. Sam didn't think he'd ever heard the words, "I love you," spoken to him in his life, even though he knew dad and Dean loved him more than life itself. Quite literally, because more than once they'd almost been killed to protect him. Jessica was the first person to say that to him and it had surprised him so much that he hadn't known what to say back, but she'd understood, somehow, that he wasn't like that and although he could talk about almost anything at length, he wasn't so good at talking about feelings because he'd never learnt. She understood he loved her [even if not as much as she loved him] through the touches; the fingers carding through her hair when he thought she was asleep, the way he pulled her to stand at his side whenever they stood still anywhere longer than a few seconds, and especially the ridiculously gentle way he made love, like he thought she might break but also like she might float away if he wasn't touching her somewhere, everywhere, all the time throughout.
That was due to Dean and dad, too. He'd learnt very early on from a couple of mishaps at school that most kids weren't as strong or as hard or as endurant as he was, and later on that this was because most kids didn't spend three hours a day doing physical fitness exercises and things such as rock-climbing or target practice with military rifles. John got called in more than once to have to sheepishly explain, "He just doesn't know his own strength. He's always fought with his brother but he never intends to hurt anyone," before Dean had a quiet word with him about it and ever since then he'd treated everybody else as though they were wrapped in cotton wool because in his mind, they were. He didn't understand the idea that someone could not be able to run for five miles because he'd been doing that since he was what, four? He'd never known a life where this wasn't normal and to be surrounded by kids who knew an entirely different reality was overwhelming, so he took Dean's advice and muddled through it by just going for the lowest common denominator.
Over the years he managed to gauge it a bit better, coming into contact with a lot more kids in a lot more schools, and when he went in for sports he learned that some of the guys at least could take a pretty hard bashing so it was safe, then, to play a bit rougher. But he always held back, and with girls especially. He'd never learnt how far it was safe to go and he couldn't test the waters for fear of hurting or offending some of them, so he just copied Dean, playing the hero, the gentleman, and stayed with that illusion that girls, at least, were all made of cotton candy. Evidently, he never saw Dean in bed, because maybe then he would've realised that he could definitely play a little rougher then. But it never mattered because Jessica didn't seem to mind - in fact, she thought it quite amusing, privately, how such a huge and strong man could be so gentle - and that was that.
So for a teenage Sam to go from being able to play as rough as he liked only with Dean, and getting most of his attention and affection from his brother because even if they had settled in one place long enough to make proper friends, he would've still been branded a geek, to not being able to touch him at all for fear of embarrassing himself and even perhaps not being able to breathe...it was tough. He knew though why he had to do it, so he did, and kept quiet about it hurting, and brooded like the moody teenager he was supposed to be and nobody called him out on it. It was worse for Dean, maybe, who hadn't the slightest inkling why he now couldn't even hit his brother on the arm with a grin when he was being an idiot, but Dean had learned coping mechanisms far earlier than he should've done and so by then, to a nineteen year old Dean, it was easy enough to shrug it off and go and screw some cheerleader from Sam's school behind the bleachers or blag his way into a bar and drink himself into oblivion, just the way John taught him, even if he didn't mean to.
That was the reason, in the end, that Sam left for Stanford. The deciding factor in the agonising college application decision was the buzzing, because since Sam was fifteen he hadn't touched Dean more than a half a dozen times, and it was killing him. He knew it was killing Dean too, although Dean had outlets, mostly in the form of killing other things, either evil supernatural creatures or his braincells. Obviously just not touching him at all hadn't helped the feeling to subside, so maybe just separating them entirely for a few years would do the trick? Maybe when he didn't wake up to Dean's face and Dean's smell and have to be around Dean all the damn time that he wasn't in school, his body would learn to stop reacting in idiotic ways and they could then be around each other again like they used to be. Or maybe even if it didn't change his reactions, he could at least stop hurting so much seeing Dean every day and not being able to touch. Law seemed like a suitable enough distraction, and when Jessica appeared in his room on the second day, bright and cute and friendly, she seemed like an even better one.
Apparently, Sam realised, in the seconds after Dean appeared back in his life out of nowhere, fought him to the ground and then Jess turned on the light to see them both breathing heavily and staring at one another, when Dean was flirting with his girlfriend - those years of separation had been a good distraction, but they'd done nothing to lessen the effect. It was the reason why he had to step towards Jessica as soon as the thought crossed his mind, as if to convince himself that the lingering feeling in his groin was due to her and her Smurfs shirt, and to get the rest of the feeling, the buzzing, to go away. Dean totally clocked it again the moment he stepped away, but again, he didn't talk about it, which was a good thing really because they had bigger problems on their plate at that moment, like the reason Dean was there in the first place.
It wouldn't have mattered, if they'd just killed the woman in white and Sam had been able to go back and Jess hadn't been killed. If Dean had just left and Sam had carried on living the life where he could pretend that the buzzing didn't happen. But apparently the universe had decided that Sam had been playing that game for long enough now, and it was time to throw him back into the world where the only person he had was Dean, and now neither John nor school were even around as a short-term distraction. It was just them, Sam realised about three days after Jessica's death. Just them, and the buzzing.
Maybe it was time to think about that, because another god knows how many months or even years of just them alone but not being able to touch each other? He might actually die. And he knew, somewhere in his gut, although he couldn't explain it to Dean and he wouldn't because it wasn't what Dean needed to hear, anyway, that it would be a while before they found their father. If they ever did.
So he tested it, a few times, more than he had done in the last seven years, and every time it was as potent as ever. But he knew he either had to get past it or just kill himself, because with the life they lead there was no question of their being able to stay totally separate. And he saw it in Dean's eyes, too, whenever they touched; he couldn't just let his brother not touch him any more because it was killing Dean, too. That's what Dean had really been talking about, outside Sam's apartment, when he said he didn't want to find dad on his own. He couldn't stand being away from Sam any longer. And it had been harder on Dean, Sam guessed, because while Sam had distractions in the form of law school and Jessica and real friends, all Dean had was dad and hunting and sex and booze, and god knows none of those ever lasted long enough and in between all of that was endless driving. Sam knew driving was the best way to overthink anything, and maybe it had just gotten to Dean too much.
He'd never bothered to question it before because really, he just didn't want to know why the hell he practically vibrated every time his brother got near. But he was pretty sure that near-erection he got when Dean tackled him in his apartment answered all the questions he might have had. The buzzing was because he wanted more, and every time Dean got close, got all up in his personal space, his body expected it. His mind hadn't quite caught up with that fact, not up until now, but his body had apparently known this ever since he was an awkward teenager.
If Dean hadn't got that look in his eyes every time he tested the waters and then pulled away, that look that said he'd come because he needed to resolve this, he might not have said anything. He might have just tried to outlive it and carry on as long as he could and then let himself go out on a hunting trip, like dad would have wanted. Because he did not want to have the discussion about how he obviously wanted to touch Dean all the time, forever, and never let him go, if Dean was just going to turn around and tell him he was a freak and of course they couldn't do that. But the eyes said he wouldn't do that, so Sam risked it.
He stepped into Dean's space as soon as his brother walked in the door of the motel room and slammed it behind him, throwing takeout food onto the dresser. Dean blinked, raising his eyebrows, but accepted what he assumed was a challenge, because that's the kind of guy Dean was.
"Do you ever get the buzzing?" Sam asked, carefully placing his arms around Dean in an awkward sort of hug. The buzzing racheted up a notch, and then even further when Dean slowly returned the gesture. He laid his head on Dean's shoulder, closing his eyes as it became just a constant white noise in his ears; it made him feel sick and want to fall over but he knew Dean would catch him and he had to figure this out.
There was a long silence after the question and just when he was about to repeat it Dean replied with a breathy, "Yeah, I do."
Sam lifted his head and pulled back just enough to see into Dean's eyes. Dean looked hopeful, terrified, sick all at once. So Sam did the only thing that made sense, and kissed him, and the buzzing lessened enough so that it was like they were just standing close but with a hand on the other's shoulder, some touch but not enough.
They kissed with a sort of desperation, both of them, like this was what would save them, and maybe it was because it would. At the very least it would save them from the buzzing. When Sam slipped a hand under Dean's shirt to press, warm and cold and hard and soft all at the same time, and Dean's own hand started to creep under the waistband of Sam's boxer shorts, it was like they were just standing facing each other, close enough to touch but not doing so.
When they were grasping one another, jerking and squeezing and at the same time grinding against one another like they were trying to crawl into the other's skin, still with tongues battling for dominance and for what felt like life itself, it was as though they were just on the edges of each other's personal space, just at the hesistant perimeter.
And when they came, Sam just seconds before Dean, and their mouths came apart because they needed oxygen now and they didn't have the energy to keep fighting, and their heads rested against each other as they closed their eyes and breathed deep, they both realised at the same moment that the buzzing had stopped.
Pic//Blink-sum-new-muse