Clearing out the drafts folder part two
Title: Let Me Count the Ways
Summary: Plotless musing on Dean and Sam’s perceptions of their relationship, in the vein of Tit for Tat
Word count: 570
Rated: pg (Language)
Notes: Set S4; Spoilers through “No Rest for the Wicked”
Another Note: Written as gen, but you can only use the word “love” so many times before it starts sounding like slash
Genre: Gen(?), angst, humor
Characters: Dean, Sam
Disclaimer: Supernatural and it's characters belongs to WB/The CW, I own nothing and make no money.
There are things Sam knows, and things Dean knows.
This is what Sam knows: he loves Dean. But it isn’t the same as the love Dean has for him. Dean can’t just love reasonably, like a normal person. No, Dean’s need is ever-present, like the need for air. He needs to save Sam from everything, even himself, he needs to always be there to take the fall. Dean would go to hell for Sam, has done it once and would do it again. Their bond is the most defining aspect of Dean’s being, and sometimes that feels like the heaviest weight on Sam’s shoulders.
Sam loves Dean more than anything, too, but he just can’t match his brother’s blinding resolve. He had to get stinking drunk before he offered his soul for Dean, and he was shamefully glad when it didn’t pan out. Dean never wanted anything beyond protecting Sam. Sam wanted Stanford, and Jess, and revenge against yellow-eyes and Lilith. Even now, he wants a little independence. Sam would be all right just being closer brothers than most. Dean would be all right if he could crawl into Sam’s body entirely and make them one inseparable person.
So Sam feels guilty, because he’ll never love Dean like that. In fact, he hates Dean a little for loving so unconditionally when Sam can’t repay in kind. He catches himself being intentionally petulant and cruel, as if that could put a dent in what Dean wants from him. If Sam can’t find a way to love Dean more, some dark part of him argues, he can at least make it so Dean loves him less. It doesn’t work, of course. Dean will take any abuse from Sam and it only makes the superiority of his love stand out that much more.
But here’s the funny thing: In a way, Dean doesn’t love Sam at all. It feels like a betrayal to even think it, but Sam’s familiar enough with that sick feeling that it doesn’t stop him from considering the possibility. Sam thinks, I could have been anyone, any little brother at all, and he would be the same. Dean’s devotion has nothing to do with who Sam is, only what he is. While Sam…Sam loves Dean for Dean. He loves his crass jokes and his stuffing his face and his off-key singing to hair metal and every other part of him. Sam notices when Dean’s wearing the same shirt without doing laundry, how long it’s been since he shaved, the color of his eyes and how it changes with the light. Dean has no idea about Sam’s music tastes or hygiene, because those things aren’t dangerous, which means they’re irrelevant.
When he looks at it that way, Sam gets to feeling that he is, after all, the one who loves more. But it doesn’t make him feel better, because as little as he deserves it, he wants Dean’s unconditional love. All of it. Sam wonders if his brother knows how selfish Sam is, that even Dean’s going to hell for him isn’t enough love, not for Sammy. That might finally dampen his affection. Or not. Because Dean loves him with an unquestioning purity that Sam realizes, again, he can never live up to. And, again, he feels sick. And comforted. And sick.
This is what Dean knows: He loves Sam, and sometimes Sam is weird about it.
Summary: Plotless musing on Dean and Sam’s perceptions of their relationship, in the vein of Tit for Tat
Word count: 570
Rated: pg (Language)
Notes: Set S4; Spoilers through “No Rest for the Wicked”
Another Note: Written as gen, but you can only use the word “love” so many times before it starts sounding like slash
Genre: Gen(?), angst, humor
Characters: Dean, Sam
Disclaimer: Supernatural and it's characters belongs to WB/The CW, I own nothing and make no money.
There are things Sam knows, and things Dean knows.
This is what Sam knows: he loves Dean. But it isn’t the same as the love Dean has for him. Dean can’t just love reasonably, like a normal person. No, Dean’s need is ever-present, like the need for air. He needs to save Sam from everything, even himself, he needs to always be there to take the fall. Dean would go to hell for Sam, has done it once and would do it again. Their bond is the most defining aspect of Dean’s being, and sometimes that feels like the heaviest weight on Sam’s shoulders.
Sam loves Dean more than anything, too, but he just can’t match his brother’s blinding resolve. He had to get stinking drunk before he offered his soul for Dean, and he was shamefully glad when it didn’t pan out. Dean never wanted anything beyond protecting Sam. Sam wanted Stanford, and Jess, and revenge against yellow-eyes and Lilith. Even now, he wants a little independence. Sam would be all right just being closer brothers than most. Dean would be all right if he could crawl into Sam’s body entirely and make them one inseparable person.
So Sam feels guilty, because he’ll never love Dean like that. In fact, he hates Dean a little for loving so unconditionally when Sam can’t repay in kind. He catches himself being intentionally petulant and cruel, as if that could put a dent in what Dean wants from him. If Sam can’t find a way to love Dean more, some dark part of him argues, he can at least make it so Dean loves him less. It doesn’t work, of course. Dean will take any abuse from Sam and it only makes the superiority of his love stand out that much more.
But here’s the funny thing: In a way, Dean doesn’t love Sam at all. It feels like a betrayal to even think it, but Sam’s familiar enough with that sick feeling that it doesn’t stop him from considering the possibility. Sam thinks, I could have been anyone, any little brother at all, and he would be the same. Dean’s devotion has nothing to do with who Sam is, only what he is. While Sam…Sam loves Dean for Dean. He loves his crass jokes and his stuffing his face and his off-key singing to hair metal and every other part of him. Sam notices when Dean’s wearing the same shirt without doing laundry, how long it’s been since he shaved, the color of his eyes and how it changes with the light. Dean has no idea about Sam’s music tastes or hygiene, because those things aren’t dangerous, which means they’re irrelevant.
When he looks at it that way, Sam gets to feeling that he is, after all, the one who loves more. But it doesn’t make him feel better, because as little as he deserves it, he wants Dean’s unconditional love. All of it. Sam wonders if his brother knows how selfish Sam is, that even Dean’s going to hell for him isn’t enough love, not for Sammy. That might finally dampen his affection. Or not. Because Dean loves him with an unquestioning purity that Sam realizes, again, he can never live up to. And, again, he feels sick. And comforted. And sick.
This is what Dean knows: He loves Sam, and sometimes Sam is weird about it.