(Fic) Nothing I Wouldn't Do For You
Disclaimer:I don't own any of the characters featured in this fic, it's just a bit of fun, don't sue me!
Title: Nothing I Wouldn't Do For You
Pairing(s): Sam/Dean
Rating(s): R
Warning(s): Language, Consensual Incest, Pre-series and Underage (Sam is 16-17)
Summary: Anything, anything scared Sam more then he thought it should.
Dean would do anything. Anything was everything outside their motel room, beyond that salt line; it meant Heaven and Hell, the ends of the Earth and things they didn't even know about.
A/N: This is un-bet'd and the fact that this is the first thing I've wrote in forever just makes me feel better, as usual Comments=Love and Thank you, this fandom rocks :)
Anything, anything scared Sam more then he thought it should.
Dean would do anything. Anything was everything outside their motel room, beyond that salt line; it meant Heaven and Hell, the ends of the Earth and things they didn’t even know about.
Names and faces they hadn’t had a chance to see through the Impala’s windscreen.
Dean held Sam like anything could happen, anything that crawled out of the shadow, towards them. Anything that could touch them had to go through Dean first, had to be silently vetted, checked, scrutinized and poked into submission before Sam even came into view.
Dean talked for Sam sometimes, did everything Sam could but didn’t do and then Dean told him everything about it, curled up next to him, in the dark, his breath smelling like too much beer and lipstick about anything that could be done and everything he wanted from Dean.
Anything seemed to include the meanest grill-cheese sandwiches at the end of a long, rainy day. Warm lemonade and sneaked whiskey during an especially crappy cold and maybe a foot rub when they sat and watched Twilight Zone reruns.
Anything was the time when he was seven; when Dean let him have a pet for a day. A kitten opposite the diner in a 1000 pop town in Ohio, black and white and woefully pretty. Just for a day Sam felt like they were going to keep it, let it sleep at the end motel beds and feed it cheap tuna from the tin. Just for a day.
Anything was when Sam turned fourteen and Dean got him off Training for the Junior prom, he’d dropped him and Sandy Jones at a dinner and paid for them to share a milkshake. Red seats and two straws in the glass, she wore a powder blue dress and Dean’d helped him pick out the corsage.
Anything was Dean letting Sam kiss him, tasted like coffee and the stale, wet sugar of the donut he had for breakfast, the carpet under his bare feet, the morning cold on his skin. Felt like Dean hadn’t had a chance to shave, just the sandpaper scrape, but his mouth just opened like he’d just said Anything for you Sammy, anything, and it was the first time Sam was scared with how much he could push it.
Everything for Sam was that they kept talking, Dean kept singing too loud and he still called Sam a bitch afterwards.
Everything was the smell of leather and blood and the deafening sound of a belt buckle, the clank and click just over the sound of breathing, anything was the fact they pulled over, arguing as usual and too tired to keep going for a motel, anything on that stretch of Idaho. Everything was the fact gun oil and a condom were the only things, the fact they didn’t take their jeans off the whole way and anything was the fact they didn’t stop kissing.
The words in Sam’s mind that Dean telegraphed like a broken tape player Anything for you Sam, Anything for my Sammy. Just that they swallowed every noise except for the groan of the suspension and the creak of the leather.
The fact Sam tried to keep his eyes open the whole time, trying to see everything and anything new that Dean could give him, the whole time Anything for you Sammy.
Anything was beyond the crushing pressure of John and the dream of everything that Stanford could offer, anything was the way he could hate Dean if he stayed and everything was the way he could break Dean if he left.
Anything and everything couldn’t stop Sam getting on that Greyhound Bus
Anything and everything was the fact Dean drove him there.
The End
Title: Nothing I Wouldn't Do For You
Pairing(s): Sam/Dean
Rating(s): R
Warning(s): Language, Consensual Incest, Pre-series and Underage (Sam is 16-17)
Summary: Anything, anything scared Sam more then he thought it should.
Dean would do anything. Anything was everything outside their motel room, beyond that salt line; it meant Heaven and Hell, the ends of the Earth and things they didn't even know about.
A/N: This is un-bet'd and the fact that this is the first thing I've wrote in forever just makes me feel better, as usual Comments=Love and Thank you, this fandom rocks :)
Anything, anything scared Sam more then he thought it should.
Dean would do anything. Anything was everything outside their motel room, beyond that salt line; it meant Heaven and Hell, the ends of the Earth and things they didn’t even know about.
Names and faces they hadn’t had a chance to see through the Impala’s windscreen.
Dean held Sam like anything could happen, anything that crawled out of the shadow, towards them. Anything that could touch them had to go through Dean first, had to be silently vetted, checked, scrutinized and poked into submission before Sam even came into view.
Dean talked for Sam sometimes, did everything Sam could but didn’t do and then Dean told him everything about it, curled up next to him, in the dark, his breath smelling like too much beer and lipstick about anything that could be done and everything he wanted from Dean.
Anything seemed to include the meanest grill-cheese sandwiches at the end of a long, rainy day. Warm lemonade and sneaked whiskey during an especially crappy cold and maybe a foot rub when they sat and watched Twilight Zone reruns.
Anything was the time when he was seven; when Dean let him have a pet for a day. A kitten opposite the diner in a 1000 pop town in Ohio, black and white and woefully pretty. Just for a day Sam felt like they were going to keep it, let it sleep at the end motel beds and feed it cheap tuna from the tin. Just for a day.
Anything was when Sam turned fourteen and Dean got him off Training for the Junior prom, he’d dropped him and Sandy Jones at a dinner and paid for them to share a milkshake. Red seats and two straws in the glass, she wore a powder blue dress and Dean’d helped him pick out the corsage.
Anything was Dean letting Sam kiss him, tasted like coffee and the stale, wet sugar of the donut he had for breakfast, the carpet under his bare feet, the morning cold on his skin. Felt like Dean hadn’t had a chance to shave, just the sandpaper scrape, but his mouth just opened like he’d just said Anything for you Sammy, anything, and it was the first time Sam was scared with how much he could push it.
Everything for Sam was that they kept talking, Dean kept singing too loud and he still called Sam a bitch afterwards.
Everything was the smell of leather and blood and the deafening sound of a belt buckle, the clank and click just over the sound of breathing, anything was the fact they pulled over, arguing as usual and too tired to keep going for a motel, anything on that stretch of Idaho. Everything was the fact gun oil and a condom were the only things, the fact they didn’t take their jeans off the whole way and anything was the fact they didn’t stop kissing.
The words in Sam’s mind that Dean telegraphed like a broken tape player Anything for you Sam, Anything for my Sammy. Just that they swallowed every noise except for the groan of the suspension and the creak of the leather.
The fact Sam tried to keep his eyes open the whole time, trying to see everything and anything new that Dean could give him, the whole time Anything for you Sammy.
Anything was beyond the crushing pressure of John and the dream of everything that Stanford could offer, anything was the way he could hate Dean if he stayed and everything was the way he could break Dean if he left.
Anything and everything couldn’t stop Sam getting on that Greyhound Bus
Anything and everything was the fact Dean drove him there.
The End