Extended Drabbles - To Kill Kindness for Virtue (SPN) & Morphine (Star Trek)
Inspired by a line in a movie my aunt was watching behind me. 4x22 AU, slight flavors of Castiel/Dean.
Castiel watches Dean tear himself up for them. He watches as each seal broken or saved takes something with it when it passes, a part of him left behind, something dark and hurting underneath, the weeping wound exposed for lack of flesh. Sam leaving tears the rest away, shows the injury for what it is, the fatal wound he hides behind smiles and sarcasm, winding around the tattoo he wears like a brand.
He can't stop it. He can't force away the hurt or the pain, or make Heaven stop. He does what he can, and it isn't enough.
In the end, Sam makes the choice they know he will make. The apocalypse comes, Hell comes. Castiel holds Dean as the world ends, as if his embrace can make up for what he has allowed.
Dean allows it, holds close, tight. Like he's all he has left. He doesn't let go, even when Sam comes back and he's talking practically through him, Dean close to Castiel and Sam's hand on Dean's shoulder, desperately seeking connection.
Castiel realizes too late that Dean is pressing his face into his chest because he's crying.
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Post-movie Star Trek drabble. Kirk gets his ass kicked in a serious way. Kirk/Spock cute.
Bones is as sarcastic as usual, busy about the medical bay, surgical tools and medicines spread out on a small metal tray suspended near his bed. He doesn't talk much, mostly working, and tells him to shut up and rest when he tries to talk.
He doesn't get that he's serious until Spock comes down, and there's actual concern written on the Vulcan's features, subtle but clear as a bell to him - he knows how to read him by now. That clues him in, lets him know even better than McCoy's silence and the vague, morphine-blurred pain somewhere south of his heart that something's wrong.
Disoriented, he gropes for something to hold on to and comes up with Spock's hand, surprising his first officer and leaving traces of blood on his fingers as he misses and then tries again, doesn't the second time, holding as tight as he can.
"You will be alright." Spock sounds less certain than the words say, and he knows it's not logic talking. Logic would say this much blood loss means a pretty good chance of his not being alright. He makes a mental note to tease him about that later, but he can't find the energy, hand slipping before Spock tightens his own grip, just slightly. Just enough.
"Yeah," Kirk slurs, closing his eyes. "I know."
Castiel watches Dean tear himself up for them. He watches as each seal broken or saved takes something with it when it passes, a part of him left behind, something dark and hurting underneath, the weeping wound exposed for lack of flesh. Sam leaving tears the rest away, shows the injury for what it is, the fatal wound he hides behind smiles and sarcasm, winding around the tattoo he wears like a brand.
He can't stop it. He can't force away the hurt or the pain, or make Heaven stop. He does what he can, and it isn't enough.
In the end, Sam makes the choice they know he will make. The apocalypse comes, Hell comes. Castiel holds Dean as the world ends, as if his embrace can make up for what he has allowed.
Dean allows it, holds close, tight. Like he's all he has left. He doesn't let go, even when Sam comes back and he's talking practically through him, Dean close to Castiel and Sam's hand on Dean's shoulder, desperately seeking connection.
Castiel realizes too late that Dean is pressing his face into his chest because he's crying.
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Post-movie Star Trek drabble. Kirk gets his ass kicked in a serious way. Kirk/Spock cute.
Bones is as sarcastic as usual, busy about the medical bay, surgical tools and medicines spread out on a small metal tray suspended near his bed. He doesn't talk much, mostly working, and tells him to shut up and rest when he tries to talk.
He doesn't get that he's serious until Spock comes down, and there's actual concern written on the Vulcan's features, subtle but clear as a bell to him - he knows how to read him by now. That clues him in, lets him know even better than McCoy's silence and the vague, morphine-blurred pain somewhere south of his heart that something's wrong.
Disoriented, he gropes for something to hold on to and comes up with Spock's hand, surprising his first officer and leaving traces of blood on his fingers as he misses and then tries again, doesn't the second time, holding as tight as he can.
"You will be alright." Spock sounds less certain than the words say, and he knows it's not logic talking. Logic would say this much blood loss means a pretty good chance of his not being alright. He makes a mental note to tease him about that later, but he can't find the energy, hand slipping before Spock tightens his own grip, just slightly. Just enough.
"Yeah," Kirk slurs, closing his eyes. "I know."