7x18 Comment-fic Meme
Hello! lazy-daze and I have decided that the time for comment-fic is now. In this past episode, Sam and Dean get shwasted Dean says, "I miss these talks." However, we do not see said talk on-screen.
AND THUS, THE INCEPTION OF:
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AND THUS, THE INCEPTION OF:
( Read more... )
Dean tries to imagine it, the two of them, Sam & Dean’s Discount Hardware, but he just sees a girl being attacked by a werewolf 90 miles out with nobody there to stop it or save her, because the two of them aren’t hunting, they’re just living. Not that they could ever save that first girl, it’s always after she’s dead that they show up, but at least they save the second, or the third, or however many it takes for them to find the damn thing. If they never knew how many it killed...
His head spins and he sways a bit on Sam’s lap, and something’s tilting be it the room or his head. One of Sam’s big spider hands finds its way to his scalp, holds him steady. Sam’s lips skirt his chin. It’s all very weird, and Dean’s having trouble processing it. He shifts, tries to face Sam, but it’s not comfortable so he gets up and gets back down and now he’s straddling Sam like a lap dancer. Which somewhere in the back of his mind seems like an awfully bad thing, but now there’s a pleasant buzz down there as well as up top and Sam’s gaze has caught his.
“We could just... be,” Sam says. “And maybe everything would be okay. Maybe life would go on. And you and me...” A jolt at Dean’s waist and he looks down. Sammy fingers tangled in his belt loops, grabby and insistent, tugging in an erratic rhythm. And then there’s Sam’s other hand in his hair, tugging too, and his chin comes up sharply.
His whole intent was to tell Sam off, but the words are slow on his tongue, and Sam’s pout is even further forward than it ought to be. So the minute he purses his lips to talk he’s meeting Sam’s lips midway, a funny pout-talk-kiss thing that steals his breath and makes his brain buzz funnily inside his head. Sam sucks in air briefly, and the vacuum pressure fuses their mouths together. They’re locked there, mouths stuck touching, and Dean’s forgotten to breathe too.
Breathe. Exhale. Fingers come loose, mouths come loose.
Right. That’s right. Sometimes they do this when they’re drunk together, the funny touching and the sometimes-kissing, nothing much. It’s just been so long, so long since Sam’s been OK and Dean’s been … anything, that it feels weird.
His head’s a blur, and he’s got a chill on the back of his neck. Dean eases off Sam’s lap. There’s a little wobble as he . “Yeah,” he says, “yeah, maybe. Maybe we should do that, Sammy.”
“Yeah?” Sam’s eyes shimmer with hope. “You really think so?”
Dean arches his eyebrows. “No. But it’s a nice thought anyway, dude.”
“Oh.” Sam slumps forward onto the desk, rests his head on his wrists like he’s about to go to sleep. “Damn.” Dean feels like a jerk for bursting his bubble, but really. Sam’s a smart guy, but hardware stores and kumbaya with monsters, those things ain’t happening.
Or maybe he’s all wrong.
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I am so glad we agree on the awesome of these such things. :D I greatly enjoy YOU. :D
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Fluffy cute drunk!Sam being all adorable and Wincesty and hippie-esque! I knew Cali rubbed off on him a little bit!
And oh, Dean! The eternal pessimist, forever refusing to believe in Sammy's wuzzlieness. Give in, Dean! Come over to the light; we've got piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeee.
Seriously, this was sweet and lovely and a breath of fresh air after a day of dealing with people that I swear would eat their young. Thank you, hun!
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