Nothing Else Matters
Here's a bit of Supernatural fic to add to the growing pile of finale codas. This means spoilers, for those playing the home game. Enjoy.
Title: Nothing Else Matters
Pairing: Sam/Dean, established relationship (A.k.a. Wincest, people. You are forewarned.)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1400
Warnings: SPOILERS for 5.22. Angst and schmoop. Also, this is my first fic and I have no beta, so this may well be rather rough in places.
Disclaimer: I make no claim to Supernatural or its characters. This is entirely for fun, and no profit will be made.
Summary: How to live without your soul mate in three easy steps.
Dean runs.
He goes up Third Street, takes a left at Walnut, and goes left again at Sixth. On bad mornings he just cuts back along Grove and doesn’t go any further. On really bad mornings he’ll keep going-down past Maple, all the way to Franklin before circling around. On Franklin mornings, it’s good to have an excuse for not being able to breathe.
:::
He hasn’t told Lisa most of what happened, and she doesn’t push; she just takes care of Dean as best as he’ll let her. Fresh sheets appear in the guest room every week, and when he gets back from his daily run there’s always breakfast waiting. He doesn’t know if she does it out of gratitude, lingering affection, or just pity, and he has no feelings on the subject.
At night there is no weight pinning him to the bed. It makes it hard to sleep, and it leaves him feeling disjointed and confused in the daytime.
:::
It’s certainly better than trying to manage on his own, but neither Lisa nor anyone on Earth or in Heaven can compete with the guy Dean’s been holding on to since he was four years old. And yeah, he never brought it up with Sam-because Dean isn’t actually a thirteen-year-old girl, and seriously, there are limits-but he knew exactly what Ash was talking about the last time they saw him. So there isn’t anyone else for Dean, but he’s glad to have some people on his side who know he’s a mess right now and won’t look down on him for it.
Ben treats Dean with the directness of most children, and Dean is grateful for it. Because Dean knows he’s sending out a vibe that’s distinctly off, and it makes most adults slide their eyes away from him in discomfort. But Ben navigates Dean’s bad days and awkward pauses without effort, somehow understanding that they’re just a part of who Dean is now.
:::
After the first month he realizes he’s probably a burden and starts working, but every place he’s suited for only reminds him of things. The clack of the cue balls breaking in the bar drives him mad, as does the smell of engine oil. Running reminds him, too, of a time when that space on the pavement next to him wasn’t empty, just like how there never used to be extra room in his bed.
But at least when he runs he can push himself until he can’t think, never mind remember, so he stops the odd jobs and spends more time running and working out. He takes care of the guns, all of them, and he practices. It’s not quite what he promised, but it grounds him in the sea of normality he’s landed in. Everyone else is walking around not knowing what it’s like to hold themselves still by the side of a car and let their whole world fall into a pit, so the guns are the good kind of reminder. They’re proof it was all real.
:::
Cas appears on a Tuesday morning, right in the middle of Franklin, and says, “I believe you should know that your brother has escaped from Lucifer’s cage.”
Cas’s limited understanding of small talk seems to have disappeared with his humanity. Then again, maybe he’s just grown used to dealing with other angels instead of people. Dean thinks this over, because he can’t think about what Cas just said.
The angel stands there for almost a full minute before shifting nervously, and there some of his human ways show through. “Is this news not of interest to you?”
Dean is ‘interested’ in only one thing. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Cas shuffles his feet some more, and now he’s starting to look downright concerned. Dean finds this vaguely funny. “I’m telling you that someone, I presume God, has intervened on behalf of your brothers. While Lucifer and Michael were left in the cage, Adam has been returned to Heaven and Sam to Earth. I do not understand how this is possible, but I have seen proof of it myself. Now do you or do you not wish to speak with Sam?”
Dean thinks about it, and decides that Cas really does sound more like an angel than a person now, but that it’s understandable given his new duties, so Dean shouldn’t hold it against him. He thinks organizing Heaven is a crazy job, but Cas seems to be holding up well under the stress. He definitely thinks that Cas should lose the fucking trench coat at this point.
He pulls himself together.
“If that’s true, then why the hell isn’t he here telling me himself?”
“I have tried to persuade him to do so. He is convinced, however, that it is his duty to let you live the life you want. While I might agree with that sentiment, after observing you for some time I have come to the conclusion that that is not the life you are living right now.”
Something that isn’t a laugh comes out of Dean, and Cas shifts on his feet again. Dean would feel bad for him, but he can’t keep anything straight right now.
“No shit Cas. Can’t you just tell him that?”
“He does not believe me; I have come to the conclusion that you are the only one who can convince him. If you are willing, I can take you there so that you may try.”
Dean knows this could be one of a hundred tricks or traps. He doesn’t have it left in him to believe that Sam actually escaped both destiny and a cage even the Devil couldn’t spring. He knows this might not even be Cas in front of him, and if he cared even the slightest there are a dozen ways he could check. Instead he just nods. Then he’s standing in a motel room, and there in front of him is the love of his goddamned life. And then he goes crazy for a little while.
:::
When Dean comes back to his senses he’s on the edge of the bed, and Sam is kneeling on the floor in front of him, talking softly. He sounds apologetic, which seems odd because his face is bloodied up, and Dean is pretty sure he did that by the way his knuckles hurt. But then he hears Sam’s apologies and remembers why he’s so pissed, because Sam must be the dumbest fucker on the planet to have actually thought what he’s saying he thought.
But Dean can’t stay angry for long, because he’s seen Sam a dozen kinds of whacked-out and possessed and otherwise Not Sam, and this is Sam, his baby brother who grew up so tall-who is still so tall now, even when he’s on his knees. So he loses it again for a little longer, but not so bad this time. And when he comes back again he’s wrapped up in Sam like a blanket, his face pressed into Sam’s chest, and he doesn’t think he hurt anyone this go around. So that’s, you know, an improvement. And Sam is also crying by now, so Dean doesn’t have to feel so completely humiliated.
Sam’s still apologizing, too, endless repetitions of how sorry he is and how he’ll never do it again and how it felt like years, down there, and he thought Dean had moved on, and how he’s terrified he’s fucked it all up and how he’s so, so in love with him. But they’re both right there, so Dean can’t waste another second with this emo bullshit, and he puts a stop to it the fastest way he knows. As soon as he presses their mouths together, Sam’s arms go tight around him, and his chest gives a happy little hitch. They fall together this time, but it’s just down to the mattress. And then there is no more crying, and very little talking, and no extra room in the bed.
End
If you have the time to leave feedback it would be much appreciated, as this is my first story and I have no idea what I'm doing here. Either way, thank you for reading!
Title: Nothing Else Matters
Pairing: Sam/Dean, established relationship (A.k.a. Wincest, people. You are forewarned.)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1400
Warnings: SPOILERS for 5.22. Angst and schmoop. Also, this is my first fic and I have no beta, so this may well be rather rough in places.
Disclaimer: I make no claim to Supernatural or its characters. This is entirely for fun, and no profit will be made.
Summary: How to live without your soul mate in three easy steps.
Dean runs.
He goes up Third Street, takes a left at Walnut, and goes left again at Sixth. On bad mornings he just cuts back along Grove and doesn’t go any further. On really bad mornings he’ll keep going-down past Maple, all the way to Franklin before circling around. On Franklin mornings, it’s good to have an excuse for not being able to breathe.
:::
He hasn’t told Lisa most of what happened, and she doesn’t push; she just takes care of Dean as best as he’ll let her. Fresh sheets appear in the guest room every week, and when he gets back from his daily run there’s always breakfast waiting. He doesn’t know if she does it out of gratitude, lingering affection, or just pity, and he has no feelings on the subject.
At night there is no weight pinning him to the bed. It makes it hard to sleep, and it leaves him feeling disjointed and confused in the daytime.
:::
It’s certainly better than trying to manage on his own, but neither Lisa nor anyone on Earth or in Heaven can compete with the guy Dean’s been holding on to since he was four years old. And yeah, he never brought it up with Sam-because Dean isn’t actually a thirteen-year-old girl, and seriously, there are limits-but he knew exactly what Ash was talking about the last time they saw him. So there isn’t anyone else for Dean, but he’s glad to have some people on his side who know he’s a mess right now and won’t look down on him for it.
Ben treats Dean with the directness of most children, and Dean is grateful for it. Because Dean knows he’s sending out a vibe that’s distinctly off, and it makes most adults slide their eyes away from him in discomfort. But Ben navigates Dean’s bad days and awkward pauses without effort, somehow understanding that they’re just a part of who Dean is now.
:::
After the first month he realizes he’s probably a burden and starts working, but every place he’s suited for only reminds him of things. The clack of the cue balls breaking in the bar drives him mad, as does the smell of engine oil. Running reminds him, too, of a time when that space on the pavement next to him wasn’t empty, just like how there never used to be extra room in his bed.
But at least when he runs he can push himself until he can’t think, never mind remember, so he stops the odd jobs and spends more time running and working out. He takes care of the guns, all of them, and he practices. It’s not quite what he promised, but it grounds him in the sea of normality he’s landed in. Everyone else is walking around not knowing what it’s like to hold themselves still by the side of a car and let their whole world fall into a pit, so the guns are the good kind of reminder. They’re proof it was all real.
:::
Cas appears on a Tuesday morning, right in the middle of Franklin, and says, “I believe you should know that your brother has escaped from Lucifer’s cage.”
Cas’s limited understanding of small talk seems to have disappeared with his humanity. Then again, maybe he’s just grown used to dealing with other angels instead of people. Dean thinks this over, because he can’t think about what Cas just said.
The angel stands there for almost a full minute before shifting nervously, and there some of his human ways show through. “Is this news not of interest to you?”
Dean is ‘interested’ in only one thing. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Cas shuffles his feet some more, and now he’s starting to look downright concerned. Dean finds this vaguely funny. “I’m telling you that someone, I presume God, has intervened on behalf of your brothers. While Lucifer and Michael were left in the cage, Adam has been returned to Heaven and Sam to Earth. I do not understand how this is possible, but I have seen proof of it myself. Now do you or do you not wish to speak with Sam?”
Dean thinks about it, and decides that Cas really does sound more like an angel than a person now, but that it’s understandable given his new duties, so Dean shouldn’t hold it against him. He thinks organizing Heaven is a crazy job, but Cas seems to be holding up well under the stress. He definitely thinks that Cas should lose the fucking trench coat at this point.
He pulls himself together.
“If that’s true, then why the hell isn’t he here telling me himself?”
“I have tried to persuade him to do so. He is convinced, however, that it is his duty to let you live the life you want. While I might agree with that sentiment, after observing you for some time I have come to the conclusion that that is not the life you are living right now.”
Something that isn’t a laugh comes out of Dean, and Cas shifts on his feet again. Dean would feel bad for him, but he can’t keep anything straight right now.
“No shit Cas. Can’t you just tell him that?”
“He does not believe me; I have come to the conclusion that you are the only one who can convince him. If you are willing, I can take you there so that you may try.”
Dean knows this could be one of a hundred tricks or traps. He doesn’t have it left in him to believe that Sam actually escaped both destiny and a cage even the Devil couldn’t spring. He knows this might not even be Cas in front of him, and if he cared even the slightest there are a dozen ways he could check. Instead he just nods. Then he’s standing in a motel room, and there in front of him is the love of his goddamned life. And then he goes crazy for a little while.
:::
When Dean comes back to his senses he’s on the edge of the bed, and Sam is kneeling on the floor in front of him, talking softly. He sounds apologetic, which seems odd because his face is bloodied up, and Dean is pretty sure he did that by the way his knuckles hurt. But then he hears Sam’s apologies and remembers why he’s so pissed, because Sam must be the dumbest fucker on the planet to have actually thought what he’s saying he thought.
But Dean can’t stay angry for long, because he’s seen Sam a dozen kinds of whacked-out and possessed and otherwise Not Sam, and this is Sam, his baby brother who grew up so tall-who is still so tall now, even when he’s on his knees. So he loses it again for a little longer, but not so bad this time. And when he comes back again he’s wrapped up in Sam like a blanket, his face pressed into Sam’s chest, and he doesn’t think he hurt anyone this go around. So that’s, you know, an improvement. And Sam is also crying by now, so Dean doesn’t have to feel so completely humiliated.
Sam’s still apologizing, too, endless repetitions of how sorry he is and how he’ll never do it again and how it felt like years, down there, and he thought Dean had moved on, and how he’s terrified he’s fucked it all up and how he’s so, so in love with him. But they’re both right there, so Dean can’t waste another second with this emo bullshit, and he puts a stop to it the fastest way he knows. As soon as he presses their mouths together, Sam’s arms go tight around him, and his chest gives a happy little hitch. They fall together this time, but it’s just down to the mattress. And then there is no more crying, and very little talking, and no extra room in the bed.
End
If you have the time to leave feedback it would be much appreciated, as this is my first story and I have no idea what I'm doing here. Either way, thank you for reading!