And Everything in Between
Title: And Everything in Between
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Word Count: 1,019
Summary: And if Sam tried to pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love, he couldn't. It was Dean, and always will be.
And Everything in Between
You’re called Sam. He’s renamed you Sammy. And you fall in love with that concept entirely. How he, broad shoulders and all, can set new boundaries for himself that no one else can cross. “Only he’s allowed to call me that,” you said. And it’s more than just a nickname when it all boils down. It’s a subtle, subtle way of telling the rest of the world to back off, because you’re his.
And if you tried to pinpoint in the timeline of your lives the exact moment when he became your whole damn world, you couldn’t. Like a robber, in the most ridiculous metaphor, he stole your heart; and like a disease, overtook you so quickly you didn’t even see it coming. And even if you did, you wouldn’t have put up a fight ,because you’ve found that the safest place in this crazed world is in his arms.
He’s got eyes bright and emerald. Round, and just as animated as his personality. Eyes that tell stories he wouldn’t dare to say. And if you push your memory far enough, you can almost remember the first time you saw them. The first time for real. You couldn’t have been more than a couple months and he was holding you. Mouth going too fast for you to keep up and words too big for you to understand, but you remember his eyes. Like royal green oceans that rocked you into serenity.
Maybe it’s a little outlandish to some when you say that you can’t live without him. But it’s true. You fall, break into tiny pieces of what you used to be. And then you’re left hollow, empty. Like magic, you deteriorate and blow away with the wind. And that’s the first time that it hits you: without him you’re not you. Not at all. Just a vague and contour version of what you used to be.
He’s taught you a lot. How to tie your shoe when you were three, and how to feed yourself when you were one and a half. He taught you how to stand up for what you believe in, and he’s the reason you put others before yourself. He taught you how to load your shotgun, and at sixteen, he taught you to drive. He taught you how to defend yourself, physically and emotionally. And he taught you, opposite of your father, that sometimes, you don’t have to be ruthless. But his biggest lesson was love. He taught you how to love, and maybe that’s why you can’t feel it, not properly, for any one else but him.
His voice, like a trademark, is implanted in the back of your mind. Because it was him that scared the fake monsters from under your bed, and the real ones outside your door away. And it was his voice that you fell asleep to every night. It’s a comforting growl what can come off as intimidating to anyone who hasn’t seen it in it’s gentlest form. Like stormy night all those years ago. And you remember being too afraid to go to sleep; but it was his voice that was so smooth and wave-like that it hypnotized you, settled your nerves, and rested you on a black sheet of oblivion.
And it’s no shocker that it was his voice that you hear last. It was his voice that kept telling you, over and over, that you’re going to be okay -- even though it was pretty apparent that you weren’t. “I’m gonna take care of you, I’m gonna take care of you; I’ve got you,” he’d said. And honestly, you almost believed him. He’s got that effect on you. But when you found that the world was all out of oxygen for you and you were going numb -- it was just fine with you that the last thing you remember feeling was his fingers in the back of your hair.
Man, isn’t it just Shakespeare-poetic that his name was your first and last. Sad, but true. Like a hello and goodbye; and if you could take it back, you wouldn’t. Because his name being the first and last thing you say is just fine with you. You choose him over anyone and anything, you both know that.
So maybe this love, your love, is one of a kind. It’s pure and it’s real. It’s honest and it’s strong. Not many people can go through what you have. It’s refreshing, like the crisp air after rain, to this world that has so much darkness to be graced with a love like yours. A bright light that burns its way into the world because it deserves to be recognized. Soul-mates, they say. Dean, you say. And that’s all you need.
You’ve both heard it’s wrong; your love is. But neither of you understand. Maybe you never will. How can something so faithful and earnest be sinful? Is it wrong to love someone more than you love yourself? Is it wrong to build everything you know inside of them and grow as they grow? Is it wrong to find the person that you know you can always count on? Is it wrong to want to keep them with you for all your days? Selfish, maybe. But far from immoral and impure.
And this thing, this life you’ve built, you owe to him. He’s the reason you are who you are. And if you owe a thanks to anyone in this world, it’s him. You would say, “Thank you. Thank you for raising me, for helping me, for believing in me. Thank you for guiding me, for protecting me, for embracing me. Thank you for allowing me to grow, thank you for showing me all you could, and thank you for trying. But most of all, thank you for loving me.”
When you lay your head on his chest and listen to his heart, you hear your favorite song. His heartbeat-- slow and steady. And you know you’re alive. You are as long as he is, because he’s you, your world, and everything in between.
This is Dean.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Word Count: 1,019
Summary: And if Sam tried to pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love, he couldn't. It was Dean, and always will be.
And Everything in Between
You’re called Sam. He’s renamed you Sammy. And you fall in love with that concept entirely. How he, broad shoulders and all, can set new boundaries for himself that no one else can cross. “Only he’s allowed to call me that,” you said. And it’s more than just a nickname when it all boils down. It’s a subtle, subtle way of telling the rest of the world to back off, because you’re his.
And if you tried to pinpoint in the timeline of your lives the exact moment when he became your whole damn world, you couldn’t. Like a robber, in the most ridiculous metaphor, he stole your heart; and like a disease, overtook you so quickly you didn’t even see it coming. And even if you did, you wouldn’t have put up a fight ,because you’ve found that the safest place in this crazed world is in his arms.
He’s got eyes bright and emerald. Round, and just as animated as his personality. Eyes that tell stories he wouldn’t dare to say. And if you push your memory far enough, you can almost remember the first time you saw them. The first time for real. You couldn’t have been more than a couple months and he was holding you. Mouth going too fast for you to keep up and words too big for you to understand, but you remember his eyes. Like royal green oceans that rocked you into serenity.
Maybe it’s a little outlandish to some when you say that you can’t live without him. But it’s true. You fall, break into tiny pieces of what you used to be. And then you’re left hollow, empty. Like magic, you deteriorate and blow away with the wind. And that’s the first time that it hits you: without him you’re not you. Not at all. Just a vague and contour version of what you used to be.
He’s taught you a lot. How to tie your shoe when you were three, and how to feed yourself when you were one and a half. He taught you how to stand up for what you believe in, and he’s the reason you put others before yourself. He taught you how to load your shotgun, and at sixteen, he taught you to drive. He taught you how to defend yourself, physically and emotionally. And he taught you, opposite of your father, that sometimes, you don’t have to be ruthless. But his biggest lesson was love. He taught you how to love, and maybe that’s why you can’t feel it, not properly, for any one else but him.
His voice, like a trademark, is implanted in the back of your mind. Because it was him that scared the fake monsters from under your bed, and the real ones outside your door away. And it was his voice that you fell asleep to every night. It’s a comforting growl what can come off as intimidating to anyone who hasn’t seen it in it’s gentlest form. Like stormy night all those years ago. And you remember being too afraid to go to sleep; but it was his voice that was so smooth and wave-like that it hypnotized you, settled your nerves, and rested you on a black sheet of oblivion.
And it’s no shocker that it was his voice that you hear last. It was his voice that kept telling you, over and over, that you’re going to be okay -- even though it was pretty apparent that you weren’t. “I’m gonna take care of you, I’m gonna take care of you; I’ve got you,” he’d said. And honestly, you almost believed him. He’s got that effect on you. But when you found that the world was all out of oxygen for you and you were going numb -- it was just fine with you that the last thing you remember feeling was his fingers in the back of your hair.
Man, isn’t it just Shakespeare-poetic that his name was your first and last. Sad, but true. Like a hello and goodbye; and if you could take it back, you wouldn’t. Because his name being the first and last thing you say is just fine with you. You choose him over anyone and anything, you both know that.
So maybe this love, your love, is one of a kind. It’s pure and it’s real. It’s honest and it’s strong. Not many people can go through what you have. It’s refreshing, like the crisp air after rain, to this world that has so much darkness to be graced with a love like yours. A bright light that burns its way into the world because it deserves to be recognized. Soul-mates, they say. Dean, you say. And that’s all you need.
You’ve both heard it’s wrong; your love is. But neither of you understand. Maybe you never will. How can something so faithful and earnest be sinful? Is it wrong to love someone more than you love yourself? Is it wrong to build everything you know inside of them and grow as they grow? Is it wrong to find the person that you know you can always count on? Is it wrong to want to keep them with you for all your days? Selfish, maybe. But far from immoral and impure.
And this thing, this life you’ve built, you owe to him. He’s the reason you are who you are. And if you owe a thanks to anyone in this world, it’s him. You would say, “Thank you. Thank you for raising me, for helping me, for believing in me. Thank you for guiding me, for protecting me, for embracing me. Thank you for allowing me to grow, thank you for showing me all you could, and thank you for trying. But most of all, thank you for loving me.”
When you lay your head on his chest and listen to his heart, you hear your favorite song. His heartbeat-- slow and steady. And you know you’re alive. You are as long as he is, because he’s you, your world, and everything in between.
This is Dean.