Wherein I attempted Wincest Drabble
Ummm. I attempted wincest and angst. 2 things I don't write very well at all. ;p BUT practice makes perfect! After 3.12, this kind of poured out of me. And I've been tweaking it and criticizing it and worrying about how sucky it is ever since (this is why it doesn't even have a title). So flist, feel free to tell me what you really think- concrit, beta, whatever. I really appreciate whoever takes the time to read it. *takes a breath* ANYWAY-
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Spoilers: For 3.12 Jus in Bello
Rating: R for language
Warnings: Wincest, boy!kissing, Spoilers for 3.12
Word Count: 465
Takes place right after 3.12 Jus in Bello.
Italics is Sam thinking.
‘Damnit!’
‘Dean, there was no way we could have known-‘
‘Sam, That’s not good enough. That’s not an excuse.’ Dean jumped off the bed and started pacing the room, frustration and anger filtering off his body in waves.
Dean was shouting now. ‘We have to fight a demon army and the only way to do it is to believe one of them! We are going to have to kill civilians- this really is war! We plunged the world into a fucking war!’
‘Dean, you have to breath.’ Sam wasn’t breaking through. Dean had gone inside himself, retreated behind a façade of anger; the only outward traces of his prideful smart ass self reflected in the way he kept his shoulders squared. But even his shoulders were losing their resolve.
‘And now I’m going to die. And you are gonna hafta face this alone and it’s all my fault. If I turn into one of them, you are going to have to kill me Sam. You are gonna hafta send me back to hell.’
Fuck, Dean yelling was better than Dean broken.
‘DEAN!’ Off the bed and forcing Dean to look him in the eyes, Sam tried again.
‘That’s not gonna happen. You aren’t dying.’
But now Dean was shouting in his face, ranting and rambling. His pupils were blown wide and words were spilling out of him like blood after getting shot in the gut. His breath was hot on Sam’s face.
‘Hendrickson is dead. Nancy is dead. Everyone is dead. What about Bobby? Why didn’t he come? What about your fucking powers? Where the fuck where they when we needed them? Lillath is going to kill you and I’m going to be forced to watch, Sammy. I can’t just watch you die again.
‘Shut Up. Shut the fuck up.’ Sam grabbed Dean with both hands on his shirt and threw him up against the wall.
Dean drew a ragged breath. They were both trembling.
‘Sammy, Hendrickson said I had nothing to lose but he was wrong. He was so fucking wrong. I have everything to lose.’
‘You think I don’t?’ Sam’s voice was harsh and sharp, cutting through Dean like a knife.
Sam’s hands were loosening their grip on Dean’s shirt, even though his knuckles were bone white. Their foreheads bumped, Dean’s eyes almost crossing as he struggled to stay looking into Sam's.
They finally broke.
Dean raked his hands through Sam’s hair before their lips crashed together. Sam’s hands started to push Dean away because fuck, they needed to talk this out but his tongue was already responding.
‘Sam, I need to feel you.’ Dean almost pleaded.
‘Ya, Dean. Okay.’ Sam dragged Dean, stumbling until the back of his knees hit the bed and he crumpled, bringing Dean down with him.
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Spoilers: For 3.12 Jus in Bello
Rating: R for language
Warnings: Wincest, boy!kissing, Spoilers for 3.12
Word Count: 465
Takes place right after 3.12 Jus in Bello.
Italics is Sam thinking.
‘Damnit!’
‘Dean, there was no way we could have known-‘
‘Sam, That’s not good enough. That’s not an excuse.’ Dean jumped off the bed and started pacing the room, frustration and anger filtering off his body in waves.
Dean was shouting now. ‘We have to fight a demon army and the only way to do it is to believe one of them! We are going to have to kill civilians- this really is war! We plunged the world into a fucking war!’
‘Dean, you have to breath.’ Sam wasn’t breaking through. Dean had gone inside himself, retreated behind a façade of anger; the only outward traces of his prideful smart ass self reflected in the way he kept his shoulders squared. But even his shoulders were losing their resolve.
‘And now I’m going to die. And you are gonna hafta face this alone and it’s all my fault. If I turn into one of them, you are going to have to kill me Sam. You are gonna hafta send me back to hell.’
Fuck, Dean yelling was better than Dean broken.
‘DEAN!’ Off the bed and forcing Dean to look him in the eyes, Sam tried again.
‘That’s not gonna happen. You aren’t dying.’
But now Dean was shouting in his face, ranting and rambling. His pupils were blown wide and words were spilling out of him like blood after getting shot in the gut. His breath was hot on Sam’s face.
‘Hendrickson is dead. Nancy is dead. Everyone is dead. What about Bobby? Why didn’t he come? What about your fucking powers? Where the fuck where they when we needed them? Lillath is going to kill you and I’m going to be forced to watch, Sammy. I can’t just watch you die again.
‘Shut Up. Shut the fuck up.’ Sam grabbed Dean with both hands on his shirt and threw him up against the wall.
Dean drew a ragged breath. They were both trembling.
‘Sammy, Hendrickson said I had nothing to lose but he was wrong. He was so fucking wrong. I have everything to lose.’
‘You think I don’t?’ Sam’s voice was harsh and sharp, cutting through Dean like a knife.
Sam’s hands were loosening their grip on Dean’s shirt, even though his knuckles were bone white. Their foreheads bumped, Dean’s eyes almost crossing as he struggled to stay looking into Sam's.
They finally broke.
Dean raked his hands through Sam’s hair before their lips crashed together. Sam’s hands started to push Dean away because fuck, they needed to talk this out but his tongue was already responding.
‘Sam, I need to feel you.’ Dean almost pleaded.
‘Ya, Dean. Okay.’ Sam dragged Dean, stumbling until the back of his knees hit the bed and he crumpled, bringing Dean down with him.