Supernatural: 77 Years in the Making
Title: 77 Years in the Making
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Genre: Kind of angsty, negl. But also fluffy? THEIR LOVE IS EPIC AND SHINY.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 580
Author’s Note: After a long and somewhat cracktastic conversation, Shannon_doll wrote the incredibly fantastic drabble 27 Is A Long Time To Be Lovahs With Your Brotha (okay, now it’s called 31 Years in the Making, so I made my title a play on that, but it will forever be 27 is a Long Time to Be Lovahs with Your Brother :P). After reading it and giggling my ass off, I decided I wanted to write a follow up. Unfortunately my heart went to a sad place, but I hope you love it anyway, BB-this one’s for you, Shannon_doll.
Summary: Dean still remembers that night. Somehow, Sam does, too.
”You know what’s really great about January 27th?” Dean looks over at his brother and Sam’s head pops up immediately. He still doesn’t know why he’d always used to wait until the 27th to do this, but he’s sure Sam will get the joke.
“Today is January 27th?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh God. Dean. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so…I can’t believe I. Fuck. I’m sorry.”
“Was bound to happen at some point.” Dean shrugs dismissively. Sam hasn’t forgotten since that night he’d made that incredibly drunken promise that Dean was just impressed Sam could remember at all the next day. He wasn’t really upset with Sam for forgetting-Sam was beginning to forget a lot of things and that’s what was really bugging Dean.
“I’m the worst. Ever.”
“No, Sammy, come on, don’t beat yourself up.”
“It was your birthday, and you gave me three days to remember, and I still forgot. Again. The absolute worst.”
“You haven’t forgotten in, like…”
“Fifty years.”
Dean swallows hard, nods, and kind of regrets that he doesn’t have as much bourbon on him as he’d had that night. He can still see Sam; wasted out of his mind, eyes shining, and mouth smiling. And beautiful, he’d been so fucking beautiful. “You remember?”
“Of course I remember,” Sam says softly, before adding a little more upbeat, “I still have the hangover.”
Deans lets out a surprised bark of laughter.
“You owe me ten bucks, by the way.”
“What?”
“You bet me we wouldn’t make it another year. You owe me ten bucks times fifty. Which is…” Sam tapers off like he’s trying to count but eventually just shakes his head out. “A fucking lot of money.”
“God, and you thought I was old then. 81 years.”
“Still young at heart and frisky in the sack though, right?”
“Can’t lie to you about that.” Sam laughs and lets his head fall back against his chair. He looks exhausted, down to the bone, in a way he hasn’t since they stopped hunting. Dean is reminded of the kid he’d used to carry in to motels from the back seat of the Impala, even when he knew Sam was only pretending to be asleep. Dean had always been content to play along, had pressed a kiss on Sam’s forehead those nights the same way he did when Sam had really been asleep. He’s shaken by the memory, by the realization that he’s been in Love with his brother in one way or another for 77 years. Dean leans over the back of Sam’s chair and kisses his brother’s forehead. There’s white hair there and bald spots and wrinkles and somehow, Sam is still perfect.
Sam makes a content sound in the back of his throat. “I don’t think we’re gonna make it to 227, Dean.”
“Naw, that was probably a little ambitious.”
“I was really drunk.”
“At least you didn’t put money on it.”
“Should have left it at one hundred more. That would have been much easier.”
“Well, like you said, you were impressively drunk at the time. Let’s go to bed, alright?”
Sam nods, but before he gets up, he grabs Dean’s arm and pulls his brother in close. “It was a good fifty though. It was enough.”
Dean smiles a little, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He can’t stand the idea of losing Sam. He wants another fifty.
“More than we ever could have hoped for.”
“Yeah, Sammy. It was a really good fifty.”
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Genre: Kind of angsty, negl. But also fluffy? THEIR LOVE IS EPIC AND SHINY.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 580
Author’s Note: After a long and somewhat cracktastic conversation, Shannon_doll wrote the incredibly fantastic drabble 27 Is A Long Time To Be Lovahs With Your Brotha (okay, now it’s called 31 Years in the Making, so I made my title a play on that, but it will forever be 27 is a Long Time to Be Lovahs with Your Brother :P). After reading it and giggling my ass off, I decided I wanted to write a follow up. Unfortunately my heart went to a sad place, but I hope you love it anyway, BB-this one’s for you, Shannon_doll.
Summary: Dean still remembers that night. Somehow, Sam does, too.
”You know what’s really great about January 27th?” Dean looks over at his brother and Sam’s head pops up immediately. He still doesn’t know why he’d always used to wait until the 27th to do this, but he’s sure Sam will get the joke.
“Today is January 27th?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh God. Dean. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so…I can’t believe I. Fuck. I’m sorry.”
“Was bound to happen at some point.” Dean shrugs dismissively. Sam hasn’t forgotten since that night he’d made that incredibly drunken promise that Dean was just impressed Sam could remember at all the next day. He wasn’t really upset with Sam for forgetting-Sam was beginning to forget a lot of things and that’s what was really bugging Dean.
“I’m the worst. Ever.”
“No, Sammy, come on, don’t beat yourself up.”
“It was your birthday, and you gave me three days to remember, and I still forgot. Again. The absolute worst.”
“You haven’t forgotten in, like…”
“Fifty years.”
Dean swallows hard, nods, and kind of regrets that he doesn’t have as much bourbon on him as he’d had that night. He can still see Sam; wasted out of his mind, eyes shining, and mouth smiling. And beautiful, he’d been so fucking beautiful. “You remember?”
“Of course I remember,” Sam says softly, before adding a little more upbeat, “I still have the hangover.”
Deans lets out a surprised bark of laughter.
“You owe me ten bucks, by the way.”
“What?”
“You bet me we wouldn’t make it another year. You owe me ten bucks times fifty. Which is…” Sam tapers off like he’s trying to count but eventually just shakes his head out. “A fucking lot of money.”
“God, and you thought I was old then. 81 years.”
“Still young at heart and frisky in the sack though, right?”
“Can’t lie to you about that.” Sam laughs and lets his head fall back against his chair. He looks exhausted, down to the bone, in a way he hasn’t since they stopped hunting. Dean is reminded of the kid he’d used to carry in to motels from the back seat of the Impala, even when he knew Sam was only pretending to be asleep. Dean had always been content to play along, had pressed a kiss on Sam’s forehead those nights the same way he did when Sam had really been asleep. He’s shaken by the memory, by the realization that he’s been in Love with his brother in one way or another for 77 years. Dean leans over the back of Sam’s chair and kisses his brother’s forehead. There’s white hair there and bald spots and wrinkles and somehow, Sam is still perfect.
Sam makes a content sound in the back of his throat. “I don’t think we’re gonna make it to 227, Dean.”
“Naw, that was probably a little ambitious.”
“I was really drunk.”
“At least you didn’t put money on it.”
“Should have left it at one hundred more. That would have been much easier.”
“Well, like you said, you were impressively drunk at the time. Let’s go to bed, alright?”
Sam nods, but before he gets up, he grabs Dean’s arm and pulls his brother in close. “It was a good fifty though. It was enough.”
Dean smiles a little, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He can’t stand the idea of losing Sam. He wants another fifty.
“More than we ever could have hoped for.”
“Yeah, Sammy. It was a really good fifty.”