Quick, Untitled Supernatural Drabble
Destiel, ~500 words
Spoilers for the end of season 8, predictive of season 9
Sam stops Dean in the hallway. This has gone on long enough, and Sam just can’t stand to see it play out the same way again and again and again. It has to stop.
But one look at the closed-off, defensive expression on Dean’s face tells Sam that this isn’t going to be an easy conversation. Sam raises his hands in a conciliatory, apologetic gesture, and starts with, “Hear me out-“
"Sam-" Dean interrupts, a warning in his voice that Sam has long-since learned to disregard.
"No, I’m serious, just let me get this out, okay?" Sam continues, steamrolling over Dean’s objection. "All I want to say is, I think you and Cas could have something really great-" Dean’s face scrunches into an imminent protest but Sam barrels on before he gets a chance, "-and I just don’t see why you keep pushing him away. I think he could make you really happy, Dean. I don’t understand why you’re not just letting it happen."
Dean pauses for a moment, angry gaze fixed down on the floor. He seems to be testing a variety of responses in his head, but then throwing them all away immediately. He opens his mouth once or twice, but then closes it again. Finally Sam can tell that Dean’s about to speak because a certain tension leaves Dean’s shoulders and a weary, defeated cast envelops him instead.
"Why?" Dean asks quietly, voice still laced with anger. He makes a vague shrugging gesture and raises a hand to indicate the wall, as though gesturing at the bunker, at life, at their situation in general. "Do you really think this is going to last?" He looks up at Sam, and his expression is still hard, guarded. "He’s not human. I mean, sure, he’s got a human body right now, but that’s not who he is. He’s going to get his grace back eventually, and then he’s going to leave, like everyone always leaves, and go back to Heaven, and what will be the point? I’ll still be here.”
Sam is caught off-guard. This was not the flavor of defensiveness he expected from Dean; his brother’s occasional self-aware honesty always leaves him flat-footed. After a second, Sam tries, “Wouldn’t it be better to have a little bit of happiness now, at least, while you can? Isn’t some good for a little while better than no good at all?”
Dean shakes his head. “No, because I-” he pauses, and his sentences become fractured, broken by awkward, stilted halts. “If something- if there was something- here, then I-” He can’t hold Sam’s gaze; instead his eyes flitter around the stone walls like a trapped bird. “If he left- it would mean that I’m- not- I’m not good enough, and I can’t-“
"Dean…" Sam doesn’t know what to say to counter that. Dean’s always been the big brother, the fearless defender. Sam doesn’t know how to deal with Dean’s fear, with anything big enough to defeat such a stalwart, dependable defender as Dean.
"Just, drop it, okay?" Dean mutters, and pushes past him. Sam watches him go, and tries to imagine how it might be possible to slay such monsters of the heart.
Spoilers for the end of season 8, predictive of season 9
Sam stops Dean in the hallway. This has gone on long enough, and Sam just can’t stand to see it play out the same way again and again and again. It has to stop.
But one look at the closed-off, defensive expression on Dean’s face tells Sam that this isn’t going to be an easy conversation. Sam raises his hands in a conciliatory, apologetic gesture, and starts with, “Hear me out-“
"Sam-" Dean interrupts, a warning in his voice that Sam has long-since learned to disregard.
"No, I’m serious, just let me get this out, okay?" Sam continues, steamrolling over Dean’s objection. "All I want to say is, I think you and Cas could have something really great-" Dean’s face scrunches into an imminent protest but Sam barrels on before he gets a chance, "-and I just don’t see why you keep pushing him away. I think he could make you really happy, Dean. I don’t understand why you’re not just letting it happen."
Dean pauses for a moment, angry gaze fixed down on the floor. He seems to be testing a variety of responses in his head, but then throwing them all away immediately. He opens his mouth once or twice, but then closes it again. Finally Sam can tell that Dean’s about to speak because a certain tension leaves Dean’s shoulders and a weary, defeated cast envelops him instead.
"Why?" Dean asks quietly, voice still laced with anger. He makes a vague shrugging gesture and raises a hand to indicate the wall, as though gesturing at the bunker, at life, at their situation in general. "Do you really think this is going to last?" He looks up at Sam, and his expression is still hard, guarded. "He’s not human. I mean, sure, he’s got a human body right now, but that’s not who he is. He’s going to get his grace back eventually, and then he’s going to leave, like everyone always leaves, and go back to Heaven, and what will be the point? I’ll still be here.”
Sam is caught off-guard. This was not the flavor of defensiveness he expected from Dean; his brother’s occasional self-aware honesty always leaves him flat-footed. After a second, Sam tries, “Wouldn’t it be better to have a little bit of happiness now, at least, while you can? Isn’t some good for a little while better than no good at all?”
Dean shakes his head. “No, because I-” he pauses, and his sentences become fractured, broken by awkward, stilted halts. “If something- if there was something- here, then I-” He can’t hold Sam’s gaze; instead his eyes flitter around the stone walls like a trapped bird. “If he left- it would mean that I’m- not- I’m not good enough, and I can’t-“
"Dean…" Sam doesn’t know what to say to counter that. Dean’s always been the big brother, the fearless defender. Sam doesn’t know how to deal with Dean’s fear, with anything big enough to defeat such a stalwart, dependable defender as Dean.
"Just, drop it, okay?" Dean mutters, and pushes past him. Sam watches him go, and tries to imagine how it might be possible to slay such monsters of the heart.