Horribly schmoopy, almost desperate, death-fic. Yay?
I haven’t made a post in a really, really long time.Yes.
I guess it’s a weird personality thing; I just have to work on things a lot before I’m ready to put them out there. It sounds good in theory, but then I just distracted and never finish them anyway. Which is why I totally blanked on the assignment time and therefore handed mine in late.
ME? EPIC LOSE.
ALSO: ADELAIDE’S PUBLIC TRANSPORT SYSTEM BLOWS HARD.
Anywho, I also wrote some fic yesterday for rose_janice- wow this is really becoming a trend, huh? You probably shouldn’t encourage my STALKING tendencies anymore. Yis.
It isn’t beta’d or anything- And Jess, honey, I don’t know if I want you to read it because it is maybe, possibly, Wincest and I’d like you to keep an untarnished image of me in your head, but it’s okay if you do.
Title: And never comes, but shakes the boards and rattles all the doors.
Author: Aleesha
Character / Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC 17
Word Count: ~1800
Spoilers: '3x04- I think! Lol.'
Summary: Pretty much just angsting over Dean's deal
Warnings: Uh, major and minor character death.
I’m not really sure if like it, ‘cause it took me like an hour to write, and some parts I got bored with. It’s also horribly schmoopy in a desperate, death-fic’y kind of way.
Hmm.
The idea for this was basically stolen from some meme that was circulating a while ago, one where you put your Itunes on shuffle and write the first line of the first ten songs.
I cheated a little, and just picked a line from anywhere inside the songs instead.
Oh, how they have fallen.
Just read it before I put you completely off. Lol.
The lyrics are the lines throughout the story that are italicized.
PEE ESS- I pretty much ignored most of the story lines and arcs from season three. Ruby and Bela ARE still included. This makes people HAPPY n/n?
People like it when the boys just jump each other without any witty and well thought out dialogue, yes? On second thoughts, that should probably serve as a warning.
And this is the way we go
After it has all gone down. After the Demon is dead, and the deal is done. Afterwards, Dean and Sam lay across the hood of the Impala, backs pressed against the windshield, glass cool even through their jackets.
They sit in silence, awkwardly comfortable, alcohol drowning the questions in Sam’s throat.
Dean’s breath is audible. Sam thinks he may have cracked a rib when the Demon threw him against the gravestone, but Dean won’t let him look. He watches anyway. Sees the way Dean’s chest rises and falls. And falls. And falls.
366 days he thinks. 366 sunsets and 366. Three hundred and sixty-six.
Dean coughs, cold air rattling in his chest. ‘Sam,’ he says ‘Hey.’
Sam turns his head, fixes his gaze on the field in front of them instead.
‘Sammy,’ Dean tries again, because he can’t ever just stop. ‘You’ll be okay; you can go back to school. You’ll be alright, you’ll see.” He nods; Sam can see it in his peripheral vision. Dean is just out of sight but he’s still there. ‘You’ll see.’
‘I really won’t’ Sam laughs, a little hysterically. ‘I won’t.’
‘Sam, please. Come on. You were fine when you went to college, and you’ll be okay now.’ And Dean really isn’t above begging, not over this.
‘I didn’t cope all that well at the start of college, Dean, and oh, how about the fact that you weren’t fucking dead. Maybe that made things just a little easier.’ Sam says snidely, not pulling any punches now that Dean is being so unreasonable.
‘Drop it.’ Dean says, clenching pale fingers around the neck of his beer. They look like bone, Sam thinks stupidly, and soon they will be. And soon. And soon.
‘How the fuck are you so blasé about this Dean? This is on me.’
‘Don’t you think I get that?’ Dean questions sharply, voice loud in the emptiness that shrouds them. ‘I think out of everyone I fucking understand that best, but I couldn’t just let you die.’
‘Then how,’ Sam asks evenly, ‘can you just expect me to let you.’
And I can’t listen to all your reasons why
Months later, and Dean is still trying to convince Sam why he did what he did.
‘Sam I don’t regret this. I won’t. I want to do this. Want to save you.’ Dean murmurs, as they drive down a straight stretch of road.
Sam has an arm thrown across his face, and it muffles his voice when he huffs out a strained, ‘Dean. Please.’
Dean sucks in a breath, says ‘Sammy’ like it hurts. ‘It was my choice.’
Sam pulls his arm away, and turns to face Dean.
‘Then you really don’t need my approval,’ Sam says, slanting him a hard look, ‘now, do you.’
A walking corpse, like me, like you
In the end, it plays out exactly how Dean had always said it would. Ruby has a hidden agenda and sells them out for the chance to be human again.
Sam would be angry, but she played them expertly, knowing their biggest weaknesses were each other. She got to Sam by lying and saying she could save Dean, and she got to Dean by saying she would take care of Sam.
Sam feels sickly satisfied when she gets her way and becomes human only to bleed out from the gunshot Bobby had given her, all that time ago.
Bela comes through for them, also just like Dean had predicted, because she truly was a whore. And all whores have a price, however high, and never say no.
She sells them the Colt back, and they sweeten the pot with some of Bobby’s spell books, hiding a tracker in the dusty spines. She smiles when they double-cross her; saying at least she taught them something- hopes they find a way to save Dean.
Dean hugs her when they leave; Sam’s still a little bitter over the whole shooting thing, and offers her a casual wave instead.
Sam reads. And reads. And reads. But he doesn’t find an answer anywhere.
Twenty-four failures from twenty-four tries
Dean sits Sam down one day, when Sam has stopped counting time because it hurts too much to breathe the words.
‘Sammy, I saw you after. After Jess.’ He begins, and Sam has already shut his eyes. ‘I was there. And I. Well you can be sad, okay? You can be sad for a little while, but then.’ Dean pauses, breathes, flexes his fingers against the motel bed sheets. ‘Could you be happy? Can you be okay for me, please? I need.’ Dean’s voice cracks over the quiet words, splinters and shatters over painful syllables.
Sam sits Indian style on the bed, knee’s barely touching Deans, as Dean kneels over him, hands circled around Sam’s shoulders. Dean’s forehead is pressed against Sam’s, but he keeps his eyes closed. Sam doesn’t speak. Barely moves. Inhales. Exhales. Turns his hands over, palms facing the ceiling in a silent question.
He imagines he can catch Dean’s pleas on his flesh. That he can wrap them like a blanket around his tired bones. Wear them like a second skin.
‘You got over Jess.’ Dean presses, and Sam has had enough of this bullshit, so he pulls away from Dean roughly, and scrambles off the bed.
He grabs his coat from the bench, and paces the length of the room before spinning on heels to face Dean, rough carpet scrapping his bare feet. Dean is a step behind him, and Sam grabs him and shoves him against the opposite wall, Dean’s head smacking painfully against the stained wallpaper.
‘Fuck you. Fuck you. I loved her- God, I loved her- she was. Was.’
Dean’s eyes slide shut at that, a grimace flittering across his sad smile until he composes his features into a mask of indifference. ‘I know, Sammy, I know.’
Sam presses his arm across Dean’s shoulders, holding him against the wall, feels his heart beat flutter across his skin.
‘No, you really don’t. You don’t. Fuck.’
Sam wedges his elbow harder into Dean’s chest, digging it into his shoulder painfully.
‘She was. But Dean, man, you. You. You save me every time; you forgive me for anything- even when I don’t want it. You’re everything. Every single thing I have left. You.’
Sam’s breath is hitching in his throat, messy, like the sobs are being torn from his chest. He pulls away slightly, holding Dean up against the wall with just one large hand splayed across his ribcage.
‘You promised. Jesus, fuck. You said you would have to bury us. You said. You said. ButI’m twenty fucking four. I shouldn’t have to bury my entire family at twenty-four.’
Sam’s crying openly now, hand slipping from Dean’s chest as he scrubs the tears from his face.
Dean slides to the floor without the constant pressure of Sam to hold him up, looking stunned.
Sam sinks to his knees in front of him, an echo of their earlier positions.
‘Dean could you just live. For me? Could you just try to live for me, ‘cause I don’t think I could live without you. Please, for me? Please.’
I only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me
Sam crawls up Dean’s body. And fuck, they’re brothers. Brothers. But the truth of that got buried with their parents. And Dean is his everything. So Sam kisses him, grips the sides of Dean’s face with shaking fingertips and breathes. Breathes, ‘Please, please.’ wetly into Dean’s open mouth. He isn’t really surprised when Dean kisses him back hard, because Dean has never refused him anything he truly wanted. And Sam needs this. What the fuck does it matter anyway? Dean’s already going to Hell, and Sam just wants to sink into Dean’s skin. Climb into Dean’s chest.
They’re both already going to Hell. And soon. And soon.
And If I fail, and if I fail
Sam wraps himself around Dean at night, memorizes every freckle, catalogues every scar. Maps out their lives in the silvery-white flesh.
‘I stole some of your tapes.’ Sam says, knows Dean is smirking even if Sam’s face pressed against his back. ‘When I went to college. And oh, I used to play them every night, imagine they were you. You used to sing me to sleep, remember? I thought Enter Sandman was a nursery rhyme until I was thirteen.’
‘And I think. I think.’ Sam’s breath catches in his throat. ‘That I miss you already.’
‘I’m right here. M’right here Sammy.’ Dean says, and Sam listens to his heartbeat and thinks, but soon. And soon. And soon.
I love the way you live so intensely
Dean has a whole list of things he wants to do before he dies. The list is so Dean- scribbled down on a random square coaster. Some of the things are outrageous. Some things are for Sam, and some things are so poignant that they take Sam’s breath away.
He gets drunk with Dean in a random dive. He laughs until it hurts with Dean at Disneyland. He says goodbye to Jo. And Ellen. And Bobby. And isn’t surprised that every single one of them cries. He sees the Northern lights. And he prays. He prays. He prays.
He has sex with Dean in every single state, including Hawaii. He surfs in Tijuana, and skis in Canada. He stands on the edge of the Grand Canyon and yells. He tries a bed with magic fingers.
‘And I want’ Dean gasps, face pressed into the mattress, because he and Sam can’t watch each other fall apart anymore. ‘I want. I want.’
Sam doesn’t say a word. Not a single word. But he knows Dean feels it, in the fingers on his skin, in the breath in his hair, the teeth on his neck. Sam wants. Sam wants.
Sam wants.
They both want too much.
But we will never fall
So Sam lies.
He lies in the bed Dean has made for them both. And he lies, and lies, and lies.
He whispers secrets and mutters groans into the crook of Dean’s neck, slick with sweat and tears.
He waits.
And it never comes.
And never comes, but shakes the boards and rattles all the doors.
‘I won’t let them take me’ Dean says, voice strong, gaze trained on the wisps of Gofer dust dancing across the floor. ‘I won’t become one of them. Give me the Colt, Sam.’
‘Let me.’ Sam begs. Oh, Lord, let me.Let me. ‘I want to do this Dean. You owe me this much.’
He backs Dean up against a wall, kissing him as the Colt lies between. And the Colt lies between. Presses the nuzzle against Dean’s chest and kisses him, whispers, ‘And this is the way we go.’
He rests his head against Dean’s forehead, and stares. And stares. And stares.
‘I love you, you know.’
‘I know. I know. I -’
Sam pulls the trigger, and a rose blooms across Dean’s tee shirt, blood red. And Sam lives. He lives.
He lives.
Where’d you learn to shoot your gun so straight?
Hope you feel better Janice- and I hope you’re still talking to me Jess (two more weeks of Uni and then I’ll be able to catch up on my eLJay friends, I swear). Lol
I guess it’s a weird personality thing; I just have to work on things a lot before I’m ready to put them out there. It sounds good in theory, but then I just distracted and never finish them anyway. Which is why I totally blanked on the assignment time and therefore handed mine in late.
ME? EPIC LOSE.
ALSO: ADELAIDE’S PUBLIC TRANSPORT SYSTEM BLOWS HARD.
Anywho, I also wrote some fic yesterday for rose_janice- wow this is really becoming a trend, huh? You probably shouldn’t encourage my STALKING tendencies anymore. Yis.
It isn’t beta’d or anything- And Jess, honey, I don’t know if I want you to read it because it is maybe, possibly, Wincest and I’d like you to keep an untarnished image of me in your head, but it’s okay if you do.
Title: And never comes, but shakes the boards and rattles all the doors.
Author: Aleesha
Character / Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC 17
Word Count: ~1800
Spoilers: '3x04- I think! Lol.'
Summary: Pretty much just angsting over Dean's deal
Warnings: Uh, major and minor character death.
I’m not really sure if like it, ‘cause it took me like an hour to write, and some parts I got bored with. It’s also horribly schmoopy in a desperate, death-fic’y kind of way.
Hmm.
The idea for this was basically stolen from some meme that was circulating a while ago, one where you put your Itunes on shuffle and write the first line of the first ten songs.
I cheated a little, and just picked a line from anywhere inside the songs instead.
Oh, how they have fallen.
Just read it before I put you completely off. Lol.
The lyrics are the lines throughout the story that are italicized.
PEE ESS- I pretty much ignored most of the story lines and arcs from season three. Ruby and Bela ARE still included. This makes people HAPPY n/n?
People like it when the boys just jump each other without any witty and well thought out dialogue, yes? On second thoughts, that should probably serve as a warning.
And this is the way we go
After it has all gone down. After the Demon is dead, and the deal is done. Afterwards, Dean and Sam lay across the hood of the Impala, backs pressed against the windshield, glass cool even through their jackets.
They sit in silence, awkwardly comfortable, alcohol drowning the questions in Sam’s throat.
Dean’s breath is audible. Sam thinks he may have cracked a rib when the Demon threw him against the gravestone, but Dean won’t let him look. He watches anyway. Sees the way Dean’s chest rises and falls. And falls. And falls.
366 days he thinks. 366 sunsets and 366. Three hundred and sixty-six.
Dean coughs, cold air rattling in his chest. ‘Sam,’ he says ‘Hey.’
Sam turns his head, fixes his gaze on the field in front of them instead.
‘Sammy,’ Dean tries again, because he can’t ever just stop. ‘You’ll be okay; you can go back to school. You’ll be alright, you’ll see.” He nods; Sam can see it in his peripheral vision. Dean is just out of sight but he’s still there. ‘You’ll see.’
‘I really won’t’ Sam laughs, a little hysterically. ‘I won’t.’
‘Sam, please. Come on. You were fine when you went to college, and you’ll be okay now.’ And Dean really isn’t above begging, not over this.
‘I didn’t cope all that well at the start of college, Dean, and oh, how about the fact that you weren’t fucking dead. Maybe that made things just a little easier.’ Sam says snidely, not pulling any punches now that Dean is being so unreasonable.
‘Drop it.’ Dean says, clenching pale fingers around the neck of his beer. They look like bone, Sam thinks stupidly, and soon they will be. And soon. And soon.
‘How the fuck are you so blasé about this Dean? This is on me.’
‘Don’t you think I get that?’ Dean questions sharply, voice loud in the emptiness that shrouds them. ‘I think out of everyone I fucking understand that best, but I couldn’t just let you die.’
‘Then how,’ Sam asks evenly, ‘can you just expect me to let you.’
And I can’t listen to all your reasons why
Months later, and Dean is still trying to convince Sam why he did what he did.
‘Sam I don’t regret this. I won’t. I want to do this. Want to save you.’ Dean murmurs, as they drive down a straight stretch of road.
Sam has an arm thrown across his face, and it muffles his voice when he huffs out a strained, ‘Dean. Please.’
Dean sucks in a breath, says ‘Sammy’ like it hurts. ‘It was my choice.’
Sam pulls his arm away, and turns to face Dean.
‘Then you really don’t need my approval,’ Sam says, slanting him a hard look, ‘now, do you.’
A walking corpse, like me, like you
In the end, it plays out exactly how Dean had always said it would. Ruby has a hidden agenda and sells them out for the chance to be human again.
Sam would be angry, but she played them expertly, knowing their biggest weaknesses were each other. She got to Sam by lying and saying she could save Dean, and she got to Dean by saying she would take care of Sam.
Sam feels sickly satisfied when she gets her way and becomes human only to bleed out from the gunshot Bobby had given her, all that time ago.
Bela comes through for them, also just like Dean had predicted, because she truly was a whore. And all whores have a price, however high, and never say no.
She sells them the Colt back, and they sweeten the pot with some of Bobby’s spell books, hiding a tracker in the dusty spines. She smiles when they double-cross her; saying at least she taught them something- hopes they find a way to save Dean.
Dean hugs her when they leave; Sam’s still a little bitter over the whole shooting thing, and offers her a casual wave instead.
Sam reads. And reads. And reads. But he doesn’t find an answer anywhere.
Twenty-four failures from twenty-four tries
Dean sits Sam down one day, when Sam has stopped counting time because it hurts too much to breathe the words.
‘Sammy, I saw you after. After Jess.’ He begins, and Sam has already shut his eyes. ‘I was there. And I. Well you can be sad, okay? You can be sad for a little while, but then.’ Dean pauses, breathes, flexes his fingers against the motel bed sheets. ‘Could you be happy? Can you be okay for me, please? I need.’ Dean’s voice cracks over the quiet words, splinters and shatters over painful syllables.
Sam sits Indian style on the bed, knee’s barely touching Deans, as Dean kneels over him, hands circled around Sam’s shoulders. Dean’s forehead is pressed against Sam’s, but he keeps his eyes closed. Sam doesn’t speak. Barely moves. Inhales. Exhales. Turns his hands over, palms facing the ceiling in a silent question.
He imagines he can catch Dean’s pleas on his flesh. That he can wrap them like a blanket around his tired bones. Wear them like a second skin.
‘You got over Jess.’ Dean presses, and Sam has had enough of this bullshit, so he pulls away from Dean roughly, and scrambles off the bed.
He grabs his coat from the bench, and paces the length of the room before spinning on heels to face Dean, rough carpet scrapping his bare feet. Dean is a step behind him, and Sam grabs him and shoves him against the opposite wall, Dean’s head smacking painfully against the stained wallpaper.
‘Fuck you. Fuck you. I loved her- God, I loved her- she was. Was.’
Dean’s eyes slide shut at that, a grimace flittering across his sad smile until he composes his features into a mask of indifference. ‘I know, Sammy, I know.’
Sam presses his arm across Dean’s shoulders, holding him against the wall, feels his heart beat flutter across his skin.
‘No, you really don’t. You don’t. Fuck.’
Sam wedges his elbow harder into Dean’s chest, digging it into his shoulder painfully.
‘She was. But Dean, man, you. You. You save me every time; you forgive me for anything- even when I don’t want it. You’re everything. Every single thing I have left. You.’
Sam’s breath is hitching in his throat, messy, like the sobs are being torn from his chest. He pulls away slightly, holding Dean up against the wall with just one large hand splayed across his ribcage.
‘You promised. Jesus, fuck. You said you would have to bury us. You said. You said. ButI’m twenty fucking four. I shouldn’t have to bury my entire family at twenty-four.’
Sam’s crying openly now, hand slipping from Dean’s chest as he scrubs the tears from his face.
Dean slides to the floor without the constant pressure of Sam to hold him up, looking stunned.
Sam sinks to his knees in front of him, an echo of their earlier positions.
‘Dean could you just live. For me? Could you just try to live for me, ‘cause I don’t think I could live without you. Please, for me? Please.’
I only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me
Sam crawls up Dean’s body. And fuck, they’re brothers. Brothers. But the truth of that got buried with their parents. And Dean is his everything. So Sam kisses him, grips the sides of Dean’s face with shaking fingertips and breathes. Breathes, ‘Please, please.’ wetly into Dean’s open mouth. He isn’t really surprised when Dean kisses him back hard, because Dean has never refused him anything he truly wanted. And Sam needs this. What the fuck does it matter anyway? Dean’s already going to Hell, and Sam just wants to sink into Dean’s skin. Climb into Dean’s chest.
They’re both already going to Hell. And soon. And soon.
And If I fail, and if I fail
Sam wraps himself around Dean at night, memorizes every freckle, catalogues every scar. Maps out their lives in the silvery-white flesh.
‘I stole some of your tapes.’ Sam says, knows Dean is smirking even if Sam’s face pressed against his back. ‘When I went to college. And oh, I used to play them every night, imagine they were you. You used to sing me to sleep, remember? I thought Enter Sandman was a nursery rhyme until I was thirteen.’
‘And I think. I think.’ Sam’s breath catches in his throat. ‘That I miss you already.’
‘I’m right here. M’right here Sammy.’ Dean says, and Sam listens to his heartbeat and thinks, but soon. And soon. And soon.
I love the way you live so intensely
Dean has a whole list of things he wants to do before he dies. The list is so Dean- scribbled down on a random square coaster. Some of the things are outrageous. Some things are for Sam, and some things are so poignant that they take Sam’s breath away.
He gets drunk with Dean in a random dive. He laughs until it hurts with Dean at Disneyland. He says goodbye to Jo. And Ellen. And Bobby. And isn’t surprised that every single one of them cries. He sees the Northern lights. And he prays. He prays. He prays.
He has sex with Dean in every single state, including Hawaii. He surfs in Tijuana, and skis in Canada. He stands on the edge of the Grand Canyon and yells. He tries a bed with magic fingers.
‘And I want’ Dean gasps, face pressed into the mattress, because he and Sam can’t watch each other fall apart anymore. ‘I want. I want.’
Sam doesn’t say a word. Not a single word. But he knows Dean feels it, in the fingers on his skin, in the breath in his hair, the teeth on his neck. Sam wants. Sam wants.
Sam wants.
They both want too much.
But we will never fall
So Sam lies.
He lies in the bed Dean has made for them both. And he lies, and lies, and lies.
He whispers secrets and mutters groans into the crook of Dean’s neck, slick with sweat and tears.
He waits.
And it never comes.
And never comes, but shakes the boards and rattles all the doors.
‘I won’t let them take me’ Dean says, voice strong, gaze trained on the wisps of Gofer dust dancing across the floor. ‘I won’t become one of them. Give me the Colt, Sam.’
‘Let me.’ Sam begs. Oh, Lord, let me.Let me. ‘I want to do this Dean. You owe me this much.’
He backs Dean up against a wall, kissing him as the Colt lies between. And the Colt lies between. Presses the nuzzle against Dean’s chest and kisses him, whispers, ‘And this is the way we go.’
He rests his head against Dean’s forehead, and stares. And stares. And stares.
‘I love you, you know.’
‘I know. I know. I -’
Sam pulls the trigger, and a rose blooms across Dean’s tee shirt, blood red. And Sam lives. He lives.
He lives.
Where’d you learn to shoot your gun so straight?
Hope you feel better Janice- and I hope you’re still talking to me Jess (two more weeks of Uni and then I’ll be able to catch up on my eLJay friends, I swear). Lol