(no subject)
Fandom: Supernatural
Words: 923
Characters: Sam, Dean
Warnings: Unabashed platonic bed-sharing
Summary: Sam has a nightmare, Dean is there, same old-same old.
I woke with a start, gasping with what I could only assume was the loudness of a freight train. I knew that if I didn’t calm down, and fast, that Dean would be up in a matter of-.
“Sam?”
Crap.
I squeezed my eyes shut, and ran my hands through my hair, trying to calm myself down. All of my muscles in my body seemed to tighten together at the same time, and for the moment, all I wanted to do was cry.
“Sam, you alright?”
Nightmares were common in our line of business. If you weren’t waking up from a nightmare at least three times a week, you obviously weren’t hunting enough. But the thing was, my nightmares had changed. When I was young, they always used to be about hunting - or rather, about what we hunted. Wendigos, werewolves, black dogs, you name it. As I got older, those nightmares changed from what went bump in the night, to something worse - losing my family. I’d dream of losing dad, or more commonly, Dean. But even then, those nightmares were always obscure. They were never fully realized, and it was more just my fear manifesting itself in my dreams, rather than something that was knocking on my door.
But now, years later, and centuries older, my nightmares had changed again. Dad was gone, and I rarely dreamed about him anymore. But I still had Dean. Dean was my rock, my number one. And I had now lost him more times than I could count. No matter how hard we’d tried to stay together, no matter how hard we held onto each other, we somehow always managed to be ripped apart. And being apart - forever - that scared me more than any nightmare I’d ever had. It’d happened enough times already, and I felt now like I had some sort of complex - that now that’d I’d lived without him, gotten him back, lost him again, gotten him back, lost him again, lost him again, and again, and -.
“Sam!”
I jerked up, eyes wide, startled at the voice. Dean was no longer in his bed, but was sitting beside me, his eyes staring intently into mine with the big-brother concern that he always tried to pretend wasn’t really there.
“You okay?” he asked, placing a hand on my knee. The warmth from his hand seeped through the cotton of my pajama bottoms and into my leg. The weight of his hand was reassuring, and I found myself leaning closer to him as I tried to calm myself down.
“Yeah, yeah... I’m fine.”
Dean gave me ‘the look’, and I knew he wasn’t buying it. Heck, I wasn’t buying it, and I was the one trying to sell it.
“Sam...”
I shook my head, and managed to tear myself away from Dean’s touch, determined to show him that I could handle it - that it was just a nightmare, like the millions of ones each of us had had before, and that it didn’t matter.
Except it did. Any scenario that had Dean dying, or being separated from me forever, always did.
I felt Dean’s hand on my back, and for a moment I felt like bursting into tears. I knew he’d call me a girl if I did, and that was one argument that I was definitely not in the mood for tonight, so I did my best to keep it in.
“Come on kid, back to bed.”
I shook my head, ready to defend myself, tell him that it was almost morning, almost time to get up anyway, but before I knew it he was pulling me off my bed, and taking me over to his own. He lifted the covers, and gently pushed me in. The bed was against the wall, so he nudged me over until I was fully between it and him. He climbed in quickly after me, and placed his hand on my shoulder. He pulled me around, until I was facing him, and then proceeded to wrap his arms around me, pulling me in close, until my head was tucked underneath his chin, and pressed gently, but firmly, against his chest.
The window above the bed had the curtains closed, but they were thin enough that the moonlight from outside lit up most of the room, and so for the most part, I could see Dean pretty clearly. I stared at his chest for a while, watching it rise and fall, and feeling myself rise and fall along with it. For the moment, it felt like we were the same person. Like we were one. And honestly, I have to say, that felt really, really good. I remember Ash saying that we were soul mates. I’d always wondered what that meant, but with everything that had happened afterwards, I hadn’t had time to really think about it, and eventually I forgot. Until now. I wondered if Dean ever thought about it, and about what it meant. I knew it was nothing sexual, but that had never been in question. Love was so much more than sexual. I remember hearing once that if you thought that a love between two people could only be sexual, that you obviously didn’t know what real love was.
Suddenly, Dean’s voice broke through the silence.
“Stop thinking, and go to sleep.”
I smiled into Dean’s chest. Putting my arms around him, I tightened my hold, closed my eyes, and went to sleep.
And I didn’t dream again.
Words: 923
Characters: Sam, Dean
Warnings: Unabashed platonic bed-sharing
Summary: Sam has a nightmare, Dean is there, same old-same old.
I woke with a start, gasping with what I could only assume was the loudness of a freight train. I knew that if I didn’t calm down, and fast, that Dean would be up in a matter of-.
“Sam?”
Crap.
I squeezed my eyes shut, and ran my hands through my hair, trying to calm myself down. All of my muscles in my body seemed to tighten together at the same time, and for the moment, all I wanted to do was cry.
“Sam, you alright?”
Nightmares were common in our line of business. If you weren’t waking up from a nightmare at least three times a week, you obviously weren’t hunting enough. But the thing was, my nightmares had changed. When I was young, they always used to be about hunting - or rather, about what we hunted. Wendigos, werewolves, black dogs, you name it. As I got older, those nightmares changed from what went bump in the night, to something worse - losing my family. I’d dream of losing dad, or more commonly, Dean. But even then, those nightmares were always obscure. They were never fully realized, and it was more just my fear manifesting itself in my dreams, rather than something that was knocking on my door.
But now, years later, and centuries older, my nightmares had changed again. Dad was gone, and I rarely dreamed about him anymore. But I still had Dean. Dean was my rock, my number one. And I had now lost him more times than I could count. No matter how hard we’d tried to stay together, no matter how hard we held onto each other, we somehow always managed to be ripped apart. And being apart - forever - that scared me more than any nightmare I’d ever had. It’d happened enough times already, and I felt now like I had some sort of complex - that now that’d I’d lived without him, gotten him back, lost him again, gotten him back, lost him again, lost him again, and again, and -.
“Sam!”
I jerked up, eyes wide, startled at the voice. Dean was no longer in his bed, but was sitting beside me, his eyes staring intently into mine with the big-brother concern that he always tried to pretend wasn’t really there.
“You okay?” he asked, placing a hand on my knee. The warmth from his hand seeped through the cotton of my pajama bottoms and into my leg. The weight of his hand was reassuring, and I found myself leaning closer to him as I tried to calm myself down.
“Yeah, yeah... I’m fine.”
Dean gave me ‘the look’, and I knew he wasn’t buying it. Heck, I wasn’t buying it, and I was the one trying to sell it.
“Sam...”
I shook my head, and managed to tear myself away from Dean’s touch, determined to show him that I could handle it - that it was just a nightmare, like the millions of ones each of us had had before, and that it didn’t matter.
Except it did. Any scenario that had Dean dying, or being separated from me forever, always did.
I felt Dean’s hand on my back, and for a moment I felt like bursting into tears. I knew he’d call me a girl if I did, and that was one argument that I was definitely not in the mood for tonight, so I did my best to keep it in.
“Come on kid, back to bed.”
I shook my head, ready to defend myself, tell him that it was almost morning, almost time to get up anyway, but before I knew it he was pulling me off my bed, and taking me over to his own. He lifted the covers, and gently pushed me in. The bed was against the wall, so he nudged me over until I was fully between it and him. He climbed in quickly after me, and placed his hand on my shoulder. He pulled me around, until I was facing him, and then proceeded to wrap his arms around me, pulling me in close, until my head was tucked underneath his chin, and pressed gently, but firmly, against his chest.
The window above the bed had the curtains closed, but they were thin enough that the moonlight from outside lit up most of the room, and so for the most part, I could see Dean pretty clearly. I stared at his chest for a while, watching it rise and fall, and feeling myself rise and fall along with it. For the moment, it felt like we were the same person. Like we were one. And honestly, I have to say, that felt really, really good. I remember Ash saying that we were soul mates. I’d always wondered what that meant, but with everything that had happened afterwards, I hadn’t had time to really think about it, and eventually I forgot. Until now. I wondered if Dean ever thought about it, and about what it meant. I knew it was nothing sexual, but that had never been in question. Love was so much more than sexual. I remember hearing once that if you thought that a love between two people could only be sexual, that you obviously didn’t know what real love was.
Suddenly, Dean’s voice broke through the silence.
“Stop thinking, and go to sleep.”
I smiled into Dean’s chest. Putting my arms around him, I tightened my hold, closed my eyes, and went to sleep.
And I didn’t dream again.