FIC: Insomnia Should Be Salted And Burned
Characters: Sam and Dean
Rating: G
Word count: 200
Summary: Sam’s asleep and Dean isn’t. It’s not fair.
A/N: a little something I wrote a few months ago but never got around to posting.
Insomnia Should Be Salted And Burned
The night is long and Dean gives up on sleep sometime when the only light is from the streetlight over the parking lot outside and Sam’s an unmoving lump under a mound of blankets. His legs ache, his head hurts, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and he thinks that insomnia should be salted and burned before it claims another victim. Dean sits at the table, picks at leftovers, but it feels wrong in his stomach and he gives up. The couch is comfortable, but he can’t turn the TV on because Sam will wake up. Lucky Sammy, sleeping soundly and peacefully and deeply, when Dean can’t. It isn’t fair. Then Sam stirs. Dean freezes, but Sam sits up, hair sticking out at odd angles, looking at Dean with bleary eyes.
“Go back to sleep, Sammy,” Dean says, his voice too loud in the silent room.
Sam climbs out of bed, pads across to the couch and flops down, and switches the TV on to a random channel. Dean watches him curiously, because Sam acts like he’s sleepwalking, but when Sam looks at him, his eyes are clear.
“We’ll get through this, Dean,” he says softly, “Together.”
And Dean believes him.
END
Rating: G
Word count: 200
Summary: Sam’s asleep and Dean isn’t. It’s not fair.
A/N: a little something I wrote a few months ago but never got around to posting.
Insomnia Should Be Salted And Burned
The night is long and Dean gives up on sleep sometime when the only light is from the streetlight over the parking lot outside and Sam’s an unmoving lump under a mound of blankets. His legs ache, his head hurts, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and he thinks that insomnia should be salted and burned before it claims another victim. Dean sits at the table, picks at leftovers, but it feels wrong in his stomach and he gives up. The couch is comfortable, but he can’t turn the TV on because Sam will wake up. Lucky Sammy, sleeping soundly and peacefully and deeply, when Dean can’t. It isn’t fair. Then Sam stirs. Dean freezes, but Sam sits up, hair sticking out at odd angles, looking at Dean with bleary eyes.
“Go back to sleep, Sammy,” Dean says, his voice too loud in the silent room.
Sam climbs out of bed, pads across to the couch and flops down, and switches the TV on to a random channel. Dean watches him curiously, because Sam acts like he’s sleepwalking, but when Sam looks at him, his eyes are clear.
“We’ll get through this, Dean,” he says softly, “Together.”
And Dean believes him.
END