For this dance we move with each other (Dean/Sam, oneshot, ficlet)
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended. The boys belong to Kripke, CW and to each other.
Rating: G
Author: my_specialhell
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Summary: The night Sam had left them, him, he had almost followed him outside that rat hole they had been staying in, the warm breeze of an almost Summer night bringing the smell of wood and Earth, while inside their house life had been sucked away with some curt words and a door slammed.
word count: 800
a/n: I don't even know...
a/n2: fourth fic in my personal challenge: one fic a day until the premiere. I skipped yesterday's because of rl, but I'll catch up:P
The night Sam went away, left them, to pursue his apple pie life, was probably one of the worst nights of Dean's life; it happened so quickly: one moment they were a family, as fucked up as it was, and a moment later there was just the echo of the door slamming, his dad staring to a wall and a Samless life.
The night Sam had left them, him, he had almost followed him outside that rat hole they had been staying in, the warm breeze of an almost Summer night bringing the smell of wood and Earth, while inside their house life had been sucked away with some curt words and a door slammed.
He had actually taken some steps toward the door, his heart in his throat, his blood calling, screaming, to run after Sam...because...because Sam was his brother, best friend, because Sammy was his dammit!
Because...there were things, things he needed, wanted...things he had never wanted to dwell on, things that he had thought he had been able to fight, drink and fuck out of his system for the last months and that had made it almost impossible to breath all of sudden, when Sam had slammed that door, with a last glance at him, and an unreadable expression in his eyes.
For a long time, after, Dean thought about what would have happened if he had followed Sam outside, that night. For a long time, as days turned into weeks and then months and that hole inside himself, that feeling of emptiness just didn't go away, he had allowed himself to linger in what ifs and blurry dreams.
He was not a dreamer, though; he had swallowed the emptiness down, had stopped counting the days and had decided that it had been for the best; because the things he would have said or done, the things he wanted...were so fucked up, even for the kind of life he lead that he had gotten used to that ache, the feeling of something missing...until he had felt Sam's skin against his, and his presence had filled all the empty spaces in him he had been good at ignoring.
It had almost been like he had never really left, the anger and the bitterness had kind of faded away as they were getting near Jericho; it had almost been a surreal experience: the Sammy he had known, hell...that he had raised, versus the man he had become.
And the feeling wasn't leaving him, he couldn't help watching Sammy as he found a way to earn those chicks' trust: smooth, effortless. Sam might want a happy, safe, normal life, with his little girl friend and his Ivy League education, but the truth was he was born to be a hunter.
How could he feel angry, proud and dangerously close to open the lid to buried feelings and images, all at the same time?
He wasn't used to feel so much, all at the same time, any more; not since Sam had left. The last few months before Sam graduated had been a roller coaster of freak outs, hot scorching dreams, guilt and feelings too strong for him to handle, to openly acknowledge.
Sam could be one moment the pain in the ass little brother, with a giant stick up his ass - was he really still bitching about credit cards? Really? -, he could still be bratty ...but he was also seeing the man he had become...and for the life of him, Dean couldn't keep his eyes off of him, he couldn't help letting his body invade Sam's space, soaking up in his presence, in the contact between their bodies.
He knew it was borrowed time; he knew Sam had built another life for him, one where there wasn’t room for him
I can’t do this alone…
Yes you can…
Well, I don’t want to…
But he liked to pretend for a moment, he wanted to pretend that that was their life: on the road, hunting things and trying to save people. Just Sammy and he, the two of them against the world.
And if Sam’s smile, if the heat of his body and that girly shampoo he was using were doing weird things to his insides, if it felt like he was once again on the fucking rollercoaster, like when he was 22 and Sam suddenly was more than just his Sammy, his little brother, he was everything, so much that it was like he wouldn’t be able to breathe without him and it scared the crap out of him, well…that was his problem and his alone.
For a moment, though, he let himself believe and hope. For a moment, Dean, for the first time in almost four years could breathe, really breathe.
For a moment, he felt whole.
Rating: G
Author: my_specialhell
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Summary: The night Sam had left them, him, he had almost followed him outside that rat hole they had been staying in, the warm breeze of an almost Summer night bringing the smell of wood and Earth, while inside their house life had been sucked away with some curt words and a door slammed.
word count: 800
a/n: I don't even know...
a/n2: fourth fic in my personal challenge: one fic a day until the premiere. I skipped yesterday's because of rl, but I'll catch up:P
The night Sam went away, left them, to pursue his apple pie life, was probably one of the worst nights of Dean's life; it happened so quickly: one moment they were a family, as fucked up as it was, and a moment later there was just the echo of the door slamming, his dad staring to a wall and a Samless life.
The night Sam had left them, him, he had almost followed him outside that rat hole they had been staying in, the warm breeze of an almost Summer night bringing the smell of wood and Earth, while inside their house life had been sucked away with some curt words and a door slammed.
He had actually taken some steps toward the door, his heart in his throat, his blood calling, screaming, to run after Sam...because...because Sam was his brother, best friend, because Sammy was his dammit!
Because...there were things, things he needed, wanted...things he had never wanted to dwell on, things that he had thought he had been able to fight, drink and fuck out of his system for the last months and that had made it almost impossible to breath all of sudden, when Sam had slammed that door, with a last glance at him, and an unreadable expression in his eyes.
For a long time, after, Dean thought about what would have happened if he had followed Sam outside, that night. For a long time, as days turned into weeks and then months and that hole inside himself, that feeling of emptiness just didn't go away, he had allowed himself to linger in what ifs and blurry dreams.
He was not a dreamer, though; he had swallowed the emptiness down, had stopped counting the days and had decided that it had been for the best; because the things he would have said or done, the things he wanted...were so fucked up, even for the kind of life he lead that he had gotten used to that ache, the feeling of something missing...until he had felt Sam's skin against his, and his presence had filled all the empty spaces in him he had been good at ignoring.
It had almost been like he had never really left, the anger and the bitterness had kind of faded away as they were getting near Jericho; it had almost been a surreal experience: the Sammy he had known, hell...that he had raised, versus the man he had become.
And the feeling wasn't leaving him, he couldn't help watching Sammy as he found a way to earn those chicks' trust: smooth, effortless. Sam might want a happy, safe, normal life, with his little girl friend and his Ivy League education, but the truth was he was born to be a hunter.
How could he feel angry, proud and dangerously close to open the lid to buried feelings and images, all at the same time?
He wasn't used to feel so much, all at the same time, any more; not since Sam had left. The last few months before Sam graduated had been a roller coaster of freak outs, hot scorching dreams, guilt and feelings too strong for him to handle, to openly acknowledge.
Sam could be one moment the pain in the ass little brother, with a giant stick up his ass - was he really still bitching about credit cards? Really? -, he could still be bratty ...but he was also seeing the man he had become...and for the life of him, Dean couldn't keep his eyes off of him, he couldn't help letting his body invade Sam's space, soaking up in his presence, in the contact between their bodies.
He knew it was borrowed time; he knew Sam had built another life for him, one where there wasn’t room for him
I can’t do this alone…
Yes you can…
Well, I don’t want to…
But he liked to pretend for a moment, he wanted to pretend that that was their life: on the road, hunting things and trying to save people. Just Sammy and he, the two of them against the world.
And if Sam’s smile, if the heat of his body and that girly shampoo he was using were doing weird things to his insides, if it felt like he was once again on the fucking rollercoaster, like when he was 22 and Sam suddenly was more than just his Sammy, his little brother, he was everything, so much that it was like he wouldn’t be able to breathe without him and it scared the crap out of him, well…that was his problem and his alone.
For a moment, though, he let himself believe and hope. For a moment, Dean, for the first time in almost four years could breathe, really breathe.
For a moment, he felt whole.