fanfic: Sammy is (oneshot, Dean/Sam)
Sammy is…
Sammy is the baby mom and dad brought home, who opened his eyes and studied him, for a second, before producing a toothless smile, for him, Dean.
Sammy is the crying baby dad thrusts into his arms, as he feels sweat running down on his back and he takes the stairs and he isn’t even afraid to trip. It’s the first time dad lets him hold Sammy while walking.
Sammy is the toddler who takes his first steps toward him, hazel eyes bright and innocent, his little, chubby hands open, toward him…and Dean is there to catch him, before he falls.
Sammy is his baby brother.
Sammy is a brat, who obsesses over cartoons, who can’t color inside the lines to save his life, who wants fairytales, but he has never heard mom singing “Hey Jude”.
Sammy likes to read and he lits up with joy when one year, for his birthday, Dean gives him an used copy of “The Hobbit” and Dean smiles when Sam keeps reading it, everywhere, and then tells him all about it.
Sammy eats too much candy and sulks about dad and becomes shy, even after nightmares, refusing to tell him what’s wrong. Dean knows, though: he looks after him, he knows he is afraid, so he tells him to shut up and crawls into bed with him and doesn’t leave, not even after Sam falls asleep.
Sammy is growing up; he sulks, broods, hates to be called Sammy - not that he cares -, mopes about their job, but he researches.
Sammy…is beautiful and Dean shouldn’t think that.
Sammy looks at him sometimes, and Dean can feel the weight of his brother’s stare on him, and it sends jolts of something he refuses to dwell on in his belly.
Sammy fights with dad, with him, but the look in his eyes is too warm sometimes, it scares Dean, because he can feel that warmth inside of him and it’s supposed to make him feel guilty, dirty, bad and wrong…but the only words that almost caress his tongue are: yes and want.
Sammy is packing his bag, as dad is furious and it’s like being square in the middle of a hurricane and Dean is going to pieces.
Sammy is gone…he’s in California and Dean feels like he’s missing a limb, but maybe it’s even worse: one can breathe without a limb, Dean feels breathless most of the time.
Sammy doesn’t call, he’s living his life in California and if Dean happens to stop by, from time to time, it’s only natural…or so he says to himself, as he fucks some girl in the backseat of the Impala, and draws blood biting his tongue, stopping himself from calling a name as he climaxes.
Sammy…in the same room, with him, darkness all around them - and God how freaking tall that kid has become? and his body is too warm against his, and it shocks Dean how little resistance, that warm tingle encounters, this time.
Sammy…in the fire, and Dean pulls him out, drags him out of the building, kicking and screaming and he doesn’t want to let go. Ever. Sammy doesn’t sleep, eat…Sammy has nightmares.
Sammy saves his life, every day…and Dean wonders whether he knows.
Sammy is his brother, his best friend…and it’s driving Dean crazy how much more he wants from him…and how fucked up it is.
Sammy kisses him one night, while they’re both drunk and it rains outside and it tastes like salt and beer and Dean doesn’t remember ever being so happy and terrified at the same time.
Sammy dies in his arms, on a dark night, their knees in the mud, blood on his hands and the memory of a single kiss, never talked about, never mentioned again, seared into his brain.
He brings Sammy back…and the only price is his soul. A fair trade.
Sammy is his brother, his best friend, his tether to life…and his lover; they make love for the first time while their lips still taste of eggnog and there are colored lights in the room and pine smell. It’s perfect. It’s numbing. It gives him hope and breaks his heart.
Sammy tries to save him but Dean can’t. He dies, proud of his brother, head over heels in love with him and scared. But he doesn’t regret it.
He doesn’t scream Sammy’s name in Hell. Alistair broke him, but he didn’t take that away from him.
Sammy hugs him, lies to him, hits him…loves him and Dean loves him back.
“It’s okay Sammy…I’m here” He keeps his promises: he’s there when Sammy jumps into the cage, scared, beautiful and looking at him, right to the last second.
Sammy…Sammy is his brother, his best friend, his moral compass, the reason he keeps breathing.
Sammy is…
Sammy is his: heaven, hell, sin and redemption haven’t changed that simple fact.
Nothing can.
Sammy is the baby mom and dad brought home, who opened his eyes and studied him, for a second, before producing a toothless smile, for him, Dean.
Sammy is the crying baby dad thrusts into his arms, as he feels sweat running down on his back and he takes the stairs and he isn’t even afraid to trip. It’s the first time dad lets him hold Sammy while walking.
Sammy is the toddler who takes his first steps toward him, hazel eyes bright and innocent, his little, chubby hands open, toward him…and Dean is there to catch him, before he falls.
Sammy is his baby brother.
Sammy is a brat, who obsesses over cartoons, who can’t color inside the lines to save his life, who wants fairytales, but he has never heard mom singing “Hey Jude”.
Sammy likes to read and he lits up with joy when one year, for his birthday, Dean gives him an used copy of “The Hobbit” and Dean smiles when Sam keeps reading it, everywhere, and then tells him all about it.
Sammy eats too much candy and sulks about dad and becomes shy, even after nightmares, refusing to tell him what’s wrong. Dean knows, though: he looks after him, he knows he is afraid, so he tells him to shut up and crawls into bed with him and doesn’t leave, not even after Sam falls asleep.
Sammy is growing up; he sulks, broods, hates to be called Sammy - not that he cares -, mopes about their job, but he researches.
Sammy…is beautiful and Dean shouldn’t think that.
Sammy looks at him sometimes, and Dean can feel the weight of his brother’s stare on him, and it sends jolts of something he refuses to dwell on in his belly.
Sammy fights with dad, with him, but the look in his eyes is too warm sometimes, it scares Dean, because he can feel that warmth inside of him and it’s supposed to make him feel guilty, dirty, bad and wrong…but the only words that almost caress his tongue are: yes and want.
Sammy is packing his bag, as dad is furious and it’s like being square in the middle of a hurricane and Dean is going to pieces.
Sammy is gone…he’s in California and Dean feels like he’s missing a limb, but maybe it’s even worse: one can breathe without a limb, Dean feels breathless most of the time.
Sammy doesn’t call, he’s living his life in California and if Dean happens to stop by, from time to time, it’s only natural…or so he says to himself, as he fucks some girl in the backseat of the Impala, and draws blood biting his tongue, stopping himself from calling a name as he climaxes.
Sammy…in the same room, with him, darkness all around them - and God how freaking tall that kid has become? and his body is too warm against his, and it shocks Dean how little resistance, that warm tingle encounters, this time.
Sammy…in the fire, and Dean pulls him out, drags him out of the building, kicking and screaming and he doesn’t want to let go. Ever. Sammy doesn’t sleep, eat…Sammy has nightmares.
Sammy saves his life, every day…and Dean wonders whether he knows.
Sammy is his brother, his best friend…and it’s driving Dean crazy how much more he wants from him…and how fucked up it is.
Sammy kisses him one night, while they’re both drunk and it rains outside and it tastes like salt and beer and Dean doesn’t remember ever being so happy and terrified at the same time.
Sammy dies in his arms, on a dark night, their knees in the mud, blood on his hands and the memory of a single kiss, never talked about, never mentioned again, seared into his brain.
He brings Sammy back…and the only price is his soul. A fair trade.
Sammy is his brother, his best friend, his tether to life…and his lover; they make love for the first time while their lips still taste of eggnog and there are colored lights in the room and pine smell. It’s perfect. It’s numbing. It gives him hope and breaks his heart.
Sammy tries to save him but Dean can’t. He dies, proud of his brother, head over heels in love with him and scared. But he doesn’t regret it.
He doesn’t scream Sammy’s name in Hell. Alistair broke him, but he didn’t take that away from him.
Sammy hugs him, lies to him, hits him…loves him and Dean loves him back.
“It’s okay Sammy…I’m here” He keeps his promises: he’s there when Sammy jumps into the cage, scared, beautiful and looking at him, right to the last second.
Sammy…Sammy is his brother, his best friend, his moral compass, the reason he keeps breathing.
Sammy is…
Sammy is his: heaven, hell, sin and redemption haven’t changed that simple fact.
Nothing can.