Because you’re holding up my world, [So I need you]
[What do you and your partner fight over?]
This is future!Verse Sam, where Dean is dead, in Hell and has been for the last four years
“God dammit, Claire!” And once upon a time he would have never said that but he’s pretty sure God has damned him a few times so he thinks it all evens out. It’s not like he’s going to get to go to Heaven anyway. It’s not even like he wants to go to Heaven. Dean is in Hell and one of these days he’ll be there too-telling Dean about the friggin’ immortal-eighteen-forever hottie he bagged. The friggin’ immortal-eighteen-forever hottie that he’s currently cursing at.
“Sam, in case you’ve forgotten I heal.” Claire is glaring at him, her arms crossed over her chest and she manages to look pretty damn intimidating for someone who barely breaks five feet tall.
“I don’t care if you heal. I care that you get hurt. I care that you got shot and I care that half of your god damned leg was stripped to the bone because I didn’t get there fast enough.” And there’s the real reason he’s pissed.
“Sam…I’m fine.” She’s softening, melting just a little because she can’t stay mad when he’s so upset at himself. Her arms fall to her sides and she steps toward him.
His head is buried in his hands, fingers dug into his hair and a migraine is crashing over him, bowing his back with its weight. Claire curls her hands around Sam’s forearms and he grabs onto her, leaning over, arms wrapping around her so tight he thinks for a moment he might break her. “I can’t do it, Claire. I can’t watch you get hurt. Every time I think ‘this is it. I’m going to lose someone else I love’.”
She doesn’t make a sound at first, her fingers filtering through his hair. It’s long right now, almost to his shoulders. He always means to get it cut and then he forgets.
“I’ll be more careful,” she whispers against his shoulder. That’s all it takes for him to break. He pulls back, mouth colliding with hers in a kiss that is desperate and needy. Its redemption and forgiveness, a prayer and a supplication twisted together. Her teeth graze his bottom lip; metallic on his tongue but he’s not sure if it’s her blood or his. Her legs wrap around his waist, thighs pressing into his hips. He slides his hands down her back and over her ass, fingertips digging into the backs of her thighs. Their mouths part for a moment, gasping for air. She dips her head, lips and teeth suckling at his neck. He lets loose a stream of Latin as he tilts his head back to expose his throat.
He stumbles toward the bedroom as she unbuttons his shirt, fingers fumbling at the buttons while she kisses and sucks at every inch of skin she exposes. Her teeth nip at his collarbone while her fingers slip into the waistband of his pants, just brushing against him.
“Holyfuckchristo,” he growls, pushing her up against a wall and knocking a lamp over in the process. It shatters on the wood floor. Lamps can be replaced, right now they both need this. He grabs a handful of her hair, pulling her head back and catching her lips with his again. She’s sliding his shirt off his shoulders but he’s got less patience than her; sending the buttons on her shirt clattering to the floor alongside the broken lamp.
“Dammit Sam.” It doesn’t pack much punch because his lips are on her throat and his hands are sliding up her bare legs, pushing her skirt all the way up. Her nails dig into his back, leaving half moon shapes on his skin. “Find the fucking bed. Now.” It’s an order and a request.
Sam pulls back for a moment, his hand still tangled in her hair, jerking her face so that she has to look him in the eye. “You’ll be more careful. You won’t leave me.”
She shakes her head, eyes tearing up slightly as her hands go up to cup Sam’s face. “I’ll be more careful. I’m not going to leave you, Sam. Not ever.”
This is future!Verse Sam, where Dean is dead, in Hell and has been for the last four years
“God dammit, Claire!” And once upon a time he would have never said that but he’s pretty sure God has damned him a few times so he thinks it all evens out. It’s not like he’s going to get to go to Heaven anyway. It’s not even like he wants to go to Heaven. Dean is in Hell and one of these days he’ll be there too-telling Dean about the friggin’ immortal-eighteen-forever hottie he bagged. The friggin’ immortal-eighteen-forever hottie that he’s currently cursing at.
“Sam, in case you’ve forgotten I heal.” Claire is glaring at him, her arms crossed over her chest and she manages to look pretty damn intimidating for someone who barely breaks five feet tall.
“I don’t care if you heal. I care that you get hurt. I care that you got shot and I care that half of your god damned leg was stripped to the bone because I didn’t get there fast enough.” And there’s the real reason he’s pissed.
“Sam…I’m fine.” She’s softening, melting just a little because she can’t stay mad when he’s so upset at himself. Her arms fall to her sides and she steps toward him.
His head is buried in his hands, fingers dug into his hair and a migraine is crashing over him, bowing his back with its weight. Claire curls her hands around Sam’s forearms and he grabs onto her, leaning over, arms wrapping around her so tight he thinks for a moment he might break her. “I can’t do it, Claire. I can’t watch you get hurt. Every time I think ‘this is it. I’m going to lose someone else I love’.”
She doesn’t make a sound at first, her fingers filtering through his hair. It’s long right now, almost to his shoulders. He always means to get it cut and then he forgets.
“I’ll be more careful,” she whispers against his shoulder. That’s all it takes for him to break. He pulls back, mouth colliding with hers in a kiss that is desperate and needy. Its redemption and forgiveness, a prayer and a supplication twisted together. Her teeth graze his bottom lip; metallic on his tongue but he’s not sure if it’s her blood or his. Her legs wrap around his waist, thighs pressing into his hips. He slides his hands down her back and over her ass, fingertips digging into the backs of her thighs. Their mouths part for a moment, gasping for air. She dips her head, lips and teeth suckling at his neck. He lets loose a stream of Latin as he tilts his head back to expose his throat.
He stumbles toward the bedroom as she unbuttons his shirt, fingers fumbling at the buttons while she kisses and sucks at every inch of skin she exposes. Her teeth nip at his collarbone while her fingers slip into the waistband of his pants, just brushing against him.
“Holyfuckchristo,” he growls, pushing her up against a wall and knocking a lamp over in the process. It shatters on the wood floor. Lamps can be replaced, right now they both need this. He grabs a handful of her hair, pulling her head back and catching her lips with his again. She’s sliding his shirt off his shoulders but he’s got less patience than her; sending the buttons on her shirt clattering to the floor alongside the broken lamp.
“Dammit Sam.” It doesn’t pack much punch because his lips are on her throat and his hands are sliding up her bare legs, pushing her skirt all the way up. Her nails dig into his back, leaving half moon shapes on his skin. “Find the fucking bed. Now.” It’s an order and a request.
Sam pulls back for a moment, his hand still tangled in her hair, jerking her face so that she has to look him in the eye. “You’ll be more careful. You won’t leave me.”
She shakes her head, eyes tearing up slightly as her hands go up to cup Sam’s face. “I’ll be more careful. I’m not going to leave you, Sam. Not ever.”