2011 Writing Challenge: Prompt #249 Forbidden: Sam/Dean
My first EVER Sam/Dean fic! :D
Title: There’s Love and then there’s You, Dean.
Prompt: #249 Forbidden
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
RP Verse: one and the same!verse with gunoilnleather
Rating: T
Warnings: Implications of Wincest/angst ahead~
Disclaimer: SPN is Kripke's baby. I only own the fic. Don't sue. V.V;
A/N: Okay, so this verse started in Season 6, but I’ve been sort of digging into my version of soulless!Sam’s mind and, well, something he said to Dean in a thread piqued my interest.
See, Sam claimed that even if he got his soul back he wouldn’t want to beat his brother to a bloody pulp for feeling the way he did about him. That he wouldn’t just accept it, but be happy. So it got this mun thinking: what memories exactly did he tap into to give him that idea?
This is the result - I like it and I sure hope you do, too. *thinks she may do more if inspiration hits*
The italics are Sam and Dean talking, either in the past or present (but all mostly in S6 timeframe) and the rest is the flashbacks. For me, this is all going on in Sam’s head real fast, so if it reads confusing and what-not, that is intentional. Very full, hard-working head that boy’s got! on him!
Sorry for the long-ass title, too. ^_^;
*
If anyone asked Sam Winchester growing up, who his hero was, most would have expected him to answer “Dad” like any normal little boy. Granted that he did look up to John, trust him, love him like any son tries to love a father despite his faults - of which John had plenty - he still never answered that question by referring to him.
It was always a nod in the direction of his brother, a smile, laughter, empathetic gesture to indicate Dean.
Always, without fail.
“You used to look at me like I was really something, you know?”
“I…still thought you were, deep down, Dean.”
As the years passed, this idolization changed. Perhaps, along the line it had simmered down in passion.
“Yeah? Sure about that?”
He didn’t want to be slung up over Dean’s shoulder - not that he did it often anymore or anything - or be given the leftovers of a meal, the bigger piece and feel touched that he had given him his share with the innocence of one who was young and saw the good, have him be the strong protector. It wasn’t the type of person Sam wanted to grow up to be.
“Dean! I’m not a kid anymore!”
He had wanted to bite his tongue on more than one occasion when he saw his brother’s reaction to that.
“…Yeah. I know that, Sammy.”
Obviously, it was quick, a mere flicker in the eyes or the mouth, slight flinch to the unwavering grin Dean always sported, but it happened, and Sam caught it. The better he got at it, the harder Dean made it for him to see. He supposed this was a way for him to show he cared too; not letting him worry about it.
“When you left…like a knife running clean through my heart, Sam.”
He’d left because he wanted to, was what he kept telling himself, always insisted if anyone asked, practically deafened Dean’s ears with it in protest each time it was brought up, but had he, really?
“I’m sorry…but I had to go, Dean. I couldn’t live that way anymore…”
Live like what, a hunter? Or the obedient son and brother? Sam didn’t know the answer himself anymore. Sometimes he questioned if what he’d done had been running away instead of leaving.
Because it wasn’t right, he told himself, feeling the way he did. Even back then, fleeting, confusing as it was, he knew what he felt for Dean had to be wrong. He didn’t need him in his life anymore, he wanted him in it. It wasn’t healthy.
“He wouldn’t,” Sam said softly, raising his eyes to his brothers. “Believe me. That guy, from back then? He wouldn’t have kicked your ass.”
Even back then, it meant something more. He just didn’t allow himself to notice. In that way, he supposed he was…weaker than Dean. His brother was the hero and he was the one hidden in his shadow.
“Still needed you…whether I showed it or not.”
Dean didn’t attempt to deny it, or who he was; instead he hid it. So he wouldn’t hurt him. Sam.
“Always here for you, Sammy,” Dean said, smoothing his hair over his forehead, fingers lingering in the soft, chocolate-brown texture of it, making Sam smile a little as he nodded, eyes slowly closing.
“Yeah…I know.”
He knew. Didn’t make it any easier, though.
Title: There’s Love and then there’s You, Dean.
Prompt: #249 Forbidden
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
RP Verse: one and the same!verse with gunoilnleather
Rating: T
Warnings: Implications of Wincest/angst ahead~
Disclaimer: SPN is Kripke's baby. I only own the fic. Don't sue. V.V;
A/N: Okay, so this verse started in Season 6, but I’ve been sort of digging into my version of soulless!Sam’s mind and, well, something he said to Dean in a thread piqued my interest.
See, Sam claimed that even if he got his soul back he wouldn’t want to beat his brother to a bloody pulp for feeling the way he did about him. That he wouldn’t just accept it, but be happy. So it got this mun thinking: what memories exactly did he tap into to give him that idea?
This is the result - I like it and I sure hope you do, too. *thinks she may do more if inspiration hits*
The italics are Sam and Dean talking, either in the past or present (but all mostly in S6 timeframe) and the rest is the flashbacks. For me, this is all going on in Sam’s head real fast, so if it reads confusing and what-not, that is intentional. Very full, hard-working head that boy’s got! on him!
Sorry for the long-ass title, too. ^_^;
*
If anyone asked Sam Winchester growing up, who his hero was, most would have expected him to answer “Dad” like any normal little boy. Granted that he did look up to John, trust him, love him like any son tries to love a father despite his faults - of which John had plenty - he still never answered that question by referring to him.
It was always a nod in the direction of his brother, a smile, laughter, empathetic gesture to indicate Dean.
Always, without fail.
“You used to look at me like I was really something, you know?”
“I…still thought you were, deep down, Dean.”
As the years passed, this idolization changed. Perhaps, along the line it had simmered down in passion.
“Yeah? Sure about that?”
He didn’t want to be slung up over Dean’s shoulder - not that he did it often anymore or anything - or be given the leftovers of a meal, the bigger piece and feel touched that he had given him his share with the innocence of one who was young and saw the good, have him be the strong protector. It wasn’t the type of person Sam wanted to grow up to be.
“Dean! I’m not a kid anymore!”
He had wanted to bite his tongue on more than one occasion when he saw his brother’s reaction to that.
“…Yeah. I know that, Sammy.”
Obviously, it was quick, a mere flicker in the eyes or the mouth, slight flinch to the unwavering grin Dean always sported, but it happened, and Sam caught it. The better he got at it, the harder Dean made it for him to see. He supposed this was a way for him to show he cared too; not letting him worry about it.
“When you left…like a knife running clean through my heart, Sam.”
He’d left because he wanted to, was what he kept telling himself, always insisted if anyone asked, practically deafened Dean’s ears with it in protest each time it was brought up, but had he, really?
“I’m sorry…but I had to go, Dean. I couldn’t live that way anymore…”
Live like what, a hunter? Or the obedient son and brother? Sam didn’t know the answer himself anymore. Sometimes he questioned if what he’d done had been running away instead of leaving.
Because it wasn’t right, he told himself, feeling the way he did. Even back then, fleeting, confusing as it was, he knew what he felt for Dean had to be wrong. He didn’t need him in his life anymore, he wanted him in it. It wasn’t healthy.
“He wouldn’t,” Sam said softly, raising his eyes to his brothers. “Believe me. That guy, from back then? He wouldn’t have kicked your ass.”
Even back then, it meant something more. He just didn’t allow himself to notice. In that way, he supposed he was…weaker than Dean. His brother was the hero and he was the one hidden in his shadow.
“Still needed you…whether I showed it or not.”
Dean didn’t attempt to deny it, or who he was; instead he hid it. So he wouldn’t hurt him. Sam.
“Always here for you, Sammy,” Dean said, smoothing his hair over his forehead, fingers lingering in the soft, chocolate-brown texture of it, making Sam smile a little as he nodded, eyes slowly closing.
“Yeah…I know.”
He knew. Didn’t make it any easier, though.