Supernatural ficlet: everything
everything [Supernatural, Dean/Sam, G, first time, schmoop, 590 words. For lazy-daze, who, as penance for failing my writing goal, gave me as prompt any of my Merlin fic titles. Betaed by tvm, and Americanized by lyra-wing - thank you ladies.]
"Like I'm gonna fall for that," Dean says, sounding thoroughly put out. He puts on his shirt like he has a personal grudge against the buttons.
It's not the response Sam expected. He pulls on his socks, because it's easier to have a serious conversation when he's fully dressed, and no matter what Dean thinks, this is a serious conversation. "I'm not kidding."
"Yeah, right. You're putting on that I'm so honest and trustworthy face you use when you're on a case. I know that expression. Hell, I invented that expression," Dean says, and heads into the bathroom.
Sam's puzzled. He's been thinking about this for ages now - well, since the day before yesterday, when the diner waitress cooed over them and told them how cute they were together - and it seems so logical. He's actually amazed he's never thought about it before. At least, not actively, not more than hazy wishes and mostly-forgotten dreams that he wakes up from feeling warm and content, and a vague sense of something missing whenever Dean isn't around. It just seems so right to him, he hadn't considered that Dean wouldn't even believe him.
"It's practical," he says, raising his voice to carry over the sound of Dean gargling and spitting. He gets up and leans on the doorjamb, watching Dean.
Dean rinses his mouth, spits, and looks up at the mirror. "This is the dumbest, least funny prank you've pulled," he says, talking to the mirror.
"It isn't a prank. I just thought-" Sam's beginning to feel a bit less sure about this now. In the heat of a brilliant idea, it all seemed so easy. He was sure Dean would agree, and then they'd-then they'd have everything.
"That's the problem, Sam. You didn't think."
"So, you don't want to try it and see. Just, you know, see if it'd be good?"
"No, Sam, I don't want to 'try it and see'. Life isn't some store sample you just offer up on a cocktail stick for a taste and then tell me it's a hundred dollars an ounce." Dean jabs his toothbrush into the holder like he's trying to stab something.
Sam swallows. On the one hand, Dean's pissed off at him and nagging him more is only going to make for a painfully silent drive for the rest of the day. On the other hand, Sam wants this, badly. Not just because it's practical - though he stands by that, because it is - but because it's Dean, and he loves him, and he-he loves him. And there's something about Dean's argument, his whole stance, that's off. Something that makes Sam sure that Dean's not as averse to the idea as he's claiming.
He waits until Dean's walking past him, then traps him in the doorway, pushing him up against the doorframe. Dean only struggles for a second, more reflex than anything. And when Sam leans in to kiss him, he doesn't move away. When Sam clasps his face with both hands, smoothing his thumbs down the arc of Dean's jaw, Dean could easily push him away, but he doesn't. He just sighs into the kiss, lips parting slightly under Sam's. Letting Sam kiss him.
"I don't want this just because everyone already thinks we're gay, or because it's practical, you idiot. I want this because it's you," Sam says, because he thinks maybe he didn't make that clear enough to start with, and kisses Dean again.
This time Dean kisses back.
Sam was right. It is everything.
//
"Like I'm gonna fall for that," Dean says, sounding thoroughly put out. He puts on his shirt like he has a personal grudge against the buttons.
It's not the response Sam expected. He pulls on his socks, because it's easier to have a serious conversation when he's fully dressed, and no matter what Dean thinks, this is a serious conversation. "I'm not kidding."
"Yeah, right. You're putting on that I'm so honest and trustworthy face you use when you're on a case. I know that expression. Hell, I invented that expression," Dean says, and heads into the bathroom.
Sam's puzzled. He's been thinking about this for ages now - well, since the day before yesterday, when the diner waitress cooed over them and told them how cute they were together - and it seems so logical. He's actually amazed he's never thought about it before. At least, not actively, not more than hazy wishes and mostly-forgotten dreams that he wakes up from feeling warm and content, and a vague sense of something missing whenever Dean isn't around. It just seems so right to him, he hadn't considered that Dean wouldn't even believe him.
"It's practical," he says, raising his voice to carry over the sound of Dean gargling and spitting. He gets up and leans on the doorjamb, watching Dean.
Dean rinses his mouth, spits, and looks up at the mirror. "This is the dumbest, least funny prank you've pulled," he says, talking to the mirror.
"It isn't a prank. I just thought-" Sam's beginning to feel a bit less sure about this now. In the heat of a brilliant idea, it all seemed so easy. He was sure Dean would agree, and then they'd-then they'd have everything.
"That's the problem, Sam. You didn't think."
"So, you don't want to try it and see. Just, you know, see if it'd be good?"
"No, Sam, I don't want to 'try it and see'. Life isn't some store sample you just offer up on a cocktail stick for a taste and then tell me it's a hundred dollars an ounce." Dean jabs his toothbrush into the holder like he's trying to stab something.
Sam swallows. On the one hand, Dean's pissed off at him and nagging him more is only going to make for a painfully silent drive for the rest of the day. On the other hand, Sam wants this, badly. Not just because it's practical - though he stands by that, because it is - but because it's Dean, and he loves him, and he-he loves him. And there's something about Dean's argument, his whole stance, that's off. Something that makes Sam sure that Dean's not as averse to the idea as he's claiming.
He waits until Dean's walking past him, then traps him in the doorway, pushing him up against the doorframe. Dean only struggles for a second, more reflex than anything. And when Sam leans in to kiss him, he doesn't move away. When Sam clasps his face with both hands, smoothing his thumbs down the arc of Dean's jaw, Dean could easily push him away, but he doesn't. He just sighs into the kiss, lips parting slightly under Sam's. Letting Sam kiss him.
"I don't want this just because everyone already thinks we're gay, or because it's practical, you idiot. I want this because it's you," Sam says, because he thinks maybe he didn't make that clear enough to start with, and kisses Dean again.
This time Dean kisses back.
Sam was right. It is everything.
//