[supernatural] Fill Your Thirst and Drink a Curse
Spoilers for season four; set during S04E01.
Title: Fill Your Thirst and Drink a Curse
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam Winchester/Ruby
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ruby will never get to Heaven - she doesn’t aspire to much more than a motel room and the scent of a certain hunter. [written for 49seconds at the multifandom request meme]
Fill Your Thirst and Drink a Curse
_______________________________________________
The stench of mildew was heavy, condensing into an invisible ooze and pouring through the cracks of the bathroom door. Sam had just showered (he always showered immediately after, never said anything about it; he tried not to be prejudiced, but she knew that as smooth and as good as she felt, she also felt wrong, filthy). She could hear water dripping from the faucet, splashing against tile the color of rotting teeth. Thin, spiraling wet collumns winding down the drain.
Even an old motel felt alive when you were so very, very dead.
Sam pulled on a clean shirt while Ruby lay there, feeling a little whorish and a lot glorious in a grey wifebeater and white underwear. She started wearing lighter colors in the last few weeks, because she knew they made him more comfortable. A black bra was attractive to most people - it was the color of mystery, sex, sin... the color of her eyes when Sam let loose a particularly rude remark against her kind (that her kind likely deserved - her kind, not her).
After a while, the stink began to fade. She rolled onto her back and watched the neon lights flicker like fireflies glowing lambently to death. She listened as old rock ebbed from the radio, sneaking glances at Sam as he paced and researched: his mouth sometimes moved, trying to find the words to the song playing, but they got lost and he swore softly instead, and continued to read in silence until another half-remembered chorus caught him off-guard. It was a little sweet, or it used to be. But Ruby was still no angel, still selfish - still wished, in some lonely and decaying part of her right between her ribs and her throat, that he would forget about his dead brother and pay attention to her, who was still around.
When she smelled them, she tried not to let it show. Her muscles clenched and her blood bubbled and she felt something in her twist, almost like she were being shoved out of her host. It hurt. It felt like a betrayal about to happen.
"Sam?" she asked gently, keeping her voice level. "I think I left my shorts in the adjoining room. Could you go grab them for me? And a hairbrush."
Ruby didn't have a hairbrush, just a comb that was lying on the bathroom counter, but she needed him to be looking for something he wouldn't find when the assholes outside started knocking.
Sam, annoyed with himself after humming along to Asia, nodded and walked out.
She slid silently off the bed, eyes hard on the door and begging to go black. If they didn't see him, she could fix this. She could make Dean and his hunter friend go away again. She and Sam could go on this quiet, mournful limbo until he forgot all about his damned big brother.
But even has Dean's fist hit the door, she knew it wasn't true. She took a deep breath and hated herself for a split second. It was her last moment alone with Sam, and she'd wasted it watching stucco flutter onto his shoulders.
Title: Fill Your Thirst and Drink a Curse
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam Winchester/Ruby
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ruby will never get to Heaven - she doesn’t aspire to much more than a motel room and the scent of a certain hunter. [written for 49seconds at the multifandom request meme]
Fill Your Thirst and Drink a Curse
_______________________________________________
The stench of mildew was heavy, condensing into an invisible ooze and pouring through the cracks of the bathroom door. Sam had just showered (he always showered immediately after, never said anything about it; he tried not to be prejudiced, but she knew that as smooth and as good as she felt, she also felt wrong, filthy). She could hear water dripping from the faucet, splashing against tile the color of rotting teeth. Thin, spiraling wet collumns winding down the drain.
Even an old motel felt alive when you were so very, very dead.
Sam pulled on a clean shirt while Ruby lay there, feeling a little whorish and a lot glorious in a grey wifebeater and white underwear. She started wearing lighter colors in the last few weeks, because she knew they made him more comfortable. A black bra was attractive to most people - it was the color of mystery, sex, sin... the color of her eyes when Sam let loose a particularly rude remark against her kind (that her kind likely deserved - her kind, not her).
After a while, the stink began to fade. She rolled onto her back and watched the neon lights flicker like fireflies glowing lambently to death. She listened as old rock ebbed from the radio, sneaking glances at Sam as he paced and researched: his mouth sometimes moved, trying to find the words to the song playing, but they got lost and he swore softly instead, and continued to read in silence until another half-remembered chorus caught him off-guard. It was a little sweet, or it used to be. But Ruby was still no angel, still selfish - still wished, in some lonely and decaying part of her right between her ribs and her throat, that he would forget about his dead brother and pay attention to her, who was still around.
When she smelled them, she tried not to let it show. Her muscles clenched and her blood bubbled and she felt something in her twist, almost like she were being shoved out of her host. It hurt. It felt like a betrayal about to happen.
"Sam?" she asked gently, keeping her voice level. "I think I left my shorts in the adjoining room. Could you go grab them for me? And a hairbrush."
Ruby didn't have a hairbrush, just a comb that was lying on the bathroom counter, but she needed him to be looking for something he wouldn't find when the assholes outside started knocking.
Sam, annoyed with himself after humming along to Asia, nodded and walked out.
She slid silently off the bed, eyes hard on the door and begging to go black. If they didn't see him, she could fix this. She could make Dean and his hunter friend go away again. She and Sam could go on this quiet, mournful limbo until he forgot all about his damned big brother.
But even has Dean's fist hit the door, she knew it wasn't true. She took a deep breath and hated herself for a split second. It was her last moment alone with Sam, and she'd wasted it watching stucco flutter onto his shoulders.