Supernatural drabble: Sorry (Sam/Dean) PG-13
Title: Sorry
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warnings: slash, incest, angst
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 200
Disclaimer: These characters belong to WB and crew. I'm just borrowing, all for fun, no profit. Cross my heart.
Summary: Usually, when Dean said 'sorry,' it was with a fifth of scotch, or a dinner that wasn't fast food, or a girl in a bar with a convenient friend.
Author's Note: Written for slashthedrabble challenge #65: I'm Sorry
Usually, when Dean said 'sorry,' it was with a fifth of scotch, or a dinner that wasn't fast food, or a girl in a bar with a convenient friend.
So, after the latest demon had wiped the floor with him, Sam expected the usual. He was ready to say 'it's okay,' by drinking a few shots or picking at a nice meal, or politely declining the advances of a girl.
But tonight it was just the two of them, and Dean was rubbing salve into the bruises in an eerily silent penance.
"You okay?" Sam asked.
Dean looked up at him, nodding curtly before resuming his work.
"Dean?" Sam whispered.
The motion over his chest stopped again and when Dean glanced up, the look smoldering in his eyes took Sam's breath away.
"Sam." Helpnessness and sorrow and regret all compounded to create that one torn whisper.
Sam reached out, wishing he knew how to say it was okay, that he was fine, that Dean wasn't responsible for him anymore. He brushed his finger along the line of his brother's cheekbone and Dean hissed a little, his eyes closing.
Sam's heart stuttered in his chest before returning to its old rhythm.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warnings: slash, incest, angst
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 200
Disclaimer: These characters belong to WB and crew. I'm just borrowing, all for fun, no profit. Cross my heart.
Summary: Usually, when Dean said 'sorry,' it was with a fifth of scotch, or a dinner that wasn't fast food, or a girl in a bar with a convenient friend.
Author's Note: Written for slashthedrabble challenge #65: I'm Sorry
Usually, when Dean said 'sorry,' it was with a fifth of scotch, or a dinner that wasn't fast food, or a girl in a bar with a convenient friend.
So, after the latest demon had wiped the floor with him, Sam expected the usual. He was ready to say 'it's okay,' by drinking a few shots or picking at a nice meal, or politely declining the advances of a girl.
But tonight it was just the two of them, and Dean was rubbing salve into the bruises in an eerily silent penance.
"You okay?" Sam asked.
Dean looked up at him, nodding curtly before resuming his work.
"Dean?" Sam whispered.
The motion over his chest stopped again and when Dean glanced up, the look smoldering in his eyes took Sam's breath away.
"Sam." Helpnessness and sorrow and regret all compounded to create that one torn whisper.
Sam reached out, wishing he knew how to say it was okay, that he was fine, that Dean wasn't responsible for him anymore. He brushed his finger along the line of his brother's cheekbone and Dean hissed a little, his eyes closing.
Sam's heart stuttered in his chest before returning to its old rhythm.