I Have You -- SPN fic
Title: I Have You
Author: siriuslyyellow
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): Dean/Sam, incest, cursing, sexual themes, fluff, a tiny bit of angst
Spoilers: SAM AND DEAN ARE IN LOVE!!!!!!! (Is that a spoiler?)
Word Count: 1,489
Challenge: kowaiyoukai, yodeling, gymnastics, acupuncture, "At any other time, that would have been funny."
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Eric Kripke, the CW, and the Supernatural crew own everything. ^__^;;
Beta Acknowledgement: No beta this time, sorry! *hurries to put it up*
Summary: Sam takes on a few new hobbies, and Dean wonders why.
A/N: I’m so sorry this is so late! RL has been kicking my ass, and needless to say, therefore making it near-impossible to write fic. Or make icons, for that matter. *cries moar* Anywho, this is a fic for the monthly fic challenge community wincest_fic. It’s the August 2008 challenge, and it’s September, but thank God kowaiyoukai is so awesome and let me put it up late. I begged and pleaded, I won’t deny it. I was all, "It’s not my fault! RL sucks! Forgiiiiive meeeeeee!!" And she was all, "OMG, fine. Just shut up." And I was all, "^__^*". So yeah. ^.^;; Anywho, here’s the fic. Better late than never guys, enjoy!
Dean had tried to be understanding. Really, he had.
When Sam had lugged a huge bag full of mats into the room, Dean had simply asked, "What’s all that shit for? Gymnastics?"
"No, Dean, yoga. Obviously," Sam had replied, persnickety as usual. As if there was anything remotely usual about Sam doing gymnastics. Or yoga. Or whatever.
Dean had let it slide, writing it off as Sam just trying out new ways to let out his inner gay. Whatever, Dean had more important things to worry about than Sam’s dick at the moment. Like his own, for example. The girls in their current town sucked, and badly at that. Dean needed to find a new way to get some ass, and quick.
In the middle of a rather complex-looking move, Dean pushed playfully on Sam’s leg and laughed when he toppled over.
There was a bonk, then Sam yelled, "Ow!," and Dean went over to look at him.
"You made me hit my head on the table, Dean. You jerk!"
"Calm down, nancy. I’ll put a band-aid on it for you."
Dean went over and got the first aid kit, and began to put alcohol on the cut on Sam’s forehead. Sam was grumbling unhappily all the while, and as soon as Dean was finished applying the band-aid, Sam got up and stormed out of the hotel room.
Dean sighed. And he thought girls were hard to figure out.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
And he was pondering just that the following night, when Sam came in with a small caddy. Thinking it was just more sissy crap, Dean went back to pretending to watch T.V. But when Sam unrolled the thing, Dean saw a glint of metal. He looked over and, lo and behold, there was a wide array of needles lying on the table.
"Uh, Sammy?" Dean asked, after watching Sam pick one up and study it thoughtfully. "What are you doing?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "What’s it look like, Dean? Acupuncture."
Dean was going to say a quip about having no idea what the hell it looked like, but then Sam said acupuncture, and that took the wind right out of his sails.
Dean watched open-mouthed in horror as Sam, after looking at his reflection in the mirror for ten minutes and then marking dots on his face with a sharpie, proceeded to insert the needle into his cheek.
Sam shouted, "Ow!," and the needle clanged to the floor.
"What happened? Sammy, you okay?" Dean was up and by his side in a second.
Sam was rubbing at his cheek. "Yeah, I just put the needle in the wrong spot." Sam took his hand away, and they both saw the blood on it.
Dean looked up at Sam’s cheek, got the first aid kit, and went to patch him up. Shaking his head while applying some alcohol to the cut, Dean said conversationally, "At any other time, that would have been funny."
Sam gave him a dirty look in the mirror.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Dean woke up the next morning to a bad death metal. He threw his hands over his ears and jumped up out of bed, looking around for the source of the noise. It was coming from Sam.
"Sam! What the fuck are you doing?" Dean yelled at him.
Sam looked over at Dean. Both the band-aids were still on, which kind-of made Sam’s exasperated look funnier than usual.
"Yodeling," Sam replied dryly.
"At," Dean paused to check his watch, "six fifteen in the morning?"
Sam shrugged, and then continued. Dean clamped his hand over Sam’s mouth.
"Sammy, shut it, or I’ll shut it for you," Dean threatened as best he could before his morning cup of coffee.
Sam laughed once, an unhappy sound, and swatted Dean’s hand away. "I just wanted to try something new."
Dean’s eyebrows shot up in mockery. "Oh, really? I had no idea!"
"Something not physical, I mean. Seeing as how that’s failed miserably so far." Sam gestured to his band-aids. "So I thought, yodeling. I mean, why not?"
"Why not? Why yes?" Dean threw his hands up in the air. "What’s going on with you Sammy? First you wanna be a gymnast-"
"It was yoga," Sam interrupted.
Dean ignored him. "Then you’re poking needles into your face-"
Sam shot back, "I thought you said that would have been funny at another time."
"It would have been!" At Sam’s look, Dean pressed, "Come on, you know it would have been."
Sam quickly shook his head and rubbed his temples. "You’re giving me a headache, Dean. What is it that you want?"
"I want to know what’s going on with you, Sam! Why are you acting freakier than usual?" Dean looked confused and concerned all at once.
Sam shrugged. "I don’t know."
Dean grabbed his arm before Sam could turn away. "That’s not gonna cut it, bro. Start talking."
Sam pulled his arm away and yelled at Dean, "I like you, okay? Is that what you wanna hear?"
Dean stopped.
"I’ve liked you for a while now," Sam confessed, turning away from Dean. "And I know it’s stupid and wrong and you’re gonna say I just haven’t gotten laid in a while, I know all that. But it’s more than that, at least it is to me. And I knew that it couldn’t ever be anything more than me just being stupid, so I started doing all sorts of things. Crazy stuff, you know? To get my mind off of it. I’ve been trying to hide it from you, but I’ve reached the point where everything I can try to hide I did. I’ve knitted, I’ve written poetry, I kept a journal, I ran laps, I climbed trees, I joined a book club, I joined a gym, and I even joined a rock climbing club. And a tennis club. And a bowling club. And that’s not all. There’s so much more, but the worst is the hunts. Dean, it’s like… It’s like I get into danger for the hell of it. It’s like I don’t care anymore what happens to me. And that’s why I’ve been doing all this crazy shit. To keep me occupied so I don’t have time to think about my problems. But I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you involved, I never meant for you to find out. I’ll stop doing things while you’re in the room, I promise I won’t get in your way, just please let me stay."
Sam sounded like he was crying, and Dean couldn’t take it anymore. He reached out and touched Sam’s shoulder. Sam stiffened for a moment, then flipped around and threw his arms around Dean, hugging him close. Dean let Sam put his head down onto his shoulders, and Dean ran a soothing hand through Sam’s hair.
"Sam… I… I don’t know what the hell anymore." Sam stiffened, but Dean’s free arm went around Sam’s back to hold him in place. "That’s not what I meant. I’m not kicking you out, don’t be stupid. You’re my brother and my partner, I’m not gonna leave you abandoned somewhere. But I mean, I’m not in love with you. I love you, but not like that. Aw shit, I’m not making much sense, am I? Sammy, you’re the most important person in the world to me. I’d do anything for you. But this…," Dean stammered uselessly for a second, and then shrugged in an effort to convey his thoughts.
Sam nodded and stood up, and Dean could finally see Sam’s red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.
"I know," Sam replied, his voice little more than a whisper. "I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sorry."
Dean shushed him again. "Don’t apologize. You can always tell me anything, Sammy, you know that. And I don’t mean this in a bad way, but I gotta get a breath of fresh air." Dean grabbed his jacket and opened the hotel room door. The cool autumn morning air blew into the room, sending Sam’s hair into a whirlwind.
Dean stared at his brother then. At his goofy-looking bandaged face. At his lanky arms and legs. At his lean torso. At his wind-blown hair. And for the first time in a couple of days, Dean found himself thinking about kissing Sam instead of kissing girls.
Dean was too shocked by this sudden change of heart to act on it. It was too new to change much, or anything, really, but there it was, all the same. Dean would deal with it later. For right now, what he really wanted was a breath of fresh air.
Dean stood in the doorway, and held his hand out for Sam to take. "You coming?"
Sam’s expression, which looked somber only a moment ago, immediately brightened. He smiled and nodded, and grabbed Dean’s hand, practically pulling him out the door.
"What about your jacket?" Dean laughed, letting Sam pull him.
But Sam grinned. "It’s okay, I have you."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
fin.
Feedback is love! ^__^*
Author: siriuslyyellow
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): Dean/Sam, incest, cursing, sexual themes, fluff, a tiny bit of angst
Spoilers: SAM AND DEAN ARE IN LOVE!!!!!!! (Is that a spoiler?)
Word Count: 1,489
Challenge: kowaiyoukai, yodeling, gymnastics, acupuncture, "At any other time, that would have been funny."
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Eric Kripke, the CW, and the Supernatural crew own everything. ^__^;;
Beta Acknowledgement: No beta this time, sorry! *hurries to put it up*
Summary: Sam takes on a few new hobbies, and Dean wonders why.
A/N: I’m so sorry this is so late! RL has been kicking my ass, and needless to say, therefore making it near-impossible to write fic. Or make icons, for that matter. *cries moar* Anywho, this is a fic for the monthly fic challenge community wincest_fic. It’s the August 2008 challenge, and it’s September, but thank God kowaiyoukai is so awesome and let me put it up late. I begged and pleaded, I won’t deny it. I was all, "It’s not my fault! RL sucks! Forgiiiiive meeeeeee!!" And she was all, "OMG, fine. Just shut up." And I was all, "^__^*". So yeah. ^.^;; Anywho, here’s the fic. Better late than never guys, enjoy!
Dean had tried to be understanding. Really, he had.
When Sam had lugged a huge bag full of mats into the room, Dean had simply asked, "What’s all that shit for? Gymnastics?"
"No, Dean, yoga. Obviously," Sam had replied, persnickety as usual. As if there was anything remotely usual about Sam doing gymnastics. Or yoga. Or whatever.
Dean had let it slide, writing it off as Sam just trying out new ways to let out his inner gay. Whatever, Dean had more important things to worry about than Sam’s dick at the moment. Like his own, for example. The girls in their current town sucked, and badly at that. Dean needed to find a new way to get some ass, and quick.
In the middle of a rather complex-looking move, Dean pushed playfully on Sam’s leg and laughed when he toppled over.
There was a bonk, then Sam yelled, "Ow!," and Dean went over to look at him.
"You made me hit my head on the table, Dean. You jerk!"
"Calm down, nancy. I’ll put a band-aid on it for you."
Dean went over and got the first aid kit, and began to put alcohol on the cut on Sam’s forehead. Sam was grumbling unhappily all the while, and as soon as Dean was finished applying the band-aid, Sam got up and stormed out of the hotel room.
Dean sighed. And he thought girls were hard to figure out.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
And he was pondering just that the following night, when Sam came in with a small caddy. Thinking it was just more sissy crap, Dean went back to pretending to watch T.V. But when Sam unrolled the thing, Dean saw a glint of metal. He looked over and, lo and behold, there was a wide array of needles lying on the table.
"Uh, Sammy?" Dean asked, after watching Sam pick one up and study it thoughtfully. "What are you doing?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "What’s it look like, Dean? Acupuncture."
Dean was going to say a quip about having no idea what the hell it looked like, but then Sam said acupuncture, and that took the wind right out of his sails.
Dean watched open-mouthed in horror as Sam, after looking at his reflection in the mirror for ten minutes and then marking dots on his face with a sharpie, proceeded to insert the needle into his cheek.
Sam shouted, "Ow!," and the needle clanged to the floor.
"What happened? Sammy, you okay?" Dean was up and by his side in a second.
Sam was rubbing at his cheek. "Yeah, I just put the needle in the wrong spot." Sam took his hand away, and they both saw the blood on it.
Dean looked up at Sam’s cheek, got the first aid kit, and went to patch him up. Shaking his head while applying some alcohol to the cut, Dean said conversationally, "At any other time, that would have been funny."
Sam gave him a dirty look in the mirror.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Dean woke up the next morning to a bad death metal. He threw his hands over his ears and jumped up out of bed, looking around for the source of the noise. It was coming from Sam.
"Sam! What the fuck are you doing?" Dean yelled at him.
Sam looked over at Dean. Both the band-aids were still on, which kind-of made Sam’s exasperated look funnier than usual.
"Yodeling," Sam replied dryly.
"At," Dean paused to check his watch, "six fifteen in the morning?"
Sam shrugged, and then continued. Dean clamped his hand over Sam’s mouth.
"Sammy, shut it, or I’ll shut it for you," Dean threatened as best he could before his morning cup of coffee.
Sam laughed once, an unhappy sound, and swatted Dean’s hand away. "I just wanted to try something new."
Dean’s eyebrows shot up in mockery. "Oh, really? I had no idea!"
"Something not physical, I mean. Seeing as how that’s failed miserably so far." Sam gestured to his band-aids. "So I thought, yodeling. I mean, why not?"
"Why not? Why yes?" Dean threw his hands up in the air. "What’s going on with you Sammy? First you wanna be a gymnast-"
"It was yoga," Sam interrupted.
Dean ignored him. "Then you’re poking needles into your face-"
Sam shot back, "I thought you said that would have been funny at another time."
"It would have been!" At Sam’s look, Dean pressed, "Come on, you know it would have been."
Sam quickly shook his head and rubbed his temples. "You’re giving me a headache, Dean. What is it that you want?"
"I want to know what’s going on with you, Sam! Why are you acting freakier than usual?" Dean looked confused and concerned all at once.
Sam shrugged. "I don’t know."
Dean grabbed his arm before Sam could turn away. "That’s not gonna cut it, bro. Start talking."
Sam pulled his arm away and yelled at Dean, "I like you, okay? Is that what you wanna hear?"
Dean stopped.
"I’ve liked you for a while now," Sam confessed, turning away from Dean. "And I know it’s stupid and wrong and you’re gonna say I just haven’t gotten laid in a while, I know all that. But it’s more than that, at least it is to me. And I knew that it couldn’t ever be anything more than me just being stupid, so I started doing all sorts of things. Crazy stuff, you know? To get my mind off of it. I’ve been trying to hide it from you, but I’ve reached the point where everything I can try to hide I did. I’ve knitted, I’ve written poetry, I kept a journal, I ran laps, I climbed trees, I joined a book club, I joined a gym, and I even joined a rock climbing club. And a tennis club. And a bowling club. And that’s not all. There’s so much more, but the worst is the hunts. Dean, it’s like… It’s like I get into danger for the hell of it. It’s like I don’t care anymore what happens to me. And that’s why I’ve been doing all this crazy shit. To keep me occupied so I don’t have time to think about my problems. But I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you involved, I never meant for you to find out. I’ll stop doing things while you’re in the room, I promise I won’t get in your way, just please let me stay."
Sam sounded like he was crying, and Dean couldn’t take it anymore. He reached out and touched Sam’s shoulder. Sam stiffened for a moment, then flipped around and threw his arms around Dean, hugging him close. Dean let Sam put his head down onto his shoulders, and Dean ran a soothing hand through Sam’s hair.
"Sam… I… I don’t know what the hell anymore." Sam stiffened, but Dean’s free arm went around Sam’s back to hold him in place. "That’s not what I meant. I’m not kicking you out, don’t be stupid. You’re my brother and my partner, I’m not gonna leave you abandoned somewhere. But I mean, I’m not in love with you. I love you, but not like that. Aw shit, I’m not making much sense, am I? Sammy, you’re the most important person in the world to me. I’d do anything for you. But this…," Dean stammered uselessly for a second, and then shrugged in an effort to convey his thoughts.
Sam nodded and stood up, and Dean could finally see Sam’s red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.
"I know," Sam replied, his voice little more than a whisper. "I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sorry."
Dean shushed him again. "Don’t apologize. You can always tell me anything, Sammy, you know that. And I don’t mean this in a bad way, but I gotta get a breath of fresh air." Dean grabbed his jacket and opened the hotel room door. The cool autumn morning air blew into the room, sending Sam’s hair into a whirlwind.
Dean stared at his brother then. At his goofy-looking bandaged face. At his lanky arms and legs. At his lean torso. At his wind-blown hair. And for the first time in a couple of days, Dean found himself thinking about kissing Sam instead of kissing girls.
Dean was too shocked by this sudden change of heart to act on it. It was too new to change much, or anything, really, but there it was, all the same. Dean would deal with it later. For right now, what he really wanted was a breath of fresh air.
Dean stood in the doorway, and held his hand out for Sam to take. "You coming?"
Sam’s expression, which looked somber only a moment ago, immediately brightened. He smiled and nodded, and grabbed Dean’s hand, practically pulling him out the door.
"What about your jacket?" Dean laughed, letting Sam pull him.
But Sam grinned. "It’s okay, I have you."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
fin.
Feedback is love! ^__^*