(no subject)
Apparently lately brooding = writing. Or something.
No title, as usual.
PG/PG-13? I don't know ratings well, tralala.
Dean doesn't want Sam to leave... WOE!
Dean, where the hell are you? Why aren’t you answering your phone? I’m sorry that didn’t go well, I am, but you can’t just…run off and disappear like this! Great time for a tantrum. Thought I was the younger brother. Call me.
-
He tries to pretend he doesn’t see the pamphlets, see Sam filling out registration forms and scholarship papers, pretends he doesn’t notice his little brother stashing cash away whenever he has some, tries to pretend he has no idea, no sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. For two years, the last two years of his brother’s high school life, he stops encouraging studying, tries to lure him away from it with promises of girls and bars, drags him on hunts he doesn’t need to be on, doesn’t protest when Dad uproots them again and again and again, keeps them moving, setting Sam back a little, but never for long. Sam’s too intent, too focused, and Dean just pretends he doesn’t know why.
-
Dean, come on man, since when do you not pick up? Never mind, you’re probably drunk, or with some chick, right? Of course.
-
The night Sam tells him, says three months and I’m gone, shows him an acceptance letter to Stanford and the papers that show proof of scholarship, his smile bright and his eyes happy but uneasy, Dean swallows down his dread and smiles back, encouragement and excitement he can’t feel bubbling out automatically, reflexively, because he’s good at taking care of Sammy, it’s easier than breathing right now, to tell him what he wants to hear instead of the broken please don’t go that tries to claw it’s way out. He wants Sam to be happy, but he doesn’t want him to leave. He clings to the fact that Dad will never allow it, and that and the alcohol he drinks when Sam’s not looking are the only things that make sleep possible.
-
You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? You’re mad, so you don’t want to talk. I get it. But …just call me, alright? Or come back? Dad left, we won’t be yelling now. I know you hate when we’re yelling, sorry. Really, I am.
-
Sam’s graduation (a month and a half to go) makes Dean feel too many things. Happy, proud, sick, scared, angry, old. All the negative things are kept under his smile, out of his eyes, and away from his words, because he’s got to make sure this day is special for Sammy (not many days left with him). If his eyes burn when Sam comes over after the ceremony (Valedictorian; he got to speak, he spoke at the ceremony and Dad wasn’t here for him), hugs him and says next stop freedom, it’s nothing, allergies from the grass out here or something maybe, and the drink from the flask in his pocket he takes is entirely celebratory.
-
Look, dude, I’m leaving tonight, Dad doesn’t want me here when he gets back. I need you here before I go, okay? I don’t want you mad at me when I go.
-
Whenever Dad’s not around, Stanford and plans for the future are all Sam talks about. Plans that don’t involve Dean, that make his chest ache with loneliness even with his brother still sitting beside him on the grimy motel sofa, close enough their shoulders brush when one or the other move. But it’s like he’s gone already, his mind already in California, his heart already somewhere Dean isn’t.
Dean pretends it’s all okay, asks when he plans to tell Dad (when I’m ready to leave - he won’t like it), asks if he’s coming back, after. He doesn’t like the answer he gets to that, can’t hide that he doesn’t like that answer, and it’s the first time he’s let Sam see he’s not okay with this. Sam’s worried, scared for a moment, but Dean reassures him, it’s okay, I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me, but he’s lying through his teeth, and he wishes Sam still knew him well enough to see that.
He knows Sam well enough to know that if he thought Dean really, really didn’t want him to go, he might not. It’s crossed his mind, asking him to stay. But he can’t do that, won’t do that. It’s not fair to Sam, and he’d never be happy staying where he didn’t want to. He won’t ask, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to.
-
Dean, please call me back. I don’t want to leave like this.
-
A week before Sam needs to be in California, he tells Dad.
The resulting fight tears at Dean, because the things Dad says aren’t fair, but the things Sam says aren’t any better, both sides making him feel caught between and sort of like he wants to throw up, but instead he just sits in the room silent and drinks and pretends he’s as invisible as he feels, both of them too wrapped up in themselves and their fight to notice him there between them.
He breaks his invisibility when Dad says stay gone, springing to his feet and pushing his father, yelling at him for the first time he can remember, because he shouldn’t say that. His father doesn’t react to the push, doesn’t fight back, and Dean’s not sure if he’s glad for that or not, and Sam’s throwing things in a duffel bag, angry, fuming and muttering, and neither of them really seem to care that he’s falling apart between them, has been falling apart for the last two years.
He storms out before either of them can, finds the nearest bar and gets the rest of the way drunk, and doesn’t go back that night (it’s not hard to find somewhere else, with some girl, to stay, and even if he couldn’t he would have just slept in the Impala, anyway). In the morning his head hurts so bad he’s pretty sure he’s going to die.
There are new voice messages on his phone from Sam. He doesn’t delete them, but he doesn’t listen to them, not yet, and he doesn’t call back.
When he goes back to the motel, it’s afternoon, and Sam’s already gone.
Dad doesn’t talk about Sam, when he gets back from wherever he was, doesn’t talk about the previous night at all; he talks about their next job (in the opposite direction from California), tells him to get ready to go, and talks too much about everything, nothing, to fill the empty space.
Dean doesn’t say anything at all.
--
In other news, good night. :)
No title, as usual.
PG/PG-13? I don't know ratings well, tralala.
Dean doesn't want Sam to leave... WOE!
Dean, where the hell are you? Why aren’t you answering your phone? I’m sorry that didn’t go well, I am, but you can’t just…run off and disappear like this! Great time for a tantrum. Thought I was the younger brother. Call me.
-
He tries to pretend he doesn’t see the pamphlets, see Sam filling out registration forms and scholarship papers, pretends he doesn’t notice his little brother stashing cash away whenever he has some, tries to pretend he has no idea, no sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. For two years, the last two years of his brother’s high school life, he stops encouraging studying, tries to lure him away from it with promises of girls and bars, drags him on hunts he doesn’t need to be on, doesn’t protest when Dad uproots them again and again and again, keeps them moving, setting Sam back a little, but never for long. Sam’s too intent, too focused, and Dean just pretends he doesn’t know why.
-
Dean, come on man, since when do you not pick up? Never mind, you’re probably drunk, or with some chick, right? Of course.
-
The night Sam tells him, says three months and I’m gone, shows him an acceptance letter to Stanford and the papers that show proof of scholarship, his smile bright and his eyes happy but uneasy, Dean swallows down his dread and smiles back, encouragement and excitement he can’t feel bubbling out automatically, reflexively, because he’s good at taking care of Sammy, it’s easier than breathing right now, to tell him what he wants to hear instead of the broken please don’t go that tries to claw it’s way out. He wants Sam to be happy, but he doesn’t want him to leave. He clings to the fact that Dad will never allow it, and that and the alcohol he drinks when Sam’s not looking are the only things that make sleep possible.
-
You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? You’re mad, so you don’t want to talk. I get it. But …just call me, alright? Or come back? Dad left, we won’t be yelling now. I know you hate when we’re yelling, sorry. Really, I am.
-
Sam’s graduation (a month and a half to go) makes Dean feel too many things. Happy, proud, sick, scared, angry, old. All the negative things are kept under his smile, out of his eyes, and away from his words, because he’s got to make sure this day is special for Sammy (not many days left with him). If his eyes burn when Sam comes over after the ceremony (Valedictorian; he got to speak, he spoke at the ceremony and Dad wasn’t here for him), hugs him and says next stop freedom, it’s nothing, allergies from the grass out here or something maybe, and the drink from the flask in his pocket he takes is entirely celebratory.
-
Look, dude, I’m leaving tonight, Dad doesn’t want me here when he gets back. I need you here before I go, okay? I don’t want you mad at me when I go.
-
Whenever Dad’s not around, Stanford and plans for the future are all Sam talks about. Plans that don’t involve Dean, that make his chest ache with loneliness even with his brother still sitting beside him on the grimy motel sofa, close enough their shoulders brush when one or the other move. But it’s like he’s gone already, his mind already in California, his heart already somewhere Dean isn’t.
Dean pretends it’s all okay, asks when he plans to tell Dad (when I’m ready to leave - he won’t like it), asks if he’s coming back, after. He doesn’t like the answer he gets to that, can’t hide that he doesn’t like that answer, and it’s the first time he’s let Sam see he’s not okay with this. Sam’s worried, scared for a moment, but Dean reassures him, it’s okay, I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me, but he’s lying through his teeth, and he wishes Sam still knew him well enough to see that.
He knows Sam well enough to know that if he thought Dean really, really didn’t want him to go, he might not. It’s crossed his mind, asking him to stay. But he can’t do that, won’t do that. It’s not fair to Sam, and he’d never be happy staying where he didn’t want to. He won’t ask, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to.
-
Dean, please call me back. I don’t want to leave like this.
-
A week before Sam needs to be in California, he tells Dad.
The resulting fight tears at Dean, because the things Dad says aren’t fair, but the things Sam says aren’t any better, both sides making him feel caught between and sort of like he wants to throw up, but instead he just sits in the room silent and drinks and pretends he’s as invisible as he feels, both of them too wrapped up in themselves and their fight to notice him there between them.
He breaks his invisibility when Dad says stay gone, springing to his feet and pushing his father, yelling at him for the first time he can remember, because he shouldn’t say that. His father doesn’t react to the push, doesn’t fight back, and Dean’s not sure if he’s glad for that or not, and Sam’s throwing things in a duffel bag, angry, fuming and muttering, and neither of them really seem to care that he’s falling apart between them, has been falling apart for the last two years.
He storms out before either of them can, finds the nearest bar and gets the rest of the way drunk, and doesn’t go back that night (it’s not hard to find somewhere else, with some girl, to stay, and even if he couldn’t he would have just slept in the Impala, anyway). In the morning his head hurts so bad he’s pretty sure he’s going to die.
There are new voice messages on his phone from Sam. He doesn’t delete them, but he doesn’t listen to them, not yet, and he doesn’t call back.
When he goes back to the motel, it’s afternoon, and Sam’s already gone.
Dad doesn’t talk about Sam, when he gets back from wherever he was, doesn’t talk about the previous night at all; he talks about their next job (in the opposite direction from California), tells him to get ready to go, and talks too much about everything, nothing, to fill the empty space.
Dean doesn’t say anything at all.
--
In other news, good night. :)