When Sam was twelve he used to get panic attacks. His eyes would go fearfully wide while his chest heaved, fit to burst. The first time it happened Dean nearly drove himself into a panic, terrified in his helplessness. After the first few times he got it down and it would take only a few short minutes until Sam was calm again, gasping lung fulls of air, all the while his tiny fists clutching Dean’s t-shirt, balled up wrinkled fabric in a death grip, Dean’s own hands rubbing up and down Sam’s arms and humming.
So Dean knows what’s happening when the door shuts behind Castiel, dark motel room in the middle of nowhere far away from Maryland as possible. Dean’s on the floor in front of Sam so fast he thinks he’s hopped up on Angel mojo. Sam’s chest is heaving, dry sobs wracking a body so much bigger than his little Sammy but when he looks up at Dean with hazel eyes swimming with tears he’s twelve years old again and Dean tucks Sam’s face right into his chest as Sam just holds on like he’s afraid Dean’s going to float away.
Dean’s not sixteen anymore, he’s not soothing and calm, it’s not a collective attempt to comfort his brother because Dean can feel his own chest rise and fall too rapidly, his own hands gripping Sam’s arms a little too tightly. He feels the cold wet before he realizes he’s even started crying, tears running silently to dissolve in Sam’s hair and he pulls Sam up to look at him. He holds Sam’s face in his hands, his brother’s breathing starting to finally slow down and he pushes their foreheads together and they both just breathe. Breathe until their heart rates slow, breath until the rhythm falls in tandem.
And it feels like something’s finally clicked back in place, the pieces of themselves that lay shattered in their wake slithering back together, lock and key click clack and now they’re whole and Sam stutters out a soft, “I’m sorry Dean” before he silences it with a press of tear stained lips.
Absolutely beautiful! Love Sam having panic attacks as a kid. Love Dean realizing what's happened and having his own along side Sam. Love how they breath together and the kiss... *sighs* just what I needed to see :P Thank you thank you!
So Dean knows what’s happening when the door shuts behind Castiel, dark motel room in the middle of nowhere far away from Maryland as possible. Dean’s on the floor in front of Sam so fast he thinks he’s hopped up on Angel mojo. Sam’s chest is heaving, dry sobs wracking a body so much bigger than his little Sammy but when he looks up at Dean with hazel eyes swimming with tears he’s twelve years old again and Dean tucks Sam’s face right into his chest as Sam just holds on like he’s afraid Dean’s going to float away.
Dean’s not sixteen anymore, he’s not soothing and calm, it’s not a collective attempt to comfort his brother because Dean can feel his own chest rise and fall too rapidly, his own hands gripping Sam’s arms a little too tightly. He feels the cold wet before he realizes he’s even started crying, tears running silently to dissolve in Sam’s hair and he pulls Sam up to look at him. He holds Sam’s face in his hands, his brother’s breathing starting to finally slow down and he pushes their foreheads together and they both just breathe. Breathe until their heart rates slow, breath until the rhythm falls in tandem.
And it feels like something’s finally clicked back in place, the pieces of themselves that lay shattered in their wake slithering back together, lock and key click clack and now they’re whole and Sam stutters out a soft, “I’m sorry Dean” before he silences it with a press of tear stained lips.
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he pushes their foreheads together and they both just breathe. Breathe until their heart rates slow, breath until the rhythm falls in tandem.
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