Running Water (Sam/Dean, R)
Hot diggety, I managed one! Written off-the-cuff and unbeta'd, but enjoy!
For annella:
They've taken hands before. Not like this.
Lazy Mississippi afternoon, cicadas and bullfrogs drowning out all else but Dean's breath humid-warm on his cheek.
It's okay, Sammy. Don't have to. If you don't want--
No, I do. I--
It's okay.
Late summer sundown on Lake Michigan, clouds of cold vapor making every word visible, Dean's lips cold and his tongue warm.
Got us a cabin for tonight. Maybe… you wanna?
Yeah.
Dawn on the Potomac, camped out by the waterside with skinned knees and faces creased by sleeping on the rough sedge grass, gone brown and dry. Dean tasted like the river, like water over stone.
No. You're too young, I--not like this.
Midnight in Hot Springs, sliding under the thin sheet to lay his hand at rest on Dean's stomach, laughing when he flinched from asleep to half-awake. Mouth to mouth and breath to breath, taking him in, easing him out.
Yeah?
Yeah.
Only hurts at first, I swear. You remember--me--it'll be good. Sammy?
I know.
Okay?
Mm-hmm. More.
The last time Sam held Dean's hand, he nailed the pine box shut a minute after.
This is the first time since and there's no sun, no moon, no running water. Grave dirt under Dean's nails and too many watchful eyes who'd see him taking more.
He presses his palm to Dean's and tries to breathe evenly. Just a little longer. They'll find some water to wash themselves clean with, they'll be alone together, and he'll tell the truth. It'll be made right between them and he'll mend Dean himself. They don't need anyone else when they're side by side.
Sam has to wait, that's all, and he's bad at it. But it won't be long now. Not long at all.
For annella:
They've taken hands before. Not like this.
Lazy Mississippi afternoon, cicadas and bullfrogs drowning out all else but Dean's breath humid-warm on his cheek.
It's okay, Sammy. Don't have to. If you don't want--
No, I do. I--
It's okay.
Late summer sundown on Lake Michigan, clouds of cold vapor making every word visible, Dean's lips cold and his tongue warm.
Got us a cabin for tonight. Maybe… you wanna?
Yeah.
Dawn on the Potomac, camped out by the waterside with skinned knees and faces creased by sleeping on the rough sedge grass, gone brown and dry. Dean tasted like the river, like water over stone.
No. You're too young, I--not like this.
Midnight in Hot Springs, sliding under the thin sheet to lay his hand at rest on Dean's stomach, laughing when he flinched from asleep to half-awake. Mouth to mouth and breath to breath, taking him in, easing him out.
Yeah?
Yeah.
Only hurts at first, I swear. You remember--me--it'll be good. Sammy?
I know.
Okay?
Mm-hmm. More.
The last time Sam held Dean's hand, he nailed the pine box shut a minute after.
This is the first time since and there's no sun, no moon, no running water. Grave dirt under Dean's nails and too many watchful eyes who'd see him taking more.
He presses his palm to Dean's and tries to breathe evenly. Just a little longer. They'll find some water to wash themselves clean with, they'll be alone together, and he'll tell the truth. It'll be made right between them and he'll mend Dean himself. They don't need anyone else when they're side by side.
Sam has to wait, that's all, and he's bad at it. But it won't be long now. Not long at all.