fic: turn your back and leave the lonely days behind you.
title. turn your back and leave the lonely days behind you.
fandom. supernatural/one tree hill.
pairing/character. brooke. dean. | dean/brooke.
spoilers/warnings. spn. general season one and two au. oth. 3x22 au. | mentions of character death.
disclaimer. not mine.
word count. 509.
rating. pg-13 (minor sexual content).
written for. _touched ♥.
prompt. this is my desire to be used by you.
originally posted. here.
summary. there are things that are lost that are always meant to be found; inevitably, she’ll never be one of those things (and neither will he).
notes. feedback is ♥.
Brooke has no problem with this - he kisses her down her neck, teeth nip at the skin and he pushes her against a wall; he’s lost a part of him, taller, shaggier, laptop in hand, and she’s lost a part of herself, the compass of morals and a heart that beats has been thrown into the lake where a car with just married is scribbled on the back window. She keeps this up because he’s not blonde and he hates basketball - loves cheerleaders, likes her hair, thinks she’s pretty and he’s into coffee, which she doesn’t mind considering she can con him into buying for her, toes inching up his leg underneath the table and a smile he calls delicious on her face.
It’s the backroom for those who have lost a slice of themselves tend to venture into; that closet you’re not allowed to look in as a kid, because if you do you’ll be lost in the abyss of darkness for most of your life - unless you’re lucky enough to have a knight in shining amour pull you out and never let you open the door again. Let’s face it, though - those knights in shining armour don’t really exist for those who really need them. The pretty blondes with bouncy curls and an artistic gift for winning back the heart of any girl’s boyfriend smothers him with something that confuses the direction of which his heart should really follow. (He’s always too late to save his princess in the end, having lost her to the wicked witch in the castle.)
They’re somewhere in a place she doesn’t remember, can’t remember as his hand slides up her stomach and he’s grinning against the skin underneath her earlobe. It’s the men’s bathroom, old and battered and smells like literal crap - but it’s something real and isn’t something familiar, gross and unhygienic for sure; it’s something that can’t bring back memories of the past and question what she’s planned for the future.
She sticks with him because he’s cute, low voice and a killer car, leather jacket he seems to part with more and more these days, hands it to her when she’s cold and he lets her play with the radio (though there’s a grunt and blinking when she presses buttons and mocks his cassettes). Though, she sticks with him because Dean Winchester is a man for vengeance and he’s dangerous, something evil follows him every step he walks and there’s a darker side to her bouncy, giggly façade; getting in the middle of whatever he’s into could stop the pain and let her feel normal again.
She giggles as her hands slip his leather jacket from his shoulders, and the stench disappears as tingles travel up and down her body and this is a dance they’ve repeated many times; this is how she forgets who she is and what she’s left behind, avoids facing the truth and this is how she’s starting new.
This is where everything that’s lost will never be found.
fandom. supernatural/one tree hill.
pairing/character. brooke. dean. | dean/brooke.
spoilers/warnings. spn. general season one and two au. oth. 3x22 au. | mentions of character death.
disclaimer. not mine.
word count. 509.
rating. pg-13 (minor sexual content).
written for. _touched ♥.
prompt. this is my desire to be used by you.
originally posted. here.
summary. there are things that are lost that are always meant to be found; inevitably, she’ll never be one of those things (and neither will he).
notes. feedback is ♥.
Brooke has no problem with this - he kisses her down her neck, teeth nip at the skin and he pushes her against a wall; he’s lost a part of him, taller, shaggier, laptop in hand, and she’s lost a part of herself, the compass of morals and a heart that beats has been thrown into the lake where a car with just married is scribbled on the back window. She keeps this up because he’s not blonde and he hates basketball - loves cheerleaders, likes her hair, thinks she’s pretty and he’s into coffee, which she doesn’t mind considering she can con him into buying for her, toes inching up his leg underneath the table and a smile he calls delicious on her face.
It’s the backroom for those who have lost a slice of themselves tend to venture into; that closet you’re not allowed to look in as a kid, because if you do you’ll be lost in the abyss of darkness for most of your life - unless you’re lucky enough to have a knight in shining amour pull you out and never let you open the door again. Let’s face it, though - those knights in shining armour don’t really exist for those who really need them. The pretty blondes with bouncy curls and an artistic gift for winning back the heart of any girl’s boyfriend smothers him with something that confuses the direction of which his heart should really follow. (He’s always too late to save his princess in the end, having lost her to the wicked witch in the castle.)
They’re somewhere in a place she doesn’t remember, can’t remember as his hand slides up her stomach and he’s grinning against the skin underneath her earlobe. It’s the men’s bathroom, old and battered and smells like literal crap - but it’s something real and isn’t something familiar, gross and unhygienic for sure; it’s something that can’t bring back memories of the past and question what she’s planned for the future.
She sticks with him because he’s cute, low voice and a killer car, leather jacket he seems to part with more and more these days, hands it to her when she’s cold and he lets her play with the radio (though there’s a grunt and blinking when she presses buttons and mocks his cassettes). Though, she sticks with him because Dean Winchester is a man for vengeance and he’s dangerous, something evil follows him every step he walks and there’s a darker side to her bouncy, giggly façade; getting in the middle of whatever he’s into could stop the pain and let her feel normal again.
She giggles as her hands slip his leather jacket from his shoulders, and the stench disappears as tingles travel up and down her body and this is a dance they’ve repeated many times; this is how she forgets who she is and what she’s left behind, avoids facing the truth and this is how she’s starting new.
This is where everything that’s lost will never be found.