Ficlet: Gone For 60 Seconds. SPN. Sam/Dean. G
Written straight into LJ because I was watching Casino Royale and I just love the scene where he's having the heart attack. And so this happened.
Title: Gone For 60 Seconds
Author: felisblanco
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: G, I guess.
Word Count: 500 words
Warning: Mildly implied Wincest. Angst. No spoilers.
Gone For 60 Seconds
Sam's heart stops.
Only for about a minute but it's the longest minute in Dean's life. He hears the paramedics shout for him to stand back but he can't let go, can't allow Sam's hand to slip away from his for even a second. It's warm and sweaty and stained with wet blood, everything that should mean Sam's alive. Except the fingers are slack and there's no pulse drumming against Dean's fingertips anymore.
They pry him away, shoving him aside, and he sits back, his hand still tingling with Sam's touch. They're ripping Sam's shirt open but he can't see it, can't hear the beeps of the machines or the urgent voices babbling medical jargon that make no sense. His eyes are fixated on Sam's neck, waiting for the flat blue line under his pale skin to show if only the smallest of quiver. His ears are strained, listening for Sam's breath.
When the electric shock surges through Sam's body, chest arching upwards on the stretcher, Dean jerks awake, the whole world rushing back, assaulting his senses. The siren rings in his ears, the smell of antiseptics burns in his nostrils. Everything is too bright, too loud, too... real. His chest hurts, he feels like he can't breath and he thinks maybe it's true what he told Sam. That if he dies Dean will surely follow because there is no life for him without his Sammy.
And then he hears it.
One beep. Then another. And another. The line on the monitor jumps with a miraculous regularity and when Dean reaches out to lay a palm against Sam's neck he can feel it. Tapping against his skin with a stubbornness that is all Sam. Sam's eyelashes flutter and then he's sucking in his breath, chest expanding and then deflating as he coughs awake. The oxygen mask is quickly strapped over Sam's nose and mouth just as his eyes blink slowly open, staring up at Dean in muddled confusion.
Dean slumps over as all strength seems to leave his body. He rests his forehead on Sam's temple, their breaths fogging up the mask on both sides. His eyes are closed but he can feel Sam's eyelashes stroke his cheek and when he presses his lips to Sam's ear it tastes of salted tears and coppery blood.
‘Not dead, Sammy. Not dead,’ he thinks but out loud he says, “About time you woke up, bro. Thought I’d lost you there.” Then pulls down the mask and kisses Sam on the lips.
There is blood pumping out of the wound in Sam's side and his leg is at an awkward angle that Dean would rather not think about. The paramedics are talking about surgery and head trauma and a hundred other things Dean can't for the life of him focus on. Because Sam is breathing, his heart is beating and when Dean fumbles for his hand he finds strong fingers that latch on to his. And really, that is all he needs for now.
Title: Gone For 60 Seconds
Author: felisblanco
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: G, I guess.
Word Count: 500 words
Warning: Mildly implied Wincest. Angst. No spoilers.
Gone For 60 Seconds
Sam's heart stops.
Only for about a minute but it's the longest minute in Dean's life. He hears the paramedics shout for him to stand back but he can't let go, can't allow Sam's hand to slip away from his for even a second. It's warm and sweaty and stained with wet blood, everything that should mean Sam's alive. Except the fingers are slack and there's no pulse drumming against Dean's fingertips anymore.
They pry him away, shoving him aside, and he sits back, his hand still tingling with Sam's touch. They're ripping Sam's shirt open but he can't see it, can't hear the beeps of the machines or the urgent voices babbling medical jargon that make no sense. His eyes are fixated on Sam's neck, waiting for the flat blue line under his pale skin to show if only the smallest of quiver. His ears are strained, listening for Sam's breath.
When the electric shock surges through Sam's body, chest arching upwards on the stretcher, Dean jerks awake, the whole world rushing back, assaulting his senses. The siren rings in his ears, the smell of antiseptics burns in his nostrils. Everything is too bright, too loud, too... real. His chest hurts, he feels like he can't breath and he thinks maybe it's true what he told Sam. That if he dies Dean will surely follow because there is no life for him without his Sammy.
And then he hears it.
One beep. Then another. And another. The line on the monitor jumps with a miraculous regularity and when Dean reaches out to lay a palm against Sam's neck he can feel it. Tapping against his skin with a stubbornness that is all Sam. Sam's eyelashes flutter and then he's sucking in his breath, chest expanding and then deflating as he coughs awake. The oxygen mask is quickly strapped over Sam's nose and mouth just as his eyes blink slowly open, staring up at Dean in muddled confusion.
Dean slumps over as all strength seems to leave his body. He rests his forehead on Sam's temple, their breaths fogging up the mask on both sides. His eyes are closed but he can feel Sam's eyelashes stroke his cheek and when he presses his lips to Sam's ear it tastes of salted tears and coppery blood.
‘Not dead, Sammy. Not dead,’ he thinks but out loud he says, “About time you woke up, bro. Thought I’d lost you there.” Then pulls down the mask and kisses Sam on the lips.
There is blood pumping out of the wound in Sam's side and his leg is at an awkward angle that Dean would rather not think about. The paramedics are talking about surgery and head trauma and a hundred other things Dean can't for the life of him focus on. Because Sam is breathing, his heart is beating and when Dean fumbles for his hand he finds strong fingers that latch on to his. And really, that is all he needs for now.