Half of the Time We're Gone
Title: Half of the Time We're Gone
Pairing: Dean/Lisa-ish
Warnings: Spoilers for 5.22
Rating: PG
Summary: Dean and Lisa, after. Very short coda to the season finale.
He doesn't sleep that first night.
Ben's glad to see him. Ben remembers the tall guy with the leather jacket and the sweet ride who taught him to drop a bully on the playground. Ben wasn't there when he turned up last month looking like a junkie after a three-day bender and talking frightening nonsense.
Lisa's glad to see him, too. He was a kid when they first met, a sweet-talking drifter with a ready grin and a smooth line of patter that he delivered like he knew it was bullshit. She brought him home and fucked him all over her tiny little loft, and two months later when she was huddled on the edge of the sink counter and watching the little pink lines form, she didn't even think about calling the number he left her.
Still. She's glad to see him.
"You want me to top that off?" she asks gently.
Dean's looking right at her, but he still twitches a little when she touches his shoulder. His muscles are tense under her fingers, and he looks down at the half-empty glass he's been turning around and around in his hand for the past five minutes.
"No," he says after a minute. "Thanks."
Lisa caps the bottle and sets it down. It's late. Ben's in bed, or at least he's supposed to be; the odds are good that he's actually crouched out of sight at the top of the stairs listening in on everything they say. "So."
He drinks from the glass, mechanically, then sets it down. "Sam's dead. My brother."
"I'm so sorry."
"Yeah." Dean snorts. It's mirthless, a horrible dry sound that should be a sob but isn't. "I'm sorry, Lisa, I just--" He gestures vaguely. In front of them, the TV is muted on old re-runs from the '90's. "It wasn't supposed to go down like this."
Go down like what? Lisa thinks, but doesn't say. "I'm going to bed," she says instead. "You should come too."
"I think I'll stay here. Watch--" he squints at the screen, then smiles briefly. It's like watching the ghost of the man he used to be. "--Saved by the Bell. Awesome show."
"I always liked it," Lisa says, and touches his arm again. His skin is warm through the rough flannel shirt. "Dean. Come to bed."
He shakes his head again, but when she leans down to kiss him--chastely--he doesn't flinch away.
***
Ben doesn't even try to make a break for his bedroom when she comes up the stairs. He's sitting at the top of the steps in his pajama pants and the oversized Metallica t-shirt he talked her into buying and he's chewing on his lip like the little boy he is instead of the almost-teenager he's trying to be. "Is Dean gonna stay?"
His eyes are big and the smattering of freckles across his cheeks is just visible in the glow from his Batman night-light. He looks so like the man falling quietly to pieces downstairs that her heart aches, but she swallows it down and chivvies her son to his feet. "Come on, Ben. Bedtime."
"Well, is he?"
Dean's car is in the driveway and his old army bag is just inside the door. Dean smelled like sulfur and blood when she hugged him earlier and he hasn't even bothered trying to pretend that he's okay.
Still, though. He's here. After everything, he ended up here.
"I hope so," she says, and gives Ben a gentle shove across the threshold of his room. "Now go to bed."
A/N: I make no pretenses at perfection, here. This was the first thing that popped into my head after the season finale. As always, please take a moment to let me know what you thought.
Pairing: Dean/Lisa-ish
Warnings: Spoilers for 5.22
Rating: PG
Summary: Dean and Lisa, after. Very short coda to the season finale.
He doesn't sleep that first night.
Ben's glad to see him. Ben remembers the tall guy with the leather jacket and the sweet ride who taught him to drop a bully on the playground. Ben wasn't there when he turned up last month looking like a junkie after a three-day bender and talking frightening nonsense.
Lisa's glad to see him, too. He was a kid when they first met, a sweet-talking drifter with a ready grin and a smooth line of patter that he delivered like he knew it was bullshit. She brought him home and fucked him all over her tiny little loft, and two months later when she was huddled on the edge of the sink counter and watching the little pink lines form, she didn't even think about calling the number he left her.
Still. She's glad to see him.
"You want me to top that off?" she asks gently.
Dean's looking right at her, but he still twitches a little when she touches his shoulder. His muscles are tense under her fingers, and he looks down at the half-empty glass he's been turning around and around in his hand for the past five minutes.
"No," he says after a minute. "Thanks."
Lisa caps the bottle and sets it down. It's late. Ben's in bed, or at least he's supposed to be; the odds are good that he's actually crouched out of sight at the top of the stairs listening in on everything they say. "So."
He drinks from the glass, mechanically, then sets it down. "Sam's dead. My brother."
"I'm so sorry."
"Yeah." Dean snorts. It's mirthless, a horrible dry sound that should be a sob but isn't. "I'm sorry, Lisa, I just--" He gestures vaguely. In front of them, the TV is muted on old re-runs from the '90's. "It wasn't supposed to go down like this."
Go down like what? Lisa thinks, but doesn't say. "I'm going to bed," she says instead. "You should come too."
"I think I'll stay here. Watch--" he squints at the screen, then smiles briefly. It's like watching the ghost of the man he used to be. "--Saved by the Bell. Awesome show."
"I always liked it," Lisa says, and touches his arm again. His skin is warm through the rough flannel shirt. "Dean. Come to bed."
He shakes his head again, but when she leans down to kiss him--chastely--he doesn't flinch away.
***
Ben doesn't even try to make a break for his bedroom when she comes up the stairs. He's sitting at the top of the steps in his pajama pants and the oversized Metallica t-shirt he talked her into buying and he's chewing on his lip like the little boy he is instead of the almost-teenager he's trying to be. "Is Dean gonna stay?"
His eyes are big and the smattering of freckles across his cheeks is just visible in the glow from his Batman night-light. He looks so like the man falling quietly to pieces downstairs that her heart aches, but she swallows it down and chivvies her son to his feet. "Come on, Ben. Bedtime."
"Well, is he?"
Dean's car is in the driveway and his old army bag is just inside the door. Dean smelled like sulfur and blood when she hugged him earlier and he hasn't even bothered trying to pretend that he's okay.
Still, though. He's here. After everything, he ended up here.
"I hope so," she says, and gives Ben a gentle shove across the threshold of his room. "Now go to bed."
A/N: I make no pretenses at perfection, here. This was the first thing that popped into my head after the season finale. As always, please take a moment to let me know what you thought.