Supernatural: Post Benders Codaish Thingy
Right, so I'm like forever and a day late with this, but there was no new episode this week, so I win? *coughs* Anway...
Thanks to stone_princess for audiencing. *love*
Post Benders Codaish Thingy
Dean sucks in a breath as Sam treats the burn on his chest. He holds a clean washcloth to the cut on his side and tries to not think about how Sam will be stitching that up next.
"You can say you're into some kinky stuff," Sam says, glancing up from the wound to smile at Dean.
"That'd probably scare most girls off. Though the ones that stay..." He tries for a cocky grin, but it ends up more of a grimace. "I figured I got this one rescuing a kitten from a burning building."
It's a game they started when they were kids. Stories for all of their scars. They would stretch their imaginations with scenarios of the mundane. How would a twelve-year-old get that scar along the side of his arm? A bad biking accident because he was trying to do tricks, not the poltergeist they were chasing in Arizona.
Dean has more stories than Sam, as he wears a fair amount of scars that should have been Sam's. He let Sam make up the stories for those ones, which is why the scar under his chin was from when he tripped over his untied shoe and hit his chin on the curb.
The game was always more of a necessity for Dean, but something else for Sam entirely. An escape from reality, maybe. Dean still remembers Sam, all wide-eyed earnestness, saying, "I was climbing this tree and the branch broke and I fell and that's how I broke my arm."
"Hey, Dean?"
Sam's finished with the burn, and he's getting out the needles, which means that he'll start talking to distract Dean. Dean fucking hates needles.
"Sup?"
"I just..." Sam gently cleans the cut and then the bite of the needle. "I just wanted to thank you. For coming to get me. For not giving up."
"Oh fuck you, Sam," Dean says.
"I was trying to be nice."
"You were implying that I wouldn't search every inch of this goddamn planet until I found you."
"I know. I know you would." Sam stitches slowly and precisely, and Dean wonders if he's trying to be a sadistic bastard. "I just don't want you to think that I take you for granted."
Dean actually snorts at that, which is a mistake because it hurts. "You take me for granted all the time. You're a self-centered little shit." Which isn't entirely true, but Dean sees the smile Sam tries to hide. "Whether you do or not. Doesn't change anything."
Sam is quiet for a moment as he finishes up. He leans in a little to study his work. Head down, he whispers, "I know."
Thanks to stone_princess for audiencing. *love*
Post Benders Codaish Thingy
Dean sucks in a breath as Sam treats the burn on his chest. He holds a clean washcloth to the cut on his side and tries to not think about how Sam will be stitching that up next.
"You can say you're into some kinky stuff," Sam says, glancing up from the wound to smile at Dean.
"That'd probably scare most girls off. Though the ones that stay..." He tries for a cocky grin, but it ends up more of a grimace. "I figured I got this one rescuing a kitten from a burning building."
It's a game they started when they were kids. Stories for all of their scars. They would stretch their imaginations with scenarios of the mundane. How would a twelve-year-old get that scar along the side of his arm? A bad biking accident because he was trying to do tricks, not the poltergeist they were chasing in Arizona.
Dean has more stories than Sam, as he wears a fair amount of scars that should have been Sam's. He let Sam make up the stories for those ones, which is why the scar under his chin was from when he tripped over his untied shoe and hit his chin on the curb.
The game was always more of a necessity for Dean, but something else for Sam entirely. An escape from reality, maybe. Dean still remembers Sam, all wide-eyed earnestness, saying, "I was climbing this tree and the branch broke and I fell and that's how I broke my arm."
"Hey, Dean?"
Sam's finished with the burn, and he's getting out the needles, which means that he'll start talking to distract Dean. Dean fucking hates needles.
"Sup?"
"I just..." Sam gently cleans the cut and then the bite of the needle. "I just wanted to thank you. For coming to get me. For not giving up."
"Oh fuck you, Sam," Dean says.
"I was trying to be nice."
"You were implying that I wouldn't search every inch of this goddamn planet until I found you."
"I know. I know you would." Sam stitches slowly and precisely, and Dean wonders if he's trying to be a sadistic bastard. "I just don't want you to think that I take you for granted."
Dean actually snorts at that, which is a mistake because it hurts. "You take me for granted all the time. You're a self-centered little shit." Which isn't entirely true, but Dean sees the smile Sam tries to hide. "Whether you do or not. Doesn't change anything."
Sam is quiet for a moment as he finishes up. He leans in a little to study his work. Head down, he whispers, "I know."