The Transiency of Love: Part 5
Title: The Transiency of Love
Author: Koinaka
Rating: R
Pairing(s)/Character(s):Kurt, Sam, Dean, Bobby, Castiel, mentions of other characters as needed.
Genre: Supernatural!Crossover, AU
Spoilers: set post season 3, so everything aired, set between season 3 and 4 for Supernatural, so pretty much everything there too.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Ryan Murphy and Eric Kripke respectively.
Summary: Kurt was trying to get through the summer. Sam was trying to forget. Neither of them expected to fall in love.
Warning(s): AU/crossover
Word Count: Around 2300 words for this part.
Written for this prompt @ here.
Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4
The Transiency of Love
By Koinaka
Please let me forget
all those sweet smiles
all of the passion
all of the heat, the peace, the pain
all those blue skies
where your words were my freedom
-Don't, Jewel
Kurt sank onto the bed when he was finished. He took in one shaky breath and then another. Once the surge of anger was gone, he was left with an empty feeling inside. So, there was the possibility that Sam was a psychopathic nut job who may or may not have lied about his entire identity. Did that change the way that Kurt felt about him?
No.
Absolutely not.
He loved Sam-loved him to such an extent that the thought of being apart from him caused his chest to ache and a sick feeling to whirl around in his belly. Even now Kurt could feel his absence resonating through him. But it was more than just that. Even though Sam would be back in a matter of hours, Kurt had this awful sinking suspicion that nothing would be the same as it had been before. Now, more than ever, Kurt felt the enormity of the gulf between them. Without knowing what else to do, he just curled up on the bed for a long while and allowed the tears to fall freely down his face.
When the tears had dried, for the moment, he forced himself to get out of the bed. He cleaned up the glass and put the now glassless picture frames back where they belonged. Then he went to the door where he could still hear the two men muttering back and forth to one another and opened it.
He stared at Dean for a minute. He took in the tanned skin, the dusting of freckles across his cheekbones, the strong line of his jaw-all so different from Sam and yet there was something about him the reminded Kurt of Sam.
It was the look in his eyes. Both Sam and Dean had the same haunted look that made them seem much older than they were.
"So," Kurt said. "You're his brother."
"Uh…" The other looked around, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."
"His dead brother."
"'s a little complicated, but yeah."
Kurt moved back so that the men could enter the apartment. "I got a text from him a few minutes ago. Says he'll be home in the morning. You two are welcome to come in."
Dean looked at Bobby and both men shrugged. "Yeah. Okay," Dean said before moving past Kurt into the apartment.
The other man followed, and once they were both inside, Kurt closed and bolted the door. Then he poured salt across the bottom of the door. When he was finished, he turned back around to where Dean and Bobby were standing awkwardly.
There were so many things he wanted to say-so many questions he wanted to ask-but now that he had the men in front of him to ask, all he wanted to do was sleep. He felt drained-both emotionally and physical-and it was all he could do right then to remain upright.
"I'm going to bed," he said, finally. "Feel free to make yourselves at home. There's some food in the fridge if you get hungry, and there are blankets in the closet next to the TV."
There was a part of him that thought this was an exceptionally bad idea because allowing them into the apartment was one thing, but leaving them unattended while he slept was something else altogether. Still Sam obviously trusted these men-Bobby Singer at any rate-so he supposed that ought to be enough.
Luckily, that wouldn't be put to the test because no sooner had he made the offer did both men refuse even though they had entered the apartment happily enough only moments before.
"We already have a room at a motel," Dean said. "Plus I think it's probably best that we not spring me on Sam first thing when he gets home. Not without knowing why he tore outta here like a bat outta hell without taking either the knife or the gun." The last part was said to Bobby in a low tone.
"Suit yourselves," Kurt said with a shrug. He ignored the last cryptic remark because, honestly, at this point, he figured ignorance was probably the best policy. He wasn't sure how much more he could handle.
Bobby nodded to Dean in agreement. "Yeah," he said before turning to Kurt. "Probably best if you just don't mention any of this to him right away. We'll come by tomorrow after breakfast."
With that, the two men left. Kurt redid the locks and the salt before heading to his room, bringing the knife and the gun with him.
Once he was inside the room, he burrowed his way into the middle of their bed and pulled the covers around him so that he was completely encompassed by them. The sheets were clean, but Kurt could still smell Sam on them. Despite his exhaustion, he didn't fall right asleep. His mind was just too full. It was full of possibilities, of scenarios, rational explanations-none of which satisfied him in the least. He wasn't sure when he did fall asleep, but he obviously had at some point because the next thing he knew there was soft light coming in through the window and someone was slipping beneath the covers with him.
"Sam?" he asked. His eyes fluttered open to find his boyfriend's form beside him.
"Shhh, go back to sleep. It's still early," Sam told him, pulling Kurt closer to him and kissing him lightly on the top of his head.
Kurt was nearly back to sleep when he remembered the events of the previous day. His eyes popped back open, and he scrambled to pull himself into a sitting position. Sam blinked blurrily several times, taken aback at Kurt's sudden movements.
All of his questions died on his tongue when he noticed the state Sam was in. There was a slash down one of his cheeks and the other side of his face was bruised and swollen. There was also another large bruise spanning the entirety of the left side of his chest.
"You're hurt!" he exclaimed, his tone almost accusatory. "What happened?"
"Nothing-it's nothing. I'm fine. Really," he added at Kurt's skeptical look.
Rolling his eyes, Kurt slid out of the bed and headed into the bathroom to grab the first aid kid and a warm wash cloth.
"Sit up," he told his boyfriend as he dumped the supplies down onto the bed.
Sam sighed but did as he was told. Kurt moved to where he was standing in between Sam's open legs so that he could inspect the damage. He cocked his head to first one side and then the other before deciding to start on the cut. The edges of the cut were jagged and an angry red.
"This might hurt," he warned and then pressed the wash cloth against the cut as gently as he could.
He used one of the Betadine wipes to clean it before using some of the liquid adhesive bandages to close it up. He blew lightly on the cut to dry the adhesive. Sam had no reaction until Kurt blew on the adhesive. The second that Kurt did though, Sam sucked in a strangled breath and his hands flew out to grab Kurt's hips. Kurt merely quirked an eyebrow and continued doctoring his injuries.
"So," Kurt said lightly as he dabbed a bruise salve over Sam's other cheek. "Want to tell me why you look like you took on a large animal-and lost? The truth, this time, if you please. You owe me that at least." His voice may have started out light, but there was an undercurrent of anger there that was not lost on Sam.
"Yeah, you're right. I do," Sam said. He took a deep breath and then began to talk.
When he was finished, they sat in silence until Sam finally spoke again. "Please say something-anything. I know it's a lot to take in-a lot to believe-but it's the truth."
And it was a lot. Too much, really, but that was why Kurt believed him because why else would he tell such an outlandish story unless it was the truth? Surely, if he was going to lie about his past or where he'd been, there were many simpler stories he could have told. Instead he spun a tale that could have been lifted off the pages of a horror novel. Maybe Kurt was crazy for believing it, but God help him, he did believe it. It explained the guns, the ids, and all of the secrecy better than anything else could.
"You hunt monsters."
It wasn't a question, but Sam answered it anyway. "Yeah, well, I used to-before my brother died. I haven't since then."
"And if he were to return somehow, then what? You would leave and start hunting again?" The unspoken question of You would leave me and start hunting again hung heavy between them.
Sam hesitated, a myriad of emotions flitting across his face. Finally, he shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. Does it matter? It's not like he's coming back-not like he can come back. Not from that." He let out a bitter laugh and ran a hand through his hair.
"But if he did?" Kurt insisted. "If he came back."
He exhaled harshly and pushed himself off the bed in order to pace the length of the room. "What do you want me to say, Kurt? If my brother was alive and not rotting in hell, would I start hunting again? Yeah. Probably so. But even if I didn't-even if I never hunted again-I wouldn't stay here. Not if he was alive."
"Oh," was all Kurt could manage to say because he felt a little like all of the air had been sucked from his lungs.
"You're the one leaving in a few weeks, Kurt," Sam pointed out. "We both knew this was coming. What did you expect me to do after you left? Sit around here and wait for you to come back?"
"Of course not," Kurt said in a clipped tone. He sighed. "I was hoping that you would come with me. That you would stay with me in New York."
Sam's expression softened. "Kurt…"
A knock at the door brought him up short. His brow furrowed. "Who could be here this early?"
"Sam, wait-" Kurt started to say, but Sam was already walking out of the room and to the door.
Not knowing what else to do, Kurt lingered in the doorway of the bedroom and watched as first Bobby and then, after a few minutes of hushed conversation-and several not so hushed interjections by Sam-Dean entered the apartment. When Dean pulled Sam in for a hug, Kurt backed away from the doorway and softly closed the door to give the three men some modicum of privacy.
Mechanically, Kurt dressed and began gathering his things-from both the dresser and the closet. Sam was right. He had known this was coming, but he hadn't thought it would come this soon. He thought he had more time-that they had more time.
He froze when the door opened, and Sam came into the room. Sam didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. Everything there was to say was written on his face-this was it, he was leaving.
Kurt's breath hitched in his throat as Sam reached out and wiped a tear off of his cheek with his thumb before pulling Kurt to him and kissing him. Neither of them said a word as Kurt allowed Sam to maneuver him onto the bed, to kiss him and touch him over and over again as if he was trying to memorize the contours of his body, the sound of his sighs, and how perfectly they fit together. He was saying goodbye with every stroke, every touch of fingers or tongue to skin, and with each touch Kurt felt his heart break a little more.
By the time it was over, he was only holding on by the smallest of threads, biting his lips harshly to keep the sobs at bay. So when Sam opened his mouth to speak, Kurt placed a finger over his lips. He wasn't sure he could handle any platitudes or empty promises.
"Don't," his said, his voice cracking. "I just-I can't."
Sam just nodded, his own eyes red and lined with tears.
Somehow Kurt managed to keep himself together while Sam packed his things, and it was only when the taillights of the Impala disappeared around the corner that he fell to pieces.
Author: Koinaka
Rating: R
Pairing(s)/Character(s):Kurt, Sam, Dean, Bobby, Castiel, mentions of other characters as needed.
Genre: Supernatural!Crossover, AU
Spoilers: set post season 3, so everything aired, set between season 3 and 4 for Supernatural, so pretty much everything there too.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Ryan Murphy and Eric Kripke respectively.
Summary: Kurt was trying to get through the summer. Sam was trying to forget. Neither of them expected to fall in love.
Warning(s): AU/crossover
Word Count: Around 2300 words for this part.
Written for this prompt @ here.
Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4
The Transiency of Love
By Koinaka
Please let me forget
all those sweet smiles
all of the passion
all of the heat, the peace, the pain
all those blue skies
where your words were my freedom
-Don't, Jewel
Kurt sank onto the bed when he was finished. He took in one shaky breath and then another. Once the surge of anger was gone, he was left with an empty feeling inside. So, there was the possibility that Sam was a psychopathic nut job who may or may not have lied about his entire identity. Did that change the way that Kurt felt about him?
No.
Absolutely not.
He loved Sam-loved him to such an extent that the thought of being apart from him caused his chest to ache and a sick feeling to whirl around in his belly. Even now Kurt could feel his absence resonating through him. But it was more than just that. Even though Sam would be back in a matter of hours, Kurt had this awful sinking suspicion that nothing would be the same as it had been before. Now, more than ever, Kurt felt the enormity of the gulf between them. Without knowing what else to do, he just curled up on the bed for a long while and allowed the tears to fall freely down his face.
When the tears had dried, for the moment, he forced himself to get out of the bed. He cleaned up the glass and put the now glassless picture frames back where they belonged. Then he went to the door where he could still hear the two men muttering back and forth to one another and opened it.
He stared at Dean for a minute. He took in the tanned skin, the dusting of freckles across his cheekbones, the strong line of his jaw-all so different from Sam and yet there was something about him the reminded Kurt of Sam.
It was the look in his eyes. Both Sam and Dean had the same haunted look that made them seem much older than they were.
"So," Kurt said. "You're his brother."
"Uh…" The other looked around, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."
"His dead brother."
"'s a little complicated, but yeah."
Kurt moved back so that the men could enter the apartment. "I got a text from him a few minutes ago. Says he'll be home in the morning. You two are welcome to come in."
Dean looked at Bobby and both men shrugged. "Yeah. Okay," Dean said before moving past Kurt into the apartment.
The other man followed, and once they were both inside, Kurt closed and bolted the door. Then he poured salt across the bottom of the door. When he was finished, he turned back around to where Dean and Bobby were standing awkwardly.
There were so many things he wanted to say-so many questions he wanted to ask-but now that he had the men in front of him to ask, all he wanted to do was sleep. He felt drained-both emotionally and physical-and it was all he could do right then to remain upright.
"I'm going to bed," he said, finally. "Feel free to make yourselves at home. There's some food in the fridge if you get hungry, and there are blankets in the closet next to the TV."
There was a part of him that thought this was an exceptionally bad idea because allowing them into the apartment was one thing, but leaving them unattended while he slept was something else altogether. Still Sam obviously trusted these men-Bobby Singer at any rate-so he supposed that ought to be enough.
Luckily, that wouldn't be put to the test because no sooner had he made the offer did both men refuse even though they had entered the apartment happily enough only moments before.
"We already have a room at a motel," Dean said. "Plus I think it's probably best that we not spring me on Sam first thing when he gets home. Not without knowing why he tore outta here like a bat outta hell without taking either the knife or the gun." The last part was said to Bobby in a low tone.
"Suit yourselves," Kurt said with a shrug. He ignored the last cryptic remark because, honestly, at this point, he figured ignorance was probably the best policy. He wasn't sure how much more he could handle.
Bobby nodded to Dean in agreement. "Yeah," he said before turning to Kurt. "Probably best if you just don't mention any of this to him right away. We'll come by tomorrow after breakfast."
With that, the two men left. Kurt redid the locks and the salt before heading to his room, bringing the knife and the gun with him.
Once he was inside the room, he burrowed his way into the middle of their bed and pulled the covers around him so that he was completely encompassed by them. The sheets were clean, but Kurt could still smell Sam on them. Despite his exhaustion, he didn't fall right asleep. His mind was just too full. It was full of possibilities, of scenarios, rational explanations-none of which satisfied him in the least. He wasn't sure when he did fall asleep, but he obviously had at some point because the next thing he knew there was soft light coming in through the window and someone was slipping beneath the covers with him.
"Sam?" he asked. His eyes fluttered open to find his boyfriend's form beside him.
"Shhh, go back to sleep. It's still early," Sam told him, pulling Kurt closer to him and kissing him lightly on the top of his head.
Kurt was nearly back to sleep when he remembered the events of the previous day. His eyes popped back open, and he scrambled to pull himself into a sitting position. Sam blinked blurrily several times, taken aback at Kurt's sudden movements.
All of his questions died on his tongue when he noticed the state Sam was in. There was a slash down one of his cheeks and the other side of his face was bruised and swollen. There was also another large bruise spanning the entirety of the left side of his chest.
"You're hurt!" he exclaimed, his tone almost accusatory. "What happened?"
"Nothing-it's nothing. I'm fine. Really," he added at Kurt's skeptical look.
Rolling his eyes, Kurt slid out of the bed and headed into the bathroom to grab the first aid kid and a warm wash cloth.
"Sit up," he told his boyfriend as he dumped the supplies down onto the bed.
Sam sighed but did as he was told. Kurt moved to where he was standing in between Sam's open legs so that he could inspect the damage. He cocked his head to first one side and then the other before deciding to start on the cut. The edges of the cut were jagged and an angry red.
"This might hurt," he warned and then pressed the wash cloth against the cut as gently as he could.
He used one of the Betadine wipes to clean it before using some of the liquid adhesive bandages to close it up. He blew lightly on the cut to dry the adhesive. Sam had no reaction until Kurt blew on the adhesive. The second that Kurt did though, Sam sucked in a strangled breath and his hands flew out to grab Kurt's hips. Kurt merely quirked an eyebrow and continued doctoring his injuries.
"So," Kurt said lightly as he dabbed a bruise salve over Sam's other cheek. "Want to tell me why you look like you took on a large animal-and lost? The truth, this time, if you please. You owe me that at least." His voice may have started out light, but there was an undercurrent of anger there that was not lost on Sam.
"Yeah, you're right. I do," Sam said. He took a deep breath and then began to talk.
When he was finished, they sat in silence until Sam finally spoke again. "Please say something-anything. I know it's a lot to take in-a lot to believe-but it's the truth."
And it was a lot. Too much, really, but that was why Kurt believed him because why else would he tell such an outlandish story unless it was the truth? Surely, if he was going to lie about his past or where he'd been, there were many simpler stories he could have told. Instead he spun a tale that could have been lifted off the pages of a horror novel. Maybe Kurt was crazy for believing it, but God help him, he did believe it. It explained the guns, the ids, and all of the secrecy better than anything else could.
"You hunt monsters."
It wasn't a question, but Sam answered it anyway. "Yeah, well, I used to-before my brother died. I haven't since then."
"And if he were to return somehow, then what? You would leave and start hunting again?" The unspoken question of You would leave me and start hunting again hung heavy between them.
Sam hesitated, a myriad of emotions flitting across his face. Finally, he shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. Does it matter? It's not like he's coming back-not like he can come back. Not from that." He let out a bitter laugh and ran a hand through his hair.
"But if he did?" Kurt insisted. "If he came back."
He exhaled harshly and pushed himself off the bed in order to pace the length of the room. "What do you want me to say, Kurt? If my brother was alive and not rotting in hell, would I start hunting again? Yeah. Probably so. But even if I didn't-even if I never hunted again-I wouldn't stay here. Not if he was alive."
"Oh," was all Kurt could manage to say because he felt a little like all of the air had been sucked from his lungs.
"You're the one leaving in a few weeks, Kurt," Sam pointed out. "We both knew this was coming. What did you expect me to do after you left? Sit around here and wait for you to come back?"
"Of course not," Kurt said in a clipped tone. He sighed. "I was hoping that you would come with me. That you would stay with me in New York."
Sam's expression softened. "Kurt…"
A knock at the door brought him up short. His brow furrowed. "Who could be here this early?"
"Sam, wait-" Kurt started to say, but Sam was already walking out of the room and to the door.
Not knowing what else to do, Kurt lingered in the doorway of the bedroom and watched as first Bobby and then, after a few minutes of hushed conversation-and several not so hushed interjections by Sam-Dean entered the apartment. When Dean pulled Sam in for a hug, Kurt backed away from the doorway and softly closed the door to give the three men some modicum of privacy.
Mechanically, Kurt dressed and began gathering his things-from both the dresser and the closet. Sam was right. He had known this was coming, but he hadn't thought it would come this soon. He thought he had more time-that they had more time.
He froze when the door opened, and Sam came into the room. Sam didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. Everything there was to say was written on his face-this was it, he was leaving.
Kurt's breath hitched in his throat as Sam reached out and wiped a tear off of his cheek with his thumb before pulling Kurt to him and kissing him. Neither of them said a word as Kurt allowed Sam to maneuver him onto the bed, to kiss him and touch him over and over again as if he was trying to memorize the contours of his body, the sound of his sighs, and how perfectly they fit together. He was saying goodbye with every stroke, every touch of fingers or tongue to skin, and with each touch Kurt felt his heart break a little more.
By the time it was over, he was only holding on by the smallest of threads, biting his lips harshly to keep the sobs at bay. So when Sam opened his mouth to speak, Kurt placed a finger over his lips. He wasn't sure he could handle any platitudes or empty promises.
"Don't," his said, his voice cracking. "I just-I can't."
Sam just nodded, his own eyes red and lined with tears.
Somehow Kurt managed to keep himself together while Sam packed his things, and it was only when the taillights of the Impala disappeared around the corner that he fell to pieces.