(no subject)
Title: So Much Writing On The Wall, Even The Wall Fell Down
Author: Elissa
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG13
Summary: Dean presses a thumb into Sam's shoulder, drags a blunt finger nail over a thin scar, just under his collar bone . "Ninety-eight," he mumbles.
Author's Notes: Very short. Follows What Is And What Should Never Be, but this doesn't really contain any spoilers for that episode.
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
"Blue." He says it under his breath, almost like he's talking to himself, but he's looking at Sam out of the corner of his eye.
"Excuse me?"
"It's your favorite color," Dean states, dropping one hand from the steering wheel, resting it on the seat between them.
"Yeah," Sam nods, slow bops of his head. "I know."
"Yeah," Dean says. He blows out a breath, taps his index finger on the seat, stares straight ahead. "Well, so do I."
------------------
Dean presses a thumb into Sam's shoulder, drags a blunt finger nail over a thin scar, just under his collar bone . "Ninety-eight," he mumbles.
"Yeah," Sam whispers. "July."
"I had my back turned," Dean says, eyes flitting over Sam's face, lingering at his mouth. "I should have been watching. I should have...you went down hard."
Sam ducks his head, finds Dean's eyes. "You got us out all-right."
"The stitches wouldn't hold. Remember?"
"I remember," Sam says, slides his palm up the back of Dean's neck to rest at the base of his skull.
"Yeah." Dean nods, closes his eyes, continues to trace the mark with the pads of his fingers. "Healed OK, though. Can't hardly feel it anymore."
--------------------
Sam orders mashed potatoes, just like Dean knew he would.
"White gravy or brown?" the waitress asks.
"White," Dean answers, before Sam can even process the question. "He hates brown."
Sam scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip, huffs out a little breath. "Dean."
"Gotta go to the bathroom," Dean says, already half out of the booth.
-----------------
Dean pushes a tape into the deck, turns the volume up.
Sam groans. "Dean, man, you know I hate this song."
"Yeah," Dean says, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I know."
Sam rolls his eyes and Dean laughs, low and pure. "I know."
---------------
"Do you remember the first time we..."
"Yeah. Of course, I remember," Sam says, trailing light fingers up and down Dean's spine.
Dean presses a kiss to Sam's chest, breathes in his scent. "Do you ever wish..."
"No."
"You and Jess; you were happy." Dean rolls onto his back, stares at the ceiling.
"Red," Sam whispers, rolling onto his side. He trails his hand down Dean's chest, stops between two ribs, presses long fingers there. "Two-thousand. The knife was blunt, rusty. I thought for sure you were gonna get tetanus."
"Sammy."
"And you love brown gravy," Sam says, a smile working at the corners of his mouth
"Yeah," Dean says, brushing his lips over Sam's. "You would know."
Author: Elissa
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG13
Summary: Dean presses a thumb into Sam's shoulder, drags a blunt finger nail over a thin scar, just under his collar bone . "Ninety-eight," he mumbles.
Author's Notes: Very short. Follows What Is And What Should Never Be, but this doesn't really contain any spoilers for that episode.
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
"Blue." He says it under his breath, almost like he's talking to himself, but he's looking at Sam out of the corner of his eye.
"Excuse me?"
"It's your favorite color," Dean states, dropping one hand from the steering wheel, resting it on the seat between them.
"Yeah," Sam nods, slow bops of his head. "I know."
"Yeah," Dean says. He blows out a breath, taps his index finger on the seat, stares straight ahead. "Well, so do I."
------------------
Dean presses a thumb into Sam's shoulder, drags a blunt finger nail over a thin scar, just under his collar bone . "Ninety-eight," he mumbles.
"Yeah," Sam whispers. "July."
"I had my back turned," Dean says, eyes flitting over Sam's face, lingering at his mouth. "I should have been watching. I should have...you went down hard."
Sam ducks his head, finds Dean's eyes. "You got us out all-right."
"The stitches wouldn't hold. Remember?"
"I remember," Sam says, slides his palm up the back of Dean's neck to rest at the base of his skull.
"Yeah." Dean nods, closes his eyes, continues to trace the mark with the pads of his fingers. "Healed OK, though. Can't hardly feel it anymore."
--------------------
Sam orders mashed potatoes, just like Dean knew he would.
"White gravy or brown?" the waitress asks.
"White," Dean answers, before Sam can even process the question. "He hates brown."
Sam scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip, huffs out a little breath. "Dean."
"Gotta go to the bathroom," Dean says, already half out of the booth.
-----------------
Dean pushes a tape into the deck, turns the volume up.
Sam groans. "Dean, man, you know I hate this song."
"Yeah," Dean says, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I know."
Sam rolls his eyes and Dean laughs, low and pure. "I know."
---------------
"Do you remember the first time we..."
"Yeah. Of course, I remember," Sam says, trailing light fingers up and down Dean's spine.
Dean presses a kiss to Sam's chest, breathes in his scent. "Do you ever wish..."
"No."
"You and Jess; you were happy." Dean rolls onto his back, stares at the ceiling.
"Red," Sam whispers, rolling onto his side. He trails his hand down Dean's chest, stops between two ribs, presses long fingers there. "Two-thousand. The knife was blunt, rusty. I thought for sure you were gonna get tetanus."
"Sammy."
"And you love brown gravy," Sam says, a smile working at the corners of his mouth
"Yeah," Dean says, brushing his lips over Sam's. "You would know."