Eight Cozy Nights: Aurora
And done! Thanks for sticking with me!
Title: Aurora
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Wordcount: 949
Notes: For dreamlittleyo: "Sam/Dean! Warm red scarf! Giant snowbank disaster! Lost Mittens! Any combination therein! First-time makeouts in the snow would be SUPER HOT. Until they got hypothermia." I took bits and pieces of this but it is largely inspired by the indie film Subject Two.
Thank you rejeneration for the super-quick and awesome beta! ♥
Summary: He can keep him forever like this.
Aurora:
Sam wraps a scarf around his neck, stark bright red against the consuming whiteout he faces. The snow-covered earth seems to stretch out forever, dusted with spikes of evergreen trees at the edges, breaking the smooth monotony.
Sam opens the sliding glass door and moves forward, no sound but the snow crunching beneath his boots-that and his labored breaths. The ice-cold air hits his lungs and they start to seize, breaths coming shorter and shorter as he hikes forward. Water falls from Sam's eyes, and he blinks it away before it can start to cling to his lashes.
**
He's still there. Young and pale, skin smooth and soft against Sam's face.
His eyes are like ice and fire all at once. Blood-red capillaries burst years ago, melting into his eyes, the only vestige of blood left in him. Coloring them crimson and the pupils a pinhole speck of black, closed as tight as they can against the blinding white surrounding him.
He can't remember who buried him in the snow-was it Sam? Or did he do it himself, when the madness took over.
When he tore the skin off his hands to stop the pain.
**
Sam lifts Dean out of the snowbank, brushes him off and chokes on the air. It's too cold to move you by yourself, you have to help me, Dean. You have to walk.
Dean's leg shakes as he pushes it forward, muscles refusing to move from atrophy, but he can feel ice sloughing off, breaking and cracking as he powers ahead.
In the end Dean's the one who has to carry Sam back. His brother is too weak with the cold air hanging icy in his lungs. Sam breathes in pants and gasps, each one straining, a shove to move tightened muscles in his chest, cold rubber wanting to break apart.
**
He's the way he was, the way he always is, the way he will be.
He puts Sam down on the bed, pulls off the cold, wet clothes and covers him with blankets and heating packs.
He lays down against him and adores him.
**
"You have to tell me if it burns you, I won't be able to," Dean reminds him as he presses his forehead to Sam's.
Sam's hand shakes, moves up to press his finger against Dean's lips. "Y-you're biting them without realizing, I can feel the scars." Sam falls back and trembles, teeth chattering and body shaking uncontrollably.
I can't.
**
He wears gloves to hide the staple-stitches from when Sam dug into his hands. Those nerves were the first to go.
**
"Did I bury myself, or did I dream it was you?" Dean asks him, sponging the warm water across his brow as Sam bathes in the clawfoot tub, finally warm enough to move on his own, but Dean doesn't want to stop doting.
"You dreamed it was me," Sam answers, stopping Dean's hand to kiss his wrist. "You can take them off."
Dean holds the gloves to his chest. "I don't want to."
"Please stop trying to run away, Dean. I want you to stay here, whatever it is, we'll fix it."
Dean kneels down to lay his head on the side of the bathtub; Sam runs his fingers through his hair.
"I tried to bury myself."
**
He can't sleep anymore. Can't stay still in a bed with Sam, who sleeps feather-light these days, slaps him when he moves around too much. Dean can only tell from the sound of the crack of hand against skin that it's hard enough to bruise.
**
Dean walks outside, letting the sheet fall and pool at his feet in the snow. Similar scarring, thin black stitches running across his feet and legs. Twining at his stomach and running up his arms, his neck, the curve of his lips.
Sam took out his nerves, all of them. Methodically ripped every last sensation from his body. He is a doll. Only animated by the sheer force of will trapped in the shell of his useless, bloodless body.
The last beat of his heart was against Sam's hands when he was frantically slamming them down, trying to save him.
Buckshot fills his back in a rush of speed and sound and he tumbles down from the shock.
**
He hears Sam shouting, he hears swearing and screaming and the unfamiliar sounds of a stranger stammering, trying to explain, trying to figure out what happened.
He wakes up and stands, just as the gunshot goes off. Sam wipes his nose and barks, "Come on! We're done here," at him.
He follows Sam and walks away from the dead hunter left behind.
**
"Maybe you're the dead one," Dean says as Sam moves down his body with his mouth. "You got hypothermia and died out there before you could find me."
"Stop running away," Sam moans and squeezes his cock.
"It doesn't work like that. Uselessness, Sam."
Sam shakes his head, "I can make you feel something," he says, squeezing his eyes shut and sliding his body against Dean's.
"I can't feel anything."
Sam pounds a fist against Dean's chest. "You're lying!"
"I tried to bury myself because that's where I needed to be. I need to be buried, and I need to finish it-" Dean says, pushing himself up to sit on the bed. Sam rolls off of him, wrapping his arms around Dean's body, rests his head on Dean's shoulder.
"Need to finish what?"
"Freezing to death."
Sam shakes his head. "I froze you to keep you forever."
**
He stands naked in the sun, waiting for the ice to melt away and release him.
**
Björk - Aurora
Previously:Eight Cozy Nights #1: Working In Pairs [Sam/Dean] Eight Cozy Nights #2: Oi To The World [Jared/Jensen/Misha] Eight Cozy Nights #3: Love, War, and Snowball Fights [Sam/Dean] Eight Cozy Nights #4: Hot Stuff [Jared/Jensen] Eight Cozy Nights #5: In The Glow [Jensen/Jared] Eight Cozy Nights #6: Angels We Have Heard On High [Sam/Dean, Castiel] Eight Cozy Nights #7: Blades of Chad [Jared/Jensen] Eight Cozy Nights #8: Aurora [Sam/Dean]
Title: Aurora
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Wordcount: 949
Notes: For dreamlittleyo: "Sam/Dean! Warm red scarf! Giant snowbank disaster! Lost Mittens! Any combination therein! First-time makeouts in the snow would be SUPER HOT. Until they got hypothermia." I took bits and pieces of this but it is largely inspired by the indie film Subject Two.
Thank you rejeneration for the super-quick and awesome beta! ♥
Summary: He can keep him forever like this.
Aurora:
Sam wraps a scarf around his neck, stark bright red against the consuming whiteout he faces. The snow-covered earth seems to stretch out forever, dusted with spikes of evergreen trees at the edges, breaking the smooth monotony.
Sam opens the sliding glass door and moves forward, no sound but the snow crunching beneath his boots-that and his labored breaths. The ice-cold air hits his lungs and they start to seize, breaths coming shorter and shorter as he hikes forward. Water falls from Sam's eyes, and he blinks it away before it can start to cling to his lashes.
**
He's still there. Young and pale, skin smooth and soft against Sam's face.
His eyes are like ice and fire all at once. Blood-red capillaries burst years ago, melting into his eyes, the only vestige of blood left in him. Coloring them crimson and the pupils a pinhole speck of black, closed as tight as they can against the blinding white surrounding him.
He can't remember who buried him in the snow-was it Sam? Or did he do it himself, when the madness took over.
When he tore the skin off his hands to stop the pain.
**
Sam lifts Dean out of the snowbank, brushes him off and chokes on the air. It's too cold to move you by yourself, you have to help me, Dean. You have to walk.
Dean's leg shakes as he pushes it forward, muscles refusing to move from atrophy, but he can feel ice sloughing off, breaking and cracking as he powers ahead.
In the end Dean's the one who has to carry Sam back. His brother is too weak with the cold air hanging icy in his lungs. Sam breathes in pants and gasps, each one straining, a shove to move tightened muscles in his chest, cold rubber wanting to break apart.
**
He's the way he was, the way he always is, the way he will be.
He puts Sam down on the bed, pulls off the cold, wet clothes and covers him with blankets and heating packs.
He lays down against him and adores him.
**
"You have to tell me if it burns you, I won't be able to," Dean reminds him as he presses his forehead to Sam's.
Sam's hand shakes, moves up to press his finger against Dean's lips. "Y-you're biting them without realizing, I can feel the scars." Sam falls back and trembles, teeth chattering and body shaking uncontrollably.
I can't.
**
He wears gloves to hide the staple-stitches from when Sam dug into his hands. Those nerves were the first to go.
**
"Did I bury myself, or did I dream it was you?" Dean asks him, sponging the warm water across his brow as Sam bathes in the clawfoot tub, finally warm enough to move on his own, but Dean doesn't want to stop doting.
"You dreamed it was me," Sam answers, stopping Dean's hand to kiss his wrist. "You can take them off."
Dean holds the gloves to his chest. "I don't want to."
"Please stop trying to run away, Dean. I want you to stay here, whatever it is, we'll fix it."
Dean kneels down to lay his head on the side of the bathtub; Sam runs his fingers through his hair.
"I tried to bury myself."
**
He can't sleep anymore. Can't stay still in a bed with Sam, who sleeps feather-light these days, slaps him when he moves around too much. Dean can only tell from the sound of the crack of hand against skin that it's hard enough to bruise.
**
Dean walks outside, letting the sheet fall and pool at his feet in the snow. Similar scarring, thin black stitches running across his feet and legs. Twining at his stomach and running up his arms, his neck, the curve of his lips.
Sam took out his nerves, all of them. Methodically ripped every last sensation from his body. He is a doll. Only animated by the sheer force of will trapped in the shell of his useless, bloodless body.
The last beat of his heart was against Sam's hands when he was frantically slamming them down, trying to save him.
Buckshot fills his back in a rush of speed and sound and he tumbles down from the shock.
**
He hears Sam shouting, he hears swearing and screaming and the unfamiliar sounds of a stranger stammering, trying to explain, trying to figure out what happened.
He wakes up and stands, just as the gunshot goes off. Sam wipes his nose and barks, "Come on! We're done here," at him.
He follows Sam and walks away from the dead hunter left behind.
**
"Maybe you're the dead one," Dean says as Sam moves down his body with his mouth. "You got hypothermia and died out there before you could find me."
"Stop running away," Sam moans and squeezes his cock.
"It doesn't work like that. Uselessness, Sam."
Sam shakes his head, "I can make you feel something," he says, squeezing his eyes shut and sliding his body against Dean's.
"I can't feel anything."
Sam pounds a fist against Dean's chest. "You're lying!"
"I tried to bury myself because that's where I needed to be. I need to be buried, and I need to finish it-" Dean says, pushing himself up to sit on the bed. Sam rolls off of him, wrapping his arms around Dean's body, rests his head on Dean's shoulder.
"Need to finish what?"
"Freezing to death."
Sam shakes his head. "I froze you to keep you forever."
**
He stands naked in the sun, waiting for the ice to melt away and release him.
**
Björk - Aurora
Previously: