SPN Fic: I Wish I Was the Moon -- 2/3 -- Sam/Dean -- PG-13
Title: I Wish I Was the Moon (2/3)
Author: sneaky_sena
Pairing: Sam/Dean UST
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: none
Warnings: mentions of underage Wincest
Summary: Sam had been to a lot of school counselors; he knew the drill.
Part One: here
Sam kept his head down as he walked the halls of his latest high school. He kept his eyes on the floor, looking up just enough to make sure he didn't bump into anyone. No one said hello to him as he passed, and that was fine. He was OK with that. He'd learned a long time before that if he didn't make friends, it didn't hurt as much each time he had to leave.
He turned the corner and headed into the front office. "Hey," he said softly to Nancy, the head secretary. He helped her out sometimes when he had a free period, did filing and answered phones, and she let him sit at the back desk most days and eat his lunch there while he studied. "I'm supposed to see Ms. Hammond."
Nancy smiled kindly at him and said, "She's expecting you. Go on in."
"Hi, Sam," Ms. Hammond said as Sam walked into her office. "Thanks for coming to see me."
Sam didn't remind her that it hadn't been his choice, that she'd sent him a slip telling him to report to her office, not an invitation. He shut the door behind him and slid into the chair opposite hers. He'd seen a lot of school counselors. He knew the drill.
"How are you settling into life here at Washington?" she asked. He could tell she really wanted to know. She was the kind of counselor who really cared about her students. She was young. Sam gave her another ten years before she burned out.
"It's fine," he said. "I like it so far." And he did. He would have liked Washington a lot if he let himself. He didn't let himself. They'd been there three months already. He knew they wouldn't be staying much longer.
"You're getting great grades," she said with a smile. "Top of the class." Her smile faded a bit.
Sam shrugged. He knew what was coming next. He was getting great grades but he didn't seem to be making friends. He wasn't getting involved in extracurriculars. He had fantastic potential and she could see him doing great things at Washington High.
"Sam--" she started.
Sam knew the drill. Make nice with the school counselors. Make nice with the people from CPS. Make them think that life was hunky-dory and that Sam was a normal, well-adjusted kid who had never once stood lookout as his father dug up a grave so they could salt and burn the corpse. Sam was tired of making nice.
His eyes flickered over to the rainbow flag pinned to her bulletin board beneath a flyer for the fall social and he knew he was taking a chance. He knew that finding a sympathetic ear in the middle of nowhere Montana wasn't very likely, but Sam had good instincts. It was like he could sense people sometimes. He knew he could tell Ms. Hammond the truth. He couldn't tell her everything, but he could tell her a lot. He said, "There's this guy."
"Yeah?" she asked. She leaned back in her chair, relaxing a little bit. Sam realized that she knew exactly what he was talking about, even from those two words. He realized that it put her at ease, which meant it was familiar to her. He got a flash of Ms. Hammond and a woman with red hair laughing and dancing around the kitchen as they washed the dishes.
"I'm in love with him," he said softly.
"Mmm-hmm," said Ms. Hammond.
"I didn't think he knew." Sam closed his eyes.
"But he does?"
He nodded. It had been over a year, but he could still feel Dean's mouth over his, Dean's fingers twined in his hair, Dean's cock inside him. He blushed and opened his eyes. "I thought he'd hate me."
"And he doesn't?"
Sam shook his head again. "It's not...we can't..." He didn't know how to say it, how to tell her how he couldn't look at Dean without aching, how he thought about him every minute of the day. He didn't know how to tell her that he knew it wasn't normal but he couldn't help himself. He didn't know how to tell her that the guy he was in love with was his own brother. He finally said, "It's complicated."
"You can tell me about it if you want. I've got time."
"He just...he doesn't think it's right."
"What do you think?"
"I love him." Three stupid words. Three stupid words that didn't mean anything. "But it's been a year. Over a year. He's not going to...It's never going to be more than what it is."
"But you love each other?" Ms. Hammond seemed so sad that Sam wanted to lie to her, to reassure her.
"I love him," Sam said. "I pretend I don't, but I think he knows I still do."
"And him?"
"He's never really loved me like that." It killed him to say the words out loud, but they were true. "He only...he wanted to make me happy. That's the only reason he did it." The back of his throat felt bitter and hot. He looked away from her. He was not going to cry. You need to get over it, Dean had said. You need to forget it. It was stupid. I never should have...just forget it ever happened, OK? Sam had nodded, but he couldn't forget. How could he ever forget?
"Oh, Sam." He hated the pity in her voice, hated that he'd told her the truth and let her see how pathetic he was.
He cleared his throat. "It doesn't matter."
"Are you sure?"
He laughed weakly. "No. Look, I..." he ran his fingers through his hair. "I appreciate all this. I appreciate that you're worried about me and want me to make friends and whatever, but the truth is that it's just not worth it. We won't be here much longer. We never are."
Ms. Hammond nodded and placed her hand over a manila folder on her desk. "I've seen your records. You move around a lot."
"Yeah."
"How do you feel about that?"
Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I've never known everything else. I guess...I don't know. Maybe I'll go to college next year." He tried to imagine living in the same city for four years, but he couldn't. He tried to imagine what it would be like to make friends without having to worry about never seeing them again.
"I've seen your test scores and they're spectacular. What schools are you going to apply to?"
"I've been thinking about Stanford," he said. He didn't know where the words came from. It wasn't true. He hadn't been thinking about college at all, had only been dreading graduation when high school, his only grasp on anything remotely normal, was over. As soon as he said it, though, he knew he wanted to go to college, wanted to get out of his crazy life, wanted to escape. Maybe if he didn't have to see Dean every day of his life he could get over it, let it go.
Ms. Hammond smiled. "I pulled out a few applications for you before I asked you down here. Stanford's one of them." She passed a thick stack of papers his way, and as he took them from her he saw a flash of himself walking down a cool Palo Alto sidewalk with his arm around a beautiful girl. He saw a flash of himself being happy. The back of his throat felt hot again.
Sam slid the applications into his backpack, safely hidden between his calc 2 textbook and his American lit notebook. He filled out the Stanford application in study hall, and when he left for California a year later, he didn't let himself look back.
---------------
On to Part Three!
Author: sneaky_sena
Pairing: Sam/Dean UST
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: none
Warnings: mentions of underage Wincest
Summary: Sam had been to a lot of school counselors; he knew the drill.
Part One: here
Sam kept his head down as he walked the halls of his latest high school. He kept his eyes on the floor, looking up just enough to make sure he didn't bump into anyone. No one said hello to him as he passed, and that was fine. He was OK with that. He'd learned a long time before that if he didn't make friends, it didn't hurt as much each time he had to leave.
He turned the corner and headed into the front office. "Hey," he said softly to Nancy, the head secretary. He helped her out sometimes when he had a free period, did filing and answered phones, and she let him sit at the back desk most days and eat his lunch there while he studied. "I'm supposed to see Ms. Hammond."
Nancy smiled kindly at him and said, "She's expecting you. Go on in."
"Hi, Sam," Ms. Hammond said as Sam walked into her office. "Thanks for coming to see me."
Sam didn't remind her that it hadn't been his choice, that she'd sent him a slip telling him to report to her office, not an invitation. He shut the door behind him and slid into the chair opposite hers. He'd seen a lot of school counselors. He knew the drill.
"How are you settling into life here at Washington?" she asked. He could tell she really wanted to know. She was the kind of counselor who really cared about her students. She was young. Sam gave her another ten years before she burned out.
"It's fine," he said. "I like it so far." And he did. He would have liked Washington a lot if he let himself. He didn't let himself. They'd been there three months already. He knew they wouldn't be staying much longer.
"You're getting great grades," she said with a smile. "Top of the class." Her smile faded a bit.
Sam shrugged. He knew what was coming next. He was getting great grades but he didn't seem to be making friends. He wasn't getting involved in extracurriculars. He had fantastic potential and she could see him doing great things at Washington High.
"Sam--" she started.
Sam knew the drill. Make nice with the school counselors. Make nice with the people from CPS. Make them think that life was hunky-dory and that Sam was a normal, well-adjusted kid who had never once stood lookout as his father dug up a grave so they could salt and burn the corpse. Sam was tired of making nice.
His eyes flickered over to the rainbow flag pinned to her bulletin board beneath a flyer for the fall social and he knew he was taking a chance. He knew that finding a sympathetic ear in the middle of nowhere Montana wasn't very likely, but Sam had good instincts. It was like he could sense people sometimes. He knew he could tell Ms. Hammond the truth. He couldn't tell her everything, but he could tell her a lot. He said, "There's this guy."
"Yeah?" she asked. She leaned back in her chair, relaxing a little bit. Sam realized that she knew exactly what he was talking about, even from those two words. He realized that it put her at ease, which meant it was familiar to her. He got a flash of Ms. Hammond and a woman with red hair laughing and dancing around the kitchen as they washed the dishes.
"I'm in love with him," he said softly.
"Mmm-hmm," said Ms. Hammond.
"I didn't think he knew." Sam closed his eyes.
"But he does?"
He nodded. It had been over a year, but he could still feel Dean's mouth over his, Dean's fingers twined in his hair, Dean's cock inside him. He blushed and opened his eyes. "I thought he'd hate me."
"And he doesn't?"
Sam shook his head again. "It's not...we can't..." He didn't know how to say it, how to tell her how he couldn't look at Dean without aching, how he thought about him every minute of the day. He didn't know how to tell her that he knew it wasn't normal but he couldn't help himself. He didn't know how to tell her that the guy he was in love with was his own brother. He finally said, "It's complicated."
"You can tell me about it if you want. I've got time."
"He just...he doesn't think it's right."
"What do you think?"
"I love him." Three stupid words. Three stupid words that didn't mean anything. "But it's been a year. Over a year. He's not going to...It's never going to be more than what it is."
"But you love each other?" Ms. Hammond seemed so sad that Sam wanted to lie to her, to reassure her.
"I love him," Sam said. "I pretend I don't, but I think he knows I still do."
"And him?"
"He's never really loved me like that." It killed him to say the words out loud, but they were true. "He only...he wanted to make me happy. That's the only reason he did it." The back of his throat felt bitter and hot. He looked away from her. He was not going to cry. You need to get over it, Dean had said. You need to forget it. It was stupid. I never should have...just forget it ever happened, OK? Sam had nodded, but he couldn't forget. How could he ever forget?
"Oh, Sam." He hated the pity in her voice, hated that he'd told her the truth and let her see how pathetic he was.
He cleared his throat. "It doesn't matter."
"Are you sure?"
He laughed weakly. "No. Look, I..." he ran his fingers through his hair. "I appreciate all this. I appreciate that you're worried about me and want me to make friends and whatever, but the truth is that it's just not worth it. We won't be here much longer. We never are."
Ms. Hammond nodded and placed her hand over a manila folder on her desk. "I've seen your records. You move around a lot."
"Yeah."
"How do you feel about that?"
Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I've never known everything else. I guess...I don't know. Maybe I'll go to college next year." He tried to imagine living in the same city for four years, but he couldn't. He tried to imagine what it would be like to make friends without having to worry about never seeing them again.
"I've seen your test scores and they're spectacular. What schools are you going to apply to?"
"I've been thinking about Stanford," he said. He didn't know where the words came from. It wasn't true. He hadn't been thinking about college at all, had only been dreading graduation when high school, his only grasp on anything remotely normal, was over. As soon as he said it, though, he knew he wanted to go to college, wanted to get out of his crazy life, wanted to escape. Maybe if he didn't have to see Dean every day of his life he could get over it, let it go.
Ms. Hammond smiled. "I pulled out a few applications for you before I asked you down here. Stanford's one of them." She passed a thick stack of papers his way, and as he took them from her he saw a flash of himself walking down a cool Palo Alto sidewalk with his arm around a beautiful girl. He saw a flash of himself being happy. The back of his throat felt hot again.
Sam slid the applications into his backpack, safely hidden between his calc 2 textbook and his American lit notebook. He filled out the Stanford application in study hall, and when he left for California a year later, he didn't let himself look back.
---------------
On to Part Three!