And still this heart will yearn for you by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
marciaelena for <use
Apr. 15th, 2014 10:00 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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spn_springflingTitle: And still this heart will yearn for you
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Any warnings: 2nd person POV
Out in the woods a wolf is howling. You stand at the window looking at nothing, the light inside the cabin throwing your own reflection back at you.
"Dean," Sam says. There's that nameless ache in his voice. There's that pull in your gut.
You don't answer. You don't move. The wolf howls once more, a lonely, plaintive call.
Sam's chair drags against the floor when he stands up. His heat is at your back in an instant (all it takes to cross the room), his breath is at your neck.
"Dean."
The shudder that runs through you only makes your retreat that much more graceless. Sam spreads his hands against the dirty windowpane and you follow the long lines of his fingers with your eyes, over and over for as long as he stands there until their shape is burned into your brain.
You wait all night to hear the wolf again, but the woods stay as silent as your brother.
*
It's like an old song you thought you knew the words to. Sam riding next to you in the car. Sam asleep in the other bed. Sam standing behind you while you wait in line at the convenience store, Sam sitting across from you at the diner table. The sound of his voice, the cadence of his breath. But lately there's a dissonance there, something you can't quite make sense of. (Or maybe that's a lie. Maybe it's just that you didn't fully understand the words until now.)
Dean, he says. Always the same, always your name in that stomach-twisting tone. Deandeandean, and it all sounds like noise to you, the rush of blood in your head that makes it hard to think, the relentless pulsing inside you that makes you want to answer in kind, makes you need to say his name back to him until you're dizzy because you won't even stop for air between each syllable. That's how you imagine it, anyway. (That's how you dream it.) But you don't say it (you won't) and the more you push Sam away the closer he seems to come.
*
Somewhere out there a wolf is howling again. You wonder if it's the same one as before. You wonder if the wolf's cry is only in your head.
You go for a beer run and when you come back Sam is pacing the room like a caged animal. There's a frenzied feeling inside you too (something like longing) and you wish the beer cans you're carrying were bottles instead. You put the cans in the ice box with deliberate motions and you think of the clink of glass on glass, you think of how light passes through it and illuminates what's inside. You wish the light would pass through you like that, you wish the noise in your head would sound as clear.
You turn around with an effort and Sam is there. Sam is right in front of you. And you think, if light could become matter. You think, if it would then this is what it would look like. Like your brother. Like Sam standing this close to you. Because the way he's looking at you, that's how light shines through things. Because he's so bright that looking at him hurts your eyes.
So here it is, then. The moment when dread and dream converge, the moment when you know beyond a doubt that they've always been the same thing. Here you are, here he is standing too close and you don't push him away, not this time. This time you let him get closer. This time he's the one pushing you and you go. He backs you up against the door and you can't turn away, you can't get out. He braces his hands on either side of you, he leans in, he touches his mouth to your mouth and the noise you make then is the clearest sound of all.
It's a dare, the way he's kissing you. It's a flare of liquid heat, you, him, his hands on you (those long fingers digging in), you kissing him back and yes, yes, he's daring you, you're damning him, you're holding onto each other like there's nothing else to hold on to and there isn't. He breathes your name into you, he fills you up with it, he tells you who you are (his, his), he calls you what you've always been. And this is the song, these are the words you know by heart, your names like one, you saying it back to him, Sam giving you meaning, brother, brother, Dean, him pushing in and it hurts, it hurts, you know it won't ever stop hurting.
"Dean," he says. "Dean."
And you think, Sam. You think, make it hurt more.
You don't know any other way to stay alive.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Any warnings: 2nd person POV
Out in the woods a wolf is howling. You stand at the window looking at nothing, the light inside the cabin throwing your own reflection back at you.
"Dean," Sam says. There's that nameless ache in his voice. There's that pull in your gut.
You don't answer. You don't move. The wolf howls once more, a lonely, plaintive call.
Sam's chair drags against the floor when he stands up. His heat is at your back in an instant (all it takes to cross the room), his breath is at your neck.
"Dean."
The shudder that runs through you only makes your retreat that much more graceless. Sam spreads his hands against the dirty windowpane and you follow the long lines of his fingers with your eyes, over and over for as long as he stands there until their shape is burned into your brain.
You wait all night to hear the wolf again, but the woods stay as silent as your brother.
*
It's like an old song you thought you knew the words to. Sam riding next to you in the car. Sam asleep in the other bed. Sam standing behind you while you wait in line at the convenience store, Sam sitting across from you at the diner table. The sound of his voice, the cadence of his breath. But lately there's a dissonance there, something you can't quite make sense of. (Or maybe that's a lie. Maybe it's just that you didn't fully understand the words until now.)
Dean, he says. Always the same, always your name in that stomach-twisting tone. Deandeandean, and it all sounds like noise to you, the rush of blood in your head that makes it hard to think, the relentless pulsing inside you that makes you want to answer in kind, makes you need to say his name back to him until you're dizzy because you won't even stop for air between each syllable. That's how you imagine it, anyway. (That's how you dream it.) But you don't say it (you won't) and the more you push Sam away the closer he seems to come.
*
Somewhere out there a wolf is howling again. You wonder if it's the same one as before. You wonder if the wolf's cry is only in your head.
You go for a beer run and when you come back Sam is pacing the room like a caged animal. There's a frenzied feeling inside you too (something like longing) and you wish the beer cans you're carrying were bottles instead. You put the cans in the ice box with deliberate motions and you think of the clink of glass on glass, you think of how light passes through it and illuminates what's inside. You wish the light would pass through you like that, you wish the noise in your head would sound as clear.
You turn around with an effort and Sam is there. Sam is right in front of you. And you think, if light could become matter. You think, if it would then this is what it would look like. Like your brother. Like Sam standing this close to you. Because the way he's looking at you, that's how light shines through things. Because he's so bright that looking at him hurts your eyes.
So here it is, then. The moment when dread and dream converge, the moment when you know beyond a doubt that they've always been the same thing. Here you are, here he is standing too close and you don't push him away, not this time. This time you let him get closer. This time he's the one pushing you and you go. He backs you up against the door and you can't turn away, you can't get out. He braces his hands on either side of you, he leans in, he touches his mouth to your mouth and the noise you make then is the clearest sound of all.
It's a dare, the way he's kissing you. It's a flare of liquid heat, you, him, his hands on you (those long fingers digging in), you kissing him back and yes, yes, he's daring you, you're damning him, you're holding onto each other like there's nothing else to hold on to and there isn't. He breathes your name into you, he fills you up with it, he tells you who you are (his, his), he calls you what you've always been. And this is the song, these are the words you know by heart, your names like one, you saying it back to him, Sam giving you meaning, brother, brother, Dean, him pushing in and it hurts, it hurts, you know it won't ever stop hurting.
"Dean," he says. "Dean."
And you think, Sam. You think, make it hurt more.
You don't know any other way to stay alive.
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no subject
Date: 2014-04-15 05:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-24 02:14 am (UTC)I actually tried to write something different this year, but then I was down to the last day and the story just wasn't coming to me, so I fell back on my usual. This kind of thing comes to me so much more naturally. It's good to know that it actually works as a style.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-05 12:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-05 03:55 pm (UTC)Anyway, thank you so much again. <3
no subject
Date: 2014-04-15 07:01 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for :
A : writing this story
B : sharing with us
:)
no subject
Date: 2014-04-24 02:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-15 08:22 pm (UTC)You don't know any other way to stay alive
no subject
Date: 2014-04-24 02:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-15 09:21 pm (UTC)This was so hurty good. And beautiful.
no subject
Date: 2014-04-24 02:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-16 02:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-24 02:18 am (UTC)Thank you so much for the feedback, and for the friending. <3
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Date: 2014-04-24 02:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-16 06:00 pm (UTC)And you think, if light could become matter. You think, if it would then this is what it would look like. Like your brother. gorgeous
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