all my days have been the losing kind for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
zanzou_chan
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spn_springflingTitle:all my days have been the losing kind
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Any warnings: slight language
Written bymaco2111 for zanzou_chan!
Moonlight shatters through the blinds of the motel room’s only window, casting dark shadows into the hollows of Dean’s face. He’s asleep, for once, lost to the world around him, and Sam hopes he’s not dreaming about his impending journey to Hell, hopes he’s at peace at least in his dreams, because when else is he able to forget?
Sam can’t sleep, hasn’t been able to since he found out about Dean’s deal, and he’s barely making it on a couple hours of sleep in the car and countless cups of coffee and cans of energy drinks. He feels like he can’t waste a single moment, every minute’s precious, more time to memorize every little detail that makes up Dean, and he’s so afraid of being alone. He’s so afraid of losing his brother.
Fear. God, it’s got him by the balls, and not a second passes by without a reminder that Dean will be gone in less than a month, your brother will be burning in hell and it’s all your fault. The thought of Dean in Hell claws at him, like something threatening to rip out of his insides and leave him broken and breathless on the floor. And Sam knows he’ll spend the rest of the month like this, scared and fragile, looking for anything that might save Dean, anything.
Sam lies down next to Dean, stretching a hand out to brush against his cheekbones, down to his lips, slow and soft, feeling puffs of air against the back of his hand. Dean’s alive, for now, and it’s more than Sam expected. He could’ve been gone from the moment Sam woke up on the damp mattress in some abandoned house. Sam could have been alone from the very beginning, and somewhere in the back of his mind he’s thankful for this slow decline, for the agonizing year that they’ve been through, because at least he had time.
He traces the long line of Dean’s neck, making his way to his bare chest, the amulet pressed against Dean’s heart. He grasps it, marveling at its warmth from Dean’s skin, feeling the dull thud of his brother’s heartbeat against his fingers. Sam will do anything to keep that heart beating, to keep that constant rhythm against his ear when he sleeps. Dean would laugh at him for thinking that, call him a girl and mock him for being so goddamn emotional, and Sam smiles wanly at the thought.
I’ll do it anyway, jackass, he thinks.
Dean sleeps, oblivious to everything going on in Sam’s head, and it’s safe that way, less painful. Sam won’t tell Dean about his phobias, and Dean will purposefully forget what he dreamt about when Sam asks. Coconspirators without even realizing it.
It’s two minutes to midnight and the end is nearly here. Not nearly enough time to deal with the fear of living without Dean, to deal with the fact that maybe, just maybe, he’s not going to be able to save his brother. It’s a chilling thought, knowing that Dean will burn for the rest of eternity, and he doesn’t deserve it, and maybe he’ll pray for Dean’s deliverance, the last scraps of his faith laid out for Dean.
Sam presses his lips against Dean’s, a chaste kiss, whispering, I’m not gonna live without you, I promise.
It’s a promise he intends to keep.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Any warnings: slight language
Written by
maco2111 for zanzou_chan!Moonlight shatters through the blinds of the motel room’s only window, casting dark shadows into the hollows of Dean’s face. He’s asleep, for once, lost to the world around him, and Sam hopes he’s not dreaming about his impending journey to Hell, hopes he’s at peace at least in his dreams, because when else is he able to forget?
Sam can’t sleep, hasn’t been able to since he found out about Dean’s deal, and he’s barely making it on a couple hours of sleep in the car and countless cups of coffee and cans of energy drinks. He feels like he can’t waste a single moment, every minute’s precious, more time to memorize every little detail that makes up Dean, and he’s so afraid of being alone. He’s so afraid of losing his brother.
Fear. God, it’s got him by the balls, and not a second passes by without a reminder that Dean will be gone in less than a month, your brother will be burning in hell and it’s all your fault. The thought of Dean in Hell claws at him, like something threatening to rip out of his insides and leave him broken and breathless on the floor. And Sam knows he’ll spend the rest of the month like this, scared and fragile, looking for anything that might save Dean, anything.
Sam lies down next to Dean, stretching a hand out to brush against his cheekbones, down to his lips, slow and soft, feeling puffs of air against the back of his hand. Dean’s alive, for now, and it’s more than Sam expected. He could’ve been gone from the moment Sam woke up on the damp mattress in some abandoned house. Sam could have been alone from the very beginning, and somewhere in the back of his mind he’s thankful for this slow decline, for the agonizing year that they’ve been through, because at least he had time.
He traces the long line of Dean’s neck, making his way to his bare chest, the amulet pressed against Dean’s heart. He grasps it, marveling at its warmth from Dean’s skin, feeling the dull thud of his brother’s heartbeat against his fingers. Sam will do anything to keep that heart beating, to keep that constant rhythm against his ear when he sleeps. Dean would laugh at him for thinking that, call him a girl and mock him for being so goddamn emotional, and Sam smiles wanly at the thought.
I’ll do it anyway, jackass, he thinks.
Dean sleeps, oblivious to everything going on in Sam’s head, and it’s safe that way, less painful. Sam won’t tell Dean about his phobias, and Dean will purposefully forget what he dreamt about when Sam asks. Coconspirators without even realizing it.
It’s two minutes to midnight and the end is nearly here. Not nearly enough time to deal with the fear of living without Dean, to deal with the fact that maybe, just maybe, he’s not going to be able to save his brother. It’s a chilling thought, knowing that Dean will burn for the rest of eternity, and he doesn’t deserve it, and maybe he’ll pray for Dean’s deliverance, the last scraps of his faith laid out for Dean.
Sam presses his lips against Dean’s, a chaste kiss, whispering, I’m not gonna live without you, I promise.
It’s a promise he intends to keep.
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