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SPN: I Tell Myself Where I Live Now
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Sam/Jess
Warnings: Angst, incest, references to sex
Rating: PG13
Summary: Home feels like an empty word. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
drabble123.
Note: Only seen S1 at this point.
"I tell myself where I live now,
but you move in close till I shake, homeless,
further than that."
-from "Closer", by Carol Ann Duffy
They were together once, yeah. If you could call it that. Dean did, Sam thinks: he thinks he might be the only person Dean has honestly ever romantically loved without any confusion, and he's right. That's the fucked up thing. There should have been confusion, angst, it shouldn't have been so easy for them to get close, closer, pushing past all the lines anyone had ever drawn. It was the same for them both -- it felt right, it felt good, it felt like the best thing in the world.
Hell, right then, it was the best thing in the world: getting back from hunts shaking with adrenaline, stumbling into the shower together, fumbling, crazy, alive; fucking with the bedside light on because Dean liked to watch his little brother's face when he was inside him; curling up in bed together, tucked against each other like spoons in a drawer.
It'd be crazy to think that could come again, that easy intimacy, that bone-deep love. After all, Sam left it behind.
And there's Jess. This isn't for real, this isn't for long. Soon he'll be back at Stanford, and Dean'll be back with Dad, and the frail illusion that things can be like they used to be will crumble. Even if Sam feels, right now, in sync with Dean's every breath, sure their hearts still beat to the same rhythm.
Still. When Dean pushes him back against the side of the bridge, stands close, angry and sharp-edged, Sam feels the familiar tremors of want, knows how easy it would be to reach up and catch Dean's face, kiss away the stupid, angry words that stand between.
You're going home tomorrow, he tells himself, and he doesn't touch Dean -- Dean lets go of him, jerks away.
Home feels like an empty word.
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Sam/Jess
Warnings: Angst, incest, references to sex
Rating: PG13
Summary: Home feels like an empty word. For
drabble123.Note: Only seen S1 at this point.
"I tell myself where I live now,
but you move in close till I shake, homeless,
further than that."
-from "Closer", by Carol Ann Duffy
They were together once, yeah. If you could call it that. Dean did, Sam thinks: he thinks he might be the only person Dean has honestly ever romantically loved without any confusion, and he's right. That's the fucked up thing. There should have been confusion, angst, it shouldn't have been so easy for them to get close, closer, pushing past all the lines anyone had ever drawn. It was the same for them both -- it felt right, it felt good, it felt like the best thing in the world.
Hell, right then, it was the best thing in the world: getting back from hunts shaking with adrenaline, stumbling into the shower together, fumbling, crazy, alive; fucking with the bedside light on because Dean liked to watch his little brother's face when he was inside him; curling up in bed together, tucked against each other like spoons in a drawer.
It'd be crazy to think that could come again, that easy intimacy, that bone-deep love. After all, Sam left it behind.
And there's Jess. This isn't for real, this isn't for long. Soon he'll be back at Stanford, and Dean'll be back with Dad, and the frail illusion that things can be like they used to be will crumble. Even if Sam feels, right now, in sync with Dean's every breath, sure their hearts still beat to the same rhythm.
Still. When Dean pushes him back against the side of the bridge, stands close, angry and sharp-edged, Sam feels the familiar tremors of want, knows how easy it would be to reach up and catch Dean's face, kiss away the stupid, angry words that stand between.
You're going home tomorrow, he tells himself, and he doesn't touch Dean -- Dean lets go of him, jerks away.
Home feels like an empty word.