Title:Did you mean it?
Warnings:Spoilers for 'Born under a bad sign'. Mentions of suicide.
Experimentation with 'first person' writing. Angst. Schmoop.
Beta:Nope, absolutely no beating done whatsoever. Sorry. b
Feedback:Keeps fingers at keyboards.
A.N:I got bored, this was playing in my head, so I wrote it down. Since my one shots usually turn into epics, I needed the practice. Hope you enjoy it.
Summary: "Are you telling me I have to put you on a suicide watch now, Sammy?" Sam smiles crookedly, he knows that would normally have sounded funny, but Dean is dripping in 'serious'.
"Dean?" Sam says quietly, turning to face his brother, who's still awake in the other bed.
He's lying on his back, arm slung loosely across his face. "Yeah," he answers.
There's a flicker of moonlight sauntering though the threadbare curtains, and Sam squints to see Deans face. "Did you mean it?" he asks.
Dean sighs loudly. "Mean what?"
"That you'd rather die," Sam asks with a tinge of distaste on his tongue.
"Sam," Dean warns, turning so he is facing away.
"Did you?" Sam asks more forcibly this time.
"Yes," Dean says so softly, that Sam has to strain to hear it.
There's a moment of silence before Dean feels the dip of his bed and Sam's crawling in behind him. He makes his usual show of reluctance before moving to accommodate Sam's lanky body.
Wrapping long arms around his brother, Sam brings his body flush to Deans. Chest against back, Sam feels Dean curl into the touch.
"I can't let you." Sam hears the fear in his own voice. "You know that, right?"
"Let me what?" And Sam thinks that Dean already knows.
"I can't let you die for me, Dean."
Dean turns to face Sam abruptly, and there is enough moonlight to see the hard line of his brother's jaw.
"No ones dieing Sammy," Dean says, but there is an edge in his tone. "I told you, if it's the last thing I do I'm going to…"
"Save me. Yeah I know," Sam interrupts. He wants so badly to believe in his brother. "But what if…"
"No buts!" Dean whole body is starting to tense. "No other options here."
"I'm sorry I made you promise," Sam says lowering his eyes. He means it too. He's only now aware of how heart sick Dean was under its weight.
Dean pulls Sam in, kissing his mouth hard, breathing in long and wanting breaths. "I told you, Sammy, I will save you."
It would be easy to just melt into Dean's touch. To let himself forget the whole point of this conversation. Ignore it in favor of soft lips and firm hands.
It takes a lot of will power. "I have to tell you something," Sam says, shifting so he's got some breathing space between his rock hard cock and Dean's hip. " I shouldn't have asked you and I won't ask you again. I just want to make sure that you know…"
"Whoa," Dean jumps, reacts as if he's burnt, pulling out from Sam's arms and sitting on the edge of the bed. "What? What do you want me to know?"
There's a look on Dean's face that is halfway between anger and disbelief and Sam knows he has already figured it out.
"No matter what happens, Dean. None of this is your fault. You have to know that."
Dean stands from the bed, running his hand through his hair. "Spit it out Sam," Dean says, the level of agitation evident. He turns his back to Sam as his shoulders curl in protectively, like he is trying to reinforce his emotional walls. "What are you saying here?"
Sam frowns as scattered images strengthen his resolve. "I could have killed Jo yesterday… and…God Dean, you… you would have let me. If it comes to it. If…"
"If what?" Dean almost screams, but doesn't turn around.
"I'll do it myself."
Turning so slowly, with eyes so dark that Sam almost whispers Christo, Dean moves back onto the bed. His movements are sure and concise when he straddles Sam's hips and Sam works desperately trying to read his eyes. "Are you telling me I have to put you on a suicide watch now, Sammy?"
Sam smiles crookedly, he knows, that would normally have sounded funny, but Dean is dripping in 'serious'.
"If it comes to it," Sam says almost as a sob. "I will do it. I need you to understand. I have to."
Sam actually sees the 'snap' in Dean. He watches the glazed look of Fuck you! No way is that going to happen and please don't do this to me, enter Dean's eyes.
He feels the first blow of Dean's fist connect with his cheekbone and nose. The next breaks open his bottom lip, letting blood seep down his chin. "You don't have to," Dean screams. "I won't let it get to that! I won't let you…"
"Drawing back for another punch, Sam cover's his face in a meager attempt to stop another hit.
Dean connects again. "I will beat some goddamned sense into you, if I have to! You're not hurting yourself. Hear me!"
Sam can't remember the wildness in Dean's eyes ever being so vivid. Well, not directed at him, anyhow. He must look afraid, because Dean stops suddenly, midway through drawing his arm back again.
"Did I mean it?" Dean oozes venom. "Fuck yeah, I meant it." Sam feels Dean's thighs tighten there hold around him. "If you die Sam…" Dean moves so his face is only inches away from his brother's. "If you die, I'll be a millisecond behind you. Understand?" It's a promise, not a threat.
Sam allows the sureness of Dean's tone to wash over him. He knows that this is blackmail, but the fear it provokes is like ice in his veins. "I can't let you die." Sam tries for strong, but it comes out desperate.
"Good." Dean gets off of Sam ungracefully and sits beside him. "Then we agree. No one's dieing here. We clear?" Dean asks, looking down at his bloody knuckles.
"Crystal," Sam replies softly.
There's that familiar change in Dean's face as he starts to look over Sam and at the damage he's caused. Sam can almost see the guilt starting to seep through every one of his pours.
Sam endures the truth in the Demons words everyday. "But that's nothing compared to what you do to yourself, is it? I can see it in your eyes."
Dean brings his hand up to the side of Sam's cheek, tracing callused, but gentle fingers over the bruises he's made. I'm sorry. Forgive me.
He stares at Sam for moment, and then leans forward with a small grin. "Sam, you look like crap," he says tentatively.
Sam scoffs slightly, smiling. It's another 'code', right up there with "Bitch and funky town."
"Right back at you," Sam answers, hoping Dean can hear the conviction in his voice.
Neither can keep the tenderness out of their eyes when they interpret.
"You know I love you?" "You know I love you back?"
AN: Hope the schmoop didn't make you too ill. Grins Comments and feedback are like water to a thirsty man. So, yes please.