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fun_like_thatTitle: Out there amongst the waves and inside your lover's head
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1117. Un-beta'd.
Disclaimer: If I owned it I'd never share it. I'm greedy that way.
Summary: During those moments he does anything he can to force it back down, clawing and burning all the way. [...] Dean can still remember the music that was playing.
A/N: I don't really know where this came from. It was about 11pm and I needed to get some writing done for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
mini_nanowrimo. Less than an hour later I got this. I tried to write something Sam/Dean-centred last night since I've been focusing on the Sam/Ruby I've been wanting to finish and TRYING to write some damn Jared/Jensen but nothing was happening on any front. Then I started listening to Kane- Crazy in Love and that WAS the fic. That's what's playing in the fic, in my head.
It's schmoop in the middle of angst and unbeta'd because I'm impatient. I like it.
Sometimes things feel too close for Dean to deal. He's got this fucking death sentence hanging over his head and Sam's got this... thing hanging over his that he might not even realize is there. But Dean does and sometimes it's so close it's choking him and it's all he can do not to rip the fucking mask off and scream his guts out until he's puking up the fear.
During those moments he does anything he can to force it back down, clawing and burning all the way. He does the equivalent of a body slam on his feelings and thinks about anything else -- cars, chicks, boobs, pussy, fucking in a bathroom, dirty dancing, honky tonk bars, beers, peanut shells on the floor, laughing -- Sam.
Not the Sam that threatens to break him now, but the one from before all this shit. The one from a few months ago who was less cavalier with a revolver and more likely to kick back for one last beer begrudgingly when Dean wheedled him into it.
The last time Dean can remember that clearly was before the Devil's Gate, before old Yellow Eyes kicked it, before Madison and his own deal and everything that came with it. It was only a few months ago but it feels like an eternity and exactly like those 'simpler times' old folks always reminisce about. Reminiscing about the old days when all they had to worry about was FBI agents and regular old spirits, demons and ghosts -- yeah, that's great.
All that aside, Dean can still remember the music that was playing. They'd stumbled into a run down, old school country bar in Tennessee. Not a single man in the joint had anything less than plaid shirts and cowboy boots on and the ladies all wore tight jeans and low-cut tops with teased hair that would have given Tiffany a run for her money back in the day. Sam and Dean stood out like a sore thumb but they were done the case they were working on and wanted a beer and a breather.
Dean made some wise-ass remark and Sam rolled his eyes and it was all so normal -- for them. Sam got the table and Dean got the beers. Dean flirted with the waitresses and Sam kept watch over the place, his eyes roving over everyone and everything, taking it all in for good measure. Just another night for them.
There must have been something more in the beer that Dean was drinking, or so he'd plead later, because he actually liked the music. It was hardcore country, far more honky tonk than Dean would have tapped his foot to before. He liked it so well he shocked the shit out of himself and Sam by asking a waitress to dance. She blushed and played coy but in no time Dean was two stepping her around the room in his heavy biker boots. Sam laughed from the table and watched them with his mouth open, shaking his head at Dean every time they passed by the table.
After the dance Dean avoided teasing from Sam by hustling some guys in a couple games of pool. He made just enough to pay for their motel room for the night but not enough to piss anyone off. It was a good night. Dean gave the waitress he'd twirled around on the floor a kiss on the cheek and a significant tip, enough to make her blush but he wasn't sure from which one.
"You're in a good mood," Sam laughed as they left the bar, jackets slung over their shoulders.
"Sure, why not?" Dean asked, still smiling. "Case is finished, we saved the day, got enough money to get through the night and get a good breakfast in the morning and tomorrow who knows where we'll end up?"
"And you danced," Sam pointed out, eyebrow raised.
"You jealous, Sammy?"
Sam snorted. "Hardly."
"Oh, come on now. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Just because you can't dance--"
"I dance better than you!" Sam protested.
"Oh, yeah? Show me, then." Dean dropped his jacket to the ground and held out his hand. They could still hear the country music thumping through the cheap wood structure of the bar.
"Those beers were laced with something else," Sam said, shaking his head.
"Come on, Sam. Show me some of those fancy dance moves you think you know so well," Dean pushed. Finally Sam dropped his jacket beside Dean and stepped toward him, taking his brother's hand. Dean's hands were sure and he took the lead, or rather forced Sam to let him lead, and together they clumsily two-stepped in a small circle in the parking lot.
"You suck as the girl," Dean laughed as Sam stepped on his foot.
"I'm taller, I should lead," Sam grumbled.
"Quit your whining and let me twirl you." Dean grinned and spun Sam out. He wasn't expecting it but caught his footing easily and twirled back in, laughing despite the scowl on his face.
"We just tracked and killed a black dog here but this is the weirdest thing we've done this week," Sam snorted.
"It can be our secret." Dean grinned and stopped moving, reaching up to pull Sam's face down to his. They kissed and swayed in the parking lot to the beat of the twangy music, longer than either of them would normally have been comfortable with but neither cared.
Dean doesn't know why that's the moment that comes to his mind when he's trying to force back the panic that threatens to overtake him more and more lately. He clings to that memory, though, and to the feeling of Sam's warm hands on his shoulders, trying to guide him around the unpaved parking lot while they could be discovered at any second by backwater locals who wouldn't have taken too kindly to seeing two men dancing outside their bar.
He doesn't bring any of it up to Sam because he's not sure what he can tell Sam anymore. He also clings to the understanding that they wouldn't bring up that night ever again. Not because it's an unspoken agreement between them but part of him is scared that if he did Sam wouldn't remember. That Sam isn't Sam enough to even want to remember. And that very idea beings the reality of their situation crashing back down on Dean again.
Sometimes he wonders if it isn't time to let the panic take him over and drown him, finish him off. He's running out of happy memories, running out of the ones non-demon and death related. He's just running out.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1117. Un-beta'd.
Disclaimer: If I owned it I'd never share it. I'm greedy that way.
Summary: During those moments he does anything he can to force it back down, clawing and burning all the way. [...] Dean can still remember the music that was playing.
A/N: I don't really know where this came from. It was about 11pm and I needed to get some writing done for
mini_nanowrimo. Less than an hour later I got this. I tried to write something Sam/Dean-centred last night since I've been focusing on the Sam/Ruby I've been wanting to finish and TRYING to write some damn Jared/Jensen but nothing was happening on any front. Then I started listening to Kane- Crazy in Love and that WAS the fic. That's what's playing in the fic, in my head.It's schmoop in the middle of angst and unbeta'd because I'm impatient. I like it.
Sometimes things feel too close for Dean to deal. He's got this fucking death sentence hanging over his head and Sam's got this... thing hanging over his that he might not even realize is there. But Dean does and sometimes it's so close it's choking him and it's all he can do not to rip the fucking mask off and scream his guts out until he's puking up the fear.
During those moments he does anything he can to force it back down, clawing and burning all the way. He does the equivalent of a body slam on his feelings and thinks about anything else -- cars, chicks, boobs, pussy, fucking in a bathroom, dirty dancing, honky tonk bars, beers, peanut shells on the floor, laughing -- Sam.
Not the Sam that threatens to break him now, but the one from before all this shit. The one from a few months ago who was less cavalier with a revolver and more likely to kick back for one last beer begrudgingly when Dean wheedled him into it.
The last time Dean can remember that clearly was before the Devil's Gate, before old Yellow Eyes kicked it, before Madison and his own deal and everything that came with it. It was only a few months ago but it feels like an eternity and exactly like those 'simpler times' old folks always reminisce about. Reminiscing about the old days when all they had to worry about was FBI agents and regular old spirits, demons and ghosts -- yeah, that's great.
All that aside, Dean can still remember the music that was playing. They'd stumbled into a run down, old school country bar in Tennessee. Not a single man in the joint had anything less than plaid shirts and cowboy boots on and the ladies all wore tight jeans and low-cut tops with teased hair that would have given Tiffany a run for her money back in the day. Sam and Dean stood out like a sore thumb but they were done the case they were working on and wanted a beer and a breather.
Dean made some wise-ass remark and Sam rolled his eyes and it was all so normal -- for them. Sam got the table and Dean got the beers. Dean flirted with the waitresses and Sam kept watch over the place, his eyes roving over everyone and everything, taking it all in for good measure. Just another night for them.
There must have been something more in the beer that Dean was drinking, or so he'd plead later, because he actually liked the music. It was hardcore country, far more honky tonk than Dean would have tapped his foot to before. He liked it so well he shocked the shit out of himself and Sam by asking a waitress to dance. She blushed and played coy but in no time Dean was two stepping her around the room in his heavy biker boots. Sam laughed from the table and watched them with his mouth open, shaking his head at Dean every time they passed by the table.
After the dance Dean avoided teasing from Sam by hustling some guys in a couple games of pool. He made just enough to pay for their motel room for the night but not enough to piss anyone off. It was a good night. Dean gave the waitress he'd twirled around on the floor a kiss on the cheek and a significant tip, enough to make her blush but he wasn't sure from which one.
"You're in a good mood," Sam laughed as they left the bar, jackets slung over their shoulders.
"Sure, why not?" Dean asked, still smiling. "Case is finished, we saved the day, got enough money to get through the night and get a good breakfast in the morning and tomorrow who knows where we'll end up?"
"And you danced," Sam pointed out, eyebrow raised.
"You jealous, Sammy?"
Sam snorted. "Hardly."
"Oh, come on now. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Just because you can't dance--"
"I dance better than you!" Sam protested.
"Oh, yeah? Show me, then." Dean dropped his jacket to the ground and held out his hand. They could still hear the country music thumping through the cheap wood structure of the bar.
"Those beers were laced with something else," Sam said, shaking his head.
"Come on, Sam. Show me some of those fancy dance moves you think you know so well," Dean pushed. Finally Sam dropped his jacket beside Dean and stepped toward him, taking his brother's hand. Dean's hands were sure and he took the lead, or rather forced Sam to let him lead, and together they clumsily two-stepped in a small circle in the parking lot.
"You suck as the girl," Dean laughed as Sam stepped on his foot.
"I'm taller, I should lead," Sam grumbled.
"Quit your whining and let me twirl you." Dean grinned and spun Sam out. He wasn't expecting it but caught his footing easily and twirled back in, laughing despite the scowl on his face.
"We just tracked and killed a black dog here but this is the weirdest thing we've done this week," Sam snorted.
"It can be our secret." Dean grinned and stopped moving, reaching up to pull Sam's face down to his. They kissed and swayed in the parking lot to the beat of the twangy music, longer than either of them would normally have been comfortable with but neither cared.
Dean doesn't know why that's the moment that comes to his mind when he's trying to force back the panic that threatens to overtake him more and more lately. He clings to that memory, though, and to the feeling of Sam's warm hands on his shoulders, trying to guide him around the unpaved parking lot while they could be discovered at any second by backwater locals who wouldn't have taken too kindly to seeing two men dancing outside their bar.
He doesn't bring any of it up to Sam because he's not sure what he can tell Sam anymore. He also clings to the understanding that they wouldn't bring up that night ever again. Not because it's an unspoken agreement between them but part of him is scared that if he did Sam wouldn't remember. That Sam isn't Sam enough to even want to remember. And that very idea beings the reality of their situation crashing back down on Dean again.
Sometimes he wonders if it isn't time to let the panic take him over and drown him, finish him off. He's running out of happy memories, running out of the ones non-demon and death related. He's just running out.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-05 09:02 am (UTC)This is good.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-31 07:15 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-05 09:04 am (UTC)Sometimes he wonders if it isn't time to let the panic take him over and drown him, finish him off. He's running out of happy memories, running out of the ones non-demon and death related. He's just running out. This just kills me.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-31 07:15 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-05 12:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-31 07:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-05 01:55 pm (UTC)Your fic is gorgeous but the angst killed me! So I'm gonna listen to Crazy in love again because this song just makes me happy. And I need a little bit of happiness right now...
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-31 07:16 pm (UTC)Sorry! But thank you for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-05 03:13 pm (UTC)Ahh!
*clutches chest*
Break my heart, why don't you?
Man - good stuff.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-31 07:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-05 06:40 pm (UTC)I love this: until he's puking up the fear. Not for any other reason, than it seems SO Dean!
I feel so sad for Dean in this piece. He needs his Sam. Or at least he needs to recognize that people change. Dean clings to what he knows. That's a guarantee. And without his Sam, he feels so empty and alone. -huggles him-
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-31 07:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-05 08:22 pm (UTC)Loved the story. ^_^
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-31 07:18 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-06 12:56 am (UTC)This is so bittersweet, Mari. ♥
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-31 07:17 pm (UTC)yeah, this story sort of captures how this season's been going
Date: 2007-11-06 06:38 am (UTC)scary as hell...
Re: yeah, this story sort of captures how this season's been going
Date: 2007-12-31 07:18 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-06 07:29 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-31 07:17 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-07 07:50 pm (UTC)Excellent fic.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-31 07:17 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-08 05:30 pm (UTC)And once Dean's time is up, and he's sitting on his bed in an empty motel room (he still books two queens, even if is only him inside) he closes his eyes and talks to him, because while the silence around him is so heavy he feels like he can't breathe anymore, in the depth of his mind he can still find Dean.
So he talks to the Dean in his mind, knowing that he will brush him off, laugh and say he's such a girl.
Dean...
I remember when we kissed,
I still feel it on my lips:
The time that you dances with me,
With no music playing.
I remember the simple things,
I remember till I cry:
But the one thing I wish I'd forget,
The memory I wanna forget
Is goodbye.
Sorry, this came out of nowhere and I had to share it with you.
Loved this.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-20 04:21 pm (UTC)Aah, but this is such a perfect, sweet thing to remember ...
(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-21 04:31 pm (UTC)