PixCT: 03-13
Mar. 13th, 2008 04:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pixel_0It's that time again...
Fic:
Slash (Dean/Sam)
Adult
~775 words
- - - - -
A combination of fic, pic, and cock, and that's really all there is to it.
All About Cock Thursday
So Far
September 07
October 07
November 07
December 07
January 08
February 08
DruCT: 3-06
PixCT: 3-06
- - - - -
Today
DruCT: 3-13
My fic:
Slash (Wincest: Dean/Sam) oneshot
Adult rating
~775 words
- - - - -
Pix's Pic Pick
- - - - -
The highway's a sprawling twist beyond the carpool parking lot where he stops and cuts the engine. Above, the sun is setting, a smear of pinks and grays, purples and blues. He bends his head, hands still curled over the steering wheel, and he squeezes tight, sweaty fists.
He could go there. He could.
His stomach does a little flip, hot acid in his gut, and he lifts his head to look out at the highway. Take it west as far as he could and there, in a new state where the ocean kisses its border and palm trees line the streets, he'd find Sam.
Dad's in the hospital. Has been for over a week, and the doctors can't make head or tail of his condition. Bobby's been called. Pastor Jim, too. All are in agreement that it's some kind of dirty magic--what were the two of ya hunting, boy?--and Dad may or may not get better. Pastor Jim went to his books and Bobby to the last town Dad visited and Dean. Dean came here.
Sam has a right to know, doesn't he? He should know that his father's lying in a hospital bed in bumfuck nowhere with tubes in his nose and needles in his arm, pale and thin, waking only to talk to his dead wife and cry against the pain. He should know that Dean's been with Dad since the first moment and that Dean's been circling Dad's hospital bed, a tight fist brought to his lips, and debating this very moment. He should know that he needs to come and say his good-byes because Dad might not be around for much longer.
But Dean, he's as selfish and scared as Dad was the day that he told Sam to leave and never come back. So, he sits and tries to remember how to breathe. How to put the car in motion, merge onto the highway and simply drive. How to return to his brother and bring his family together. Because if there's one thing he's always done, it's pieced his family together. It's being the one that held them together when Dad and Sam needed blood and anger just to get by.
He can't move though. All he can remember is their final night together and how Sam whispered that normal people just didn't do these types of things with their brothers. Not that that stopped him from pulling Dean to him tightly--Dean, please--when Dean kissed the side of his face and ran his fingers along the underside of Sam's shirt. Not that anything really could have stopped the two of them when they were together. It was always an instant reaction to be with each other like that.
So Sam left. So they couldn't be together. So they wouldn't see each other anymore and be tempted to fall back into too familiar patterns.
In the car now, Dean presses the heel of his hand against his cock, tells himself that no, Sam wanted normalcy and dammit, he's going to try to give it to him. Dean will ignore the want in his belly--the ache in his heart--and he'll go out there and he'll look Sam in the eye and say, "Dad's sick and he might not be getting better. You need to come and say good-bye." And he won't let his hand brush Sam's when they ride together in the car and he won't crawl into bed with Sam while they sleep in broken motel rooms and he won't kiss Sam beneath the streetlights in new cities.
He'll simply look at his brother and turn his eyes away. He'll give Sam what he wanted--you asked for this, Sammy--because it's the least Dean can do.
He sighs, turns the keys in the ignition and the engine comes to life. The highway waits for him.
As he pulls out of the parking lot, his cell phone rings in the seat next to him, and he opens it with nervous fingers. His voice wavers when he answers it.
"John's up and asking for you, Dean. Come on back, son. Your daddy's going to be fine."
Dean breathes in shakily, and he swallows something harsh in his throat. He whispers, "Okay, Bobby, I'll be right there."
He closes his phone and looks back at the highway. Thinks of palm trees and the ocean, of college students and soaring buildings. Thinks of whispers and secrets, promises and answers.
Stops before he remembers Sam so much that it hurts.
He turns on his directional light and returns to the hospital to be with his dad.
End
Fic:
- - - - -
A combination of fic, pic, and cock, and that's really all there is to it.
All About Cock Thursday
So Far
- - - - -
Today
Pix's Pic Pick
The highway's a sprawling twist beyond the carpool parking lot where he stops and cuts the engine. Above, the sun is setting, a smear of pinks and grays, purples and blues. He bends his head, hands still curled over the steering wheel, and he squeezes tight, sweaty fists.
He could go there. He could.
His stomach does a little flip, hot acid in his gut, and he lifts his head to look out at the highway. Take it west as far as he could and there, in a new state where the ocean kisses its border and palm trees line the streets, he'd find Sam.
Dad's in the hospital. Has been for over a week, and the doctors can't make head or tail of his condition. Bobby's been called. Pastor Jim, too. All are in agreement that it's some kind of dirty magic--what were the two of ya hunting, boy?--and Dad may or may not get better. Pastor Jim went to his books and Bobby to the last town Dad visited and Dean. Dean came here.
Sam has a right to know, doesn't he? He should know that his father's lying in a hospital bed in bumfuck nowhere with tubes in his nose and needles in his arm, pale and thin, waking only to talk to his dead wife and cry against the pain. He should know that Dean's been with Dad since the first moment and that Dean's been circling Dad's hospital bed, a tight fist brought to his lips, and debating this very moment. He should know that he needs to come and say his good-byes because Dad might not be around for much longer.
But Dean, he's as selfish and scared as Dad was the day that he told Sam to leave and never come back. So, he sits and tries to remember how to breathe. How to put the car in motion, merge onto the highway and simply drive. How to return to his brother and bring his family together. Because if there's one thing he's always done, it's pieced his family together. It's being the one that held them together when Dad and Sam needed blood and anger just to get by.
He can't move though. All he can remember is their final night together and how Sam whispered that normal people just didn't do these types of things with their brothers. Not that that stopped him from pulling Dean to him tightly--Dean, please--when Dean kissed the side of his face and ran his fingers along the underside of Sam's shirt. Not that anything really could have stopped the two of them when they were together. It was always an instant reaction to be with each other like that.
So Sam left. So they couldn't be together. So they wouldn't see each other anymore and be tempted to fall back into too familiar patterns.
In the car now, Dean presses the heel of his hand against his cock, tells himself that no, Sam wanted normalcy and dammit, he's going to try to give it to him. Dean will ignore the want in his belly--the ache in his heart--and he'll go out there and he'll look Sam in the eye and say, "Dad's sick and he might not be getting better. You need to come and say good-bye." And he won't let his hand brush Sam's when they ride together in the car and he won't crawl into bed with Sam while they sleep in broken motel rooms and he won't kiss Sam beneath the streetlights in new cities.
He'll simply look at his brother and turn his eyes away. He'll give Sam what he wanted--you asked for this, Sammy--because it's the least Dean can do.
He sighs, turns the keys in the ignition and the engine comes to life. The highway waits for him.
As he pulls out of the parking lot, his cell phone rings in the seat next to him, and he opens it with nervous fingers. His voice wavers when he answers it.
"John's up and asking for you, Dean. Come on back, son. Your daddy's going to be fine."
Dean breathes in shakily, and he swallows something harsh in his throat. He whispers, "Okay, Bobby, I'll be right there."
He closes his phone and looks back at the highway. Thinks of palm trees and the ocean, of college students and soaring buildings. Thinks of whispers and secrets, promises and answers.
Stops before he remembers Sam so much that it hurts.
He turns on his directional light and returns to the hospital to be with his dad.
End
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Date: 2008-04-06 05:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-10 03:19 pm (UTC)