Drabble Challenge

[veritas_st]

I saw this onwincest  and thought I would give it a go.  Just to unclog my brain!  Plus I thought you could all see my wide varying taste in music! 

Challenge:
1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.
2. Turn your music player on and turn it on random/shuffle.
3. Write a drabblet/ficlet related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterward! No matter how whacked out your drabble is. :)
4. Do ten of these, then post them.

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Snow On The Sahara – Anggun (...tell me that you still want me here, when you wander off out there...)

It was breaking him in two. His brother, his reason for living, the other half of his soul, although he would never admit it even under pain of death, was leaving. Getting on a bus and leaving. And it was breaking him in half. He wanted to reach out, pull Sam to him, beg him to stay, tell him he needed him to stay, like he needed to breathe. But he clapped him on the shoulder, his thumb brushed the side of his neck briefly and Sam's eyes fluttered closed for a second.

Tell me that you still want me Sammy, please...

“I've got to go Dean.” And the way he said it, he meant more than just got to get on the bus. Dean nodded, his chest tight.

“Yeah, sure. I'll see ya Sammy.”

 

----

 

Ever The Same – Rob Thomas (...just let me hold you while you're falling apart. Just let me hold you and we'll both fall down...)

It had been a bad hunt, dredging up memories that Dean didn't want to remember. The Shtriga lay smoking on the floor and even he could feel the weight that Dean was carrying on his shoulders. It wasn't until the motel room door shut behind them and Dean flicked the lock that he turned towards Dean. Sam knew he looked like shit, but Dean looked worse, haunted look in his eyes.

“It's ok Dean. It wasn't your fault.” Dean stiffened, waving off his words with a hand, and Sam caught it, fingers curling around his brothers wrist. “Its ok.” He repeated, pulling his brother to him. Dean was still stiff, resisting the show of affection even though Sam knew he needed it.

“It's not Sammy. It nearly killed you...twice. What would I have...” Dean's voice trailed off, and he turned his head to Sam's neck. His face buried into the juncture between neck and shoulder, Sam pulled them both to the ground when he felt Dean's legs gave way and the sob that he had heard in Dean's throat finally forced its way out.

"It's ok." 

 

----

 

All Around Me – Flyleaf (...I feel you on my fingertips, my tongue dances behind my lips for you. A fire runs right through my being, a burning I'm not used to feeling...and you whisper you love me, and I begin to fade, into our secret place...)

Its different, Dean is different at night, in the darkness when he can hide. His hands are gentle, words he says linger on Sam's skin, caressing, ghosting across his body as Dean worships it. Maps out the contours with his tongue, his fingers and his lips. Kissing places that make Sam buck up against his brothers mouth, curses spilling from his lips as Dean makes him come undone with little more than a few stolen touches in the darkness.

And even though he wakes with Dean's arms, legs and words wrapped around him, he knows that Dean wont touch him until the darkness sets in and its just them, Sam and Dean.

Throughout the day, when Sam is waiting for night, he can still feel him.

 

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Dream Catch Me – Newton Falkner (...there's a place I go, when I'm alone, do anything I want, be anyone I want to be. But it is us I see and I can not believe I'm falling...dream catch me when I fall...)

Sam thinks he might be wired wrong, because he knows this feeling, and its so wrong. Knows the heartwrenching feeling of waking up and the stomach clenching feeling when realisation hits that it was just a dream. He also know the feeling of falling in love and he can't bring himself to admit that it's his brother he is falling for. But dreams have been gripping him for months, years, and there is nothing he can do to stop them. Dreams of hard muscles under his fingertips, Dean begging for more under Sam, Sam begging for more under Dean.

He wakes up one night, calling out Dean's name. And he might have sounded scared, because Dean was there in an instant, hands smoothing hair off his forehead, arms tight around him.

“S'ok, Sammy. I've got you.”

 

----

 

Take me Home - Eddie Money (...with all the power you're releasing, it isn't safe to walk the city streets alone...I can feel you breathing, I can feel your heart beat faster...)

Dean growls low in his throat, the noise curling around Sam like smoke, like a blanket, wrapping him in Dean.  And the look in his eyes, just before he pulled Sam back into the car and sank into him was dangerous, made the breath catch in Sam's throat. 

Dean is pressed against him, chest flush against Sam's and Sam can feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest, mirroring his own.  Can feel Dean's breath, hot and smelling like Whiskey, on his neck as Dean hips stutter, rhythm faltering and Sam feels him lose himself deep inside Sam, so far inside that Sam doesn't know where one of them ends and the other begins. 

But then again, he's never known where Dean ends and Sam begins. 

 

----

 

8am Departure – The Perishers (...I wish I didn't have to go home...I wish I could stay, just for a day, I wish I could stay...)

Hunt finished, foe vanquished, over.  Dean's fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, knuckles pale in the darkness.  Dean is talking about another hunt, the interview convienently forgotten, pushed to the back of his mind. 

Sam reminds him.  Even though the words taste bitter in his mouth.  Reminds Dean that he has to go home, back to Jess, back to white picket fences and apple pie and 2.4 children, and a dog.  Normal. 

Dean's muscle in his jaw flickers, his fingers tighten and he nods, walls and resolve slipping back into place. 

Sam doesn't want to go, doesn't want to be normal, used to think that he did, but normalcy isn't what its cracked up to be, he wants Dean, wants muscle and scars that he knows like the back of his hand.  Wants masculine curses in his ear as his brother comes undone above him. 

And its taken this long to figure out that he's not home he's heading for right now.  Its away from home.  Dean is his home. 

----

 

R-Evolve – 30 Seconds to Mars (...the ultimate defence is to pretend, revolve around yourself like an ordinary man, the only other choice is to forget...)

The motel sheets are scratchy under his cheek when he wakes, head pounding, warmth raditating from a body next to him.  Its takes him approximately 1 and a half minutes to figure out its Sam and that the bruises on his arms match Sam's fingers, and that the feeling of satisfaction deep in his bones is because of Sam. 

Dean wants to vomit, wants to scream, wants to forget and pretend, wants to crawl back into bed with Sam and kiss his way across Sam's chest. 

But Sam stirs, Dean hides in the bathroom until he hears the motel room door open and close.  And its only when he's counted to 100 that Dean allows himself to lick his lips and taste Sam. 

 

----

 

Burned with Desire – Armin Van Buuren (...for each forgotten kiss, for all the memories, for all the times a look said all we had to say...when you touched my face, when you called my name, I burned with desire but you left me in the rain...)

"Sam!  No!" Dean didn't imagine the instant fear that filled his body when he saw his brother falter, knife buried in his spine.  And he didn't imagine the sorrow and agony that filled his soul when Sam whispered his name into his neck and his life flowed out between Dean's fingers.  And the rain seeped in through his clothes as he sat there, for god knows how long, until Bobby placed a hand on his shoulder.  Dean didn't let Sam go, clutching at him with fingers that shook. 

He imagined Sam alive when he laid him out of the bed, imagined Sam smiling up at him, wicked glint in his eyes as his thumbs brushed over Dean's cheekbones. 

And he imagined it was Sam's lips when he kissed the demon and sold his soul.  For Sam.  Always for Sam. 

----
 

 

Ten Dead Dogs – Wild Sweet Orange (...I've never felt this way before. Am I running away from what I've always been running towards...)

He doesn't know when this started.  Ok, thats a lie, he knows exactly when it started, when he thought he lost Dean and couldn't convey his feelings in any other way, kissed him, hard.  It had started then.  But Sam can't shake the feeling that they have been working towards this their whole lives.  Gravity and destiny working together to push them closer, using thier fucked up childhood to plant the seed until it bloomed and Sam kissed Dean. 

He knows that Dean is running now though, scared, confused, Dean is running.  And its ironic, because Dean always thought Sam was the one who ran, but Sam's still here, and Dean is gone.  Not literally, but he closes off from Sam more every day. 

Until Sam reaches across the gulf, the wide gaping wound between them and rests his hand on Dean's thigh.  Dean's muscles twitch and then relax and Dean's hand covers Sam's. 

"I'm here Sammy." He says.  And Sam nods, because he is, and he's not running anymore.  Well, maybe he is, but this time he's running in the right direction. 

----

 

You Make it Real – James Morrison (...like holy water, washing over me, you make it real for me. And I'm running to you baby, cos you are the only one who saves me...)

It takes Dean a second too long to realise the strangled, muttered curse of "shit" from behind him is Sam.  And when he turns, machete already swinging towards the bastard's neck, its fangs stained red from the blood now freely flowing from Sam's neck, Sam is still slipping to the ground, his body limp and heavy.  Dean's arm continues to swing, separates the head from the body and he falls, to Sam's side, hand pressing into the wound as Sam's eyes darken and Dean fumbles with the flask of holy water.

He doesn't know if it will work, read it somewhere, long forgotten bits of information flooding to the front of his mind as he pours the water over the bite.  Sam arches into him,. mouth open in a silent scream of agony, echoing the one in Dean's soul.  Don't you fucking die on me Sammy. 

Sam's body is shaking, his finger grasping, digging into Dean's arms and he finally slumps, breathing just as hard as Dean, and he turns, vomits from the pain, his fingers still curled around Dean's arm. 

"Sammy?" Dean's voice is tentative, desperate, breaking.  Sam turns, brown eyes the same. Thank god. 

"Yeah Dean, its me."