I am the Alpha and the Omega - Prologue
Aug. 2nd, 2014 05:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alexisjanePairing - Sam/Dean
Rating - PG-13
Disclaimer - These are my words but all my base are belong to Kripke, Sera, Ben or whoever so don't sue me. It's just for fun
Word count - 1631
Warnings - young Sam (15), first kiss, wincest
Notes - Written as part of the ...you fool series of ficlets but is decidedly headcanon. Unbeta'd.
It had just been one of those days.
It started bad, managing to get into a shouting match with Dad before breakfast, and had just gotten worse from there.
At fifteen, Sam was finding it harder and harder to accept that he could never get a straight answer out of John about anything. And finding it less and less easy to just keep his mouth shut about it.
He didn't mean for it to happen but the arguments were getting worse.
It wasn't until Dean actually stepped in for once, and distracted his father, that Sam realized how close he had been to getting slapped this time.
So that was awesome.
Then, on top of the fact that he hated this school and was having much more trouble than usual fitting in, for some reason (well, almost certainly because Dean had managed to persuade the head cheerleader to skip school and head off to god knows where) the entire football team had been giving him a hard time all day.
Like he had any control over anything that Dean was doing.
The worse part was he felt more angry thinking about what Dean and (Mindy? Mandy? whatever) were getting up to, than the barrage of ear-flicks, trip-ups, dead-legs and shoulder-barges that he had to endure from the meat heads until the final bell rang.
He kept telling himself that it was just because he could have done with a day at the beach, time away from having to pretend to be normal, even in this crappy weather but deep down he couldn't shake the connection to the, frankly, inappropriate thoughts that kept popping into his head lately.
He tried to justify his flashes of jealousy when Dean looked at or spoke to virtually anyone else, or the need bordering on pain to be in physical contact with him whenever he got close, as being some kind of teenage-hormonal-anxiety-related-something-or-other, that any psychologist would nod sympathetically at and say was completely normal under the circumstances.
Part One –––>
Rating - PG-13
Disclaimer - These are my words but all my base are belong to Kripke, Sera, Ben or whoever so don't sue me. It's just for fun
Word count - 1631
Warnings - young Sam (15), first kiss, wincest
Notes - Written as part of the ...you fool series of ficlets but is decidedly headcanon. Unbeta'd.
It had just been one of those days.
It started bad, managing to get into a shouting match with Dad before breakfast, and had just gotten worse from there.
At fifteen, Sam was finding it harder and harder to accept that he could never get a straight answer out of John about anything. And finding it less and less easy to just keep his mouth shut about it.
He didn't mean for it to happen but the arguments were getting worse.
It wasn't until Dean actually stepped in for once, and distracted his father, that Sam realized how close he had been to getting slapped this time.
So that was awesome.
Then, on top of the fact that he hated this school and was having much more trouble than usual fitting in, for some reason (well, almost certainly because Dean had managed to persuade the head cheerleader to skip school and head off to god knows where) the entire football team had been giving him a hard time all day.
Like he had any control over anything that Dean was doing.
The worse part was he felt more angry thinking about what Dean and (Mindy? Mandy? whatever) were getting up to, than the barrage of ear-flicks, trip-ups, dead-legs and shoulder-barges that he had to endure from the meat heads until the final bell rang.
He kept telling himself that it was just because he could have done with a day at the beach, time away from having to pretend to be normal, even in this crappy weather but deep down he couldn't shake the connection to the, frankly, inappropriate thoughts that kept popping into his head lately.
He tried to justify his flashes of jealousy when Dean looked at or spoke to virtually anyone else, or the need bordering on pain to be in physical contact with him whenever he got close, as being some kind of teenage-hormonal-anxiety-related-something-or-other, that any psychologist would nod sympathetically at and say was completely normal under the circumstances.
It was fucked up but not as fucked up as the alternative explanation.
The worse part was Dean had definitely noticed. The last few months he seemed to be extra careful around Sam, over protective but keeping a clear distance between them. Hell, he didn't even punch him in the shoulder anymore.
Sam had plenty of time to think this all over, as he trudged home from school in the pouring rain, because, of course, this would be the day that Dean forgot to pick him up. By the time he got back to the motel, he and all his school books, were soaked through, just the red hot embers of rage keeping him from having frozen to death.
The fact that the room was empty was a blessed relief.
When Dean did finally show, he managed a chirpy "Hey Sammy" and half a wicked grin before he realized that wasn't going to cut it.
Sam was sat in Dean's hand-me-down pajamas that hung loosely off him despite him having filled out considerably lately, his hair still damp and ruffled, skin still pink and blotchy from the hot shower, hunkered over a bowl of cereal, the stony look on his face set to kill, while the upturned bodies of wet books lay around the room like dead birds.
Dean dropped the damp bag of groceries from his arms onto the floor by the door and started to take off his jacket, "I'm sorry, Sammy…"
"I don't want to hear it, Dean!"
Dean flinched at the scraping noise of the chair, as Sam stormed up and over to the sink, clattering the bowl down into it. "I stood there for an hour waiting for you! Like an idiot!"
Dean sighed and dumped his jacket as he walked over and started to roll up his sleeves.
He'd fucked up and he knew it.
He also suspected this was less about leaving Sam to walk home in the rain and more to do with the bust up that he'd had with John that morning.
That or the weird thing that had come between them over the last few months.
He was going to opt for the argument because he couldn't handle the other thing right now.
The tension between Sam and John was starting to become a real problem. Sam just couldn't seem to accept their life as hunters anymore.
He had to question every little thing and, damn, it was wearing. Especially to a man like John who was used to giving orders and that be the end of it.
But it was so hard to watch, as Dean could see how bad Sam felt about it all. He had seen that look of anger, sadness but mostly of regret at the sound of the Impala pulling away with his angry father inside it that morning. He knew how hard it was for Sam, there had been a time when he had felt like he wanted a normal life too. The difference was that he remembered what had happened, how their father had struggled in the beginning and felt closer to him because of it. Or maybe just a little further away from everyone else.
Why he thought today of all days it would be okay to bail on his little brother, he couldn't fathom. Seeing Sam, white knuckling the edge of the counter, knowing he was trying not to cry, all Dean wanted to do was grab him and hold him and tell him he was sorry and everything was going to be okay…and feel his body close against him and bury his face in Sam's neck…
He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the counter as far from Sam as the small space would allow. "Bad day?"
Sam snorted in derision "You say that like a good day is actually an option."
"Sam…come on."
"No, fuck you. I'm allowed to be pissed at you, okay!" Sam turned away and wiped his sleeve over his face.
Dean pursed his lips for a moment and then pushed off the counter and headed for the door. "Well, be a pissy bitch if you want but I've got something that'll cheer you up." He grabbed the bag of groceries and started to unpack it on to the table.
Sam turned reluctantly and looked at the goodies out of the corner of his eye and said quietly "Pie?"
Dean glared at him, "Hell, no! Hands off the pie, that's mine"
Sam slowly walked over to the table, tilting his head "A skin mag?"
"No! What's wrong with you? No. This"
Dean held out a scrappy comic book, the cover worn so badly it was barely holding together. Sam took it, bemused but intrigued by the delight on Dean's face. "Classics Illustrated?"
"They had a box of old magazines and stuff in the store and that was just sitting on top!"
Sam looked at it and shook his head "I don't know what this is."
Dean looked surprised and a little hurt. "Oh come on. You don't remember? I used to read this to you. When you were…you really don't remember?"
Sam wanted to say yes but had to shake his head.
Dean huffed and snatched the comic back, muttering, "Well, that was a waste of two bucks."
It was back in Sam's hands before he fully registered it. "Hey! If you get pie and porn, I think I should at least be allowed a look." He grabbed a bag of chips from the pile of junk food that had appeared on the table and sloped off to his bed.
Dean's lips bucked at the edges into a smile that quickly became a scowl as he screwed up the paper bag and threw it in the corner, missing the trashcan completely. "Well, there's no need to be a bitch about it".
He started to unpackage the pie, his stomach rumbling, when Sam spoke softly. "Will you…will you read it to me? Like you used to?"
Dean looked across. Sam was sat cross legged on the bed, holding the ragged pages out with both hands. This was Sam trying to make up. Oh but he looked tired. Really tired. And soft.
The last thing that Dean wanted to do was to sit next to his brother on a bed or feel Sam's hair brush against his neck as he lay his head on Dean's shoulder, a remnant of when they were children.
Because Dean then would put his arm around Sam and pull him close, and Sam would reach an arm across his stomach and hold him tight.
Because if they lay there long enough, Dean's hand might reach up and stroke the side of Sam's face and bend down and kiss his temple like he did when they were boys and he wanted Sam to feel safe and loved.
Because they weren't boys any longer.
And more than anything, he would want Sam to look up at him and bring his face up towards him, towards a kiss, the kiss that would start and end everything.
Soft, tired and dry lipped for now, later beyond the guilt and confusion, deep, wet, lazy, urgent, mingled with the tang of tears or passion or blood. But all of it for Sam. All of because of this thing between them, this realization that they needed this, needed this kiss, needed this closeness. Because they could never, would never get it anywhere else.
It was the last thing that Dean wanted to do precisely because it was the thing he wanted more than anything.
And he would never, could never do it.
But for Sam.
"WIll you?"
Dean sighed and closed the lid back over the pie.
"Okay, Sammy. If that's what you want."
The worse part was Dean had definitely noticed. The last few months he seemed to be extra careful around Sam, over protective but keeping a clear distance between them. Hell, he didn't even punch him in the shoulder anymore.
Sam had plenty of time to think this all over, as he trudged home from school in the pouring rain, because, of course, this would be the day that Dean forgot to pick him up. By the time he got back to the motel, he and all his school books, were soaked through, just the red hot embers of rage keeping him from having frozen to death.
The fact that the room was empty was a blessed relief.
When Dean did finally show, he managed a chirpy "Hey Sammy" and half a wicked grin before he realized that wasn't going to cut it.
Sam was sat in Dean's hand-me-down pajamas that hung loosely off him despite him having filled out considerably lately, his hair still damp and ruffled, skin still pink and blotchy from the hot shower, hunkered over a bowl of cereal, the stony look on his face set to kill, while the upturned bodies of wet books lay around the room like dead birds.
Dean dropped the damp bag of groceries from his arms onto the floor by the door and started to take off his jacket, "I'm sorry, Sammy…"
"I don't want to hear it, Dean!"
Dean flinched at the scraping noise of the chair, as Sam stormed up and over to the sink, clattering the bowl down into it. "I stood there for an hour waiting for you! Like an idiot!"
Dean sighed and dumped his jacket as he walked over and started to roll up his sleeves.
He'd fucked up and he knew it.
He also suspected this was less about leaving Sam to walk home in the rain and more to do with the bust up that he'd had with John that morning.
That or the weird thing that had come between them over the last few months.
He was going to opt for the argument because he couldn't handle the other thing right now.
The tension between Sam and John was starting to become a real problem. Sam just couldn't seem to accept their life as hunters anymore.
He had to question every little thing and, damn, it was wearing. Especially to a man like John who was used to giving orders and that be the end of it.
But it was so hard to watch, as Dean could see how bad Sam felt about it all. He had seen that look of anger, sadness but mostly of regret at the sound of the Impala pulling away with his angry father inside it that morning. He knew how hard it was for Sam, there had been a time when he had felt like he wanted a normal life too. The difference was that he remembered what had happened, how their father had struggled in the beginning and felt closer to him because of it. Or maybe just a little further away from everyone else.
Why he thought today of all days it would be okay to bail on his little brother, he couldn't fathom. Seeing Sam, white knuckling the edge of the counter, knowing he was trying not to cry, all Dean wanted to do was grab him and hold him and tell him he was sorry and everything was going to be okay…and feel his body close against him and bury his face in Sam's neck…
He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the counter as far from Sam as the small space would allow. "Bad day?"
Sam snorted in derision "You say that like a good day is actually an option."
"Sam…come on."
"No, fuck you. I'm allowed to be pissed at you, okay!" Sam turned away and wiped his sleeve over his face.
Dean pursed his lips for a moment and then pushed off the counter and headed for the door. "Well, be a pissy bitch if you want but I've got something that'll cheer you up." He grabbed the bag of groceries and started to unpack it on to the table.
Sam turned reluctantly and looked at the goodies out of the corner of his eye and said quietly "Pie?"
Dean glared at him, "Hell, no! Hands off the pie, that's mine"
Sam slowly walked over to the table, tilting his head "A skin mag?"
"No! What's wrong with you? No. This"
Dean held out a scrappy comic book, the cover worn so badly it was barely holding together. Sam took it, bemused but intrigued by the delight on Dean's face. "Classics Illustrated?"
"They had a box of old magazines and stuff in the store and that was just sitting on top!"
Sam looked at it and shook his head "I don't know what this is."
Dean looked surprised and a little hurt. "Oh come on. You don't remember? I used to read this to you. When you were…you really don't remember?"
Sam wanted to say yes but had to shake his head.
Dean huffed and snatched the comic back, muttering, "Well, that was a waste of two bucks."
It was back in Sam's hands before he fully registered it. "Hey! If you get pie and porn, I think I should at least be allowed a look." He grabbed a bag of chips from the pile of junk food that had appeared on the table and sloped off to his bed.
Dean's lips bucked at the edges into a smile that quickly became a scowl as he screwed up the paper bag and threw it in the corner, missing the trashcan completely. "Well, there's no need to be a bitch about it".
He started to unpackage the pie, his stomach rumbling, when Sam spoke softly. "Will you…will you read it to me? Like you used to?"
Dean looked across. Sam was sat cross legged on the bed, holding the ragged pages out with both hands. This was Sam trying to make up. Oh but he looked tired. Really tired. And soft.
The last thing that Dean wanted to do was to sit next to his brother on a bed or feel Sam's hair brush against his neck as he lay his head on Dean's shoulder, a remnant of when they were children.
Because Dean then would put his arm around Sam and pull him close, and Sam would reach an arm across his stomach and hold him tight.
Because if they lay there long enough, Dean's hand might reach up and stroke the side of Sam's face and bend down and kiss his temple like he did when they were boys and he wanted Sam to feel safe and loved.
Because they weren't boys any longer.
And more than anything, he would want Sam to look up at him and bring his face up towards him, towards a kiss, the kiss that would start and end everything.
Soft, tired and dry lipped for now, later beyond the guilt and confusion, deep, wet, lazy, urgent, mingled with the tang of tears or passion or blood. But all of it for Sam. All of because of this thing between them, this realization that they needed this, needed this kiss, needed this closeness. Because they could never, would never get it anywhere else.
It was the last thing that Dean wanted to do precisely because it was the thing he wanted more than anything.
And he would never, could never do it.
But for Sam.
"WIll you?"
Dean sighed and closed the lid back over the pie.
"Okay, Sammy. If that's what you want."
Part One –––>
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2014-08-02 05:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-04 07:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 11:53 pm (UTC)Anyway, I loved this, thank for sharing it <3
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Date: 2014-08-04 07:41 pm (UTC)Glad you liked it Hunny ♥ x
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Date: 2014-08-04 03:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-04 07:46 pm (UTC)Thank you so much, Hun. Feel free to roll around in it any time : ) x
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Date: 2016-01-08 02:34 pm (UTC)Thanks for reccing yourself, bb!
♡
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Date: 2016-01-14 09:13 am (UTC)