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nervosadeliria:

sam/dean

  • 001. last outpost of all that isThe world is over, and it’s a Winchester’s lot in life to cope with anything – no matter what.
  • 002. howlIn Hell, people change. Or they stay the same.
  • 003. my soul look back and wonder - Dean gets his Sam back. 
  • 004. no one will have time to die - In Montana, Sam falls.
  • 005. easy to fool when you were in school Dean is hot. He is the hottest goddamned thing ever to happen to the planet. He knows he is, because even his own brother wants him.
  • 006. stumbling across its bleak ending - Dean leaves on a Monday.
  • 007. say it’s possible - Sam thought screwing around with Dean would be easy - he was finally getting what he wanted, and if Dean didn’t feel the same way? Well, that didn’t matter.
  • 008. shoot your gun - Sam doesn’t know what the hell this is and neither does Dean but he sure wishes one of them did.
  • 009. coup d’oeil - It felt like years before Dean said, “Yeah.” Rough, like he had a cold, like he needed to cough it clear. Like he was turned on. “Yeah.” 
  • 010. drown and float away - Dean comes back to Sam.
  • 011. a life in knives - When you were fifteen, you went through a phase where you wanted to see what you’d look like with a black eye.
  • 012. you feel your heart taking root in your body - Then, he can see again, she’s stepped away, taking her little hands with her.
  • 013. it’s the jump - Every day, at a random time, a time Dean can never anticipate, the messages start. Emails, texts, sticky notes, oh God, the sticky notes.
  • 014. careless things - They’re careless things, these touches that don’t go anywhere.
  • 015. no line on the horizon - And Sam knows something is wrong.
  • 016. arance sanguinelle - All scars tell tales.
  • 017. love advice for the romantically impaired - True Love really is blind…
  • 018. anti kink’verse - “This is stupid.” “Shut up.”
  • 019. stranger than fiction - Dean can’t stop wondering why people would write gay porn about him and Sam.
  • 020. a bleak understanding in reverse - It was hard to imagine that life without monsters could still kill them…
  • 021. you have one saved message - Sam gets a new smart phone.
  • 022. like a hurricane -  They’re in the middle of absolutely nothing — corner of “no” and “where” — black road stretching out before and behind them. It’s like the universe contains only the two of them, nestled snug together inside the Impala under cover of darkness.
  • 023. words for snow - After the Apocalypse is averted, the brothers make the best of things.
  • 024. sea change - Dean knows how he’s supposed to feel. It’s just that he’s never had much choice where Sam’s concerned.
  • 025. the skies are indecent - “Dean. Dean. Look, I told you, you have to calm down.”
  • 026. the man of law - Sam is cursed into acting out his most repressed urges. Dean points and laughs and enables, until things get a little too personal.
  • 027. the little spoon - To his horror, Sam discovers that he’s a stealth!snuggler.
  • 028. boy next door - Dean finds out that Sam made gay porn while he was at Stanford.
  • 029. oh glory - In the dimness, his brother’s teeth flash white and hypnotic through the stretch of his wide smile.
  • 030. dating for dummies - The morning after the first time he had sex with Dean, Sam woke up alone in bed, his whole body aching.
  • 031. so do our minutes - Sam had done far worse things than loving Dean too much. Dean had always found a way to forgive him.
  • 032. the tie that binds - No one asks Sam what he wants.
  • 033. i wanna hold you ‘til i die - Sam chooses to believe Dean’s right, at least until that night when Dean first starts acting―well, odd.
  • 034. when the world is over - Dean was going to die in thirty hours.
  • 035. second glance - John is only ever a second glance to his boys, who see each other first, always first, with little room at the edges of their vision for anybody else.
  • 036. a thousand miles from nowhere - The many ways the boys say “I love you” to one another.
  • 037. bruised - “I know you’re not leaving without me.” 
  • 038. use me just to make your body feel right - They like to call him puppy. Sam doesn’t mind.
  • 039. so many of them - In Jericho, Mississippi the gas station clerk says, “He always look at you like that?” as she takes the crumpled bills from Dean.
  • 040. 20 hours in america - An hour at a time, for each hour Dean has left.
  • 041. two queens -  Dean tries to figure out why so many people think he and Sam are a couple. The answer is…surprising.
  • 042. amidst the wars of elements - Dean hurts everywhere; there’s a constant throb of pain drumming under his skin
  • 043. thunderhead - They don’t go to the Grand Canyon.
  • 044. everything changes, everything stays the same - They fall into something they’ve never done before, only to find out it’s better than anything else.
  • 045. the near occasion of sin - Sam’s been dealing with Dean his whole life, has known how to change no into maybe into yes since before he could talk.
  • 046. burdens to bear - Sometimes, he gets Sam drunk.
  • 047. dark side of the moon - Slowly, dreading what he’s going to find, Sam waves a hand in front of Dean’s face. Dean’s eyes don’t so much as flicker.
  • 048. helping hands - Dean helps Sam in a brotherly way. But that thing between them is coming close to a breaking point.
  • 049. like this - This is not a good place to start to the story.
  • 050. chartreuse - They stretched out on a blanket by the car and argued about the color of the sky.
  • 051. waiting games - The bad news is that Sam’s ability is changing. The worse news is that he’s having visions of him and Dean. Doing that.
  • 052. me and the devil blues - It’s been nine months since the hellhounds dragged Dean into the Pit, and Sam drives along the coast highway with an empty passenger seat beside him.
  • 053. the sudden rise and slow relapse - Sam just can’t hold it together anymore, and Dean just wants to help.
  • 054. he wasn’t there again today - The story of that year. 
  • 055. cut you up - They moved to Palo Alto and tried to make it work.
  • 056. doing the best things so conservatively - And they really get down to business.
  • 057. how much he’d bleed - Sam knocks the side of his fist against the basin and moves before his mind clears.
  • 058. forget the riches - ‘Cause the best things in life are free.
  • 059. eventuality - Sam wraps a hand around the doorframe and waits it out, because he knows thirty-two ways for Dean to die in a motel bathroom, and there’s no way in hell he’s letting any of them happen.
  • 060. shepherd of the stray hearts - In September, the leaves begin to change.
  • 061. indian paintbrushes - Sam and Dean are on a hunt in Texas. Sam is a little bonkers. Dean is a little over-protective. They deal.
  • 062. taking the fifth - ”Dean Winchester?” Sam said. “I’m Sam Moore. I’m your lawyer.”
  • 063. leader of the pack - Teaching old dogs new tricks.
  • 064. i picked you up - Dean always a step ahead of Sam so nothing could ever get to him.
  • 065. slowly we unfurl - The first time.
  • 066. fill the night - It’s the same story as it was before. The same ending too.
  • 067. high wire - Nine-month skid.
  • 068. american myth - As long as you have a car, you are free, and other lies my country taught me.
  • 069. gone again - Four months later, you couldn’t really call it living.
  • 070. a thousand shades of red - Growing up is hard. Sam knows it, can feel it beneath his skin as his bones stretch and his baby fat fades and he’s perpetually hungry.
  • 071. hearts brighter than starry skies - From the moment we first start to realize the universe is made up of more than a single planet, we look up at the stars and wonder about our place in the cosmos.
  • 072. in the garden where sin began - Some places, they grow for you.
  • 073. crush - Dean looks at him different now, Sam just can’t figure out what the difference is.
  • 074. pretty little thing - Sam figured the entire mess was his fault.
  • 075. a sharp-dressed man - There are probably any number of totally appropriate responses to walking in on your sixteen-year-old brother in lace panties and fishnet, thigh-high stockings. Getting stupidly hard is not one of them. 
  • 076. well trained - Sam really should have caught on to what his brother was up to sooner, but he’s certainly going to make him pay now. 
  • 077. here between your hips - Of course, Dean has to demonstrate.
  • 078. drop by drop - ”Dean, we’re on a case!” hissed Sam, swiping at his ear as Dean tried to nibble at his earlobe.
  • 079. stories for sixteenth birthdays - It’s Sam’s sixteen birthday, and Dean gives Sammy something that he received on his own sweet sixteen … and when I say that he gives it to Sam, I mean, he really gives it to him.
  • 080. roads - Life in motion.
  • 081. blunt - Sam had a skeptical look on his face when Dean handed him the spliff and told him to “Smoke up, Sammy.”
  • 082. flash photography - Dean buys a camera for Sam.
  • 083. any which way you can - Then it was nothing, until it was again, and nobody saw that coming, shit.
  • 084. first - First kisses should be something special.
  • 085. best laid plans - A teenage Sam is upset because Dean keeps leaving at night for sex, he’s afraid Dean will end up leaving all the time like their father so he decides to try to learn to be what Dean wants.
  • 086. (not) right in the head - It’s the longest fifteen minutes of his life before he finds something worth stopping for.
  • 087. and i have asked to be where no storms come - Family is the first to break your heart.
  • 088. you and me on milk cartons - It’s Sam Winchester’s gay sexual history, but, you know, through Dean.
  • 089. look the other way - Dean is a cop and Sam is his no-good brother.
  • 090. for good for keeps forever - Dean never told Sam about his deal.
  • 091. five times - Dean has a sandwich, a juice box and one of his Father’s knives in his tiny suitcase when he leaves. 
  • 092. swear on all that’s holy - Dean teaches Sam to swear.
  • 093. every square inch, every split second - Sam’s fifteen when he finally outgrows his brother.
  • 094. fall into place - Possessiveness isn’t something Dean’s particularly familiar with.
  • 095. lessons - Dean watches as Sam practices writing his favorite word, the overblown D and the crooked E taking shape quickly.
  • 096. eight things you should know - Being in love with Dean is the most annoying thing.
  • 097. i can’t control my fingers - Sam and Dean go see a Ramones concert.
  • 098. a tale of two brothers - Sam’s tired of homework and wants Dean to tell him a story instead.
  • 099. your heart on my skin - Sam goes undercover at a prep school to try and figure out the source of a number of mysterious occurrences. When events escalate, Dean enrolls as well. A slip of the tongue and now everyone thinks they are boyfriends
  • 100. bc bud - There are times when Dean doesn’t make the best decisions ever. Case and point: getting stoned with Sam.
  • 101. burning for you - But if Sam is anything, it’s determined. When he’s set his mind to something, he’s going to get it, no matter what. And Dean has never been able to say no to Sam.
  • 102. compulsion - The world isn’t simple. Sam is fifteen and the world isn’t simple.
  • 103. the fool doth think he is wise - In which Dean tries valiantly to prank Bobby Singer, and he and Sam end up being the fools.
  • 104. how to survive in the woods - And then, if you can believe it, eight years passed.
  • 105. fever - Sam’s sick when Dad’s away. Dean takes care of him.
  • 106. all i wanna do is make a mess out of you - He’s got Dean, who’s a handful of needs barely met, a lot of wants never asked for, who’s push come to shove.
  • 107. making the rules up - Sammy’s never smoked pot, Dean’s going to devirginize him.
  • 108. lit - Sam scowled and stomped up to Dean and managed to say his name before Dean cut him off with a look that said you want to stop talking now, Sammy.
  • 109. manhattan for beads - Try avoiding trading sex for love.
  • 110. buy you a mockingbird - A genuine horror story.
  • 111. the land of the blind - Even the post-apocalypse looks good in a certain light.
  • 112. i’ve got a hand for you - Sam’s inexperience is showing, and Dean helps the best way he knows how.
  • 113. try and hide the night - This is a problem, Dean thinks, he’s bound to bear the consequences of all on his own.
  • 114. it’s a burning love - Sam and Dean have a sleeping loft to themselves, and can’t get enough of each other.
  • 115. an absence of violence - Dean finally comes home.  He’s in pretty bad shape.
  • 116. waiting on gone - Sam licked his lips and twitched another smile, heartbeat fast in his throat, so dense and aching he felt it on his tongue.
  • 117. remembering slow - Sam remembers the first time.
  • 118. breathe me in - ”You’re going to smoke pot, Dean?”
  • 119. putting on a show - Lightning fast Dean’s grin slants into sly and Sam’s stomach lurches hard enough that his lungs get jealous and jump in on the action.
  • 120. the way home - The night John learns about Stanford is ugly.
  • 121. fixation - He missed it, the taste, the scent - craved it and Dean’s touch - and he knew Dean was living in the same painfully incisive edge.
  • 122. smart people who do dumb things - I shouldn’t have pushed, but you shouldn’t have said no.
  • 123. the elko county adventure - Mutant snake monsters, rooftop confessions, and a big-ass Howitzer strapped to the back of a pick-up truck. Also known as: Tremors: The Sequel.
  • 124. heat of the blood - Trying to stay cool in a Texas summer, Sam makes a new friend. Dean really isn’t happy about it.
  • 125. demon days - Every night until this one has been dark and starless.
  • 126. killed myself when i was young - This is like premeditated murder. This is like a crime of passion. This is like a suicide pact.
  • 127. the mother road - The third time, the charm.
  • 128. like teeth - You’re about to break all bones. Willingly.
  • 129. artery - Eyes on the road, thought you knew how to drive this thing.
  • 130. the other was a star-shaped hole - There’s a price to be paid for every victory, and the Winchesters find themselves paying their worst one yet.
  • 131. for my next trick - Sam’s eighteen, Dean’s twenty-two, and growing up is hard.
  • 132. on the dodge - “Your times is over and you’re gonna die bloody and all you can do is choose where.”

rough hands caught in the lapels of your jacket. i love you he whispers against your jaw, presses a quick kiss, then gone.

you didn’t paint it very well—

like the lifted edges of your cheap carpet, stained brown in places with old blood.

like the cracks in sidewalks where weeds sprout up, attracting bugs, like the ones that crawl in your ears at night;

whisper, you deserve this, you deserve this, and cackle as you try to fall asleep.

like the broken china in your cabinets, 

purposeless, but kept for old time’s sake,— just like you.

like the near empty bottle of pills in your bathroom cabinet, like the razor blade you know your sister keeps under the bed.

like the monsters whispering under your little brother’s, like the way your mother says, just for now, when she puts the alcohol in the lowest shelves on the refrigerator.

like the way she didn’t say goodbye—

you didn’t teach yourself how to feel this way,

it’s something programmed in, though you try to unteach yourself every day.

the lines on the pages of the book in your father’s hands all look like tiny daggers, and you can’t follow the subtitles on your favorite movie anymore.

it’s something akin to sickness, but of the brain, of your heart, of the feeling in your chest when you check your inbox for the millionth time, hear the front doorbell ringing in the middle of the afternoon though no one’s ever there.

you wouldn’t answer it even if there were.

you didn’t get yourself here on your own.

it started with the way your best friend walked crooked to avoid the lines in the pavement at age five, the way your ex told you never to get so drunk you’d accidentally text her ever again at age fifteen,

the way your mother told you that all men are evil, so you started kissing girls instead.

the way she slapped you when she found one curled up in your bed.

the red went away in minutes but the sting still never quite ever fades; you make yourself stop crying in less than an hour, but you avoid the mirror on your bedroom wall for days.

you didn’t lock the door behind you:

that was the men in the green coats laughing at you in the street, poor little poor girl, a man took mercy on your when he decided you looked good enough to eat,

it was the girl who said she loved you, gave you kisses and chocolate and roses, called you hers, forever, and then found a boy she liked so much better you couldn’t do anything but watch in defeat.

it was the one you fell for slowly, the one who gave you nothing, but gave you happiness, peace, and heartache to kill a strong young woman, let alone—

you didn’t pull the trigger.

that was the chipped coffee mug, the spit on your cheek after he was done, the dark lines under your own eyes, black against brown against white.

that was the flower growing between the cracks in the sidewalk, tripping you up,

the blood running down your fingertip as you steal your sister’s blade.

that was your own bleeding heart, your own lack of apathy, your own personal bullet shooting below the wings of your collarbones, beneath the dips of the space between your ribs.

you didn’t paint it very well, but your undoing was a masterpiece anyway.

and it is just

that

you left me feeling like i flew on butterfly’s wings,

early morning goodbyes said with ghosts of kisses on cheeks.

and it is not the loneliness that does it,

that breaks my bones and tears the skin of my shoulders,

leaves abrasions on the backs of my knees so i cannot take a step without the worry of falling.

for there is absence of love, and there is loss;

and i would not have ever wished the second on my greatest enemy,

until i realized that was you.

you are every nice word i can think of;

you are every kindness on my tongue;

you are the chilling breeze that tickles the skin below my ankles;

you are the softest sheets, tangled and wrapped tight above my knees;

you are the broken sunlight falling on the pages of my favorite book;

you are the love interest in every romance novel i can find;

you are in the corner of my eye, no matter where i turn;

you are of every flower, every sweet song, every bird;

you are the barest memory, floating across my mind;

you are the closest thing to all the parts of me;

you are the farthest place from every place i’ve been;

you are the endpoint of every route on every map;

you are the cool air on my cheek before the day begins;

you are the hot breath on my neck while my fingers play over skin;

you are every road, every papercut, every pin;

you are the worst pieces of myself,

you are all the finest, loveliest bits;

you are what i want, what i crave, what i miss;

you are right beside me, in my ears, in my vision, within my t—

you

are nowhere near me

you hum to yourself on street corners and shove cold hands in deep pockets and watch dead stars at night, figments of the world’s collective imagination

on hot nights in warm apartment buildings, a million fireflies caught in glass in your blackened gaze.

you’re twenty two years old, live in the poorest rich city in the world and sometimes you think maybe you’re actually buried down the street, the old cemetery with gates like eyes, a hungry mouth to eat the living and consume the dead.

you’re twenty two years old and your name doesn’t matter. you’re twenty two years old and you were five years too late.

the answer is blue.

you bite your lip at dreary pop songs, bite your tongue at confrontation, and the sky isn’t the right color even when the clouds are gone.

you lie on your back and feel wounds that don’t exist, never did really, and hold yourself like you have too much pride when the truth is—

the answer is in piano keys.

discordant notes and you think maybe at some point you knew how to play, but it’s lost to you now, only another worthless talent wasted on youth.

you trip on nothing, hands braced on the bloody sidewalk, and bleed black blood the same shade as a bruise.

the answer is in glass windows.

the light reflected, refracted in black lenses and you cry out at night, in your sleep, and wake up not knowing what day it is, what month, year, but it’s too late you know, you know

blue lips and cold white hands.

five years

the answer is in clocks.

harsh beats against airy breezes from a half-open window, shit, you’ve forgotten again, and you swear one day you’ll accidentally lean out too far, catch just the right breeze and—

and your hands shake as you pull on the shade, tug the splintered wood down without fear of actual splinters, hands already slick with imaginary blood that isn’t your own.

the harsh tick of a stopwatch without hands and you scream sometimes, but you never remember why when you wake up.

you wish your window didn’t have a safety latch, wish there wasn’t a fire escape to break your fall, wish there was an actual fire to escape from because there are and have always been invisible flames licking up your sides, untouchable and burning, burning, burning—

the answer is in—

you watch birds fly and fall, watch an empty nest turn back into twigs, watch life begin and decompose behind tinted eyes and you wish you could kill them all just to watch them die.

fingers twisted in dirty sheets, you’ve forgotten the laundry again.

the answer is.

you cry at night and your sister puts soothing hands over yours, fingernails painted a dainty pink but you can still see the old skin torn beneath them

you watch dead lights over a dirty old city turn from white to yellow to gold and wish they would burn out already, wish their light was dead to you too because

you don’t want this darkness illuminated, this nightmare in cold starlight, moonlit histories and his hands were cold against yours but.

the answer

too many pills and cigarette smoke stains against your pillows, blankets that used to smell like him and you laugh at the stars because they are here even when they are already gone, and you think maybe you two have something in common.

your sister comes more often, with her chipped pink nails and she pleads, begs you through reinforced steel walls but you know her better than she thinks and you ignore her frantic messages, codes in black text.

she was always weaker anyway

the answer

you run from dead crows and feel imaginary wounds in your chest, a blade pierced through with bright bright blood that never quite reaches the right hue.

five years too late and you watched his casket descend the way you feel yourself descend into m a d n - -

the answ

you hear things that aren’t there, hands taut in unclean fabric and you think he used to smile more before he went,

left you alone with blank walls and dead stars and the smell of blood filling your lungs.

you laugh at empty rooms because your soul was light and now it is not, hands over your mouth as you cough up cherry red saliva, grey tabacco ash over your heart, spilled onto his grave.

his was always brighter anyway.

five years too -

the a—