#i wanted to give soulless sam a little time in the spotlight

[quietwingsinthesky]

prompt: samifer, "my husband"

(i love your drabbles, by the way)

(oh, that's good, because i love writing them. one of the best parts of my day, really. they're not long enough to stress me out, but the exact 100 word limit is challenging enough to make them fun.)

(and uh also i made two again. lmao. to be fair to me, these are very interlocked. interpreting the prompt a little loosely? i hope it suffices.)

A small detail in the whirlwind of Sam's last day on Earth, that before Lucifer takes him from Detroit, he slides the wedding ring off his former vessel's finger.

That turns out not to have been Sam's last day at all, and then Sam's sitting across from Dean, perfectly fine (something's wrong), and there's a ring on his finger, still.

"Where did you get that?" he asks, like he doesn't already know. He wants an answer that doesn't scare him.

Sam shrugs.

Sometimes he presses the metal to his lips. Not a kiss. Like he wants a taste of grief.

~~~

Sam's wall is broken, and Dean knows, whatever his brother claims, that there's molten metal leaking in, cooling on his skin only to entrap him further. The gold band on his left hand is a constant reminder.

Dean takes it off only once, when Sam's asleep in the passenger seat. He tosses it out the window of the Impala.

That night, he wakes up to Sam kneeling in their motel room. Dean stays still, silent.

A gleam of gold in the dark on Sam's folded hands.

"…until death do us part," he's whispering, head tilted up to meet unseen eyes.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Shall Set You Free (a Dean & Sam bonding coda set in 14x20 “Moriah”, 1.8k, T as in Teen and Truth Spells) - my penultimate ‘Season 14 Coda’

With the ability to lie taken away from them, it's like the Winchesters' safety blanket was torn from them. Now only able to tell the truth, how will Dean and Sam fill the time waiting for the computer to find Jack? Maybe a few funny things will slip out that neither of them wanted the other to know. Or maybe they''ll circle on a few issues that have been simmering for a long time now.

Either way, the truth does what it always has - shake things up.

(Link to ao3) 

           Sam can barely focus with all the noise from outside. It’s maddening listening to all the vicious screeching and ear-shattering cries. Dean scrolls through his phone still, now silent. If he could lie, he’d say he didn’t miss his brother’s constant chatter. But he can’t, and, “Could you start talking again,” tumbles out.

           Dean glances up, smirking. “I thought you didn’t want to hear me anymore?”

           “You’re more preferable to everything out there…”

           “Yeah,” Dean says, pocking his phone. He puts a hand up to the frosted glass, staring out at the moving shadows. “Who knew so many people lied as much as we did…”

           Sam huffs. “Granted, we stopped lying… or said we would while keeping the less dangerous stuff bottled up.”

           “Of course,” Dean shrugs, “I mean I’ve got things I don’t tell you.”

           “And there are things I don’t want you to know, too. Like how I think I’m balding?” Sam says, frowning as his mouth lets loose one of the cards he held close to his chest.

           Dean grins, turning back to face him. “Oh, really?”

           “Seriously,” Sam can’t control it, “I don’t know if it’s age or stress… but it’s been thinning. And I don’t like it.”

           “Neither do I.” Dean curses now, biting at his lip.

           Sam, interest piqued, leans forward in his seat. “Really?”

           “I might joke about it,” he continues, “but I like your hair. Some days I look in the mirror and imagine myself with your hair… dammit.”

           Sam chuckles, running a few fingers through his locks. “After this… I mean, if you want –“

           “No,” Dean sighs, slumping against the window, “decades of this cut really affected my ability to grow hair… I’d probably have to wait twenty years to see any change… if I live that long.”

           “You think we’re getting too old for this?” Sam asks, “Sometimes I do. When my back twitches or we pull one all-nighter too long… I picture what’d it be like to retire.”

           “Toes in the sand,” Dean tells him, “Toes in the sand, brother…”

           Their moment shatters with a large thump, Dean jumping from off the glass as the outside reminds them of the pressing matters at hand. The yogurt owner’s blurry face smears across a few feet of the surface before jerking back and away.

           “We need to find Jack soon,” Sam says, “Who knows what’ll happen if people keep going at it.”

           Dean nods. He jerks a thumb at where the guy was. “Poor dude might be down some features, which would be a shame because he was cute.” The second the harsh ‘c’ sound passes from his lips, Dean’s face shifts into an intense terror.

           Sam matches his expression. “Dean –“

           “And not in like how a puppy is cute, like a ‘so adorable you could kiss it’ – and I wanted to kiss it. I would kiss it. Because I kiss guys sometimes.” He slaps a hand over his mouth, “Shit!”

           There’s nothing Sam can say that wouldn’t be a stream of unintelligible sounds. While Sam’s mind short circuits, Dean throws a fit. His breathing speeds up, skin flushes, and he hunches over the desk blinking rapidly.

           “Oh my God I came out,” Dean says, “I’m still coming out. Because I admitted that I needed to come out – that I’m not straight. Nggh – I’m bisexual! Gah!”

           “You came out,” Sam repeats, the only sentence he could force through his numb lips.

           “Is that all you can say?” Dean asks, forcing himself to stare at Sam in exasperation, “I need you to say something.”

           Spurred into action, Sam stands and throws his arms around Dean. Even if the angle is awkward, and he crushes his brother’s neck into his stomach, Sam doesn’t let go. “Dean I’m sorry you were forced out like this,” he says, “But at least what you know I’m about to tell you is the truth. That I’m so proud of you, and even if we’re fighting right now I won’t ever not be proud of you or stop loving you.”

           He hears Dean shudder, then feels him squirming up to poke out and rest his head on Sam’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispers, “I… I’m sorry that we’re fighting. Can’t think of anything that can make it stop.”

           Sam’s smile thins into a fragile line. “You could not kill Jack?”

           Dean sighs, pulling away. “I can’t promise you that. I can’t promise anyone that.”

           “I know,” Sam says, “I don’t like it… and I hope I can change your mind before it happens.”

           He scoffs. “Well… I’m rooting for you.” Dean scoots away, taking his phone out again. It’s a clear tactic Sam has seen thousands of time from his brother – a way to pull off the road and onto a highway before driving over more rocky terrain. The Jack issue isn’t something Sam wants to put away, now that Dean can tell the truth. But he figures he’ll give him some space before continuing with that line of attack.

           Instead he notices how Dean licks his lips at his phone screen. Sam rolls his eyes, “What are you looking at? Pie?”

           “Dicks.”

           Dean’s head shoots up, and he freezes. Sam’s jaw drops. “Come… come again?”

           “I’m looking at penises, Sam,” Dean continues, unable to meet Sam’s horrifyingly curious gaze. “A bunch of them, have been for a while since you told me to shut up. Figured I’d be able to keep my mouth shut – plus it’s not only sexy but hilarious since everyone’s being honest with how big they are. Feeling pretty good about myself knowing I’m averaging above the middle line.”

           “I need Jack to stop this,” Sam says, “Or scramble my brains after the day’s done.”

           “I just need to shut up,” Dean mumbles, “Before I reveal anything else I don’t want to.”

           “You don’t… feel awkward being forced out like that? Do you?”

           “Honestly?” Dean says, face falling into some unreadable expression, “I feel a little better. Hate to say it but this has been the first time I’ve been able to breathe in a while. Was worrying so hard about that felt almost… normal. Like we weren’t two orphans chasing after our soulless, all-powerful son while the world falls to shit and my angel best friend-slash-crush is who knows where because he hates me right now…”

           “What was that?”

           “Like did Cas text you at all?”

           “Are you crushing on Cas?”

           Dean’s eyes widen, darting to the side as he reflects back on what he said. “Shit,” he hisses, “I’m getting too used to this. We need to fix this pronto before the truth becomes our new normal!”

           “I always had a feeling there was something going on between you two…”

           He squints at Sam. “What?”

           “I thought it was on his end,” Sam shrugs, “Mostly. I mean he said ‘I love you’.”

           “So did I!”

           “You did?”

           “Well not with words,” Dean sighs, kneading his brow, “I… I made him a mix tape.”

           Sam snorts into his fist. “Wow Dean you really do have a crush on him.”

           Dean bypasses Sam, searching the computer. “This future tech has to have found a trace of him by now. I mean I know it’s hard to track an angel but I really want a reason to get out of here.”

           Sam knocks into his shoulder. “This is nice for what it is, even if it’s because we don’t have the ability to anymore. Although I do miss lying… hopefully we can break it before Rowena calls I do not want her knowing that I’ve pictured us having sex multiple times.” He pauses, cheeks flushing.

           Dean rounds on him, laughing. “Ha! Finally you get to be embarrassed!”

           “Shut up Dean…”

           “No, no,” Dean says, wagging his finger in Sam’s face. “Spotlight’s been on me for too long, now it’s your turn in the hot seat.”

           “You’re mixing metaphors.”

           “Whatever,” Dean moves back over to the frosted glass, smirking at the shadowed chaos it hides. “I didn’t want to admit it but I was always jealous she liked you more. Not because I thought about tapping that but because a lot of my pride is based on being the more attractive brother.”

           “No wonder you hate yourself.”

           “I hate myself for far more reasons than that, Sam,” Dean turns, arching his brows. “You ever think about doing it? I mean she might enjoy it… been around the block could probably teach you something. And you’re both impossibly nerdy so that’s a good match… except she makes it seem sexier. Maybe because of the accent or because I’ve had this librarian fantasy ever since I was seventeen and we were hunting this shifter in Iowa where there was this perky brunette bending over the card catalogue –“

           “Dean why are you so excited about this?”

           “Because I have to live through somebody knowing I’ll never get the chance to find that kind of happiness.” His teasing expression washes away like the tides rolled across his features and left an untouched beach for Sam to talk to.

           “…What does that mean?” Dean doesn’t respond. Sam steps closer, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Dean, talk to me. What are you afraid of?”

           “I don’t think there’s a chance for me and Cas, after this.”

           Sam’s heartbeat trips over itself. “What?”

           “You saw the way he looked at me,” Dean whispers, “Like he finally had enough sense to learn I’m not worth it. This Jack thing… I think it’s the final nail in the coffin for us. And we won’t be able to bring that back from the dead or the Empty or wherever the hell lost chances go when they shrivel up and turn to ash!”

           “Then don’t kill Jack, Dean,” Sam urges him, “If you love Cas so much then why not work to fix this-this-this Jack thing!”

           “Because I hate Jack,” Dean admits, “I hate him for so much. Killing mom was only the tip of the iceberg. Taking her away knocked over all the dominoes in my life and left us scrambling with barely anything. He showed me that any hope there is for us to have a normal life and be hunters was all smoke and mirrors. Jack took my future, Sammy. The kid made it sure that the only way this is gonna end is with his wings charred on the ground… and because of that Cas won’t ever want to be with me. With the guy who killed our… killed our son.”

           Sam can’t respond to that. He lets him go, cautiously giving his brother space. Dean shoves his phone back into his pocket, mouth curled into an ugly snarl.

           With nothing left to say between them, Sam returns to his seat and watches the computer do its work. He feels flayed open, and knows Dean must be the same. The silence is unbearable, but it’s preferable to whatever he might say next.

           That’s his truth and he's sticking to it.