#queer platonic samdean

[panicroomsammy]

Wincest as in yeah they’re fucking no they’re not attracted to each other they’re just so insane about each other that all of the loveneedbrotherfamilycodependency feelings spill out into fucking and afterward they’re like “hm yeah no I’m still insane about you that did nothing 😐”

[shadowcensored]

two wolves exists within me: queer platonic partners samdean and emotional incest samdean

[mommabird1772]

does wincaswin include any SamDean?

I don't want to get any hate from fans, but since Sam and Dean are already soulmates, it's pretty hard to seperate them. Overall I imagine Sam, Cas, and Dean's relationship to be Queer Platonic. It's too intense to be strictly plantonic, but doesn't really look like a "normal" relationship. It doesn't really have a specifi label, and the boys are fine with that.

[mr-smith-wesson]

Queer platonic samdean adopting kids vs queer platonic samdean just raising their dog miracle 

[panicroomsammy]

for made up fic title: rough night

My first thoughts were crack fic ones, but I’ve been on such a dark fic kick when it comes to my own writing lately that I think I’d have to go with something angstier.

Um okay so I just spent almost an hour writing this ficlet???

Sam is past the point of feeling tired. His eyes just hurt, that gritty feeling that people describe as sandpaper, and sure, that’s not wrong, but it doesn’t feel strong enough in Sam’s opinion. Gravel, maybe. Not sandpaper. The feeling that used to be “tired” is now just a state of dissociation, a numbness that makes the world around him a little blurrier but that doesn’t really impact his ability to interact with it. He knows he wouldn’t be able to sleep right now if he tried - he’s had nights like this his whole life. High school - staying up late to finish home after training drills all afternoon he would start out angry and lose all ability to feel by midnight, and when he got that way he knew sleep would be impossible - even if his homework wasn’t either. College - all-nighters that he hadn’t meant to be all-nighters. He’d tried to go to sleep but his heart kept racing and his brain would convince him that the rattling AC was a ghost on instinct every time he’d almost drifted off. So he knew well enough by now that he could keep reading the lore book in front of him and in fact he really didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. This wasn’t a problem, really. His body sometimes went into a panic mode where it would stay awake and this had surely saved his life more than once; what it meant now was really just that he could get more done.

Under normal circumstances, Dean’s hand on his shoulder would have made him jump. He fully registered the touch, but right now he just barely turned his head, the dissociative numbness itself seeming to have calculated that Dean was not a threat.

“Hey,” Dean said, voice scratchy with disuse - they’d been reading for hours without saying a word. “Put that down for a moment.”

Sam turned more fully to look at Dean. He tried to speak and his voice caught on the first word. He cleared his throat.

“What time is it?”

“2:00 AM.”

Dean tugged Sam out of his chair to sit on the floor and followed him down, communicating with his touch rather than words. For things like this they barely needed words - they each knew when they other was having a rough night, among a million other things that were so intrinsic there wasn’t even a need to think about them - and right now neither of them felt all that much like talking.

Dean sat behind Sam, Dean’s back against the table leg - uncomfortable but it’s not like either of them have been paying attention to their own discomfort for the last several hours anyway - Sam in the V of Dean’s legs, and his own bent, hands clasped between them and head down, thumbs pressing into the bridge of his nose.

Dean’s hands stroked over Sam’s hair, gentle and soothing and familiar. Just the right balance of new sensation and not so foreign as to be immediately filtered out by the dissociation. Something Dean had done for him since they were kids. Dean’s big, calloused, strong hands that were so a part of his grown-up body doing this simple gesture from childhood. Something in Sam started to wake up. Dean was here with him. Dean had always been with him and he was here with him now. A glow of warmth started in his chest and a smile started to tug at his lips. He sat up from where he had been hunched over and then leaned back so that he was resting against Dean’s chest. He knocked his head against Dean’s jaw and Dean rubbed his face into Sam’s hair.

They sat there like that for a moment before Dean grunted and pulled them both so they were lying on the floor. It wasn’t comfortable but it was better than the table leg. They fell asleep like that, curled loosely around each other.