ok, here it is. so this is another fic called Out of Sync. i actually wrote this one first. this one really is Wincest. i was on a thing for a while about imperfection, thats yy i have 2 Out of Syncs. anywho ** LEAVE COMMENTS DAMN YOUZ! thanks.
disclaimed
No matter what they did, they could never get it quite right. Their rhythms were never quite on the same beat. Someone was always out of breath. Someone was always closer to the edge than the other. And it was fucking perfect.
It hadn't always been this way, so twisted. Well, for Sam anyways. Dean had always been fucked up. But Sam, he had never let the life get to him. In fact, the way they lived had only made Sam stronger, until one day he was strong enough to tell their dad where to shove it, before going off to Stanford. Even though the memory had always brought up mixed feelings, Dean had always been proud of Sammy for that strength.
Dean didn't have that strength. He didn't; he let the life get to him. He obeyed their dad perfectly and dad instilled into his very core that Sam always, always, always came first. When they were little and dad would leave Dean alone to watch Sam he always parted with, "Never let Sam out of your sight. And if something gets in, the first thing you do is get your brother out. Then you can kill it, but make sure Sam is safe first." And it continued on when they were both old enough to hunt. He always put Sam right in the middle. Dad would go in first, to take the brunt of the attack, and then followed the boys, Dean always a step behind Sam to cover his ass.
And then Sam took off to Stanford. But even then dad continued to drill Sam before anything into Dean's head. If he ever heard of something happening near Stanford he always commanded Dean to drop whatever hunt they were on at the time and make sure it never got to Sam while he stayed behind to finish off the hunt.
And early on in life, under this relentless obligation to Sam, Dean began to twist. So Dean's world was compartmentalized into two categories; Sam and Everything Else. Sam came first in a way that John had never meant, not that he knew. Sam came first over everything; right and wrong, love and hate, life and death, even heaven and hell. Dean centered himself completely around Sam.
So yeah, Sam had been fine in the beginning but Dean was twisted from the start. And Dean was okay with being twisted, as long as Sam was fine.
But then it happened; Jess' death. It broke Sam which in turn in turn broke Dean. Dean was already so twisted (around Sam) that the hairline fracture on his soul was barely noticeable, but Sam turned into a whole new person.
And now they can never get the timing just right. When they join together it forms a grotesque shape, all edges too sharp and dips and valleys too soft. There no sound other that a quiet gasping, because someone has always run out of air. They are so twisted and broken that they can't even look each other in the eyes, and yet they can't let go (don't want to).
So every night they twist a little farther into each other. They break their souls so that the jagged pieces cut each other, the metaphor becoming so real sometimes that they will wake up with their bodies still tangled together, now slick with blood, and their mouths tasting like copper. And its fucking perfect.