Complicated
Sam
watches as Dean seduces yet
another girl in yet another bar.
It makes him feel sick so he runs
outside, just in time to throw up in the ally.
One hand on the wall, still leaning forward, Sam can hear Dean walking up behind him.
"Are you okay?"
Sam sighs, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stands up to face his brother.
"How long are you
gonna keep doing this?"
"I
don't know what else to do Sammy."
The
image of last night burning
between the two.
How can a simple kiss
be so complicated?
. . .
Right/Wrong
Hearts
beating in a way they shouldn't.
Hands on places where they
shouldn't be.
Wrong, wrong, this is
so wrong.
So why
does it seem so right?
Sam's fingers
trailing down lines on Dean's body, lines he shouldn't know what
they feel like.
What they taste like.
Dean's lips exploring
his brother's, tounges seeking to wrap themselves around each
other.
A sensation of comfort, lust and love all boundled up
together.
How can something feel so good, yet hurt so much at the same time?
Words
pointless when their eyes meet.
Love is a powerful thing.
And
so is brotherhood.
. . .
Where do we go from here?
"Dammit Sam, you could've been killed back there!
"So?"
"So?! What where you thinking?"
"What the hell's your problem Dean?"
"My problem's that my brother is acting like a douche who doesn't give a crap if he'll die or not."
"Well, maybe I don't care."
"Don't give me that bullshit."
"It's the truth. I mean what the hell do I have to live for anyway?"
"Oh for f…. I need time Sammy, I don't know what to do."
"I don't regret anything we did last night."
"Me neither but…."
"But you don't want to do it again."
Burning
eyes.
Silence.