A/N I've been busy. College hates me. Nothing's new. ~Sammy
marble hands, marble toes
Chapter Six
He's sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, frustrated tears held back by sheer will and the force of his fingertips pressed against the bridge of his nose.
He fucked up. God, he fucked up.
Sam's tucked in the bed, all soft little huffed out breaths and gentle snores and little wisps of hair falling across his face and the wrinkle between his brows smoothened out like silk sheets and soft hands.
It's okay though. He'll fix it. He has to fix it. It's not even all that broken yet, so fixing it won't be too hard. It won't. It won't.
He watches Sam's chest rise and fall as he puffs out breaths and he thinks of birds with their beaks tucked under their wings, and trees that are orange and quiet in the fall, and he thinks that maybe beautiful things are all the more beautiful when they are asleep.
The cuts on his arms burn and he can't see Sam's eyelashes flutter behind the blindfold, but he stays asleep so it's okay.
000
He was eight and stuck in bed with the flu when he realized that the words in his head sounded good when he wrote them down. And they sounded even better when he said them out loud.
He spent three weeks talking himself hoarse before he remembered that nobody was listening.
"'Breathe me in,' said the night to the king, 'for I am smoke and meadowsweet.' The king laughed loud, like all kings do, a laugh that boomed like his soldier's canons, and he laughed at the night and its perfume."
His voice is steady like it never could be at eight or fifteen or twenty two, but it's steady now, steady and solid, like oak doors and granite floors and a well loved car.
"The king said, 'You are rank, dear night, and rankless. Your stars grow dim, and your moon hangs low.'"
Sam is listening to him. Sam is a good listener.
"The night cried for two days, from dawn till dusk, silver tears molten hot and scorching the king's skin until he fell to his knees at midnight and said, 'I breathe you in and you smell like fire and cypress trees. You smell like faraway lands, dear night. You make me miss my home.'"
Sam listens and sleeps, and Dean breathes him in.
A/N Let me know what you thought in a review! :D ~Sammy