clex_monkie89 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
clex_monkie89) wrote2006-08-07 11:20 pm
clex_monkie89) wrote2006-08-07 11:20 pm
[Fic] (Supernatural) Three Snippets.
Special thanks go to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
halfshellvenus, without whom's help these would never be seen. Because I suck with the titles and she rules like ruling with them. 
Title: It Comes At A Price
Rating: PG
Fandom(s): Supernatural
Characters: Sam
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Words: 421
Summary: That which does not kill you...
When Sam arrived at Stanford he had: six ribs in varying degrees of broken and healing, a black eye, a split lip, and torn, bloody knuckles ending in equally broken fingers.
Exactly how Sam got these injuries is a favored betting pool among his friends. Theories include everything from him being attacked by rogue ninjas to getting in a drunken brawl to getting the snot kicked out of him by a twelve-year old girl scout.
Sam's friends are under the mistaken assumption that they are funny. They are also under the mistaken assumption that all of these injuries were received at the same time.
The truth he'll never tell is this.
Sam, Dean and John were in Idaho chasing after this ass-wang ("Shut up Dean, it's pronounced oz-wine-g.") when he got tackled out a second story window. He pinched enough nerves and bruised his spine bad enough to be paralyzed from the chest down for almost three weeks. The only thing that kept his neck from snapping like a twig was him bracing himself by curling before he hit the pavement.
That's how he broke his ribs.
The black eye was caused by Dean throwing an elbow in his sleep and catching Sam in the eye. No fighting, no anger, no purpose at all, just an older brother with an arm cramp.
The split lip was also caused by Dean, but this time it was caused by a fist and was done on purpose. It happened the day Sam left for Stanford, which just happened to be the same day he told them about it. He and John had their big fight and he stormed out. Dean found him like he always does and tried to "talk some sense into him."
Twenty minutes of bitching, eight minutes of yelling and one incredibly stupid instance on Sam's part of saying something bad about John later and Sam had two loose teeth, a headache and a split lip. Dean didn't offer to drive Sam to the Greyhound station and Sam didn't beg for Dean to understand.
The knuckles and fingers came next.
Sam managed to navigate his way to the Greyhound by city bus and arrive with forty-five minutes to spare before his bus left.
Sam spent his first half-hour beating his fists into the painted brick wall of the bathroom, only stopping when both hands were numb and the wall was red with his blood, and then spent his last fifteen minutes crying and sobbing like he hadn't since he was six.
Title: The Beast Within
Rating: PG
Fandom(s): Supernatural
Characters: Sam, Dean
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Words: 300
Summary: Werewolves.
Sam hates the werewolves the most.
It's not the werewolves themselves that he hates; it's the fact that all but three days of a month they are completely and utterly human. Human as Dean, human as Dad, human as the pretty girl with braces in his fourth third grade class, the one in Tulsa.
Sam had nightmares for the better part of five years after killing her. He was eight and she had just turned nine. It was his first kill and he cried for three days after watching the hairy, slobbering wolf that had it jaws clamped down on his brother shift and slide into Cynthia. Nice, pretty Cynthia who smiled at him and didn't make fun of him and once had long brown hair and an intact skull.
Sam remembers Dean holding him in the car on the way back to the room. He also remembers falling asleep on his father's lap, still crying.
One time, Dean got attacked by a werewolf because they always go straight for him and Sam thought he was dead. He vividly remembers seeing it swipe its huge paw across his brother's stomach and watching the blood just fall out onto the basketball court followed by shredded muscle and what looked dangerously like intestine.
Sam was fourteen. He emptied his entire magazine in the thing's head and chest. Eleven silver bullets, three of which were shot into the bastard even after he was already dead and human again.
When Sam thinks of terror, he thinks of his arm shoved in his brother's stomach, stuttery, shallow breaths, Dean's bloody mouth and his glassy eyed stare at nothing.
To this day Sam doesn't know what sickened him more, Dean's gaping abdominal wound or the sickening satisfaction he felt pumping the werewolf/man full of deadly silver.
Title: Twinkie Fondling For The Symbolically Impaired
Rating: R
Fandom(s): Supernatural
Characters: Sam, Dean
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Words: 216
Summary: All's fair in love and war.
"Dude."
"What?"
"Tell me that's not my Twinkie."
"It's not your Twinkie. It's my Twinkie."
"Dude. Don't fondle my food."
"It's not your food; I found it."
"I bought it."
"You stole it."
"Yeah, me. Which makes that mine."
Crumple, crumple.
"You didn't just do that."
"Mmpmph ah wiw."
"I can't believe you just did that. You fucking bastard, you couldn't've saved me any?"
"Woe."
"You're never going to get laid again. Seriously, you're gonna have to fuck yourself from now on."
"Mmm. It was so good Dean. Just like a little piece of heaven, wrapped up in love and safely secured in a thin plastic sheath."
"Dude. You are so gay."
"Says the guy who had his cock rammed up my ass last night."
Shift.
"So that's how it's gonna be, huh? Well you were the one whimpering and begging, not me. Harder Dean, please! Harder! Fuck me harder!"
Shift.
"I don't sound like that."
"Of course not, I can't make my voice crack the way yours does when, how did you say it? Right. When I have my cock rammed up your ass."
Groan.
"Pull over."
"No."
"What?"
"You heard me. No. You stole my last Twinkie bitch; prepare to feel my wrath."
"..."
"Or, you know, not feel it."
"Worst big brother ever."
halfshellvenus, without whom's help these would never be seen. Because I suck with the titles and she rules like ruling with them. Title: It Comes At A Price
Rating: PG
Fandom(s): Supernatural
Characters: Sam
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Words: 421
Summary: That which does not kill you...
When Sam arrived at Stanford he had: six ribs in varying degrees of broken and healing, a black eye, a split lip, and torn, bloody knuckles ending in equally broken fingers.
Exactly how Sam got these injuries is a favored betting pool among his friends. Theories include everything from him being attacked by rogue ninjas to getting in a drunken brawl to getting the snot kicked out of him by a twelve-year old girl scout.
Sam's friends are under the mistaken assumption that they are funny. They are also under the mistaken assumption that all of these injuries were received at the same time.
The truth he'll never tell is this.
Sam, Dean and John were in Idaho chasing after this ass-wang ("Shut up Dean, it's pronounced oz-wine-g.") when he got tackled out a second story window. He pinched enough nerves and bruised his spine bad enough to be paralyzed from the chest down for almost three weeks. The only thing that kept his neck from snapping like a twig was him bracing himself by curling before he hit the pavement.
That's how he broke his ribs.
The black eye was caused by Dean throwing an elbow in his sleep and catching Sam in the eye. No fighting, no anger, no purpose at all, just an older brother with an arm cramp.
The split lip was also caused by Dean, but this time it was caused by a fist and was done on purpose. It happened the day Sam left for Stanford, which just happened to be the same day he told them about it. He and John had their big fight and he stormed out. Dean found him like he always does and tried to "talk some sense into him."
Twenty minutes of bitching, eight minutes of yelling and one incredibly stupid instance on Sam's part of saying something bad about John later and Sam had two loose teeth, a headache and a split lip. Dean didn't offer to drive Sam to the Greyhound station and Sam didn't beg for Dean to understand.
The knuckles and fingers came next.
Sam managed to navigate his way to the Greyhound by city bus and arrive with forty-five minutes to spare before his bus left.
Sam spent his first half-hour beating his fists into the painted brick wall of the bathroom, only stopping when both hands were numb and the wall was red with his blood, and then spent his last fifteen minutes crying and sobbing like he hadn't since he was six.
Title: The Beast Within
Rating: PG
Fandom(s): Supernatural
Characters: Sam, Dean
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Words: 300
Summary: Werewolves.
Sam hates the werewolves the most.
It's not the werewolves themselves that he hates; it's the fact that all but three days of a month they are completely and utterly human. Human as Dean, human as Dad, human as the pretty girl with braces in his fourth third grade class, the one in Tulsa.
Sam had nightmares for the better part of five years after killing her. He was eight and she had just turned nine. It was his first kill and he cried for three days after watching the hairy, slobbering wolf that had it jaws clamped down on his brother shift and slide into Cynthia. Nice, pretty Cynthia who smiled at him and didn't make fun of him and once had long brown hair and an intact skull.
Sam remembers Dean holding him in the car on the way back to the room. He also remembers falling asleep on his father's lap, still crying.
One time, Dean got attacked by a werewolf because they always go straight for him and Sam thought he was dead. He vividly remembers seeing it swipe its huge paw across his brother's stomach and watching the blood just fall out onto the basketball court followed by shredded muscle and what looked dangerously like intestine.
Sam was fourteen. He emptied his entire magazine in the thing's head and chest. Eleven silver bullets, three of which were shot into the bastard even after he was already dead and human again.
When Sam thinks of terror, he thinks of his arm shoved in his brother's stomach, stuttery, shallow breaths, Dean's bloody mouth and his glassy eyed stare at nothing.
To this day Sam doesn't know what sickened him more, Dean's gaping abdominal wound or the sickening satisfaction he felt pumping the werewolf/man full of deadly silver.
Title: Twinkie Fondling For The Symbolically Impaired
Rating: R
Fandom(s): Supernatural
Characters: Sam, Dean
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Words: 216
Summary: All's fair in love and war.
"Dude."
"What?"
"Tell me that's not my Twinkie."
"It's not your Twinkie. It's my Twinkie."
"Dude. Don't fondle my food."
"It's not your food; I found it."
"I bought it."
"You stole it."
"Yeah, me. Which makes that mine."
Crumple, crumple.
"You didn't just do that."
"Mmpmph ah wiw."
"I can't believe you just did that. You fucking bastard, you couldn't've saved me any?"
"Woe."
"You're never going to get laid again. Seriously, you're gonna have to fuck yourself from now on."
"Mmm. It was so good Dean. Just like a little piece of heaven, wrapped up in love and safely secured in a thin plastic sheath."
"Dude. You are so gay."
"Says the guy who had his cock rammed up my ass last night."
Shift.
"So that's how it's gonna be, huh? Well you were the one whimpering and begging, not me. Harder Dean, please! Harder! Fuck me harder!"
Shift.
"I don't sound like that."
"Of course not, I can't make my voice crack the way yours does when, how did you say it? Right. When I have my cock rammed up your ass."
Groan.
"Pull over."
"No."
"What?"
"You heard me. No. You stole my last Twinkie bitch; prepare to feel my wrath."
"..."
"Or, you know, not feel it."
"Worst big brother ever."