Random Lightverse Snips

[thecatevari]

Random convo, don't know where it fits:

"How do you do this?" Sam asks him and flaps a hand at the pile of unfolded laundry. "How…how do you go from being their father to coming and fucking me. It's just…it's so surreal. And I don't…I don't know how to do it."

Dean shrugs. "I don't know how not to."

Prelude to Sammy & his therapist:

"I don't… Look, I work in a bakery. Or a coffee shop really. I don't…I don't have any money for something like this." Then, as if he hasn't put his foot in it enough, he says, "I can't pay you."

"I work on a sliding scale. Why don't you come by my office anyway? We can talk. Just…talk. Sometimes that's all it takes, you know."

"For what?"

She smiles and props her glasses higher on her nose with one finger. "Equilibrium?" she suggests and gathers up her muffin and vanilla caramel latte awkwardly. "Just…think about it, Sam. We can work out the money a lot easier than working out whatever it is that's got you looking this close to death warmed over."

Sam nods jerkily.

Random convo, probably in bed:

"Do you love me? Still?"

Dean sighs. "Of course I do, Sam. Jeez. You're my brother."

"That's not what I mean. Dean, you know that's not what I mean."

Dean shifts and his voice flattens, his eyes harden. "You don't get to ask me that, Sam. Not… Not anymore."

The end of the core story:

"You left, Sam. You did. You're the one that walked the fuck away, so don't blame me for how fucked up it is now."

"And you take me in, every time I come crawling back," Sam answers his voice dripping with contempt. Dean doesn't know which of them it's for.

"Wh…what else should I do?" Dean's fingernails rake across his scalp, leaving furrows in his hair. "Do you …? Do you want me to let go? Turn my back once and for all?" And what he means is: fuck you. Fuck you. If you want to leave then you have the balls to walk away. "Is that what you want?" His voice doesn't break but it's a near thing.

"Maybe I want you to—for once—hold onto me tight enough that I can't run away," Sam counters thinly.

"Oh, fuck you," Dean does say, then.

"You always let me do whatever the hell I want!" Sam shouts.

"Since when is that a bad thing?" Dean asks. "Isn't that what you're always fucking saying? 'You gotta let me go my own way, Dean.' 'You can't control me, Dean.' 'You're not Dad, Dean.'?"

"You could have asked! You could have asked me to stay, just once, just once, Dean, instead of letting me walk away and walk all over you!"

Dean doesn't even think about it. He belts Sam one. Not hard. Not even as hard as he wants to, pulling it at the last minute so it ricochets through his fucked up shoulder instead. Dean grunts, pained, and doubles over, clutching it. When he looks up, Sam's eyes are huge and startled and Dean can see blood behind Sam's fingers where they cover his nose.

"Stay," Dean grits out through his teeth. He jerks his shoulder back and right, feeling the tendons grudgingly grind into place. "Fuck you, and…stay." It aches when he reaches for Sam, but Sam nods slowly and steps into Dean to rest his head against Dean's.

"Okay," Sam answers, nasal and gluey and then its really over.