Take a seat. Kick back. Look around. And if your brain itches? There's a lobotomy saw on the coffee table.
Mostly 'Sam-centric' with smatterings of Satan thrown in for fun. Also my otp; seric. NSFW is possible/likely...
You have been warned...
fictional boys (◡‿◡✿)
fictional boys fighting (◕‿◕✿)
fictional boys getting beat up (◉‿◉✿)
fictional boys covered in blood (⊙‿⊙✿)
fictional boys covered in their own blood (ʘ‿ʘ✿)
“No Sam. I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school. I want Dean to have a home…”
It was instinct—nothing more, nothing less when his eyes darted up to his brother’s face.
Because for most people, home was a roof and four walls. A mowed lawn, and a white picket fence. Barbecues and flag football football in the back yard while a the family mutt ran around, barking and begging for table scraps…
But not for Dean. And maybe it could’ve been… back before the fire. But not now. Not anymore. And maybe that should’ve bothered him more than it did, but honestly? He didn’t even think about it. Not really. Because the truth of it was, Dean already had a home.
His eyes flicked to Sam’s face.
He could see the expression there… practically hear his brother turning all of those possibilities over in his head…
And then he looked away.
Because deep down, Dean knew how this would end. If Sam went back to school after they killed the demon? Then he would never have a home again.
He could picture it all too clearly. Sam, with his Stanford law degree… Sam, finding another nice girl like Jess to settle down with… It’d be Sam who’d have the white picket fence, and the dog, and the barbecues. The two point five kids, and the Lexus…
And there was no room for Dean in that picture. Sam had made that perfectly clear the last time he’d left them for school.
But that was fine. Really.
Sure, he’d never have his home… but Sam would have one. Somewhere normal, somewhere safe… far away from the life they’d grown up in. He’d have everything Dean had never been able to give him in their life on the road; all the things he’d gone looking for the last time he left for Stanford.
And if that meant Dean having to give up his home? The one that sprang up resiliently no matter where they were, as long as he had his little brother by his side? If it meant giving up his own sense of peace and happiness that had crept back in over the last six months, ever since hitting the road with Sam that night in Palo Alto, well…
Wasn’t like it’d be the first time.
inspired by this post (x)
perfect description is perfect
I like the idea of platonic soulmates, it defines a lot of otps.
We were worried about
your personal salvation.