Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1242841.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      explicit_because_it_mentions_doing_it, i'm_not_sure_how_old_they_are_here
      but_fuck_it, this_was_written_weird_and_i'm_not_even_sorry_about_it, why
      am_i_putting_this_in_the_tags, Wincest_-_Freeform, Weecest, Mentions_of
      M/F
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-02-27 Words: 420
****** Only Us ******
by noobieninja
Summary
     “Only us.” Whispered in too many hotels, too many rented houses, too
     many broken-into cottages.
Notes
     I should be doing homework but instead I wrote this because I was
     inspired suddenly.
Hazelblue eyes stare up at soda bottle green, silent but so overwhelmingly
strong. The kid never understands the power of those eyes, how they shoot
through the soul like bullets, how they see everything except the beauty in the
mirror. The light that dances in them is dangerous, feral and calm and a raging
sea about to burst with the splitting of the Earth’s core.
Fingers stroke the dusty wall, spreading out and coming back together like the
tides of the ocean.
“We’re renting a house?”
“Yeah.”
“We haven’t done that in years.”
At night, when there’s a girl in the shared bed, hazelblue eyes don’t shine
with judgment and tears. They look through the crack in the door, petal pink
lips pull into a small smile, and sunkissed skin slides together as toned arms
cross in front of a too-skinny chest.
During the day, when those petal pink lips find those of some little redheaded
thing in a plaid skirt, they miss the feeling of stubble, the taste of alcohol
and the smell of leather and gun oil. Clear lemongrass green watches from the
window through cracked shades, a grin splitting those perfectplush lips and
making those freckles scrunch up together on sculpted cheekbones.
When the hallway lights are low, candles and moonlight filtering through the
curtains, when hazelblue roams over the tanned, muscled body they’re so used
to, when jewel bright green stares right back, there’s peace. Quiet.
Acceptance. The twiggy, wiry body stands in the doorway and the stocky one
doesn’t move from its place on the bed, waiting patiently.
“Only us, Dean.”
“Only us, Sammy.”
No girls, no boys, no no one. No one could intrude in on their perfect little
utopia of each other’s bodies, grinding together under the sheets, hands coming
up to hide perfect little mouths letting out precious noises too loud.
Across the nation, all over the world, through Hell and back, they were built
for and lived exclusively for each other. Hazelblue always evenly, brokenly,
desperately reached for perfect green, hands too big for the body stroking
freckled, stubbly cheeks, sexwrecked voice begging for love. Green would always
come right back, pleading to have everything that wiry body offered, everything
that was in that tiny little chest and those too-big puppy paw hands.
“Only us.”Whispered in too many hotels, too many rented houses, too many
broken-into cottages.
Only us, they promised, holding hands behind their backs with their arms
wrapped around pretty girls with wiry bodies or gritty blond hair.
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