smalltrolven | Fic: Green Vinyl Couch (Sam/Dean, G) (Reply)

Title: Green Vinyl Couch

Rating: G

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Wordcount: 2,380

Warnings: Spoilers for season 15

Author’s Note: Not my characters, only my words.

I was supposed to post this story on 12/31/19 to round out my AO3 word count for the year to 150k, but I forgot to, and it ended up a little longer than the 1,596 words needed to make it to an even 150k. So here it is now to start out 2020 instead, right before SPN returns from hiatus. Set right after 15.08 "Our Father Who Aren't In Heaven."

Summary: Sam left a journal for Dean to read before he left to help Eileen on the hunt her friend called her about. Dean finds it, reads and responds to Sam in the journal as he’s packing up for his trip to Purgatory with Cas.

Read it over on AO3 right here.

**~~**

A journal was lying on his desk, the desk lamp was on, spotlighting it so that it was practically the first thing he saw when he came into his room. It was the new one that Sam had started, the one with the dark green leather cover. He knew that he didn’t have a lot of time to investigate because they needed to jump through that rip into Purgatory, but he sat down and read it anyway. Maybe it was Sam’s way of leaving a note, because he had no idea where he’d gone off with Eileen to this time.

He opened the journal and turned to the first page, Sam’s neat, cramped writing filled it up completely, so it was likely more than a ‘hey here’s where I’m going note,' but then he saw his name written and underlined at the top, so this was probably what he was supposed to read.

Dean,

I know we don’t usually do things like this, but we haven’t gotten a chance to talk lately, and I need you to read what I’ve written. Hopefully it’ll help you understand what’s been going on with me. Fair warning, it might get too mushy for you, but bear with me, hear me out, because it’s important, okay?

I still remember the strange green of that damn vinyl couch. And how you laughed and inhaled eggnog when I compared it to the green of your eyes. Your head tipped back as you laughed, and your bared throat caught the colors of the Christmas tree lights. The lights that hung on that stupid tree I made for you out of air fresheners and a pine branch stuck in a bucket.

The way you lit up though, when you came through that door, when you saw that I’d made a last Christmas happen for you was everything. At least it was everything up until the moment you finally gave me yourself, best Christmas present ever. Right there on that green vinyl couch, with the tv blaring a football game neither of us cared a damn about, the snow coming down on the Impala’s hood outside. And us inside, tangled up together, desperate to hold on, to make time stretch longer than the rest of that damn year. The final deadline coming at us faster than a wendigo on the hunt.

You gave yourself to me when you crawled into my lap, straddled me and poured yourself into the kiss I’d been craving what seemed my whole life up until that moment. That kiss replayed for me, on a four month long loop while you rotted in Hell. The memory of it sustained me through all the sulfur drenched kisses I took from Ruby, who never really understood her placeholder status.

The creaking of that green vinyl couch under us as we groaned into each other’s mouths was the soundtrack I’d play in my mind to cover up her moans. Anything to distract myself, to pretend at a cause of revenge to take up the space inside me that was empty without you. I scrabbled for anything, even her, to push myself to make it through until you came back to me like I knew you would. It worked too well, because you knew when you returned, the jealousy almost as green in your eyes as that vinyl couch.

The eggnog flavored kisses of that first time, that turned into the taste of just us, the flavor I’ll always remember as the right one. The only one that has ever counted as real to me. Lucifer tried his best to replicate it in the Cage, but he never even got close. Both he and Michael tried, over and over, endlessly, because they knew I needed it to survive and they wanted to keep me there with them. It worked and I came back to you, and the taste of us still wasn’t right, not until you won me back my soul. That reunion, that first time when I was fully myself again, when Bobby had to leave his house in a cloud of gravel dust, pretending his hardest he didn’t know what we were up to. You gave yourself to me all over again, and it was even more important somehow that time, because we knew how hard it was to come back and start over.

Soulmates—I was whispering to myself, and then you asked. I was ashamed to tell you, but you made me, and then you flushed that deep beautiful red when you heard the word said out loud. My heart flipped over itself when you whispered it to me as we fell asleep that night. The unacknowledged truth of it sustaining us when we’re parted, like the red thread that binds.

All of this to say, I don’t want Eileen, or anyone else. No matter how hard you push me away. I’m still yours, like it or not. Yes, I share a connection with her because I raised her from the dead. But to me, she is just like a sister, like Charlie was to both of us.

The other day when you were insisting on me trying for something with her, I said it wasn’t like that between us, but you didn’t want to believe me and you ran. And then she misunderstood, she meant to thank me and then go further, but I just wanted her friendship. Cas’ arrival interrupted her attempt, but it still hung there between us. When you came in the medic room, and we were sitting on the bed, you misinterpreted her closeness. You read it wrong, you put it into what you thought you had to want for me. Someone else, anyone other than you, and you’re wrong, Dean. You’ve always been wrong about that. That you can’t understand or accept it is your issue, I can’t make you, I can only prove it to you.

She went off on a hunt because she needed to get away from the confusion between the three of us. And I followed her because I knew she wasn’t strong enough yet. I was right. But I think you took it as us hunting together, which we weren’t. You aren’t being replaced, Dean. I was just trying to avoid another death to mourn, it would have been too much to bear so soon after losing both Mom and Jack.

Please, if any of this makes sense to you, come to me. I need you, I do, I always do. You, Dean, you’re the one that I want. The one that’s meant for me, just me. Give yourself to me one more time and I’ll make you see, finally really see that.

Maybe you’re pushing me away because you think I’m a monster again (or still) since I’ve done some big magic recently. Raising someone from the dead is pretty wild, you’re right about that, but it’s not something that I came up with, or imagined or made happen, except for following the directions. I swear that I don’t feel any different. But maybe you’re scared of me again (or still). I don’t know. I hope not. It was hard enough the first time around.

Update: I wrote all this the past couple of weeks, a lot of it after all the margaritas, and I chickened out on telling you any of it or letting you read this. But I’m leaving it here for you now, because you need to know it, and I need you to see it.

So, I’m going out with her again, her friend really needs help on a hunt, but I’ll be back soon, hopefully by tomorrow morning. And you need to be ready for me when I come home to you.

Love~Sam

Dean put down the journal and closed the cover, he left his hand on the soft leather cover, pressing it hard into the surface of his desk. He switched the desk lamp off and rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes. The wetness he smeared away was a surprise. But Sam’s words were always the ones that could make it past all of his intricate internal defenses.

But now Sam was gone, and the rip into Purgatory was open for another eleven hours. He couldn’t wait for Sam to come back. He knew he couldn’t leave with all of this hanging between them (just in case). He picked up a pen and opened the journal again. The words flowed out quickly because he could hear Cas’ footsteps approaching in the hall. They needed to go get the Leviathan blossom (whatever the fuck that was)…like right now.

Sam,

I read it all and I remember it all that way too. Thank you for the reminder of what we are to each other. You’re right, we never say it, but I’m pretty sure soulmates are a forever kinda gig.

We’ll talk about all this when we’re both back home. I don’t have a lot of time, Michael told us how to trap Chuck, for the spell we need something called a Leviathan blossom. Whatever the fuck that is, right?! Before he left, Michael opened a rip into Purgatory that he says closes in eleven hours. It’s nine p.m. now, so hopefully we’ll all be back here in the Bunker by then.

You were right about me pushing you away, pushing you to make a try for something with Eileen. Seems like I was completely wrong about how it was between you, so I’m really sorry for doing that. I should have listened to you. (like always right?)

I just want you to be happy, Sammy. That’s all. And I always figure I’m not the one that makes you happiest. Whether or not that’s true, I suppose that’s debatable or whatever. Whatever my deal is, you’ve got to know this: You’re the most important person to me, I always want you to be with me, and that’s never going to change.

I was trying to give you an out, an offramp to another kind of life. One you deserve in my opinion, you deserve the best. I mean, god, Sam, after what you’ve given up in your life, you deserve everything. When I think of all the chances you’ve passed by, to get out of the life, go back to school, go build a happy life that has no monsters or hunting in it, have a family, all that, you could have had that. You should have, and if I hadn’t fucked it all up for you, that’s what you and Jess would have had. I know you’ll say that wasn’t my fault, the demon was messing you up even then, but you would have figured out a way. Because you always do.

I’m sorry that I need you so much. That I always pull you back into this shit show with me because I’m not strong enough to keep doing it on my own. You deserve more than settling for me, you just do. Even with our history and our connection or whatever. Whether it’s you and Eileen or someone else, someone who doesn’t hunt or know about hunting, that’s where I see you. It shouldn’t be you and me, that’s not how it’s supposed to be, because I’m supposed to be able to let you go. If I was any sort of good person I would, but I’m not. You’re probably stuck with me after all.

But, it’s important for you to know that I’m not scared of you! Sure, the magic you’ve done is impressive and a little scary, but I can tell it’s different this time. I don’t think you’re a monster, Sam, I just don’t, and I’m sorry if you thought I still did. I regret ever saying those words to you every single day, I really do.

I hear Cas coming for me now, bye, Sammy, I’ll see you in the morning. Thanks for writing all this down so that I really know what I’m coming home for-you.

Love~ Dean

Dean closed the journal and gathered it up along with the weapons he was bringing with him to Purgatory. He joined Cas out into the hall.

“You’re bringing a book to Purgatory?” Cas asked, tilting his head slightly.

Dean didn’t answer, but on the way to the library where the rip in dimensions was waiting for them, he stepped into Sam’s room and left the journal on his desk. He patted the cover briefly, wishing Sam was here in person to hand it to.

“I wish I was handing this to you, Sammy,” Dean said, fingers brushing the leather journal cover. “But you better be here when I get back.”

He heard Cas calling him from the library. Something about time fleeting or fleeing.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming, keep your shorts on!” Dean yelled.

He took one last look around Sam’s sparsely decorated room and spotted the treasure box he wasn’t supposed to know about under the bed. He lifted it up and fished around through all the random stuff Sam kept in there. His fingers finally found the worn leather cord and familiar brass face. Something told him that it couldn’t hurt to wear this again, who knows, it might even help. All that stuff Sam had written about soulmates and everything, it seemed like it was the right thing.

Dean slipped it over his head and tugged at it to pull it down to rest on his chest where it belonged. He remembered Sam’s fierce little face when he’d given it to him all those years ago, tightly wrapped in the comics. The certainty of Sam choosing him back then and every other time since, came flooding back into him then like a physical force. It felt like a shield that he could wield against whatever came for him in Purgatory. This was going to work because it had to. He closed the lid on the treasure box and slipped it back under Sam’s bed.

“Sammy, I’ll be coming home to you, before you even have a chance to miss me,” Dean said to Sam’s empty room, as he strode out towards whatever awaited him in Purgatory, Leviathan Blossoms or Leviathans, he was ready now.