Crack is good [Angst is better]

Sat, 22 Aug 2009 15:41:20 GMT

Wow. This account is dead. XD

Um. Hi guys. * waves*

.....*crickets chirp*

Err. To anyone who's reading this...I'm not quite back. Thinking of just leaving this journal alone. I've got another LJ that I'm using if anyone still wants to keep in contact. XP

Starting to write again after such a long time. Been focusing on work and life and toying with original stories for a while (reading them, mostly. working on an original story but that's just for fun, really.)

And, um. That's it. *ninja smoke*

SPN, It's the wrong kind of place to be thinking of you, Sam/Dean

Fri, 08 Jun 2007 17:06:56 GMT

It's the Wrong Kind of Place to be Thinking of You
[PG-13 | Sam/Dean; Dean/OFC; Sam/Jess | Wincest with a side of Het | 8,593 Words]

Companion piece to It’s the Wrong Time for Somebody New .This is Sam's side of the story and it should fill in the gaps in the other story.

Warnings: None. Spoiler for the beginning of the second season, though I doubt I need to mention that.

Sam watches Dean leave without another word. Some part of him wants to grab his beer bottle and hurl it at Dean's head. Another part of him wants to finish his beer and head on back to the motel. He listens to the second part.

He's staring at the ceiling and he's wondering about Dean and the girl. She's certainly pretty, even if she doesn't look like the girls Dean usually disappears with. What's causing Sam to be concerned is the fact that Dean looks different with her. He always pays extra attention to any girl he's flirting with, but he never lets down his defenses. He barely lets Sam see him without it, but tonight...

Sam's stomach twists as he thinks about the way Dean laughs in front of her. Dean doesn't act this way. He wasn't like this with Cassie either. Granted, Dean's relationship with Cassie when Sam met her hadn't exactly been great at the time. But Dean is always like that whenever he has to face people he knows can hurt him.

Sam tosses and turns that night. He dreams of Jess and fire, Dad and a dark tunnel. He dreams of Dean, staring at him from across the road, then turns around and walks away. Sam calls out for him in his dream, asks him where he's going, but Dean doesn't turn around. He keeps on walking. Sam wants to run after him, but he can't. He doesn't move. He can only watch as his brother move further and further away.

He wakes up at 2 AM. He realizes that he can't fall back asleep, so he turns on the television and watches a bunch of infomercials.

Dean comes back at 4:50. Sam is watching a man trying to sell a juicer and is hungry for a salad. His brother raises an eyebrow when he sees what Sam's watching. Sam shrugs.

"You're up early," Dean comments as he tosses his jacket on his bed and heads for the bathroom.

"Couldn't sleep," Sam says quietly before Dean enters the bathroom. His brother pauses for a moment at the doorway and shoots Sam a sideway look, but otherwise remains silent.

When they're packed and ready, Sam leans against the side of the Impala and looks at Dean.

"We can stay another day, you know."

"Can't." Dean is staring at the contents of the trunk, going over a checklist in his head. "People are disappearing in the Everglades, Sammy."

"Well, there are alligators there, Dean." Sam doesn't duck when Dean swats him on the head as he walks by. He's still leaning against the passenger door when Dean opens the driver's side door and slides in.

"Sam, either get in the damn car or you can haul your own ass to the Everglades. Your pick, man."

Sam rolls his eyes, but gets in the car without another word.

xxx

They're in North Carolina when Sam realizes that he might be in love with his brother. It pounces on him like a werewolf, with barely a warning. He's not even thinking about Dean when it happens. He's thinking about Jess and the stories that she used to tell him about visiting relatives from the state. He's halfway through reciting the story about Uncle Lou and his fascination with hubcaps when it hits him.

For a moment, he thinks that Dean has just leaned over and smacked him. He snaps around to glare at his brother, and then he realizes that Dean is too preoccupied with headbanging along to his music to do anything. Any other time and Sam'll be making comments about Dean's road safety skills, or lack thereof. Unfortunately, there's still that billboard flashing in his head. A big sign that says, "Hey! I'm in love with my mullet rock loving, flirts with anything on two legs, older brother!"

The first thing he does when it finally sinks in is to tell Dean to pull over and the proceeds to throw up on the side of the road, cold weather be damned. After making up some half-assed excuse about food with the shelf life of plutonium, Sam leans his head against the window and tries to sleep and hopes for a vision and the massive headache that usually follows. Anything is better than to have his mind preoccupied with the knowledge that he's in love with Dean.

He wonders how it happened and why. He tries to think of Jess again, tries desperately to hold onto her memory, drowning himself in her. It works for a while. Then Dean pushes into his mind, not that hard, really, considering the fact that he's sitting next to Sam and talking to him.

"Earth to Sammy! I know you're awake, Sam."

"Let me sleep, man."

"I'd love to, Sam," Dean says, sighing. "But we're kind of in a jam."

"Wha-" Sam stares at the road. Or rather, all the snow that is covering what should be the road. "When the hell did it start to snow?" He exclaims, frustrated. Dean looks at him as if he's five and stupid, raising his eyebrow at Sam.

"Uh, it's December, dude. And it's been snowing for a while, Sam." He looks around and adds, "Well, it's worse now." Sam puts on his best bitchface and turns towards the window and tries to fall back asleep.

Dean is quiet and for a long time, it seems as if the whole world stops moving. Sam is about to get worried, because usually Dean would bitch at him for acting this way. Before he can do anything, Dean opens the car door and steps out. Sam shivers, it's too damn cold, but he knows Dean has to clear some of the snow before he can turn the car around.

Sam opens his eyes and sees Dean trudging his way through the snow, hears him swearing as he makes his way to the back of the car and popping the trunk open. Sam hears the trunk slam a couple of minutes later and sees Dean with a shovel. He watches his brother shoveling the snow for a bit and then sighs and opens his door too.

The cold makes him grit his teeth. Dean looks up, sees him outside and shakes his head.

"Get your ass back in the car, Princess. You were puking your guts out not too long ago. I don't want you getting sick on me."

"Don't be an idiot, Dean. Give me the damn shovel so we can get to a motel and fucking sleep." Dean raises an eyebrow at Sam's voice, but hands him the shovel anyway.

"Suit yourself."

Later on, that night, sleeping is proving to be a difficult task. Dean is snoring in the other bed while Sam is staring at the wall, watching the shadows. He wants to wake Dean up and demand that he fix whatever it is that's making Sam think he's in love with his brother. Unfortunately, that will only piss Dean off and make him think that Sam's some kind of a freak. Or at least, more of a freak than he already is.

Sam wonders when it is that he fell in love with Dean. They've been doing the same things that they did when they were little. Of course, Dad's missing this time around and they're in charge...It still doesn't explain why Sam realizes that he loves his brother, more than a brother should.

Then he remembers the years in Stanford, when Dad turned into dad and then faded away to something that he buries in the back of his mind. He remembers that even when Dad was, for the most part, forgotten, Dean never turned into dean and was never forgotten. Dean was tucked away, slipped between his textbooks, but Sam realizes that Dean has always been on the back of his mind.

The thought makes him uncomfortable and he clings onto Jess' memories once more. He turns them around, this way and that. He wants to see whether or not he's overlooked something. Most importantly, he wants to know whether Jess...was...the real deal.

Then he remembers the way she brushes her hair back while she’s studying, the way she’d gnaw on pencils and even her own hair while she’s trying to make the words on the page make sense. He remembers the tightness in his chest every time she did that and remembers thinking how utterly strange that it’s in these moments that he realizes that he truly loves her. Images of the two of them arguing over coffee, just for the sake of arguing and then making up later, with kisses and giggles and words mouthed against skin.

He’s relieved to find these feelings, feels the ache in his chest where he keeps her memories. Because even though this complicates things, he’s glad that he really did love her because she deserves nothing less.

It still doesn't answer the question of when he fell in love with Dean, though.

A treacherous little voice in the back of his mind whispers, softly, "Always."

He shifts, staring at Dean's sleeping form. He can clearly see Dean thanks to the light from the neon sign just outside their window. The blue light covers Dean's torso like some magical light. Sam has seen Dean's body plenty of times. They usually just strip in front of each other whenever they're covered in dirt or blood or gunk from the monster of the week; it saves time. Staring at Dean, he has to wonder when the hell did the sight of his brother sleeping on his back, arms outstretched, snoring like a truck driver, make his throat dry.

Maybe Dean's right. Maybe Sam is turning into a girl.

With that thought in mind, Sam snorts and turns around, settling in to sleep.

xxx

"Whoa. Which cave did you crawl out of, Sam?" Dean asks when he steps out of the bathroom, dressed and ready to go. Sam gets out of bed, hair sticking up every which way and he knows he looks and smells like hell. He flips his brother off and stumbles into the bathroom, practically body slamming Dean out of the way.

When he emerges later, he's shaved and his mouth smells like their toothpaste. He still looks like hell and his clothes are wrinkled, but it's an improvement. Dean hands him a hot cup of coffee, concern and amusement warring on his face.

"Rough night?" He asks.

"Couldn't sleep." Sam mutters, and then groans after he takes a sip of his coffee.

"Visions again?" Dean asks, his voice is serious and the amusement is gone.

"I wish," Sam laughs, humorlessly.

"Not gonna tell me?"

"It's nothing, man. It's-" Sam shakes his head and smiles wryly at him, throwing him an answer that he knows will make Dean smirk. "Issues." Sure enough, it works, even if it is accompanied with a snort.

"When don't you have issues, Sam?" Sam is glad for the banter, so he swipes at Dean. But Dean is more awake than Sam and he's got two cups of coffee in his system, so Dean cackles when Sam's hand hits air instead.

"C'mon, we're headin' out." Dean kicks at Sam's feet. Sam knows that this conversation isn't over. It'll come up again, probably when they're five states away and Sam's ready to sleep. Or he's drunk out of his mind and Dean is close to sober. But his brother is giving him a way out, so Sam's taking it.

"The temperature is higher and the snow's all melted and shit. The road's gonna be icy, but I think we can still head on to Texas in good time." Dean says, while Sam rummages around for his clothes.

Sam blinks, holding up a navy blue shirt that he thinks is clean. "I thought the case is in Arkansas?"

"Ellen called an hour ago, while you're still in dreamland. Some other hunter got that case. She's heard some stuff down by the Texan border, though. People disappearing off a bridge, mostly couples."

"Texas? Weren't we there four months ago?"

"Uh, yeah. So?" Dean's furrowing his eyebrows. He looks like he's trying to see whether or not Sam is testing him. "It's not like the things we hunt is on a schedule, Sam. You know that sometimes we have to double back to whichever state we've been to because of a haunting or some werewolf attack or some shit."

Dean is right, of course. But Sam thinks that Dean might want to make a quick stop in that bar in Texas where Dean bumped into that petite brunette. He swallows the words that threaten to spill out of his mouth, tasting bitterness on his tongue.

"So you're thinking woman in white?" Sam asks.

"Maybe. Don't know for sure, the bridge is pretty new. It's only a year old and there's no history about any drowning or suicide around that area." Dean sounds a little relieved that Sam's not arguing with him. Sam is just a little annoyed at how relieved he sounds, but he mostly ignores it.

"Let's head on to Texas then."

xxx

It was a ghost. Not your typical one, either. It was the spirit of a jilted lover, one half of a Romeo and Juliet type couple. Unfortunately Juliet decided to bail out on her Romeo at the last second of their botched double suicide. So Romeo had gone over the railing by himself, pissed off as all hell.

Sam and Dean aren't exactly happy about him, either. Sam has bruises all over his back from being thrown against a tree. Dean has a black eye. Not from the ghost, but from one of the ghost's unfortunate would-be victims. The guy was flailing his hand all over the place and when Dean grabbed him before the ghost could send him over, the man had slammed his fist into Dean's face in thanks.

They sent the couple off with warnings of being careful, though the man was limping. Dean still thinks that he's justified in kneeing the guy in the groin for giving him a black eye. Sam doesn't know whether he should laugh hysterically or be exasperated with his brother.

"Son of a bitch," Dean mutters, pressing the ice pack on his eye. "You'd think a guy that big would stop squirming so much!"

"A ghost was about to kill him Dean, you'd probably react the same way." Sam replies. He pauses for a moment when he sees Dean glaring at him. "Alright, fine, you'd be manly and not flail about. You'd curse, hang on for dear life and shout for me to rescue you." Sam laughs when Dean mutters a "Fuck you" under his breath.

"Kiss my ass, Sam."

"I'm good, thanks." Dean curses under his breath a little more, and then throws the ice pack into the sink.

"Hand me the first aid kit, will ya?"

"Where did you put it this time?"

"In my bag."

The Winchester boys have learned ages ago that bags are to be treated as sacred artifacts. Dean's bag is Dean's. Sam isn't allowed to even breathe near it without Dean's permission. Searching through Dad or Dean's bag is under the list of the ten big Don'ts in Sam's life and vice versa. It was one of the reasons why Sam was able to keep his Stanford application a secret from both Dad and Dean. It was hidden away in his bag.

Now Dean is giving Sam permission to look through his bag, the first in a very long time, even if it is to look for the first aid kit. The last time he had been allowed to look into Dean's bag he had been sixteen and Dean was bleeding profusely from his forehead and in desperate need of stitches.

It takes him a while to find the kit. Dean had shoved it to the bottom of his bag. Sam has to carefully pull out old cassette tapes, some of them mix tapes with Dean's scrawling all over them, knives wrapped up in dirty shirts and to Sam's surprise, books of different kinds. He reads the titles quickly. They’re not on any English student's book list. Most of them are arcane texts that Dean either pilfered from someone or one of the many texts that Father Jim lends them. But Sam has to raise his eyebrow when he finds a worn copy of Dante's "The Divine Comedy" with pieces of notepaper slipped between the pages.

Dean sees him pause with the book in hand, clears his throat and scratches his head. "Picked it up at some used book store," he explains.

"How long have you had it?" Sam asks as he flips quickly through, seeing that the notes are Dean's and that some of the text is underlined.

"Four years, give or take."

"Huh." He puts it away, being careful to put it on top of the other books and making a mental note to wrap it up with one of Dean's shirts later, when he has to put everything back, and leaves it on top of the pile.

"Found it," he says, nodding to Dean. "What do you need?"

"Wait, Sam, let me-" Dean's voice trails off when he sees that Sam has opened the box.

In it, lying with all the bandages and pill bottles, syringes and small box of sterile needles, is a silver bracelet. Sam stares at it for all of five minutes before picking it up. The design is Celtic. He remembers that Jess used to like these kinds of jewelry, though she never owned a bracelet with this particular design. Sam knows that he's seen this exact same bracelet on display at one of the stores in town. He also knows that the store is located not too far away from their motel.

"Bought it yesterday." Sam looks up. He's surprised that Dean is bothering to speak. "The lady in the store says that girls tend to like stuff like that, so..."

"They do." Sam puts it carefully back, looking up at Dean. "It's for her, isn't it?" He manages to keep the jealousy away from his voice, though his mouth tastes sour and his stomach feels heavy.

"Yeah. I mean, it's stupid, she probably won't like it, either." Dean shrugs, as if it's not a big deal. But Sam knows that it is. Because Dean never gives his girls any presents. Other than Cassie, Dean has never cared for any girl enough to actually consider giving her anything.

"I'm sure she'll like it." Sam knows his voice is a little too soft and knows that Dean probably noticed that something is wrong, but he hands over the first aid kit and he looks normal.

Dean watches him like a hawk, doesn't stop watching until finally he gives up and pulls out the blue bottle filled with painkillers. Sam pretends to be busy with his computer while Dean swallows down his pill with a can of soda.

Dean doesn't say anything until later that night, after Sam has turned off the lights and both of them are in their beds, lying still.

"OK, I think I've been patient enough. What's the deal, Sam?"

Sam snorts. Trust Dean to ask him the heavy questions in the cover of darkness.

"Nothing's wrong, Dean. Go back to sleep."

"Bullshit."

"If you think I'm about to tell you what I'm thinking just because you've called my bluff, Dean, then that guy must've hit you harder than you think." Sam makes sure that his voice is in a monotone.

He wants to turn around so his back is to Dean but realizes that will only worsen matters. He's not going to tell Dean but he doesn't want to send Dean over the edge either. With the bruises on his back, he knows he's up for a rough night and by provoking Dean even more, he knows that pretty soon he'll have to fight Dean off physically.

"Fuck. Fine."

Sometimes keeping his secret is only a matter of pissing Dean off just enough.

xxx

Sam forgets how well Dean can read him at times. It isn't until they're four states over that Dean decides that enough is enough and he stops the car in the middle of nowhere. There are empty fields all around them, there aren't any buildings for Sam to run and duck into or even a freaking tree that he can just climb, so he can get away from Dean.

Dean pulls down to a stop and simply stares ahead. He's unusually quiet. The silence stretches on and Sam is almost afraid that Dean will just shove him out of the car and get his ass back to Stanford, announcing that Dean can handle shit alone from now on.

"You've been acting strange since we met up with Lee." Dean finally says. "You've been acting stranger since North Carolina." Dean turns to look at Sam dead in the eye. "And you've been absolutely impossible since Texas and I've had it with this shit, Sam. Either you tell me what the hell is going on or we'll be staying here for a while."

Sam's reply is to open the door and step out of the car. He walks away, slowly, hears the sound of the car door opening and slamming closed. He doesn't hear footsteps yet, so Dean is just waiting for him to speak. Sam wants to make up some sort of excuse for his strange behaviors, but he hadn't realized that he has been acting strange. He's out of excuses and he's left with the truth.

What the hell does he tell Dean when the truth will only push him away?

He lies down on the grass, stretches his body out, and looks up at the sky. He waits. Dean takes his time walking over to where Sam is laying.

When Dean finally walks into his line of vision, Sam stares up at his face—curious and half-amused—then he closes his eyes and inhales. When he releases the breath, the truth goes with it.

"I think I'm in love with you." It's all in bold and Sam makes sure that Dean understands exactly what Sam means, even if does mean that he sounds like a girl doing it. In his mind he can see Dean recoiling when he hears the words. Part of it is probably utter horror and part of it is because of the Hallmark moment that the words imply, though Sam's pretty sure that the Hallmark channel would never include incest into any one of their movies.

It's at this moment that he is reminded of that old asylum. Only this time, Sam's the one on the ground, though he hasn't been shot full of rock salt, Dean's the one who forced him into this position all the same. And Sam's not handing a gun over to Dean. He’s handing over his heart. Another difference is: the gun Dean had handed him was empty, but Sam's heart is full and all Dean has to do to destroy Sam completely is to let it slip from his hand and shatter.

Sam forces his eyes open so that he can see the change on Dean's face. His brother's face is a myriad of emotions. He sees shock and pain among many others, most of them he can't decipher. He closes his eyes, feels a sharp pain in his chest when Dean walks away.

The sound of Dean closing the car door feels too final for Sam but he just can't bring himself to open his eyes and see. The sound of the Impala's engine drowns out every other sound and Sam just hides in his grief when Dean finally drives away.

When Sam opens his eyes, he's surprised to see the night sky. His breath catches when he realizes that he's covered with one of the old blankets that he and Dean store in the car. He's sore from sleeping on the ground for too long and the cold has seeped into his bones, long before Dean covered him with the blanket. He forces himself to sit up and then looks over at Dean who is sitting not too far away. Sam catches a glimpse of their tent, all set up, nearby. When he looks back at Dean, his brother is staring back at him.

"Couldn't move your heavy ass, so I took out all our camping gear.'Least this means we won't have to pay for a motel room."

Dean's gaze shifted back up to the heavens. Sam's is still fixed on Dean.

"Dean."

Silence.

"I meant what I said before."

"I know."

"Then why-"

"You're still my brother, Sam. Messed up or not, you're blood." Dean shakes his head. "Not gonna say that I understand whatever it is that you're going through, little brother, but I'm not about to abandon you."

Not the way I abandoned you and Dad, Sam thinks, feeling a little bitter. Then he looks at the way Dean is staring at the sky, eyes tracing invisible patterns, mouthing each constellation's name, the corners of his lips slightly curled, and he realizes there is no hidden message there. Dean means what he says. He won't leave.

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet, Sammy. You're sleeping out here. I'm sleeping in the car. I'm sure you won't be saying thanks to me in the morning, when you're frozen solid." And it sounds so Dean that Sam has to laugh.

Sam's revelation changes things, but judging from the way Dean is grinning at him, he knows that some things never will.

xxx

Nothing much has changed ever since Sam let the truth be known. The changes are subtle. Sam makes sure to look away whenever Dean is about to get dressed and Dean doesn't walk around the motel room naked anymore, but they still act the same way.

It's easier, now that Dean knows. Surprisingly, his brother is taking things in stride. He doesn't squirm whenever Sam's gaze lingers on him. He'd raise his eyebrow, but he doesn't tell Sam to stop. That doesn't mean that he encourages it, either. He might walk out of the room when Sam stares at him for too long, or he might even distract Sam by sending him off to do research. Though sometimes, just to throw Sam off, he'll put on his best smile, the one that never fails to make girls melt, or make comments about how he knows that he's so damn good looking that Sam can't look away. They never fail to make Sam flush and look away, which always sends Dean into a good mood for hours.

It goes on for about 5 months before Dean finally asks.

"Why?"

Sam looks up from the text on the town's local history to send his brother a question glance.

"Why is this fox demon here? I have no idea." He looks at the text once more. "There were several Japanese men who settled here with their families, but I'm not sure how the demon could have been displaced."

"I meant why me." Dean explains, setting down his own text. "I mean, I know we don't stick around long enough for you to grow attached to anyone, but why the hell did you settle for your own brother?"

Sam can't help but wince at the words. He stares at the text some more, thinking about what he can say. Finally, he shakes his head and smiles warily at Dean.

"I don't know, man. It's not like I planned this, you know?" Sam rakes his fingers through his hair, silently noting that his bangs are much too long now. "I didn't even realize it. It's just...one day it just clicked. You know?"

Dean laughs, quietly and knowingly. "Yeah, I do." And Sam knows that it's Cassie and it's Lee. He knows from the start that there is no way that Dean will ever reciprocate this feeling. Now he's blindingly jealous and he knows he doesn't have the right to be.

"We done?" Dean asks. He looks eager to leave the library. Sam glances at his watch and decides that it's probably time for a break anyhow. He also has enough information about the troll, now he needs to research ways to destroy it.

"Sure. I'll look up the rest of it online."

"Cool. I'll meet you outside."

When Dean leaves, Sam takes his time to collect himself. He's not going out of his mind because Dean has finally asked. He's going crazy because these feelings just can't seem to go away. He can't believe that Dean's not the one going crazy or maybe paranoid. Sam wonders how Dean can sleep at night, knowing that Sam has feelings for him and can probably jump him in his sleep.

Though maybe Dean knows that Sam's been going nuts trying to control himself.

Sam wonders how is it that loving Jess never felt this painful. Then he realizes that the feelings were mutual between them. Dean is a different case. He hates how his chest hurts just seeing Dean with girls, or when he thinks of the women that Dean loves.

Thinking of Cassie is like having a needle stuck into his chest, but her kind of pain fades, because Sam knows that Dean knows that there's no future there. Cassie herself has said that she won't wait for Dean. But Lee is something different. Lee is a kick in the gut that has Sam bent over and wheezing because he's not sure what she is to Dean.

It's fifteen minutes later when Sam finally steps out of the library. When he looks towards the parking lot he sees Dean leaning against the car, watching the quiet street. He hasn't been watching for long, but it's as if Dean can sense him. His brother turns around and Sam snaps out of his stupor long enough to walk over.

"Ready?" Dean asks over the hood, looking too damn calm.

"Yeah."

xxx

When it finally happens, it's nothing like the movies. It's out of the fucking blue. There are no roses, no background music and definitely no hearts popping up anywhere. Of course, Sam isn't expecting anything grand. Actually, Sam hasn't been expecting anything from Dean. And he's definitely not expecting Dean to feel the same way.

So if Dean were to tell him that he feels the same way, actually say the dreaded three words, Sam's going to think that his brother's lost it. Or maybe he's possessed. And if he is possessed? That's going to suck. Badly.

It's a Wednesday night and they're in God-knows-where, in some motel with a leaky roof and crappy television. Sam is half-watching the television, idly flipping through the six watchable channels, all the other channels are either too blurry or have no sound. Dean is checking for new cases online instead of leafing through the newspaper.

Sam finally settles on some crappy sci-fi movie on the third channel. It's a low budget flick and the flying saucer looks like an actual saucer on wires. He's been doing a running commentary on the movie in his head, when he suddenly feels the urge to turn and look at Dean.

He doesn't know why, but he does it anyway. Dean is no longer staring at the laptop screen. Instead, he's watching Sam. For a moment, Sam wants to ask him what's wrong. Then he sees the look in Dean's eyes and he has to blink and stare.

Dean stares back at him with the same look and Sam thinks that someone's hijacking his brain because he just freezes. He can handle poltergeists, incubi and even a werewolf. But when Dean is staring at him like that...

"C'mere." Maybe Dean senses that Sam's brain is refusing to cooperate, but he extends his hand and motions for Sam to come over. Sam's now on autopilot and he's silent as he makes his way to his brother. When he grasps Dean's hand, it's like he's been underwater and he's finally coming up for air. He's gasping and clutching onto Dean's hand like it's a damn lifeline.

Dean's gaze is still steady and he's not offering any words. It's take it or leave it. But Sam can read him. Sam can read him clearly because for once Dean isn't hiding behind a brick wall.

Sam collapses on him, grasping Dean's shoulder as he drops down. Dean hisses in pain, curses under his breath about how Sam's really a gorilla that drops out of fucking trees on innocent bystanders and all that. Sam doesn't hear him, he doesn't care.

"You better mean it, Dean." Sam says instead, his fingers are digging into Dean's shoulder and Dean is hissing again. "And you can't fucking take it back, man. You can never take it back." Dean shoves him back, though he makes sure that Sam doesn't fall off his lap when he does it, and looks at Sam's face.

"When have I ever done something halfway, Sam?" He's dead serious. "Of course I mean it, psychic boy. Take it or leave it."

Sam answers by grabbing Dean's face and shoving his tongue down Dean's throat.

It's definitely not romance. They don't pull their punches and they come too fast and Sam feels disgusting afterwards and it's actually pretty damn painful. The next morning Sam is sore in places he never imagined. Dean's arm is heavy on his chest and he's breathing loudly in Sam's ear and the room is almost unbearably hot. Sam curses the AC for breaking down and at Dean for being unaffected by the searing temperature.

He pushes Dean off him and the bastard doesn't even wake up. He just rolls on over and begins to drool all over his pillow. Sam rolls his eyes and walks slowly to the shower, hissing all the way.

Dean is still asleep when he walks out of the bathroom, so he decides to go and get breakfast. He's starving and he really doesn't want to wait for Dean to get ready. Half an hour later, he reaches the motel.

Dean is awake and dressed and packed. Sam panics when he sees all of Dean's stuff packed up and ready to go. And then Dean looks up from the morning paper and flashes him a grin.

"Got a case for us." He motions at Sam's laptop, parked in front of him. Seeing the cup of coffee in Sam's hand and the brown paper bag, he perks up even more. "You got food?"

"It's way too early for a burger, but I got you one anyway. And coffee, black." Sam says, breathing easier, handing them to Dean.

"Did you eat?" Dean asks as he takes a sip of his coffee. When Sam nods, he gestures at Sam's things. "Get packed, Sam. It's gonna be a long drive."

"What's the case?" Sam asks, as he packs his things. Dean coughs and swallows the huge bite of burger that he has in his mouth.

"Kids are going missing in this small town in Wisconsin. They've been going into the forest and just disappearing. Local police say that there's some kidnapping ring going on. Folks say it's got something to do with an old legend about some old woman who used to live in the woods."

"So, what do you think? Little red riding hood or Hansel and Gretel?"

"Neither, I hope. Let's just hope that whatever or whoever it is, they're just capturing these kids, not eating them." Dean mutters.

"Let's head on over, then."

xxx

Dean is cursing up a storm, shaking the flashlight. Sam, for his part, is too far gone to even notice his surroundings. He's leaning heavily against Dean—probably bleeding all over Dean's shirt, what with that metal rod poking out of him—that he's wondering how his brother is staying upright.

Turns out, it's the little red riding hood story, not Hansel and Gretel. The legend about the old woman was bogus, though the two werewolves that greeted the Winchester boys were all too happy to greet them. Dean has bruises on his body from where one of the werewolves slammed him against the trunk of a tree and growled in his face before Sam shot him full of silver.

The other werewolf didn't like that very much and proceeded to throw Sam at the cabin. He came to minutes later, after Dean wasted the other werewolf and desperately tried to saw off the damn rod without hurting Sam too much. And with God knows what. Sam's pretty sure that they don't have a saw in the Impala.

"We're almost there, Sam." Dean hauls him up when he starts to slide down. "Not far now." Dean's not lying. Sure enough, the Impala comes to view and Sam is glad to see it. His feet feel like lead and he really wants to sleep.

When they finally reach the car, Dean shoves Sam in and slams the door, making sure that Sam won't aggravate his injury and that Sam's arms and legs are inside the car before he does. When Dean slides into the driver's seat, he takes one look at Sam and curses again. Sam's leaning against the window, trying desperately not to lean forward and push the rod further in.

"Damn it, Sam. Of all the time to get hurt..." He's about to go on but Sam just looks at him and gives him his best bitchface, despite his injury. It's not very successful, because he looks like he's pouting instead, but Dean visibly softens.

Dean grabs at him and Sam feels his world spins out of focus and then everything seems to turn sideways. He blinks for a moment or two and then realizes that his head is resting on Dean's thigh. He blinks again and his gaze focuses on the gearshift in front of him.

He wants to say something but then Dean's fingers run through his hair. It's such a rare show of affection that Sam—drugged up and injured—whimpers.

"I'll get you to a hospital."

Sam shakes his head and manages to blurt out the word "motel." Dean looks down at him as if he's absolutely crazy.

"This is not up for debate, you idiot. You've been pierced with a damn metal rod, Sam. You're losing blood and I'm getting you to a motherfucking hospital before you bleed to death."

Sam clutches at Dean's thigh and squeezes his eyes shut. Instantly, Dean realizes what he means.

"I know, man. I don't like this either, but you need a hospital, Sam. I'm not about to become the last living Winchester on this planet, you hear?" Sam really wants to protest, but he's awfully tired. Dean squeezes his shoulder once and Sam finally gets it.

Dean doesn't want to go there either, not to a place where they'll be reminded of Dad. But Dean can be a lot more stubborn than Sam can and he's got an unfair advantage of being only lightly injured and entirely lucid.

"Fine." It sounds more like a whisper, but Dean apparently hears it. Sam sees him nod and presses down harder on the gas. Sam realizes that the car has been moving all this time. He gains clarity for a moment, realizing the severity of his injury. He feels cold all of a sudden, hoping that he'll make it through this because he knows that there's no way that he can leave Dean alone. Not now.

The last thing he remembers is Dean setting his head down on the seat and then he's hauled out of the car, into a really bright room. After that, it's all white.

Sam wakes up in a hospital bed. He's on an IV drip and he feels the pull of stitches and pain is slowly but surely filtering in. He looks to his right and has to smile when he sees Dean asleep on what looks like a very uncomfortable looking chair. He thinks that Dean's going to have a crick in his neck for days.

Dean wakes up ten minutes later with a shudder. His eyes blink open, slightly unfocused and then his gaze swivels over to Sam. He looks exhausted but relieved when he sees that Sam is staring back at him.

Dean gets up, groaning a little when his bones creak and he stretches for a second. Then he goes and gets a glass of water for Sam.

"Thought you'd never wake up, Sammy."

"How long was I out?"

"Four days." Dean looks like he's about to go back to sleep. "The blood loss knocked you out good. Doc bitched about that having to cut that rod and trying to stop you from bleeding out. He said you'd be OK after the operation, but you kept on sleeping."

Sam remembers the utter panic on Dean's face when he saw Sam laying there, a piece of metal sticking in him. He knows that Dean must have been sick with worry, sitting by Sam's bedside, waiting for Sam to wake up.

"Sorry." Dean frowns, not sure why Sam's apologizing, so Sam goes on, "For making you worry."

"Huh. Figured that this is a turnabout, y'know?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for all the time that I made you worry." Sam suddenly has a flash of his brother on a white hospital bed, machines breathing every breath for him and the shrill sound of the life support machine when Dean flatlined; things he never wants to see or hear again.

He suddenly reaches out for Dean. His brother stares at the outstretched hand with raised eyebrows and his "you gotta be kiddin' me, Sam" look. Sam makes sure that he has his best stubborn face on and even wriggles his fingers for emphasis.

"I'm going to blame this all later on the medicine," is all he offers. Dean is still staring at his hand, warily this time. Sam guesses that seeing Sam unconscious on a hospital bed for two days must have really scared Dean, because his brother sighs and takes Sam's hand.

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna blame this on the fact that you're a girl and you've got a hole in your stomach." He warns, though he's squeezing Sam's hand in a reassuring manner.

It's so damn weird, to be holding hands with Dean like this, but Sam's not going to think about it too much. This is an incredibly rare event and he's not about to ruin it by mulling over how this is not them. He figures that he can indulge himself in something completely out of character once in a while, if Dean's willing to do it too.

xxx

This new arrangement becomes normal rather quickly. They spend their days driving when they have a case, idly checking out the town they're staying in, or when there's a serious lack of cases, they point at a place in their map and they head there. Their life is still one diner after another, fast food joints and gas stations, with the occasional bars when they're low on cash and Dean needs to hustle.

Sam still gets pissed that Dean still feels that hustling is the way to make money. Dean still flirts with random girls whenever they stop anywhere. Dean still carries the weight of Dad's death with him. He still feels that he should be the one whose ashes they've scattered.

Their nights are different from their days. They usually ask for a queen in whatever motel they go to. This request is met with different results, which ranges from the manager giving them a suspicious look, to being told that there's no vacancy in the motel after all, to a high-pitched shriek from an excitable blonde.

Whenever they're in some backwater town, they make do with their two double beds, usually just squeezing into one bed. Most of the time Sam falls off the bed some time during the night—sometimes Dean kicks in his sleep and sometimes he pushes Sam off the bed when Sam's "attached himself to Dean like a barnacle"—and they'll both be sore and cranky in the morning.

Others things have changed as well. Whenever Dean is flirting with some girl, all Sam has to do is walk out of the diner/gas station/motel/library that they're in and Dean will follow him out. Sam reminds Dean just who he belongs to by marking him so most times Dean is sporting a purple hickey on his neck or his collar bone or when Sam's feeling nice, behind his ear. Although Sam notices that Dean is grinning whenever Sam hisses and slams him to the car or the wall of their motel room and growls "mine" against Dean's lips.

While Dean still carries Dad's death like a banner, like it's part of him, Sam is also there to remind him—either by squeezing Dean's shoulder or throwing a punch, when the need calls for it—that Sam wants Dean there. Sam needs Dean there. So whenever Dean starts thinking that he should be the one dead, Sam shows him that being alive is a million times more pleasurable than that.

Maybe it's because they got used to this brand of normalcy rather quickly that when Sam spots her in the diner that they've just walked into, it feels like a punch in the gut. And suddenly the fear from months ago slams back. It doubles when Dean spots her and then walks over.

Sam wants to grab Dean's shoulder and haul him back, but that will only make Dean pissed and get them kicked out of the only good diner in town. He watches as his brother sits down and steals her coffee. Sam forces himself to look away, sitting down on one of the stools by the counter and ordering himself a cup of coffee.

He pours milk and adds sugar as if on autopilot. The coffee is lukewarm and disgusting, normally Sam would make a face and stop drinking after his first sip, but the waitress—"Rut," the "h" on her name tag has been chipped off for some reason—has a kind, knowing smile on her face, so he downs the whole cup.

She looks about fifty and Sam guesses that either Sam's being too damn obvious that he's pissed at Dean or she's too darn perceptive. Judging from how old her uniform looks and knowing how he can be, he's guessing that it's a little bit of both. But then he grimaces when he hears Dean's laughter yet again and realizes that he's about to break the coffee cup.

"Passin' through?" She asks.

"Yeah, we're heading north."

"He your boyfriend?" She tilts her head towards where Dean is sitting.

"No."

"Really?" She's got her eyebrows raised while she pours Sam another cup of the black sludge. "Now, I may be old, son, but I'm not blind. You're poutin' like my youngest grandson whenever his momma's too busy to pay him any attention."

It's because of this that Sam finally looks over towards Dean. Big mistake, it turns out, because Lee’s looking right at him. Sam can't help the look on his face, which, judging from the way she's reacting, is probably sending icicles down her back. He looks away quickly, slightly ashamed of his reaction.

He's acting like a jealous girlfriend. Suddenly, he's pissed off at Dean for making him feel jealous and for making him act like a damn girl. He wants to get out of the diner, away from Ruth the waitress and Dean's...hell, Sam doesn't even know what she is to Dean. He's afraid to walk out, though.

He's afraid because for once, he doesn't know if Dean will follow him out. He doesn't know if Dean even wants to walk away from her. For once, it's Sam who's afraid to be left behind.

Sam stiffens when Dean takes a seat next to him. He wanted to keep quiet, refusing to look at Dean. But he can't help the bitter words that spill out of his mouth anyway.

"Shouldn't you be sitting with your girlfriend?"

"Jesus, Sam," Sam turns to look at him, steadily. "Look, man, she's just-"

And Sam is suddenly furious. If Dean thinks that he can lie to Sam... Dean is struggling with his words, and Sam can see that he hates the fact that he has to voice whatever he's feeling and hating the fact that it's almost impossible to.

"She's different, alright? And you're different too. You're Sam." It feels just like that first time in the motel room, when he finally sees. This time around, he doesn't need Dean to voice the words. He can hear them, clearly.

You always come first.

This time, Sam doesn't doubt it.

xxx

Dean is driving in utter silence. Sam’s fingers itch to touch the radio dial, just to kill the silence. He doesn’t know what Dean is thinking and desperately wants to. He closes his eyes and thinks that maybe if he wishes hard enough, his powers will include telepathy too.

Dean hasn’t said a word since last night. Even though Sam knows that Dean didn’t push him away when Sam curled against him in bed. Sam just wants Dean to speak. Break down maybe.

The last words Dean spoke is still ringing in his ears. Dean loved her. She might be gone, but her ghost will always be there because Dean loved her.

His eyes are still closed when something else pushes slowly into his mind. It’s something old and almost forgotten, but it still aches when it’s laid out bare in front of him.

You loved Jess.

And yes, he did, he still does, though the feeling is nowhere near as intense as before. Though that might be why the memories begin to pour out.

Jess singing along to a copy of Zeppelin that Dean has snuck into his duffle bag, the one he never had the heart to throw out. Jess crawling into bed, smelling of white musk and peppermint toothpaste, feet cold against his thigh. Jess, dropping a pan of burnt potatoes into the sink, screaming, “Shitty shit shit!” and looking absolutely gorgeous even though she’s cursing up a storm and the whole apartment smells like smoke. Jess, sweaty and panting and moaning, muttering “I love you” while he makes love to her on their living room floor.

It’s like drowning and it fucking hurts and he can’t breathe and...

Hands. On his face. Callaused and male and definitely not Jess and too real to be a memory. Only it is a memory, because Dean is still driving and Sam is still sitting beside him. He closes his eyes, sweeps the memories into his hands. He opens a box, somewhere in his mind, drops them all in. He touches them one last time and then closes the box, but doesn’t lock it.

He thinks of “Lee”, cold and alone, naked for strangers to see. He thinks of Jess, pinned to the ceiling and engulfed in flames.

He thinks of Dean, hurting the way Sam was hurting when Sam thought he found “happily ever after.” He thinks of both of them, together and of the library that they’ll be heading to and the people they’ll be interviewing.

He leans over, places the palm of his hand over Dean’s heart. It’s awkward and Dean jolts a little, but after that quiet moment, Dean takes one hand off the steering wheel and places his hand over Sam’s.

I’m here.

I know.

end

Note: This story is written with a lot of Damien Rice and a brand spankin’ new playlist and a lot of handholding by my muse in evil fangirl form, you know who you are. Plus there’s my beta, kasugai_gummie who is made of all things awesome. Yes, she is.

And this conversation, which took place during the writing process, is just too funny not to share:

S: dude, you’ve got him, like, speared!
Wai: He’s gotta be half dead or something... Make dean worry etc.
S: ok. You stuck a rod in Sam. And it wasn’t Dean’s. You know how much that sucks?
Wai: fjhgsjdfhg!!!!

And re: Sam’s injury, yes I know how utterly stupid it is. But bleeding to death over a couple of gashes on his forehead isn’t exactly dramatic, now, is it? While writing the whole scene I was thinking something along the lines of: “With this type of injury, Sam should be dead or something. But hey! If a person can still live after trying to blow their brains out, why shouldn’t Sam? And the rod could definitely miss all vital organs. I’ve seen it on TV!”

That’s when I realized that I’ve been watching way too many CSI episodes.

Feedback is greatly appreciated. This is kind of my baby, all 8593 words of it, so I’ll love you forever if you can just drop a comment. Thanks!

SPN, It's the wrong time (For Somebody New)

Fri, 08 Jun 2007 16:08:05 GMT

It's the Wrong Time (For Somebody New)
[PG-13 | Dean/OFC, Sam/Dean | Het with a side of Wincest | 3,835 words]

Summary: He doesn't usually believe in maybes, but then again, he doesn't usually give his real name to his one night stands either.

Warnings: Angst. Misuse of Damien Rice’s lyrics (see title).

Many thanks to kasugai_gummie for the beta. Mistakes you see here are mine, mine, mine.

Dean has been eyeing the petite brunette sitting two seats away from him for some time now. She's a cute little thing with shoulder length dark brown hair and easy smiles at the bartender, who is clearly drooling over her. She looks vaguely Asian, something rarely seen in the middle of fucking nowhere.

She's been drinking screwdrivers the whole time and unlike most girls he knows, she holds her liqueur well. A bunch of local guys have been staring at her, but none have made any moves. Dean figures it's either because they've tried before and she's not interested or they've had a taste of her and they're not sure if they want to try a second time.

Dean thinks it's reason number one. Because if that body is anything to go by, there is no way that a man would say no to that.

"So are you going to make a move?" Dean isn't surprised at the lack of accent in her voice, but he is surprised that she's talking to him at all. "Or are you just going to stare at me all night?"

OK. She's perceptive too. Or Dean has been staring just a little too obviously, which is entirely possible, after his fourth longneck. But hey, she doesn’t look like she’s complaining.

"Nah. I've been waiting for you to make the first move." He answers instead, smiling his game smile at her. Of course, it works like a charm ‘cause she's smiling as well, turning her head to stare at him and then giving him a once over.

"Confident, aren't you?" She asks and her drink and the bartender are forgotten for now. Dean leans back a little and then turns in his chair to stare at her, propping his elbow on the counter.

"Wouldn't you be?"

"Hmm. I wonder," she says, sliding off her bar stool to stand next to Dean. Dean doesn't take his eyes off of her as she reaches for his beer bottle, tilts it back and finishes the whole thing.

"Y'know, I was drinking that," he says casually as she places the bottle back on the counter. The smile on her face is a definite come hither smile. Score.

"Why don't you come over to my place? I've got plenty of beer in my fridge," she says, then strolls out the door.

xxx

The sex was pretty damn good the first time and by the third time, it was pretty fan-fucking-tastic. But Dean has to go back to the motel, Dad's probably going to call him pretty soon and he doesn't want to answer the phone while someone is giving him a blowjob. It's also because, well, Dean is pretty sure that if he doesn't leave her tiny apartment now, he's never going to leave.

She's watching him while he looks around the bedroom for his clothes. He's zipping up his pants when she finally gets out of bed. When he pulls on his shirt, she's leaning against her bathroom door in her bra and a pair of shorts. His cock twitches at the sight of her, but he knows he's gotta go.

"Gonna ride into the sunset?" She asks with the same amused smile from the bar. Dean checks his watch. It's 5:30 AM. If anything, he'll be riding into the sunrise.

"Something like that," he answers, nodding his head.

"Well then you take care of yourself," she says slowly as she walks him to her front door.

"I will." He nods, looking down at her. He hesitates for a moment, but then leans down to kiss her one more time. Her hands aren't soft and dainty like any other girl's. They're softer than any guy's but they're callused too. Dean spent a lot of time staring at them last night, kissing the inside of her wrist, her palm, taking each finger into his mouth. She was amused, for the most part, but didn't stop him.

Right now, her fingers are stroking his scalp, running through his too-short hair. His hands are on her waist, thumb rubbing at the skin above her shorts. When he pulls away, her eyes are half-lidded but the smile is still on her face.

"Have a nice, long life, Dean Winchester," she whispers, kissing him once on his cheek. She rubs a finger over the same spot and Dean thinks that he might fall in love with her if given the chance.

"Maybe we'll meet again," he says to her, instead of his usual goodbye and good luck. He doesn't usually believe in maybes, but then again, he doesn't usually give his real name to his one night stands either.

"Maybe we will." But, Dean has a feeling that she doesn't believe in maybes either.

xxx

They are in Crystal Beach, just stopping there for the night before they head for the Everglades towards yet another job. They pick a bar with a good balance of locals and tourists. They don't pick a local bar because they'll get thrown out like they’re two underage high school students and they don't pick a tourist one because they only offer overpriced mocktails.

Sam sits down on one of the tables while Dean goes over to the bar to order their drinks. The bartender sets down two bottles of beer in front of him and before he can grab both bottles to bring back to the table, a hand reaches out to take one of them. Dean turns around. He's about to give the person a piece of his mind, but then all the words just disappear.

"You weren't drinking this, were you?" It's like someone just whacked him over the head with a two by four. He grips the counter, but doesn't fail to give her one of his smiles.

"You sure do get around, don't you?" He asks.

"And then some," she quips, smiling back at him. She leans closer and Dean raises an eyebrow when she sniffs him. "You get around too, from the smell of things." Any ordinary guy would be embarrassed by now, but Dean tips his head back and laughs.

"Still the firecracker, huh?"

"Wanna come find out?" She asks, as she placing a hand on his chest while the other sets the beer bottle down on the counter.

"Lemme tell my brother first. He's gonna think that I've ditched him for some hot chick."

"Oh? Weren't you about to do that?" She teases.

"Hell yeah, but I think his time of the month is coming, so he's extra pissy. Wouldn't want him to bitch at me for hours when we drive down tomorrow."

"Well, go on then. I wanna meet him." Dean looks at her for a moment, but she honestly looks like she's curious about Sam. Both he and Sam have been wary of girls, Meg is still fresh on their minds, but this one had plenty of chances to kill Dean before and didn't. Besides, Dean is pretty damn sure that she's not a demon of any kind.

Sam gives him a questioning look when he sees that Dean is not alone. Dean ignores him completely, just gives him his beer and motions his companion to sit down. She sits down next to Dean and then smiles at Sam.

"This here is my brother, Sam," Dean says, pointing at Sam. "Sam, this here is Lee Taylor." Sam looks surprised, mostly because Dean remembers her name and also because Dean doesn't look like he's about to bolt any moment. The other time that they bumped into one of Dean's conquest and the girl wanted to hang around him, he practically had to tell her that he had diarrhea just so he could get away from her. Never mind the fact that Dean swore that her name was Candy when it really was Martha.

"Hi, Sam." She extends her hand to Sam and Sam can only shake her hand with a discreet peek at Dean's face. But Dean has his poker face on.

"So, um, Lee?"

"From Lilly," she explains, "It's far too girly for me. My foster dad started calling me 'Lee' and it kinda stuck."

"Yeah?" Dean asks, amused. "You're plenty girly." She retaliates by poking him in the side. He squirms out of the way, but he's chuckling. Sam is itching to say "Christo," because there's no way in hell that this pod person is Dean.

Before he can excuse himself to go get some holy water from the Impala, she says, "So you boys are on some sort of road trip?"

"Something like that." Sam replies, biting his lip.

"Must be fun," she comments, then turns to look at Dean. "So I see that you took good care of yourself, Dean."

"'Course I did," he replies, grinning at her. "Wouldn't want to ruin a perfectly handsome specimen."

"Hmmm. Give yourself a couple hundred beer bottles and you're gonna ruin that girlish figure."

Sam is surprised when Dean laughs at that comment.

"Well aren't you the kettle?"

"Oh don't worry about that, I only steal your beer."

Dean clears his throat and then looks at Sam. "Anyway. Um, you'll be OK here, Sammy?"

"Yeah, man. Just go." Sam really wants to tell him to stay because he wants to know what the hell is going on. Though he figures that if Dean was able to keep Cassie a secret, then he'd probably keep this girl a secret too.

"Nice to meet you, Sam."

Sam nods. "You too." He watches them leave, silently.

xxx

"What time do you have to leave?" She's in the bathroom when she asks him. Dean is still sprawled on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

"We've gotta pack up early, around 6 or so. I better be down there by 4:45 at the latest. I still need to shower and change," he says, grinning. "Sam takes forever in the shower."

She walks back out into the bedroom. This time she's wearing navy blue sweat pants and a gray t-shirt. Nothing like the first time they did this, but the sight of her still turns Dean on. He extends one of his hands towards her.

"Hey. C'mere." He realizes how intimate this gesture is; it's not something he'd do for just any girl. When she comes to his side, he curls his hand around her wrist, tugging her towards him.

"You and your brother, you seem close."

"We travel together," Dean says, quietly. Something passes in her face, too quick for Dean to catch, so he goes on. "That's all. We might've been close once, but that's ancient history now."

She rolls over, propped on top of Dean, both hands on his chest. "Is this my cue to ask what happened?" She's smiling ruefully down at him.

"Nah," he says, "this is my cue to change the topic." They both share a laugh. She rests her head on her hands, staring straight at Dean. He doesn't know why, but the story comes out anyway. He tells her about how close they were when they were younger. He tells her about Sam's hero worship and how it lasted until Sam was a teenager. By that time Dean became enemy number two while Dad became enemy number one. He even tells her about Sam escaping to Stanford and doesn't try to hide the bitterness in his voice.

She listens to all of it and doesn't ask him anything. She doesn't ask him about his mother, what it is that his family does and most importantly, she doesn't ask him how she'll fit into this picture. She takes it all in and touches Dean's cheek. When her hand falls away, they watch each other in silence.

They stay that way until Dean has to leave.

There are no words this time. Dean's not sure why, but he's afraid that if he speaks, he'll break the stillness. He's also not sure why breaking the stillness is bad. If he were in his normal state of mind, he'd be just a little freaked out. But it's still far too early for that.

She kisses him once. Just a soft pressure of lips, then lets him go. There are promises in her eyes and Dean knows he'll see her again. He doesn't know when, but he's sure of it.

xxx

They're somewhere in Massachusetts when Dean sees her again. They're in a diner this time. Sam's the one who spots her first. Dean feels his brother tense beside him and before he can ask Sam what's wrong, he sees her.

She's sitting by herself in one of the booths, staring out the window. There's a cup in front of her and she's stirring it, without looking. She looks a little lonely, nothing like the images of her in his head.

Dean hesitates for a moment but then walks towards her, even though he can feel that Sam doesn't want him to.

She's no longer stirring her cup, so it makes it easier for him to sit down and take her cup—coffee, black—to drink from it. She's startled to see him, but the smile that creeps on her face is familiar. Her eyes warm at the sight of him.

"What are you doing here?" There's something akin to wonder in her voice.

"We're just passing through," he says, grinning back at her, sitting down.

"You're still traveling with Sam?" She asks. Dean looks back at his brother, still standing by the door, staring at them. He turns back to look at her and nods.

"Yeah."

"You're not going to ask me what I'm doing here?" She asks, taking her cup back from him. She takes a sip of the coffee, makes a face, and then adds sugar. Dean chuckles at her reaction and then shakes his head.

"Nope. You gonna tell me?"

"Nope." He remembers that smile. He has a feeling that she hasn't been smiling lately.

"I'm surprised you're not at some bar right about now."

"It's still early. Come back later, I'm sure I'll be at the bar then." She leans forward, placing her elbows on the table.

"Don't you know that you only meet assholes in those places?"

"Of course! I met you there, didn't I?"

"Oh, so I'm an asshole, now?"

"You never call, you never write..." Dean can see that she's kidding, but he can't help the guilt that rises from his chest. Most of it is leftover guilt—Cassie—but he has a feeling that in the months he spent chasing after things that go bump in the night, she's had her own set of troubles. It's none of his business, but he's always had a thing for damsels in distress, despite the fact that he hates being tied down.

"I would, but you know how life is for a young, good looking guy, out on the road." He winks at her and chuckles when she gives him a look of disbelief.

"Young, no way. Good looking," she pauses, giving him an once-over, "OK, maybe a little good looking."

"You sayin' I'm old?"

"I'm sayin' that you're not exactly going to start doing backflips any time soon, grandpa."

"Y'know I'm gonna get you back for that line, right?" He tries to hide his amusement, but fails miserably. Dean notices that she's staring behind him. Probably at Sam. He turns and sees his brother sitting on one of the bar stools. His arms are on the counter and the sight of him reminds Dean of a kicked puppy.

"It looks to me like you've got yourself a little problem there." She’s staring at Sam and when her gaze shifts to Dean, her lips are curled up. Dean glares at her for looking so amused at his current dilemma.

"Yeah, I've got a 6'4" problem," Dean mutters.

"I'm staying at the apartment next to the grocery store," she offers, nodding towards Sam. "Apartment 203. Come look me up if you want to."

"Which grocery store?"

"There's only one in town, you'll find it for sure." She laughs, ushering Dean away.

Dean sits down next to Sam and forces himself not to look back towards her.

"Shouldn't you be sitting with your girlfriend?" Dean wants to roll his eyes or at least smack Sam. He does neither.

"Jesus, Sam," he mutters, instead. "Look, man, she's just-" Sam glares at him. Dean knows that he can't say that she's just a girl. She's not. Instead, he swallows and stares at Sam in the face. "She's different, alright? And you're different too. You're Sam." Both of them heard the unspoken, You always come first.

They leave the diner and Dean doesn't look back. But he thinks about her that night, while sitting in front of the TV, not quite watching the movie.

"Go." Dean stares at Sam, half-afraid that his brother is telling him to get lost. When he looks at Sam, though, he sees that Sam isn't angry. He looks...resigned. "I know you want to. And it's alright, Dean." Sam smiles, just a little rueful. "You deserve a break now and again. Go have some fun."

Dean is a little pissed at that and wants to say that she's more than just one night of fun, but doesn't. Instead, he rolls his eyes and grabs the car keys.

"I'll be back in the morning, Sammy."

xxx

"Where are you off to this time?"

Dean is putting on his shoes, so he pauses for a moment. "Not sure. We're heading to Vermont, I think."

"Skiing?" Dean snorts and shakes his head.

"No way. Nearly got myself killed the last time I tried." She laughs and then tries to smother it when he glares at her. "We're...visiting a long lost relative."

"Doesn't sound like much fun."

"No, I guess it doesn't." Dean looks around the apartment. He thinks he's forgetting something.

"I'm not going to see you again." It's not a question. Dean stops looking for the thing that he’s forgetting long enough to look at her. He knows that she's not telling him that they won't cross paths.

"What, you're psychic?" He tries to lighten things up by joking, but the smile feels unnatural on his face.

"No." She shakes her head, still watching him. "I just have this feeling." She tilts her head and smiles. "If I'm right..." She stands up and walks to him. She places one hand on his chest and leans forward for a kiss. She tastes like the screwdrivers she was drinking the first time he saw her, like the beer she stole from him and like the coffee she was drinking that morning.

"Goodbye, Dean Winchester." She whispers against his lips. "Have a good, long life." She pulls away from him and slowly pushes him towards her door. "Take care of that little brother of yours." She adds, before closing her door.

It's not until he's on the other side of the door that Dean remembers. He didn't leave anything in her apartment, though he's supposed to. He reaches into his pocket and pulled out a silver bracelet. He doesn't know whether or not he should still give it to her, after she's said her goodbyes, but he can't bear leaving with it. So he bends down and slips the bracelet under her door and hopes she'll keep it.

xxx

They meet again in Alabama. She doesn't smile this time.

Dean feels cold and numb. It might be because it's November and they're in the morgue. Sam is speechless beside him. Neither of them expected to see her on the coroner's slab. The nametag reads "Amie Lee," not "Lillian Taylor."

Her personal possessions have been placed on a tray, on the coroner's desk. Dean walks over and shifts through. Crumpled receipts from grocery stores, a folded twenty dollar bill, a bunch of change and...

Dean doesn't breathe when he picks up the bracelet. He'd remember the thing anywhere. He's glad that she kept it, though he wishes that she's still around to maybe tease him about leaving that for her. Sam stares at the bracelet too, recognizing it from months and months ago. He stays silent, even as Dean walks back to where they've placed her body.

Dean stares at her for a long time, not knowing what to do and feeling as if he should say something, even if she won't hear him or answer him, even if it is too late. Then Dean's hand seems to take a mind of its own, reaching out to touch her hair. He's surprised that it feels like the last time. Though the last time he ran his fingers through her hair, her eyes were shut and her mouth was open after he had made her come for the third time that evening.

He pulls away and stares at her hand. He takes one of them and flinches slightly at how cold it feels, not warm like it used to be. It might not be warm, but the calluses feel the same. He doesn't realize that he's stroking her hand until Sam rests a hand on his shoulder.

"Dean, we've got to go," he says. His quiet voice seems to echo in the stillness of the morgue. "The coroner's going to come back any minute."

Dean looks down at her once more, places her hand back down. He lets out a ragged breath, a little surprised at how unsteady he sounds, and then nods at Sam.

"Yeah. Let's go."

Dean is quiet when they go back to the motel. Sam sits in front of his laptop, doing research. Occasionally, he'd sneak a glance at Dean. But Dean simply stares blankly at the television.

"You loved her, didn't you?" The question was quiet and unexpected. And for a moment, Dean doesn't know the answer. But then he thinks about her laugh, her kisses, her hands and the way she smiles at him. He nods.

"Yeah," he says, softly. Then louder, "Yeah, I think I did."

"We'll get this thing, Dean," Sam says, solemnly. Dean nods, stares at his brother for the first time since the morgue.

"I know we will, Sammy."

Later, they’ll find whatever spirit or creature that killed her and he’ll salt and burn its remains. But for now, Dean lays still in the dark. Sam is draped over him like a blanket, breath wet against Dean's neck. Normally, he'd push Sam away. Any other day, he'd even kick Sam out of bed for taking up so much space. Today, he grips Sam's arm and welcomes his weight.

Today, he mourns a girl and at the same time feels guilty that he's alive, that he's with Sam, and that he likes how his life is.

"Have a good, long life." He’s heard that twice from her. Dean knows that his life is good now. He's got Sam. As for the long part, he's certainly going to fight off death as long as he can, but he's never been the hoping kind.

Then again, he thinks, as he closes his eyes, I've never been the kind to believe in maybes either.

end

That’s part one of (hopefully only) 3. The second story is Sam’s side and it’s the Sam/Dean part of the story. The third part isn’t done yet, but it’s what should be the conclusion of this mini-‘verse.

Lee/Amie went through several "visual" changes. At first, when I was thinking about her character, she looked like Kristin Kreuk. But then I realized that she probably can't pull "hot" too well, so I switched to Eliza Dushku (think Tru, not Faith). But then I realized Tru wasn't a very good example but I still didn't want to use Faith. And using the girl who plays Dylan in "The L Word" is probably not a good idea, so then I switched to Jessica Alba. And yes, Jessica Alba isn't Asian, but she can pull a sexy chick in a bar and a slightly vulnerable girl at a diner. Also? She's hot.

Oh and a little fun fact: My friend wanted me to use Tyra from Friday Night Lights as Lee's "concept art". But that's a world of no because Sam would kick Dean's ass for getting with a girl who looks like Jess. Though I gotta admit, a Dean/Tyra fic sounds pretty awesome. I might give it a try one of these days.

SPN: Connect the dots

Tue, 10 Apr 2007 15:37:46 GMT

Connect the dots
[Mild Wincest with swearing]

Note: So this was actually going to be a part of a massive Wincest story that I've been writing for around 3-4 months now, except it didn't quite fit with the whole story.

“What’s your password?” Sam asks Dean, who is still pretty much out of commission.

“Password? What password?” He asks, trying to sit up and failing, quite badly. After his third attempt, he curses and lies back down. “What password, Sam?”

“For your email, man. We need that spell. That girl said she’d email it to you, remember?”

“Fuck.” Dean closes his eyes and then smacks his forehead. “Uh. Yeah.” He manages to somehow sit up by pushing himself up with his forearms, shaky as they are, to look at Sam. “Do me a favor, Sam? Gimme the laptop.”

“No way, man.” Sam shakes his head. “You’ve gotta be on your back, Dean. Asleep. Now quit being such a baby and give me the password for your email.”

All this time, Sam’s fingers are poised on top of the keyboard keys. He’s got Dean’s email address typed up and ready.

jdswinc@hotmail.com

When Dean first sent him an email from that address, maybe a year or so ago, Sam had stared at it for just about ten minutes or so. And then it clicked.

John. Dean. Sam. Winchester.

“Dammit, Sam! Why the hell do you wanna know my password anyway?”

“And why don’t you want me to know? What’s wrong? Do you write secret love poems and send them to girls or something? Are you having cybersex behind my back?”

Did she ever send you emails and you’ve kept them all this time, Dean?

“Fuck. Fine.” Dean mutters something under his breath. He grabs a pillow—one of Sam’s—and he puts it over his face. The reply that Dean tries to smother goes unheard and Sam kicks at the bed to jostle Dean.

“Alright, alright! Hold your goddamn horses, Sam!” He lifts the pillow long enough for Sam to see him all flushed and for Dean to mumble the password. “S-A-M-J-W-I-N-C.”

Sam doesn’t think much of it, just types the letters as Dean says them. And then he stops for a moment, replays them in his head. The laugh that follows when it clicks in place—second time now—makes Dean curse and call him more names.

Sam’s much too busy to care though, because the page finally finishes loading and Sam clicks to open Dean’s inbox. All he sees is an almost empty space save for the email he’s looking for and another email—from Ellen. And three email folders, clearly marked, all capitals.

DAD. HUNTS. SAMMY.

Sam stops snickering long enough to crawl into bed with Dean, ignoring his brother’s protests and name-calling to arrange himself at Dean’s side to snuggle. Because really, after all this time, even knowing that this is Dean—his brother—that this is wrong, he’s done hiding. And even if Dean is still trying to put on the smoke screen, Sam’s seen all his cards now.

end

BTW, C&C? Makes me happy.

I'm leaving on an airplaneeeeeeeeeee

Sat, 20 Jan 2007 17:36:06 GMT

Not quite a jetplane. But close enough?

So. This is the end of (some) things. Saying goodbye to Hawaii was hard. There were a lot of kleenex boxes involved. I'll miss this place terribly. And I'll miss the friends that I'm leaving behind and the sights and sounds.

I'll miss the view of Ala Wai harbor from my lanai window. I'll miss having a lanai. I'll miss walking down the Ala Wai at four o'clock in the morning with drunk people stumbling all over the place.

I'll even miss the sun shining in my eye every morning. Not that the sun won't be shining where I'm going. It just won't be Hawaiian sun.

So guys, it's been fun.

Thu, 07 Dec 2006 10:00:28 GMT

So I'm walking home from work, down Ala Moana Boulevard. I finally get to the bus stop in front of Ala Moana and I noticed that there was a car parked right in front of a bus. I looked at it then looked away and that was when the alarms went off.

I stopped, blinked and then very, very, very slowly--so slow, in fact, that a bunch of Japanese tourists turned and stared at me--turned around to check the car's make.

Yup.

A Chevy Impala. A Green Chevy Impala.

I would've just died laughing if it had been black, I swear.

Why was I acting like an idiot? Well, you don't exactly see any cars like that here in Hawaii. And definitely not cruising down Ala Moana Boulevard.

So yeah, I'm gonna sit right here, snickering and not thinking about how I really wanna quit this job and just leave this country, thanks.

facepalm and err....Short supernatural drabble thingy. XP

Fri, 01 Dec 2006 09:48:52 GMT

I fail at life.

...Well, not life, really. But I totally forgot to work on my two 30 kisses pairings. And the deadline? Is today. I think the mods start purging earlier today. So I don't think it'll even help if I try to post anything now.

*sighs*

Oh well. Not like anyone is going to die if I didn't post the HanaKimi stuff right? Or the FFX-2 stuff. ^^;

So what did I do with my time today, you ask? Toyed with a little drabble thing that might turn into an actual story if Sam would actually sound like Sam. And if Dean's voice didn't make me cringe.

*headdesk* I need to work on their voices, I know.

Sam was pretty sure that any kind of higher power out there had a bad sense of humor. Not because it managed to scew up their lives so thoroughly. Because of all the things that could ever make his brother suffer so much, Sam never thought that it would come down to this.

He also didn't know that he'd enjoy watching Dean suffer either.

"How is it that you've managed to piss off a witch?" Sam asked, no, shouted over the bubblegum pop pouring out of the Impala's radio.

Dean let out a loud growl. Unfortunately for him, it wasn't loud enough to drown out Britney singing for her baby to hit her one more time. And what the hell was up with this chick anyway? Did she get off on that whole S&M thing or something? Not that Dean was put off by it, far from it, he rather liked girls with a kinky side. But.

Impala. Radio. Pop. Oh GOD, make it stop.

And that's all for now, folks! There's more stuff. It's mostly disjointed little scenes with nothing to tie them together yet. I've got the ending all typed up, but let's not give that away, shall we?

ANYWAYS. Feedback please? And if Gaifey is still willing to beta for me...heeeeee! =D

Happy Turkey Day!

Thu, 23 Nov 2006 11:25:06 GMT

So yeah, I'm not even American and my roommate isn't American either (she's Japanese) and yet for some strange, strange reason, we're gonna celebrate Thanksgiving tomorrow. My mom is here so she's the one doing the cooking for us.

We're going to have dinner and then my friends and I are just going to kick back and relax and watch Supernatural. And SGA. Because my Season 1 DVDs finally came from Amazon! *blows kisses* I swear, I love you Amazon because you have great, great discounts. $16 for the ENTIRE FIRST SEASON OF SGA. HAH!

*clears throat*

In other news!

The Supernatural fandom? Is killing me. In a good way. Because the writers in this fandom are BRILLIANT. And I fangirl over their stories because they write really hot fic, really angsty ones, and really cracky OMGWTFLMAO stories.

And I love the characters. You have NO idea. I love ALL the characters. Yes, that does mean that I love Jo and Ellen. Ellen is freaking cool and although I was wary about Jo at first, she won me over in "No Exit."

Still, it's got its cracks and tears and all that. Because I tend to stay away from writers that I don't know or that no one has recced. And there are certain things in stories that I think are just brilliant that make me fangirl just a little less.

Because fandom? Sam was TOTALLY in love with Jess, OK? You can't just write it off as just a fling. He LOVED her. So making him forget all about her and just focus on Dean? Big No-No!

And staying in character? Is a big HELL YES. 'cause c'mon, folks, would Dean really ever say those three words without being at least...Oh I dunno...doped up? In danger of being castrated? or forced into a situation where Sam is in mortal peril or even worse, dying?

But yeah, besides those issues? I'm totally in love with the fandom. 'cause pr0n is always good in my book. >D?

November is drawing to a close soon. That means I need to post stuff for 30 kisses. Gah. Must get butt into gear and write more HanaKimi stuff. And FFX-2 stuff. Which is VERY difficult to do when I haven't played FFX-2 in ages and I've been writing Supernatural ficlets instead. *dies*

Oh yeah. Is anyone playing FFXII by any chance? I'm not even 50% done yet, I don't think. About to visit the Garif. But yeah, I have questions for people who are done or are way ahead. So...help?

Anyways, hope you guys enjoy Thanksgiving!

This needs to download faster

Fri, 17 Nov 2006 06:34:10 GMT

*headdesk*

FYI? I hate living in Hawaii. I don't, usually, but because CW is ONLY on Digital Cable and not on regular cable....I HATE IT.

Yes, I'm beyong sad when it comes to Supernatural. Bite me. XP

I'm on Dean withdrawal dammit!

Post-work BLERGH

Tue, 14 Nov 2006 06:02:40 GMT

So apparently they're filming an episode of Lost right now downtown. And my friend is there, fangirling. And apparently she has autographs. And she won't even tell me who's there. *headdesk*

And here's another thing. The place they're filming the episode? In the middle of HPU. Like, literally steps away from the computer center.

Anyways. Heroes is on. So off I go.

Oh yeah...Mohinder......*drools*

Day off

Sat, 11 Nov 2006 13:11:42 GMT

Happy Veterans Day!

Why? Because I live in Hawaii and we got the day BEFORE Veterans Day OFF. Ah, life can be so sweet sometimes. Work totally sucks but paychecks are always good.

But work also means that I don't have time to write anything. And I'm pretty sure I have a list of fic that I owe posted somewhere.

So...why do I want to write a Supernatural fic? Specifically, a Gen John Winchester-centered Supernatural fic. Gotta be something to do with Veterans Day.

In other news...is it next Thursday yet? XD

Multi-fandom Snippets

Thu, 19 Oct 2006 09:59:19 GMT

Snippet 1: The Road Home
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Pairings: RikuxSoraxKairi (sorta, kinda) and a little LeonxCloud.
Note: Sequel to "Somewhere only we know" and "Letters"

Every time someone said his name, he heard it.

Every time someone began talking about him, or talking to him, he heard it.

He heard Leon and Cloud's voices whenever they would ask a newcomer to Traverse whether or not they bumped into a "kid with a bad attitude and weird silver hair". He should be insulted that they would describe him in such a way, but being stuck there in the middle of nothingness, he really didn't have a choice but be amused.

He didn't think that it was possible to get to know someone without ever meeting them, but that was how he got to know Leon and Cloud. Sometimes if one of them even thought of him, he would be able to listen in on their conversation. A couple of times, he got an earful. He didn't know whether or not to be amused or disturbed with the fact that either Cloud or Leon had been thinking of him while they were having sex.

More often than Leon and Cloud, he would hear Aeris and Yuffie, though in their case, Sora's name always preceded his name. They worried about him because Sora was worried. They would think of him because Sora (and Kairi) thought of him. But he supposed that it was the thought that counted (no pun intended).

But it was Sora and Kairi's voices that he would always search for. He didn't know how to go home, but he decided a long time ago that he would follow their voices. With nothing to guide him in the darkness, nothing but sound, he would follow their voices home. Because it didn't matter if their voices led him to Traverse Town or some strange city, as long as both of them were there, it would be home to him.

Snippet 2: Points of View
Fandom: Tenipuri
Pairing: Eventual FujiRyo (nothing on that here, but a lot more of that when I finally finish the rest)

Echizen Nanjiroh never hid his love for tennis from his son. He had been fascinated by this future rival ever since his son was able to walk. When Ryoma first took his first, tentative step towards his mother's open arms, Nanjiroh had not been excited that he had been there to witness his son walking for the first time. He was more enthralled with the idea that someday he would be able to play a match with his son.

Someone with his blood and--he had no doubts about this--his tennis abilities.

So when Ryoma took up basketball, he hadn't been too worried. It wasn't until he was in middle school that he decided he liked tennis anyway. Instead, he teased his son mercilessly over his height and how his teammates seemed to tower over him.

And then Rinko mentioned that Ryoma's basketball coach called to tell her that Ryoma was an exceptional player, despite his tendencies to seek trouble. Her son's competitive streak was showing and Rinko was a little concerned. But Nanjiroh was too busy panicking over this "basketball phase" that Ryoma was stuck in.

Whe Ryoma decided to quit basketball, Nanjiroh was ecstatic and relieved. He didn't have to worry that Ryoma might never love tennis the way he did anymore. But Nanjiroh noticed the dejected look on Ryoma's face.

He noticed the way his son would look longingly at a basketball court. He noted the way Ryoma's eyes looked whenever a basketball match was playing on TV. He even noticed that his son would go out of his way to avoid the courts that he used to love so much.

It was ironic, Nanjiroh found later, that the first time he really introduced Ryoma to tennis it wasn't because he wanted Ryoma to fall in love with the sport. It was because he didn't want to see Ryoma's hands clench into a fist whenever something reminded him of basketball. Basketball was Ryoma's first love and like a jilted lover, Ryoma was hurt and angry every time he remembered how he used to love the sport and why he had to leave.

Ryoma had been reluctant to play tennis because he knew about Nanjiroh's past accomplishments and he didn't want a comparison.

But Nanjiroh watched as disinterest turned into interest turned into love. By the time tennis became Ryoma's life, he forgot about basketball altogether. Although sometimes Nanjiroh would catch him pause, look up and then stare at a basketball match playing on TV. His eyes would be tinged with sadness but he would be smiling and then he would turn around to stare at Nanjiroh and demand a match.

Echizen Nanjiroh never once hid his love of tennis from his son. But seeing his son's love for the game, he couldn't help the swell of pride inside of his chest.

Snippet 3: Spectator Sport
Fandom: Maruma
Pairings: ConYuu
Note: Shortest snippet

One of the good things about being a spectator is not being part of the spectacle. And Murata is a little relieved that he doesn't have to step into this mess. Because anything that involves an incensed Wolfram, a stammering Shibuya and a worried Conrad was definitely not good in Murata's book.

It doesn't help, of course, that Yuuri has absolutely no idea why Wolfram is angry in the first place. Perhaps, Murata thinks, Shibuya doesn't even realize that he has yet to release his hold on Conrad's arm. And he also doesn't seem to realize the glare that Wolfram is directing at the place where Shibuya's hand touches Sir Weller's arm.

Snippet 4: A big brother's job is never done
Fandom: Xenosaga
Characters: Jin, Shion

Jin remembered a time when Shion used to follow him around. He remembered a time when he would be greeted by the sound of small feet on tatami floorings and a loud, girly sound of pure glee followed by short, chubby hands around his neck and "Onii-chaaaaaaaaaaaaan!"

He remembered a time when he used to be the entire universe to Shion. He remembered being bothered by her constant presence and he would always feel guilty for ever feeling that way. Because these days she'd rather hide than see him, avoid their home altogether rather than stick together.

They only had each other yet they couldn't even stay in the same room for more than five minutes without it ending in a fight. Blows weren't exchanged, but the verbal battles were so often that it would end in stalemate. Or victory for Shion. Because Jin was always able to stop just short of cutting his sister too deeply. But Shion had long forgotten of the days when he used to be everything to her.

Hawaii Earthquake

Mon, 16 Oct 2006 08:27:51 GMT

So if any residents wanted to know how Waikiki would look like without any lights....they got their answer today.

Sleepy as hell because OMG woke up at around 7 this morning because hey, is the room moving? Yeah. Not pleasant at all. Slept through the aftershock though. hahahahahaha.

Didn't have power until just now.

Still alive if anyone is wondering XD

[KH] Letters

Wed, 06 Sep 2006 12:23:13 GMT

Title: Letters
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Pairing: LeonxCloud (a little SoraxKairi and RikuxSoraxKairi maybe?)
Sequel to Somewhere only we know

~~+~~

When Sora doesn't visit, he writes them letters. Leon couldn't figure out how the letters were getting to them, but he didn't want to question it. Or else whatever it was that made the letters arrive at their home, safe and sound, would stop working altogether.

When Sora doesn't visit, he writes them letters. Cloud knew that the King sent the Gummi ship, along with its two ever-present mechanics, to deliver the letters. He found that out when he bumped into Goofy and Donald in the Coliseum one day.

Sora's first letter was cheerful and he babbled a lot. The letter consisted of fifteen run-on sentences and five paragraphs. Leon counted. But he could sense something else there. He could feel it lurking between each word, brushing across his mind as swirls of ink transformed to words. But he never asked Sora about it, mostly because he always left the duty of writing a letter in reply to Cloud. Most of the times he was able to ignore the fact that Sora usually started his letters with "Dear Leon".

Sora's first letter was filled with little scribbles. It took Cloud some time to realize that the kid was trying to draw coconut trees and some sort of a shack. He just focused on the words after realizing that he probably won't understand what the rest of Sora's sketches mean. There were things in the letter that made him stop and think. The kid was like a puzzle, though it didn't take Cloud very long to figure him out. He remembered another kid, though taller than Sora and an even bigger mystery. He remembered trying to figure him out while he half-listened to Hades ranting about this and that. And then he realized what Sora was missing.

The letters that came after that were filled with more happiness than Leon would ever deem healthy. But he supposed that Sora's infectious good mood was what made Yuffie love him so much. Though sometimes Leon could sense something different about Sora's happy words. Sometimes they would falter for a moment, the way a person's speech would falter when reminded of something unpleasant. But Leon never asked. He'd leave that to Cloud.

The letters that came after were filled with even more false cheer. There were times when Sora was actually genuine in his cheerful words, but there were times when the words were almost forced. Cloud could see it in places where Sora had obviously used more force in his pen than necessary. He could see it in the way the scribbles falter, where the lines were cleaner than the rest. It was in places where it was obvious that Sora had thought about that line over and over and he didn't write it down until he finally got it to sound right.

Sora came to visit on Yuffie's birthday. Yuffie had insisted on him being present, mostly because she wanted more presents but also because she wanted to see him. Leon was a little surprised to see him accompanied by a brunette who reminded him of someone from his past. Cloud noticed him pause and for a moment, Leon could see doubt lurking behind his companion's glowing eyes. Leon compensated by staying by Cloud's side the entire time, even though Yuffie kept teasing him about it.

Sora came to visit on Yuffie's birthday. He brought Kairi with him. Kairi, who made Leon's eyes widen and soften and made Cloud's heart stop beating for several moments. Cloud had been too busy worrying about what this might mean to actually watch Sora interact with others. But when Yuffie started teasing Leon for standing so close to Cloud, he stopped. And it was then that he noted the sadness that lingered in Sora's eyes. And Kairi's too.

On Leon's birthday Sora sent him a yellow birthday card with a chocobo on the front. Leon raised his eyebrow at the picture and shook his head at the scribbles inside. He was also quite perplexed at Cloud's somewhat violent reaction to the card. He didn't say anything when he went for a walk the next day only to see Yuffie hanging like a piñata from a street lamp.

On Leon's birthday Sora sent him a birthday card that had Yuffie written all over it. No doubt Yuffie had told him about Cloud's nickname from long ago. Leon looked pretty surprised when Cloud snapped the pencil he was holding into two. Leon also didn't comment when Cloud finally got his revenge. But at least now Yuffie knew better than to divulge his nickname to other people.

One of Sora's letters made them both pause and think. Leon had read it first, as usual, but he faltered after reading the first sentence. He couldn't quite find the words to say. Cloud, sensing his companion's silent distress, had walked over to read over Leon's shoulder. And then they exchanged glances. Leon's eyes were troubled behind his usual mask while Cloud's eyes were sad and understanding, as if some great mystery was finally solved.

If you guys hear from Riku, could you tell me? Or if you even hear some stupid rumor and the person they're talking about fits Riku's description, please tell me about it. We're waiting for him to come home.

Cloud wrote a letter in reply the day after. It wasn't any different than any of the other letters that he had written, except for the part where he had said that they would keep an eye open for any rumors pertaining Riku. Leon was seated across the table when he wrote it. Cloud usually wrote the letters whenever Leon wasn't around. But he supposed that Leon would stick around whenever he would write the letters to Sora now.

Leon wrote a letter in reply to Sora's last letter. They took turns writing them now. He felt foolish that he didn't notice Sora's true feelings before. But Cloud had only teased him lightly about his lack of people skills when he finally confessed to his companion. They would speak of the content of Sora's letters whenever one would arrive. And Leon would see things in the letters now that he didn't see before. And sometimes he would see things in there that Cloud had failed to notice.

They both listened to rumors and hoped for Sora's sake (and Kairi's) that one day in the future they would finally hear about Riku.

end

I need a LeonxCloud icon.

Wai + Internet = No Match

Thu, 10 Aug 2006 10:29:01 GMT

OK. So our internet went kaput. Dunno why. Called the cable company and the person came, fixed it and it worked. For two days. And then it died again.
It's finally fixed, but I still have my fingers crossed. So yeah. No more promises of updating regularly, I can't keep them. My schedule at work gets shuffled so many times that it's really, really, REALLY annoying. I'd have the morning shift one day and then the graveyard shift the next. I'm ready to sacrifice something to the fandom gods just so I can have a routine.

I can't believe I'm saying this...I miss school. Yes. I. Miss. School.

I miss having a FIXED schedule. And I miss sleeping at normal times.

And this is also an almost announcement of some sort. I'm doing my OPT right now, which means I get to stay in the USA for one year, just trying to get a steady job and basically find a way to stay here longer. But I'm definitely changing my mind with the way that work is going. Dad's offer to work in Europe is looking way better.

I technically have until next summer to stay here and secure myself a good job, not to mention a working visa. But unfortunately, that ain't gonna happen. So most likely than not I'm gonna be heading to Holland. Yup. I'm finally leaving this country. And half a year earlier than planned no less. Unless something drastically changes at work, it's pretty much set.

That is all.

ps: Emi, sorry I missed your call!

[Kingdom Hearts] Somewhere only we know

Wed, 26 Jul 2006 03:54:18 GMT

Title: Somewhere only we know
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Summary: At the end of the journey, there was Sora, the sky, the ocean, and Riku.
Written while listening to: "High on Life" by Def Tech and "Tennessee" by The Wreckers.
And since it might help if you listen to the songs, I've uploaded both songs to yousendit. Even if you don't download Tennessee, please try "High on Life" because Def Tech needs more love!

High on Life and
Tennessee

The sky shifted, turning lighter and lighter in the same pace that the clock's hands are turning. When Sora began to walk towards the beach both the sky and the ocean were the same exact shade of blue. It was hard to tell where the sky ended and the sea began, even though he was squinting so hard that he was almost seeing stars.

The smile on his face was fond as he raised his hand to greet the day.

“Good morning Riku!” He exclaimed as he closed his eyes as a gentle breeze caressed his cheeks. There was a distinct lack of salt smell in the air, cool dew drops shifting in the wind as the temperature slowly began to rise.

He took a deep breath, breathing in the scent of the ocean with a smile. “I think it’s going to be a good day today.” He said, dropping down to sit on the soft sand.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, all of a sudden, eyes shining with excitement. “Did you hear? There’s a new game coming out! Tidus said that it’s dumb, but I don’t think so. I mean, playing blitzball is fun but if I buy this game then I won’t have to be wet!”

“…” Sora, keyblade master, savior of worlds, pouted. “It’s not that funny, Riku.” He muttered. “My genius isn’t appreciated around here.” He grumbled.

Behind him, the rest of Destiny Island was slowly coming to life. Like clockwork, he could hear the moms and dads trudging to the kitchen, switching on their coffee maker. He knew that his parents were probably doing the same thing.

He wondered about how much things have changed. A year ago the likelihood of him being awake before his parents was somewhere in the negative probability. After all, when he got into the habit of going down to the beach before sunrise, his parents had initially been worried. After reassuring them that no, he had no fever, thank you and no, he wasn’t angry at anyone so would you please stop looking so worried, they finally let him be.

“I’m so bored, Riku!” He picked up a wooden stick, one among many on the shores of Destiny Island, and began drawing on the sand. He couldn’t really draw properly, the sand was too dry and each deep groove that he made with his stick would only collapse on itself, creating flat lines instead of the sharp ones he wanted, because the sand refused to stick together.

Nevertheless, it was a good attempt. He smiled at his crude sketch, though upon closer inspection, he decided to make some changes. He lengthened the hair. Riku’s hair must be long by now. And he was probably even taller than Sora now, the younger boy thought with a frown.

“Man, Riku, you don’t play fair.” Sora murmured quietly. He placed the stick down on the sand beside his sketch. “I guess I’m not meant for this quiet island life.” Sora said with a sigh.

His eyes strayed to the ocean. By this time the sky was much lighter than before and Sora could see the sun peeking from the horizon. No longer one with the sky, the ocean sparkled with its own shade of blue.

“Then again”, he said, voice surprisingly steady, “you’re not meant for this kind of life either, huh?”

“Sora!” At the sound of his name, Sora jumped to his feet. He smiled brightly at the approaching girl.

“Kairi!”

“Up early again?” She asked with a smile, though she knew the answer even before Sora replied.

“Yeah.”

“Chatting with Riku?” Her voice was softer this time, eyes on the horizon. Sora nodded, following her gaze.

Somewhere, somewhere, between the sky and the ocean, in the space where there is no darkness or light, is Riku.

“You really think that he can hear you?” Kairi asked. Her voice was filled with hope, desperate for Sora’s optimistic answer.

“Of course! Riku can always hear us, Kairi.” He replied, the grin on his face never wavering. “Only when we want him to, of course.” He added.

“Of course.” Kairi said, smiling as well.

“That’s why we have to talk to him every day, so he can follow our voices home.”

Because I couldn’t bring him home, was what Sora didn’t have to say.

Kairi would have said, oh Sora, but you tried! You tried so hard, but that door is the only door that you can’t possibly open, even with your keyblade.

But instead she said, “Good morning, Riku. Doesn’t the sea look pretty today?” She smiled, as if seeing the boy she wanted to see standing in front of her. “It’s like the color of your eyes.”

End

[Gippalai] Undivided Attention

Sun, 23 Jul 2006 06:25:48 GMT

Wrote this a while back with the 30 kisses themes in mind. This was before I co-signed for the Gippalai pairing at 30 kisses though. ^^;

Title: Undivided Attention
Fandom: Final Fantasy X-2
Pairing: GippalxBaralai
Theme: 23. candy
Disclaimer: The characters, skittles and the voice inside Baralai's head aren't mine.
Note: Very silly.

Gippal was obsessed with them. At first it had been amusing, even cute. And then it became alarming and for some reason had settled on being annoying, borderline aggravating. Baralai was barely able to keep himself from screaming.

Gippal kept counting them, sorting them by their different colors. He even made sure they were the exact shade of red, purple or whatever color those DOTS from hell came in. It was quite funny, really, to see the New Yevon Praetor glaring at a row of sweets currently occupying half of his desk.

He nearly tossed them out of the window, but the cry in horror that came from Gippal, soon followed by that wounded puppy look that he had mastered behind Baralai's back, had prevented him from doing so. Thus preventing the evil, delectable treat's early demise.

"Gippal?"

"Hmm?" The blond looked up from his counting, flashing his lover a bright grin. "What is it?"

"How long do you plan on keeping these...things?" Baralai asked in a completely controlled voice.

"A month. Maybe two."

WHAT???

"Ah." Despite Baralai's effort, it came out sounding strangled, causing the younger man to stare at him in concern.

"Are you catching a cold or something? You sound like you've got a frog in your throat."

"Not at all." Croaked Baralai, shaking in rage.

"And you're shaking! Lai, are you cold? Are you having a fever or something?" Gippal got up, walking over to his lover. The hand that rested on Baralai's forehead was not unwelcome. In fact, Gippal had become so preoccupied with his obsession as of late that he couldn't even spare Baralai a glance, let alone a touch or even a kiss.

So the moment Baralai felt that familiar hand on his skin, a soft sign escape, which didn't go unnoticed. There was a small, impish grin on Gippal's face as he leaned closer to Baralai's face.

"I'm sorry." He muttered. "I've been neglecting you haven't I?"

Obviously! You’ve just NOTICED?

"It's alright." Baralai said, unable to help the fond smile, despite himself. But he really should find a way to make that voice inside of his head to shut up. "You've been...busy."

"I really shouldn't ignore you like that." Continued Gippal, as if Baralai hadn't spoken. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Much better.

"As soon as I finish counting these skittles!"

AAAAUGH!

------END------

[Gippalai] Speechless

Sun, 23 Jul 2006 06:18:07 GMT

Re-wrote an old drabble because I realized that it definitely fits as one of the themes.

Title: Speechless
Fandom: Final Fantasy X-2
Pairing: GippalxBaralai
Theme: 15. Perfect Blue
Disclaimer: Not mine. Ask Squeenix.

Gippal got his eye patch when he was fourteen. Fourteen was the turning point in an Al Bhed's life. That was when they were finally independent. An ordinary Spiran is considered an adult by the time he or she is sixteen, sometimes seventeen. For an Al Bhed, fourteen is the perfect age.

By the time you turn fourteen, you were expected to fend for yourself. Friends were must-haves because you needed them to watch your back while you're taking on the desert, the whole world. Digging was hard and whenever they try to salvage things, going off to different parts of Spira to try and get supplies, the journey could end abruptly.

Ordinarily the first journey was the hardest and most of the time by the end of it, you'd wish you were thirteen again. But not for Gippal, who was easy-going but never careless, laid-back but never lazy. A prankster but always on the job. That was probably why his first journey, by no means uneventful, was nothing to him.

He got his eye patch on his twentieth journey when he was about 14 years and 5 months. No one but Rikku knew the real story of that eye patch. It was kept secret for years and the first time Gippal ever told that story was to Baralai, about four years after that fateful day.

The only person in Spira who knew his secret was Rikku and she promised to keep it until the end of time--and there was no way that Rikku would ever tell because if she accidentally told anyone about it, Gippal would make her kiss a shoopuff. Revealing it to Baralai felt like he was admitting his friend to an exclusive club. Though it really wouldn't be much of a club with only he and Rikku as its members.

The story was simple enough. He got careless and his eye was injured as a result. And like any story, it has a twist.

So there they were, sitting in Baralai's office. Actually, Baralai was the one sitting down, staring at his friend in a stunned silence. Gippal was leaning against the window, looking down at the movement of the city below.

Baralai's eyes trailed down to the table in front of him, trained on the eye patch that Gippal had left there. He never knew.

All this time he thought of different scenarios on how Gippal obtained his eye patch. It was funny that none of them came close to the mark. And it was unnerving, as their gazes met, to be staring at two blue eyes, staring at his own.

End

[HanaKimi] Fever

Sat, 22 Jul 2006 17:04:24 GMT

Title: Fever
Theme: 6. the space between dream and reality
Note: Same timeline as "The Notebook" and "In sickness"

~~+~~

Kayashima could remember warmth. He could remember drawing closer to the warmth. He also remembered seeing warm colors at the back of his eyes. He didn’t understand how the aura could slip through his closed lids the way it did, but he wasn’t about to complain.

He had been in so much pain earlier, wanting so much to just fall asleep but wrenched back to reality every time he thought he was about to drift into the darkness.

He remembered opening his eyes once and seeing Nakatsu wrapped around him like a protective blanket. Nakatsu was asleep, mouth slightly open though his grip on Kayashima was tight. Kayashima thought that it was so strange that his dream could feel so real.

Instead of thinking it over, he instead pressed closer. Nakatsu shifted, eyes fluttering open. But Kayashima’s eyes were closed by this time, so he missed the way Nakatsu’s eyes shone with concern. However, he didn’t miss the way Nakatsu’s arm tightened around him—though in Kayashima’s mind, this was all a dream.

He dreamt that they were graduating. Nakatsu had given Ashiya one of the buttons on his uniform. And Ashiya, dressed in a girl school uniform, accepted it gratefully. The two of them shared a laugh. Kayashima stood watching them for a while, but not once did either of them acknowledge his presence. And the knife piercing his heart was hard to ignore.

He woke up into what he thought was another dream. But this dream was better than the other one. Nakatsu was holding a wet cloth to his head, eyes wide with alarm.

“Kayashima?” He asked carefully. Kayashima wondered why Nakatsu was reacting the way he did. It was then that noticed that his own cheeks were wet. His eyes could barely focus on Nakatsu and his limbs felt heavy. Yet he still reached out his hand to try and touch Nakatsu.

His roommate caught his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

Feeling safe in this dream world, Kayashima didn’t think twice before letting his well-guarded secret slip.

"...like you."

Before falling into yet another dream, he saw Nakatsu’s shocked face and thought that this dream Nakatsu reacted too much like the real Nakatsu for comfort.

end

[FFX-2] Things I couldn't say

Wed, 19 Jul 2006 01:23:38 GMT

Title: Things I couldn’t say
Author: exwaiz
Pairing: GippalxBaralai
Fandom: Final Fantasy X-2
Theme: 2. letter
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters

So it goes
The summer blooms and fades away
Like moonlight falling on a bed
And there can be no solice in remembering
The words we never said
- "Carolina", Sheryl Crow

Hey.

Forgot how much the desert sucks. Sand everywhere. Some punk put sand down my pants. You know how fucking annoying that is?

Bihgycc get. Hu nacbald vun rec amtanc!

Not as annoying as not being with you though. Man, Paine would tease me for days if she finds out I wrote this. Don’t show this to her. Please. Don’t make me resort to begging, Baralai.

I’m gonna go. No use trying to make this longer.

E muja oui.

Gippal

Gippal,

I see that the desert’s sun is frying your brain cells after all. If I do remember correctly, you were the one who was adamantly refused to let someone else do this. One of these days Paine, Nooj, or myself will tie you up to your chair just to make you stay in one place.

I checked in on your friends at Djose, they seem to be doing fine without you, as per usual. It seems that they’ve managed to put together yet another new machine. Vyda tried to explain its mechanics, but as you are well aware, I have little to no knowledge of machine building.

Lady Yuna visited the other day. Apparently she and the blitzball player have decided on a date for their wedding. She wants both of us to attend. She tried to ask me whether or not you would be able to make it to her wedding. The wedding is two months from now. I told her that I have zero knowledge as to your travel plans. I think she was disappointed.

Do not worry so much about Paine. I’m afraid that she was in my office when your letter arrived. She read your letter aloud while I was looking over a few forms. She wanted me to tell you that she won’t tease you about it. She already knows that you are a “sap”.

I’ll get back to my work now.

Yours,
Baralai.

Yeah. And of course you make your underlings do your job for you. Hahaha. Don’t make me laugh, your Praetorship.

Sorry.

I didn’t mean to take it out on you. But things here are worse than I thought. Might take a little longer.

Oh yeah, tell the high summoner that I’ll be there for her wedding. I still need to beat that arrogant punk of a fiancé of hers in blitzball.

Hey, don’t start making plans without me, alright? I’m coming back.

Secc oui.
Gippal

PS: Tell Paine that if she tells anyone I’ll kiss her. In the mouth. Three times.

Gippal,

~~I can’t make this work. I’m in Bevelle and you’re in Djose and you’re always leaving without telling anyone and we can never find you and you have me worried for weeks on end~~

Gippal,

~~I think it’s best that we take some time away because~~

Gippal,

Stop hiding behind these letters and talk to me. You know as well as I do that the commsphere is a better mean of communicating than this exchange of letters. My work is important to me and I need to do what I have to do, but I can’t concentrate fully if I’m also wondering where in the world are you off to now and whether you’re not killed in the middle of the desert and I’ll never find you again and I

Gippal,

Come home soon.

Yours,
Baralai

End

Al Bhed Translation:
Bihgycc get. Hu nacbald vun rec amtanc! ~ Punkass kid. No respect for his elders!
E muja oui. ~ I love you
Secc oui ~ Miss you

Note: Not sure if anyone can understand the underlying tension between these two. Or even why there is tension. Hopefully you’ll get it. If not...well, that’s my fault I guess.

[Download] GIGS - Flower Album

Sun, 09 Jul 2006 06:23:43 GMT

Here's a peace offering for not updating regularly....and for not checking email and comments and all that good stuff too! XP

Yousendit Link: HERE

Savefile Link: HERE

Note: The Savefile one is password protected. The password is my favorite X character. ^_-

Oh yeah. Ignore the really bad album cover scan. And I should be uploading another album or two by next week. Not Tenipuri though. Definitely Arashi's newest album. And maybe Angela Aki's.

Eheh?

Mon, 03 Jul 2006 05:19:05 GMT

OK, so I thought that with no school I'd be able update and reply to comments on a regular basis and I'd have more time writing? ...wrong.

Didn't happen. So, what DID happen this week?

Um. My friend and I went to for job interviews and watched different anime series instead.

I've been too busy watching and re-watching the entire Dear Boys series (or Hoop Days, as Bandai called it). Yes, I do love that series just a little too much. XD

So if I'm MIA again and you have to reach me...err...do something? ^^;

[HanaKimi] Can you keep a secret?

Fri, 30 Jun 2006 21:44:36 GMT

Title: Can you keep a secret?
Pairing: NakatsuxKayashima
Theme: 15. perfect blue
Disclaimer: Characters = not mine.

they can see the sky is blue
knowing that their love is true
dreams they never knew
and the sky above is blue

- "Flora's secret", Enya

Mizuki was trying to decide whether or not the cloud that she was staring at looked more like a smiling Hara-san or a kitty cat. Lying on her back on the grass near where the boys of the soccer team were practicing, she had gotten bored at watching them run around the tracks and had instead been busy daydreaming.

“Pink.”

The familiar voice startled her out of her thoughts, sitting up and staring at Kayashima, who seemed to have appeared out of thin air. Nakatsu’s roommate was busy staring intensely at the field, where Nakatsu and his teammates were finally kicking the soccer ball around, but Mizuki knew that whatever Kayashima had said was directed at her.

“What?”

“Pink.” Kayashima repeated, gaze moving slowly towards Mizuki, though in Mizuki’s mind it would see as if Kayashima’s gaze was reluctant to part with the image of a swiftly moving Nakatsu. “Your aura, I mean.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re in love.”

Mizuki couldn’t quite banish the blush that immediately reddened her cheeks, choosing instead to shake her head and stammering. She tended to forget about this side of Kayashima, though others would find it hard to forget—it wasn’t as if everyone had a friend who was able to see ghosts and auras and other things that ordinary people would not be able to see.

“It’s only an observation.” Kayashima said slowly. “It could easily mean that you are content with your life at the moment.” He shrugged. “I chose to interpret it differently, that’s all.”

“But why on earth would you say that I’m in love anyway?” Mizuki asked, silently thinking to herself, In love with who?

“No reason.” Kayashima said, gaze shifting to the side, to where Sano was standing. Mizuki followed his gaze and then she began to blush an even darker hue. She ducked her head to hide her face.

When she finally was ready to look up, she saw that Kayashima was staring at Nakatsu once more. She stared at him in wonder for a moment and then smiled, lying back down on the grass.

“Well then I can tell what color your aura is right now.” Mizuki said, staring once more at the sky. Kayashima’s gaze drifted down to her, puzzled.

“It’s pink too.” Mizuki answered the unspoken question. Kayashima blinked at her for several moments, too surprised to notice the two boys approaching them both.

“Kayashima, can I have my water now?” Nakatsu asked.

“What are you doing, sleeping in public?” Sano asked at the same time.

Both Kayashima and Mizuki looked up at the two boys standing over them, looking down.

In Mizuki’s eyes, seeing both Sano and Nakatsu above her with the perfect blue sky in the background, was enough to complete the picture of a wonderful summer day.

“Can’t you see that we’re sharing the same aura?” Mizuki asked with a smile, pointing to Kayashima and herself.

Nakatsu and Sano looked at each other and then back at the grinning Mizuki and the blushing Kayashima, not quite understanding Mizuki’s words. But it didn’t matter to Mizuki, because Kayashima understood her and it would be their little secret. And the sky, of course. Because it was so blue that it seemed to be winking at her. She could almost kiss it.

end

EDIT: God. I'm in dire need of a new brain. One that works. I can't believe I spelled her name wrong. Oh GOD. XD

Lists? XD

Mon, 26 Jun 2006 02:45:00 GMT

Um. So I checked my fic list (been a while since I did that) and I suddenly realized that...err....I'm very behind schedule. I really, really, REALLY want to finish up my HanaKimi 30 kisses project right now and at least half of my share of the GippalxBaralai themes. But I do realize that I still need to post fics that I owe people like, oh, months ago?

The tough part is finding where the HELL I put those fics. I tend to write them on paper first and then typing them on my comp, so I sure hope that I've typed them all up because I don't want to go look around for old scraps of paper.

So far, this is what I need to find/post/write etc:

1. The rest of the NaKaya 30 kisses themes
2. More Gippalai 30 kisses themes
3. OT5 fic
4. FujixKirihara fic: I'm not sure who this is for. I think it's for fujis, but I'm not sure...
5. FujixRyo fic for someoneeeeeeeee
6. ConxYuu fic (Sorry about this, arccie, I completely forgot. ^^;)
7. I-totally-blame-this-on-the-weather-omgwtf FF7 fic (err....Not sure about this one...I don't think I can find the notebook that I wrote this in)

....Did I miss anything? Do I owe anyone anything? 'Cause I wanna get all of this written/posted and just generally out of the way because I want to try out new fandoms (Nana - because I love this series so much and Tsubasa - I'm finally caving in to the tormentor that is my Fai-muse. XD)

Backzzzzzz......

Thu, 22 Jun 2006 08:16:05 GMT

Finally back. Tired as hell. Will write a decent entry when I finally have sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.