Fic: A Bond of Steel
Oct. 19th, 2007 02:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
astri13Title: A Bond of Steel
Author: astri13
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating/Warning: R for swearing and very mildly implied slash
Word Count: 700
Summary: Sometimes one person is all the inspiration we need.
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended; fair use only. Not created for profit.
Notes: This is based on a crazy little idea that has been floating in my head forever. You may read it and make looping motions next to your forehead. :)
Sam bit his lip in deep concentration. Perfect, it had to be perfect. There was only a limited window of time to successfully complete this ritual and Dean's life might very well depend on it.
"Is it done?" Luminous, green eyes looked at Sam impatiently, their owner vibrating with energy like he always did before a hunt.
"Soon," Sam answered. He couldn't afford to rush it now. He had worked too long and too hard on this, studied for months, exhausted every source of knowledge he could find. While Sam was a hunter just like Dean - and no slouch when it came to fighting, either - research was his true love. Dean always made fun of how he seemed to soak up books on demonology like a dry sponge.
But now Sam felt as if all his efforts had paid off. This might just give their side the boost they needed. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. Almost there. He felt Dean stepping closer to him, felt a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. Closing eyes for a moment, Sam leaned into the touch.
He knew he shouldn't, shouldn't allow himself to even acknowledge that… whatever it was between them, let alone encourage it. It was a rough world they lived in, rougher even in the small community of hunters. And for all their lone wolf ways, hunters were a damn talkative bunch when they got together.
Something like that could make them outcasts, and while Sam would be stricken about that, he could eventually make do. Unlike many hunters he always made sure to keep one foot firmly planted in the "normal" world.
For Dean, however, hunting was a calling. He'd be devastated to lose it, and Sam would make sure it never came to that. Dean was the best damn hunter he knew, he deserved respect, not disgrace.
Resolutely he went back to work, Dean hovering behind him. Finally Sam straightened. "Done."
Dean looked in awe at Sam's creation. "She's a real beauty."
"She?" Sam smiled.
"Well, of course it's a lady, Sam. Just look at her." Dean seemed perfectly giddy with his new toy.
"Then I hope you're gonna treat her better than you do most of your other ladies," Sam said as he handed it over.
Dean weighed it in his hand, then looked up at Sam earnestly. "Thank you. I mean it, you have done great."
Blushing, Sam shrugged it off, trying not to show how much Dean's approval meant to him.
"So, I guess now comes my part." Dean made his way from the workshop to the outside of the house.
Sam followed him. "You will take care of yourself?" It wasn't a question - and yet it was.
He watched as Dean mounted "Black Thunder", his trusty stallion. He smirked that infuriation cocky smirk of his that got him in as many trouble as it got him out of it. "You know me."
"Dean." Sam whispered it softly. He knew it wasn't entirely fair. You could yell at Dean, cajole, threaten, even use force but the man wouldn't budge. However, to Sam's soft pleading voice, Dean would fold every single time.
And sure enough, the reckless façade slipped a bit as Dean's features softened. "Yeah, I'll take care." He met Sam's soft tone.
Sam nodded. It was as good as he was ever going to get. Whenever Dean left for a hunt, Sam's heart felt heavy but at least this time Sam had given him an advantage, a gun like no other in the world. And everybody knew Samuel Colt made the best guns.
Two years later when they brought the gun back to him - sans Dean - Sam destroyed his workshop in a drunken rage. And amidst the wreckage he swore they would pay, every single dirty fucker would pay. From his historical studies he knew how some of the most important monuments in history had been built in honour of one person, kings, warriors, lovers. Well, Dean would get a monument all of his own. It would be made from solid iron and it would hold the shape of victory. Samuel Colt would see to that.
Author: astri13
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating/Warning: R for swearing and very mildly implied slash
Word Count: 700
Summary: Sometimes one person is all the inspiration we need.
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended; fair use only. Not created for profit.
Notes: This is based on a crazy little idea that has been floating in my head forever. You may read it and make looping motions next to your forehead. :)
Sam bit his lip in deep concentration. Perfect, it had to be perfect. There was only a limited window of time to successfully complete this ritual and Dean's life might very well depend on it.
"Is it done?" Luminous, green eyes looked at Sam impatiently, their owner vibrating with energy like he always did before a hunt.
"Soon," Sam answered. He couldn't afford to rush it now. He had worked too long and too hard on this, studied for months, exhausted every source of knowledge he could find. While Sam was a hunter just like Dean - and no slouch when it came to fighting, either - research was his true love. Dean always made fun of how he seemed to soak up books on demonology like a dry sponge.
But now Sam felt as if all his efforts had paid off. This might just give their side the boost they needed. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. Almost there. He felt Dean stepping closer to him, felt a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. Closing eyes for a moment, Sam leaned into the touch.
He knew he shouldn't, shouldn't allow himself to even acknowledge that… whatever it was between them, let alone encourage it. It was a rough world they lived in, rougher even in the small community of hunters. And for all their lone wolf ways, hunters were a damn talkative bunch when they got together.
Something like that could make them outcasts, and while Sam would be stricken about that, he could eventually make do. Unlike many hunters he always made sure to keep one foot firmly planted in the "normal" world.
For Dean, however, hunting was a calling. He'd be devastated to lose it, and Sam would make sure it never came to that. Dean was the best damn hunter he knew, he deserved respect, not disgrace.
Resolutely he went back to work, Dean hovering behind him. Finally Sam straightened. "Done."
Dean looked in awe at Sam's creation. "She's a real beauty."
"She?" Sam smiled.
"Well, of course it's a lady, Sam. Just look at her." Dean seemed perfectly giddy with his new toy.
"Then I hope you're gonna treat her better than you do most of your other ladies," Sam said as he handed it over.
Dean weighed it in his hand, then looked up at Sam earnestly. "Thank you. I mean it, you have done great."
Blushing, Sam shrugged it off, trying not to show how much Dean's approval meant to him.
"So, I guess now comes my part." Dean made his way from the workshop to the outside of the house.
Sam followed him. "You will take care of yourself?" It wasn't a question - and yet it was.
He watched as Dean mounted "Black Thunder", his trusty stallion. He smirked that infuriation cocky smirk of his that got him in as many trouble as it got him out of it. "You know me."
"Dean." Sam whispered it softly. He knew it wasn't entirely fair. You could yell at Dean, cajole, threaten, even use force but the man wouldn't budge. However, to Sam's soft pleading voice, Dean would fold every single time.
And sure enough, the reckless façade slipped a bit as Dean's features softened. "Yeah, I'll take care." He met Sam's soft tone.
Sam nodded. It was as good as he was ever going to get. Whenever Dean left for a hunt, Sam's heart felt heavy but at least this time Sam had given him an advantage, a gun like no other in the world. And everybody knew Samuel Colt made the best guns.
Two years later when they brought the gun back to him - sans Dean - Sam destroyed his workshop in a drunken rage. And amidst the wreckage he swore they would pay, every single dirty fucker would pay. From his historical studies he knew how some of the most important monuments in history had been built in honour of one person, kings, warriors, lovers. Well, Dean would get a monument all of his own. It would be made from solid iron and it would hold the shape of victory. Samuel Colt would see to that.
