jukeboxhound_backup | ficlet: close your eyes (spn)

Title stolen from Depeche Mode's "A Pain That I'm Used To." Unbeta'd, written during a lecture.

close your eyes, pay the price for your paradise
pairing: wincest
warnings: language, twt, some sexuality
word count: 344

Dean was fucked up and he’d be the first to admit it, but the last one to care. Why should he? He had a kickass car and his cock rock and no problem finding a willing chick with great T&A, and if he sometimes watched parents and their kids a little too wistfully, well, whatever. He was cool, dude, no skin off his back, all water under the goddamn bridge, he was gonna go down swinging while flipping God the finger.

Dean was just as complex as Sam yet totally more willing to pretend he wasn’t. Sam was as fucked up as Dean but in totally different ways, caught in a mess of pride and insecurity and fierce autonomy and neediness just as fierce and wishing he was one thing while being the opposite. Dean was happy to let things roll, it was Sam that had to change things, control things, it was Sam who could pray to God and then know his older brother Biblically, could do filthy things that made Sodom and Gomorrah look like goddamn monasteries. Dean wanted nothing but Sam wanted everything between Heaven and Hell, and maybe in those places too, and Dean was the only thing between Sam and total utter chaos. Okay, so Dean kinda liked the world with all its highway-side diners that hadn’t updated their menus since the fifties and crappy tacky motels that pushed the boundaries of human taste, but he needed Sam more and so how could he really say no when his baby brother had him spread on his back and was fucking into him real slow, fingers bruising, pupils blown so wide that Dean could pretend that the hazel-green irises didn’t have a tint of gold.

Dean couldn’t give Sam a law practice or a Stanford degree or Jess or a house with a white fucking picket fence, but he could give all of himself and then some and maybe, maybe it would be enough for a little while, maybe they could both pretend everything wasn’t on a crash-course to hell.