dudeimbatman | Entries tagged with [prompt] couples therapy

[When did you know you were in love?]

He’s in Las Vegas and her name is Dani. She’s a blonde—natural she swears—with legs up to her neck and the most perfect pair of tits money can buy. She’s also currently tied to headboard clothed in only a thong, a pair of high heels and bedroom eyes that leave no doubt to her willingness. The bed sinks under his weight, both knees first and then his hands. He’s still wearing his jeans but he has no damn idea why. It’s not until he’s inches from her mouth, poised above her that he realizes why.

“You alright, Gorgeous?” Dani asks, her leg hooking around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Yeah,” Dean answers but he doesn’t sound or look convinced. The kiss is half hearted and Dani can tell. She’s doing a fantastic job of ignoring it. Dean finally pulls away with an actual sigh. He sits back on his heels, scrubbing his hands over his face.

Dani is confused; it’s written all over her face. “There’s a bottle of pills in the nightstand,” she nods toward the left of the bed. “Everyone has problems sometimes.”

It takes a minute for Dean to catch onto what she’s suggesting but when he does, his eyes get big and he shakes his head. “No, no. no,” he insists. “I am not having problems…with the rise and shine. I-dammit,” he curses.

“I’ve gotta…get-Jesus fucking Christ on a stick…home. I gotta get home.”

Walking out the door, leaving Double D Dani pouting in her bed, it hits him. He’s not leaving because he’s got to get home or because Sam will bitch or because Dani isn’t completely amazing looking. He’s leaving because like it or not, he’s in love with Brooke Davis.

“Well fuck…”

Current Mood: bitchy

[Pain]

Every other week it seems like Dean’s hearing some sort of bullshit about Sam from angels or demons or prophets. He’s the Anti-Christ, the prince of Hell, the Queen of England—because of course Sammy would be a Queen. He doesn’t believe them.

Until now.

He’s not scared of Sam. That’s his baby brother in there. No matter what he does, he will always be his baby brother. He’s scared of what Sam will do. He’s scared of what Sam has done and most of all he’s terrified he’s never, ever gonna get his baby brother back. Not the way he used to be with that big dorky smile and the way he stumbles over his own gynormous feet.

“What don’t I know about that kid?”

At one time, nothing. He knew Sam inside and out, all the crevices and cracks. He could write a book about the things he knew about Sam and it’d be a hellva lot longer than the list of things he knew about himself. But now…he didn’t even know Sam was on demon blood. He feels like a stupid, oblivious parent because somehow this is his fault. If he’d been…more of anything at all, Sam wouldn’t be locked up.

If Dean weren’t so damn tired, he’d be angry. Angry at the situation, angry at Sam, angry at Ruby and angry at God. Which figures…two point four seconds after Dean decides he believes in God, he’s pissed at him. It all boils down to one thing. Dean wants to go back.

Back to goofy smiles.

Back to a time when he didn’t believe in Sam’s destiny.

And Dean’s terrified he’s never going to get there.

Maybe this is his punishment. This is for that first day he broke and every day after that. This is for ten years of souls on the rack and every drag of the blade down skin that was only there to be tortured. Sammy’s paying for every crime that Dean ever did and it occurs to him that Castiel didn’t drag him back; he dragged him deeper.

Current Mood: blah

[This image]

Anyone could carve initials in a tree. It took a knife and no skill what so ever. However…using a flame thrower to burn initials into a tree took skill. It was a deeper level of devotion.

Also? It was a reason to set shit on fire.

There was little in the world Dean loved doing as much as he loved setting things on fire.

It was supposed to be a surprise. Well…she was surprised.

You know when she pulled up in the drive way to find two fire trucks and the big oak tree in the backyard reduced to a smoldering stump.

“DEAN!”

He’d know that tone anywhere. The grin he plastered on as he waded through two inches of water—putting out a fire apparently flooded the front and back yard—was not even close to sheepish. It was more like I’m so awesome the tree spontaneously combusted. He actually considered that story for about two point five seconds. He figured telling her the truth would carry more weight. At least he was trying to be sweet. Chicks valued sweet…or at least that’s what he’d been told.

“Momma! I told him not to play with fire,” Matthew said as he splashed through the water to hug Brooke.

Dean glared at him and he might have mumbled the word traitor, but not too loudly. “I was going to burn our initials into the tree in the backyard.”

And it’d all been going FINE until one of the branches caught fire.

“He should have listened to you,” Brooke told Matthew. She stared hard at Dean. “Fire? Really?”

He shrugged and his grin got wider.

“I told Dad that it would burn. They make LOGS out of trees,” Matthew pointed out again. He wanted to make sure that he wasn’t in trouble.

“You are so grounded,” Brooke told Dean as she tiptoed through the water toward the front door.

“To our room?” Dean asked hopefully as he followed Brooke. “Uhm…Hot Ass…I don’t think we can go in there yet…something about making sure-“

Brooke’s glare stopped his words. “To Sam’s room.”

Oh…she was pissed. Note to self don’t burn Brooke’s shit.

“Aww come on, Hot Ass. Every time you look out the window and see that stump it’ll remind you of me,” Dean argued.

“There’s a stump?” Brooke asked.

Second note to self: Shut up while you’re ahead.

“Just a little one?” Dean responded.

Brooke closed her eyes and started counting silently. Dean kept waiting for her to finish. He counted past ten, then fifty. He was close to a hundred when decided this shit had to be interrupted.

“I’ll buy a new tree. Matthew and I can plant it tomorrow.” Besides digging holes was kind of fun. He’d never done it before except to bury or unbury something.

“If you dig up the entire yard, you will never, ever sleep in the same room with me again,” Brooke warned.

“Just one hole,” he promised with a grin.

And this time, the new tree would have their initials carved into it.

Current Mood: guilty

[Triangle]

Connect the dots. One, two, three and he knows that’s one too many. His thoughts are fuzzy around the edges, separated by oceans of morphine and continents of pain. Maybe that’s why he notices for the first time, they’re a triangle. Sam’s on his right side, elbows on his knees and he’s got that same worried look he had the night he had to go play a tree or some shit in the school play. Brooke is on his left side, her back curved against a chair like she’s been there forever. Maybe she has. He can’t remember anymore.

As soon as they see his eyelids flutter, they both push forward, weight teetering on the edge of the chairs. Sam moves forward so quickly, his chair grates against the tile floor.

“Relax, Hell’s already tossed me out and Heaven’s too damn afraid I’d take over. I’m gonna live forever, Kiddos.” He wishes it sounded more like the joke it is but funny thing about being choked nearly to death. It fucks with your voice and everything sounds James Earl Jones serious.

“Do you want me to call the nurse?” That’s worry wart Sammy, hovering like a first time mother while Brooke hangs back letting him.

Dean forces a smile and really it’s a twitch at the corners of his lips. “No, she’ll just give me some of that shit that puts me in lala land.” Not that lala land sounds so bad right now. His throat feels like Alistair iss shoving hot pokers down it. Oh wait, he knows what that feels like and this isn’t quite it but almost.

He’s still watching Sammy, looking for signs of what the hell happened out there in the kid’s eyes. He knows it wasn’t good because he can see the way the weight curves his baby brother’s spine and hunches his shoulders, like Atlas after a bad day—yeah he knows who Atlas is, as he’s constantly reminding people, he’s not stupid.

Brooke’s hand is cool on his forehead, skirting along his hairline and drawing his attention to her. She’s been crying, he can see the red in her eyes. He has to look away because that quiet fear threatens to break him. He brought this into her life; a normal life with the fence and the kid and the not-yet-but-soon dog. He can’t apologize because a part of him isn’t sorry—and this seems to be a theme with the Winchesters. It’s not fair to her and its not fair to him but then he stopped caring about fair to him when he was four years old and Sammy was crying in his arms. She’s trapped in this triangle; him and Sam and her and it cycles around and around like some lopsided and broken circle.

“I’ll…go tell the doctor you’re awake,” Sam says, his gaze flicking to Brooke and then back to Dean one last time. There are tears in his eyes and Dean wonders what the fuck happened once again. He’s pretty sure that whipped puppy look isn’t because he found out big brother tortured a demon. Or maybe it is and Dean’s just fooling himself.

“He alright?” Dean asks when Sam is gone but he’s still there in that room—always there, part of the broken, lopsided circle that is DeanBrookeSam. Or maybe it’s SamDeanBrooke—SamBrookeDean. He’s not sure anymore and he doesn’t know if it even matters. Or maybe it’s like a tide, and that’s all that matters. The way it washes up and then away, up and then away. Reverse it—away and then up—the world goes askew but then his would is already askew. He’ll have to talk to Castiel about changing the tide again.

Brooke squeezes his hand in hers, lightly, lightly because if he’s ever been fragile it’s right now. “He’s fine. Worry about you. “

But worrying about Sammy is what makes Dean’s world go round and Brooke’s along for the ride; oh what a bumpy ride.

“I’m sorry.” There’s the tears he’s been struggling with and where the hell is the nurse with the morphine that he didn’t want a few minutes ago.

Brooke shakes her head and moves closer to the bed, curling over him the way she does Matthew when she kisses his forehead at night. “Take it back. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

If it were so easy. Take it all back. Back to Mom and back to Dad. Back to 1973 before the tide changed and the world went askew. Take back the fire and the way Dad was always gone. Take back Jess and Sam dying in his arms. Take it back. Take it back. Take it back and maybe there wouldn’t be a stupid lopsided, broken circle--triangle, his kindergarten teacher reminds him and Dean thinks he needs to remember so he can teach Sammy someday—Just Dean and Brooke—DeanBrooke; BrookeDean—but that feels wrong and weird so maybe he can just take back Sammy dying in his arms because that’s when the tide changed for him. That’s when up and away became away and up. The shortest distance between A and B is always a straight line but doesn’t the journey trump the destination and what fun is a straight line anyway? Besides, he doesn’t know what he is without Sam and he’s not sure BrookeDean would ever make it at all. Funny how he’s got more faith in something infinitely more broken and desperately more dysfunctional: SamBrookeDean.

“Can’t take it back.”

Current Mood: sore

["When you are in love you can't fall asleep because reality is better than your dreams."

-- Dr. Seuss]

He doesn’t sleep much anymore and there are a myriad of reasons why but it’s the nightmares that keep him up even when exhaustion is as perpetual as Sammy’s bitchiness. It’s not that they’re vivid (even though they are) or that they seem real (even though they do); it’s that they were real. He’s not having nightmares of something his brain concocted due to stress or too much alcohol. More accurately he’s having memories of his time in Hell. Memories that are painted in Technicolor—so bright, so jarring and so damn painful he doesn’t want to sleep.

He wakes up with a whimper because screams just egged them on. Her hands are in his hair, fingertips rubbing against the stubble on his jaw while her lips whisper reassurance and love. He lays there for a moment, letting himself adjust, convincing himself this isn’t a trick. It’s not persuasion and it’s not a bribe. She’s here, she’s real and he’s not in Hell anymore. Sometimes he knows right away and sometimes the memories fill his nose with the smell of sulfur, blood and burning flesh. It takes longer on those nights.

He doesn’t sleep much anymore. He’s got books to read, cases to research and a girlfriend to do. On any given night, Dean can find a dozen reasons not to fall asleep. Reality is nice right now and it doesn’t hurt or burn or bleed. It doesn’t ask more than he can ever give; it doesn’t turn him into a monster that he can’t ever come back from. Reality has gentle hands and soft lips, words that give and arms that hold. He’ll take that over his dreams any day.

Current Mood: awake

[Getaway]

Related to this thread and regarding Matthew’s verse

He’s not going to look back.

He’s not going to look back.

He’s not going to look back.

But he can still see the house in the rear view. There’s a faint light coming from Matthew’s window. The little boy likes to sleep with a night light. His little boy. The rest of the house is dark; she’s made certain to turn off the outside light. He knows she’s pissed and that’s alright. He’d like to say it doesn’t hurt. There’s nothing about this that isn’t as raw as a new wound not so carefully sewn up by Sam. He’ll come back though. No matter how much it hurts. He’ll come back and he’ll suffer all the pain. Personally though, he thinks Hell could have used Brooke Davis. She’s not cruel and he doesn’t even think she does it on purpose. It wouldn’t hurt nearly as damn much if that was the case.

She’s got a hero and it’s not him. The bitch of the whole deal is he lets her hurt him. He’s given her the power and he can’t undo it. He’s not even sure he would because there’s Matthew and he’ll happily tromp through Hell again just to get a little more time with his kid.

Right now, he’s got to let go of all that or he’s got to turn it inside and use it. There’s a job and he’s got a son to get back to but sometimes he wonders if he’d have wanted a life so much if he’d known it hurt. It doesn’t matter now because

He’s not going to look back.

Current Mood: hurt

[Ilsa: I can't fight it anymore. I ran away from you once. I can't do it again. Oh, I don't know what's right any longer. You have to think for both of us. For all of us.
Rick: All right, I will. Here's looking at you, kid.
Ilsa: I wish I didn't love you so much.]

She’s asleep in the backseat and Sam’s leaning against the passenger side door. He’s not certain if Sam’s asleep or just listening to his iPod. Normally he’d jerk the ear buds out of Sam’s ears and crank the music up but he doesn’t want to wake Brooke. Instead he punches Sam in the arm and apparently, Sam was sound asleep because he wakes up with a grumble and a bitchy look on his face. He tugs the ear buds out of his own ears.

“What the hell, Dean?”

“I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?”

That gets him a double take from Sam and leaves the kid looking a little like a very confused golden retriever. In order to clarify, Dean jerks his head toward the backseat. Sam glances over at Brooke asleep and then back at Dean. In response, he shrugs.

“She seems pretty happy about things right now.”

“Yeah but you know how this is gonna go,” Dean says with a glance up in the rearview mirror. He’s got it tilted down so that he can see the back seat.

“The only relationship you ever had, you had during the two years we weren’t talking. I have no idea how this is going to go.”

Dean looks out the window, annoyance flickering across his face. It was so friggin’ much easier when Sam just got it and didn’t make him talk through this shit.

“She’s going to get tired of me being gone. She’s going to get tired of me coming home hurt. I don’t do that romance shit. I’m better at cut and run. She wants the whole apple pie life. Picket fence, kids and a dog.” Dean shook his head, jaw tight as he focuses on the road in front of him.

Sam glances back over the backseat and back at Dean. “You could talk to her about it.”

“Tried that.”

That earned him a surprised look. Brows rising up for a moment before his forehead furrowed. He rubs the back of his neck, considering Dean’s words.

“You don’t have to do this, Dean. You can quit and I’ll just…” Sam trails off because he knows he can’t quit. He’s not allowed to and right now, he’s not sure Dean’s allowed to either. Even if he were, Sam can’t do this without Dean and everybody knows it.

Dean looks over at him and rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Sammy. Like I’m really gonna leave you alone in this shit.” His eyes click up to the rearview mirror and back to the road. “I told her what I could do and what I couldn’t then let her make the decision. She picked this one.”

“Maybe it’ll be alright,” Sam points out, settling back into the corner created by the seat and the door.

“Nah. I figure one of these days I’ll show up, pull up to the curb and she’ll meet me at the door to toss my ass out,” Dean responds. There’s just the slightest bit of hush to his voice, a catch to it that hints he believes what he’s saying.

“Well that sucks,” Sam sighs after a minute.

“You’re telling me.”

“Think you could hold off until summer?” Sam asks, the corner of his mouth just tugging up in the slightest bit of a grin.

Dean smirks and raises an eyebrow in question.

“I’m really looking forward to using the pool.”

Current Mood: worried

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Dean Winchester

2025

S	M	T	W	T	F	S

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Page Summary

You come on with a come on, you dont fight fair [But thats o.k., see if I care!]
Why Don’t You See Me Reaching Out To You [When Will This Hell Ever Be Through]
A fire of unknown origin [Took my baby away]
But it's a problem I find [Living a life that I can't leave behind]
Isnt that the way [Everybodys got their dues in life to pay]
Fuck the way I feel right now [I'll never feel this anymore]
You won't have to wait [The way it looks from here]

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Page generated Jul. 5th, 2025 02:36 am

Dude, I'm batman

Entries tagged with [prompt] couples therapy

You come on with a come on, you dont fight fair [But thats o.k., see if I care!]

Why Don’t You See Me Reaching Out To You [When Will This Hell Ever Be Through]

A fire of unknown origin [Took my baby away]

But it's a problem I find [Living a life that I can't leave behind]

Isnt that the way [Everybodys got their dues in life to pay]

Fuck the way I feel right now [I'll never feel this anymore]

You won't have to wait [The way it looks from here]