a subtle sort of brilliance (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theladyscribe) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
avandell2008-05-03 02:30 pm
theladyscribe) wrote in avandell2008-05-03 02:30 pm
Entry tags:
But You Better Not
Title: But You Better Not
Characters: Dean, Jess, Sam (Dean/Jess, Sam/Jess)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1714
Summary: He doesn’t have the hangover she was expecting him to have, and it kind of makes Jess wonder if he’s got some sort of medical condition Sam neglected to mention.
Notes: Totally AU. Written as part of the Bruce Springsteen Fic Project. The song used is “You Can Look (But You Better Not Touch).” Not affiliated with myun_love_you claim.
But You Better Not
5.
Things have changed significantly. It’s Fourth of July in Lawrence, fireworks from the city show and from neighbors peppering the sky with their blinding light. Jess stands next to Sam, twisting the diamond ring on her left hand as she watches Dean light rocket after rocket.
“My brother’s a pyro,” Sam whispers into her ear, but her answering smile is forced.
She’s jealous of Dean and his apparent ability to ignore the elephant between them. Of course, part of the problem is there’s not really an elephant; nothing ever happened between them, and she never completely lied to Sam (Dean has become a friend in these past several months).
But Dean’s hardly spoken to her since they got here, and beyond the cursory congratulations, he hasn’t said a word since they announced their engagement at dinner. She wonders if he hates her for saying yes to Sam.
She finds him in the basement of his parents’ house after the fireworks, playing vinyl records on a turntable that’s seen better days. He ignores her as she sits beside him on the couch, his eyes shut as he taps a rhythm against his knee. She vaguely recognizes the song coming out of the old speakers; it’s not the raucous hard rock she was expecting – instead it’s something classic, familiar, a song about a spurned lover. The accusation stings more than it should.
“I’m sorry,” she starts.
“Don’t.” His voice is short, none of that laughter in it now. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”
And that’s just it. He’s right. Can’t be sorry for something that never happened. Jess looks down at her lap, stares vacantly at the diamond that glitters innocuously on her finger. “I almost said no,” she admits. “He wants children. He’s going to make a lot of money. I may not even have to work ever, not if I don’t want to.” She turns her face toward him, only to find him staring straight back at her. “I don’t know if that’s the life I want.”
He reaches toward her, as if he’s about to brush a hand along her jaw, only to pull it back just before touching her. Almost unconsciously, she leans toward him, even though he’s pulled away, turned back to the wall so that she’s only looking at his profile.
“We can’t do this any more,” he says, and she looks away.
“I know.” She looks back down at her lap, biting her lip. “I’ll miss you.” She kisses his cheek before rising and walking upstairs to where Sam is waiting.
1.
The first time Jess meets him isn’t one of his finer moments. He’s drunk off his ass, spouting off to Sam about going hunting until he sees her. He gives her what can only be termed a leer and a line about Smurfs that drips with innuendo. It’s no wonder Sam hardly talks about his older brother, the guy’s a total sleeze. Still, Sam does seem to care about him, so Jess suggests they let him sleep on the couch for the night.
He fights them on the way down, but when they finally get him onto the couch, he’s out like a light.
She wakes in the morning to the smell of bacon, Sam’s arms still wrapped around her. She slides out of bed and pads into the kitchen only to find Dean standing with his arms elbows-deep in dishwater, bacon and pancakes kept warm in the oven.
“We have a dishwasher,” she tells him as she moves to dry the plates he’s already washed.
“Oh,” he answers and shrugs.
He doesn’t have the hangover she was expecting him to have. It kind of makes Jess wonder if he’s got some sort of medical condition Sam neglected to mention, one that would explain how he could be crazy at one in the morning and perfectly fine after the sun rises. She watches him out of the corner of her eye; he’s more handsome than she had imagined him, all sharp angles and smooth corners, like he’s spent his whole life working. Sam said he’s always been a lady-killer, and it’s easy to see why, with his broad shoulders and striking features.
He catches her staring and quirks an eyebrow. “Like what you see?”
She rolls her eyes, trying to subdue the blush. “You’re not my type,” she says, and he waggles his eyebrows.
“I could be.”
3.
Neither of them are drunk, though Jess kind of wishes she were. That way, she’d have an excuse for letting him into the apartment even though Sam is gone, hunting mountain lions in Oregon with some of his law school buddies.
“Sam won’t be back until the end of the week,” she says as they sit awkwardly at the kitchen table.
“Do you want me to leave?”
“You don’t have to.”
They spend the week mostly lounging around – Jess is finishing up the last of her schooling, coasting because she took summer courses for two years and all she has left are electives that she never really cared about anyway. They rent movies and order in Chinese food, hardly leaving the apartment, and she thinks that this is what life is supposed to be, eating dumplings out of styrofoam boxes while making fun of Johnny Depp attempting to be Keith Richards. It shouldn’t be sitting at home, waiting on your boyfriend to get back from hunting cougar in Oregon.
Sam calls every night, usually when they’re in the middle of the best part of the movie. Jess talks to him with the film paused and Dean making faces at her, trying to get her to crack up. Once, he succeeds, and Sam asks her what’s so funny. She fumbles a lie about a commercial on TV, but he doesn’t seem to care too much.
“I’ll be back on Saturday,” he says.
Dean leaves on Friday.
2.
Jess is the drunk one. They’re at the Winchester family Christmas party, and she and Sam had a fight on the drive from the airport. She’s sitting on the back porch with a bottle of hard cider, watching the snow fall.
“Thought I might find you out here,” says a rough voice, and she turns to see Dean offering her a mug of steaming coffee.
“Thanks,” she replies, surprised at how her voice slurs a bit. Maybe she had more to drink than she thought. And maybe she said that out loud, because he laughs, and she thinks that he should laugh more often; she likes the way it makes his eyes light up, the way he throws his head back and puts his whole body into the laugh.
“It’s why I brought you coffee,” he says, smirking around his own mug. “That and Sam’s still being pissy.”
She sighs. “He’s been in a mood all day. I think the traveling gets to him.” She takes a sip of the coffee, the liquid heat burning down her throat and settling in her stomach.
This time he chuckles lowly, and the heat in her belly isn’t from the coffee. “Sam’s never liked traveling. I was amazed he had the guts to leave Kansas for school.” He shakes his head. “The stories I could tell…”
“He told me stories about you,” she says, looking up at him from her perch on the step. “Before you… showed up at Stanford. And after, too. He said you stole his girlfriend on prom night, and you tried to buy him a hooker for his eighteenth birthday. And he said you’re a klepto. Speaking of which, you wouldn’t happen to have one of our coffee mugs, would you?”
He smirks. “Was it big and girly? Pink and green stripes?” She nods. “I think I threw it out the window somewhere around Albuquerque. If it’s that important to you, you can have that one.” He gestures at the mug in her hands. “What else did my little brother say about me?”
“After you left, he said you were unsettled. That you can’t stay in one place for very long. And you’ve never had a girlfriend for more than a couple weeks.”
He grunts, neither agreeing or disagreeing with his brother’s comments. “And what about you?” he asks after a moment.
“I think you just haven’t found the right girl.”
4.
No one is drunk and their meeting is intentional. Dean’s just passing through, and he calls her to see if she wants to do lunch.
“What about Sam?” she asks.
“What about him?” There’s an edge to his voice that she can’t quite decipher, but she agrees to meet him, telling Sam that she’s going out with a friend and will be back later.
“Have fun,” Sam says, and she pushes away the slide of guilt in her stomach as she hurries out the door to the bus stop.
She meets Dean at El Camino Park, sliding into the shotgun seat of his black car. “Where are we going?” she asks, breathless with excitement at their clandestine meeting.
He laughs. “You’ll see.”
They drive west and north, taking the Cabrillo Highway to Half Moon Bay, where they have lunch at a café overlooking the water. It’s all very innocent, no secret touches underneath the clear glass table, even though Jess would love nothing more than to learn the feel of his heartbeat under her hands.
“So what do you have against your brother?” Jess asks after they’re both pleasantly buzzed from the wine they had with their grilled fish.
Dean frowns. “Nothing.” She’s pretty sure he’s lying. “What do you have against him?”
And she supposes that’s a fair question; after all, she agreed to meet him and she didn’t tell Sam. Still, the question makes her uncomfortable. She loves Sam, really, but sometimes… Sometimes she hates him. He told her once that he and Dean didn’t really get along, but he never really knew why. Jess does, and it all boils down to the fact that Sam wants what everyone wants: stability. Dean only wants what everyone truly wants: freedom. Jess is afraid she might want freedom more than stability.
“Nothing,” she says in answer to Dean’s question.
He snorts, a sound that’s equal parts disbelief and consensus. “I guess we’re soul-mates, then.”
Characters: Dean, Jess, Sam (Dean/Jess, Sam/Jess)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1714
Summary: He doesn’t have the hangover she was expecting him to have, and it kind of makes Jess wonder if he’s got some sort of medical condition Sam neglected to mention.
Notes: Totally AU. Written as part of the Bruce Springsteen Fic Project. The song used is “You Can Look (But You Better Not Touch).” Not affiliated with my
un_love_you claim.But You Better Not
5.
Things have changed significantly. It’s Fourth of July in Lawrence, fireworks from the city show and from neighbors peppering the sky with their blinding light. Jess stands next to Sam, twisting the diamond ring on her left hand as she watches Dean light rocket after rocket.
“My brother’s a pyro,” Sam whispers into her ear, but her answering smile is forced.
She’s jealous of Dean and his apparent ability to ignore the elephant between them. Of course, part of the problem is there’s not really an elephant; nothing ever happened between them, and she never completely lied to Sam (Dean has become a friend in these past several months).
But Dean’s hardly spoken to her since they got here, and beyond the cursory congratulations, he hasn’t said a word since they announced their engagement at dinner. She wonders if he hates her for saying yes to Sam.
She finds him in the basement of his parents’ house after the fireworks, playing vinyl records on a turntable that’s seen better days. He ignores her as she sits beside him on the couch, his eyes shut as he taps a rhythm against his knee. She vaguely recognizes the song coming out of the old speakers; it’s not the raucous hard rock she was expecting – instead it’s something classic, familiar, a song about a spurned lover. The accusation stings more than it should.
“I’m sorry,” she starts.
“Don’t.” His voice is short, none of that laughter in it now. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”
And that’s just it. He’s right. Can’t be sorry for something that never happened. Jess looks down at her lap, stares vacantly at the diamond that glitters innocuously on her finger. “I almost said no,” she admits. “He wants children. He’s going to make a lot of money. I may not even have to work ever, not if I don’t want to.” She turns her face toward him, only to find him staring straight back at her. “I don’t know if that’s the life I want.”
He reaches toward her, as if he’s about to brush a hand along her jaw, only to pull it back just before touching her. Almost unconsciously, she leans toward him, even though he’s pulled away, turned back to the wall so that she’s only looking at his profile.
“We can’t do this any more,” he says, and she looks away.
“I know.” She looks back down at her lap, biting her lip. “I’ll miss you.” She kisses his cheek before rising and walking upstairs to where Sam is waiting.
1.
The first time Jess meets him isn’t one of his finer moments. He’s drunk off his ass, spouting off to Sam about going hunting until he sees her. He gives her what can only be termed a leer and a line about Smurfs that drips with innuendo. It’s no wonder Sam hardly talks about his older brother, the guy’s a total sleeze. Still, Sam does seem to care about him, so Jess suggests they let him sleep on the couch for the night.
He fights them on the way down, but when they finally get him onto the couch, he’s out like a light.
She wakes in the morning to the smell of bacon, Sam’s arms still wrapped around her. She slides out of bed and pads into the kitchen only to find Dean standing with his arms elbows-deep in dishwater, bacon and pancakes kept warm in the oven.
“We have a dishwasher,” she tells him as she moves to dry the plates he’s already washed.
“Oh,” he answers and shrugs.
He doesn’t have the hangover she was expecting him to have. It kind of makes Jess wonder if he’s got some sort of medical condition Sam neglected to mention, one that would explain how he could be crazy at one in the morning and perfectly fine after the sun rises. She watches him out of the corner of her eye; he’s more handsome than she had imagined him, all sharp angles and smooth corners, like he’s spent his whole life working. Sam said he’s always been a lady-killer, and it’s easy to see why, with his broad shoulders and striking features.
He catches her staring and quirks an eyebrow. “Like what you see?”
She rolls her eyes, trying to subdue the blush. “You’re not my type,” she says, and he waggles his eyebrows.
“I could be.”
3.
Neither of them are drunk, though Jess kind of wishes she were. That way, she’d have an excuse for letting him into the apartment even though Sam is gone, hunting mountain lions in Oregon with some of his law school buddies.
“Sam won’t be back until the end of the week,” she says as they sit awkwardly at the kitchen table.
“Do you want me to leave?”
“You don’t have to.”
They spend the week mostly lounging around – Jess is finishing up the last of her schooling, coasting because she took summer courses for two years and all she has left are electives that she never really cared about anyway. They rent movies and order in Chinese food, hardly leaving the apartment, and she thinks that this is what life is supposed to be, eating dumplings out of styrofoam boxes while making fun of Johnny Depp attempting to be Keith Richards. It shouldn’t be sitting at home, waiting on your boyfriend to get back from hunting cougar in Oregon.
Sam calls every night, usually when they’re in the middle of the best part of the movie. Jess talks to him with the film paused and Dean making faces at her, trying to get her to crack up. Once, he succeeds, and Sam asks her what’s so funny. She fumbles a lie about a commercial on TV, but he doesn’t seem to care too much.
“I’ll be back on Saturday,” he says.
Dean leaves on Friday.
2.
Jess is the drunk one. They’re at the Winchester family Christmas party, and she and Sam had a fight on the drive from the airport. She’s sitting on the back porch with a bottle of hard cider, watching the snow fall.
“Thought I might find you out here,” says a rough voice, and she turns to see Dean offering her a mug of steaming coffee.
“Thanks,” she replies, surprised at how her voice slurs a bit. Maybe she had more to drink than she thought. And maybe she said that out loud, because he laughs, and she thinks that he should laugh more often; she likes the way it makes his eyes light up, the way he throws his head back and puts his whole body into the laugh.
“It’s why I brought you coffee,” he says, smirking around his own mug. “That and Sam’s still being pissy.”
She sighs. “He’s been in a mood all day. I think the traveling gets to him.” She takes a sip of the coffee, the liquid heat burning down her throat and settling in her stomach.
This time he chuckles lowly, and the heat in her belly isn’t from the coffee. “Sam’s never liked traveling. I was amazed he had the guts to leave Kansas for school.” He shakes his head. “The stories I could tell…”
“He told me stories about you,” she says, looking up at him from her perch on the step. “Before you… showed up at Stanford. And after, too. He said you stole his girlfriend on prom night, and you tried to buy him a hooker for his eighteenth birthday. And he said you’re a klepto. Speaking of which, you wouldn’t happen to have one of our coffee mugs, would you?”
He smirks. “Was it big and girly? Pink and green stripes?” She nods. “I think I threw it out the window somewhere around Albuquerque. If it’s that important to you, you can have that one.” He gestures at the mug in her hands. “What else did my little brother say about me?”
“After you left, he said you were unsettled. That you can’t stay in one place for very long. And you’ve never had a girlfriend for more than a couple weeks.”
He grunts, neither agreeing or disagreeing with his brother’s comments. “And what about you?” he asks after a moment.
“I think you just haven’t found the right girl.”
4.
No one is drunk and their meeting is intentional. Dean’s just passing through, and he calls her to see if she wants to do lunch.
“What about Sam?” she asks.
“What about him?” There’s an edge to his voice that she can’t quite decipher, but she agrees to meet him, telling Sam that she’s going out with a friend and will be back later.
“Have fun,” Sam says, and she pushes away the slide of guilt in her stomach as she hurries out the door to the bus stop.
She meets Dean at El Camino Park, sliding into the shotgun seat of his black car. “Where are we going?” she asks, breathless with excitement at their clandestine meeting.
He laughs. “You’ll see.”
They drive west and north, taking the Cabrillo Highway to Half Moon Bay, where they have lunch at a café overlooking the water. It’s all very innocent, no secret touches underneath the clear glass table, even though Jess would love nothing more than to learn the feel of his heartbeat under her hands.
“So what do you have against your brother?” Jess asks after they’re both pleasantly buzzed from the wine they had with their grilled fish.
Dean frowns. “Nothing.” She’s pretty sure he’s lying. “What do you have against him?”
And she supposes that’s a fair question; after all, she agreed to meet him and she didn’t tell Sam. Still, the question makes her uncomfortable. She loves Sam, really, but sometimes… Sometimes she hates him. He told her once that he and Dean didn’t really get along, but he never really knew why. Jess does, and it all boils down to the fact that Sam wants what everyone wants: stability. Dean only wants what everyone truly wants: freedom. Jess is afraid she might want freedom more than stability.
“Nothing,” she says in answer to Dean’s question.
He snorts, a sound that’s equal parts disbelief and consensus. “I guess we’re soul-mates, then.”
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This just works. The out of order format and Sam wanting stability and Dean wanting freedom and Jess just not knowing what she wants. And it's all beautifully put together. *sigh*
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What's really funny is the fact that I took *forever* to come up with the structure of this story. It started off with "the first time... the second time... etc." and it was just clunky and ugh and I nearly trashed the whole thing. And then I thought, why not put the events out of order? And it worked!
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Really enjoyed this.
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I actually was going to make it physical, but I suck at writing sex, so I opted out. I'd like to think the story was better for it. ;)
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Jess is afraid she might want freedom more than stability.
Beautiful.
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Incredible. Brilliantly done and all the other terms of enderment you can think of :P
There are little bits in each i love, the mug he threw out the window. Sam telling jess Dean was a kelpto. All these little things that make the fic seem much more real!
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And it's those little details that really make the story, I think.
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Yay awkward Dean/Jess... If anyone else wrote this, I think it would annoy me, but you pull it off.
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