Genre/Pairing: Sam, Dean, gen
Wordcount: cca. 420
Summary: Love is a raw feeling.
Warnings/tags: hurt!Dean, h/c
Disclaimer: I seriously only own the grammar/spelling mistakes. Everything else is NOT MINE! ALL IS FICTION.
Love tastes like blood. Like copper. Like having your mouth stuffed full of pennies that stain your tongue and spit with the taste of iron.
Wait. That's not how it is. Love doesn't ... taste like that at all. Hate does.
"Dean! Dean, Dean, hey, hey, hey ... you with me?"
Love's got a raw taste, raw sound. Smell. Raw, but not bloody. Raw, but not this dark. Raw in the veins, but not boiling like this. No. But pain does.
"'mm yeah, w-what?"
"'kay, 'kay don't move, all right? Stay down."
Its blood filling his mouth, fused with his spit, digging itself into the cracks between his teeth. He wants, needs to cough, but the throat working at that simple task makes him groan and hot wetness spill out between his trembling lips.
"Dude, Dean, don't ... don't move."
Love is pain, but it's this kind of pain: your brother's hands pressing onto the sharp stinging-burning wound on your side making you groan out loud even when you really don't want to, your brother's eyes soft and gentle and worried looking right into your damaged, black soul, your brother's mouth moving around words that you just can't hear over the rushing sound in your ears, your brother's determined look on his face that makes you feel safe even when you don't want to admit that to yourself, your brother's strength seeping into your own tired one, reviving you, energizing you.
"You got shot."
Love has a funny way of sounding like fear and tears and shock. It really does have a funny way like that, even when it shouldn't.
Love has always had a name to him. Love has always had a solid presence to him. Had it since he'd only been four years old.
"Yeah, yeah you're gonna be fine, but don't move, you hear me?"
"B'tch shot meh?"
"Yeah, but don't worry. I shot her back."
Love has always been as raw as his brother's smile.
"'s my ... m-y boy."
Love also has a funny way of sounding proud even through a mess of spit and blood and head thudding to the hard ground.
Thank you for reading.