Supernatural Drabble :: Behind Hazel Eyes
Oct. 28th, 2008 11:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
briteskiesThis was lurking in one of my notebooks that I scribble in during my lunches. It wasn't doing anyone any favors sitting there, so I might as well share. Rejoice or run away screaming as you see fit. I've never written anything for this fandom before. *shifts nervously*
Title: Behind Hazel Eyes
Fandom: Supernatural
Character(s): Sam Winchester
Words: 831
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers/Warnings: This is set to take place a few weeks after the finale of Season Three, "No Rest For The Wicked."
After Jessica had died, it was months before Sam even looked at another girl let alone given one a serious thought. Sarah had caught his attention for a while – longer than anyone else on that level anyway. There was of course, Meg, but Sam didn’t like thinking about her if he could help it. And these days, just a flickering recollection of Bela seemed to leave a lingering sour taste in his mouth, which he found somewhat odd considering they hadn’t so much as kissed.
There was Ruby, of course. And while she was on the delivering end of the most constant attention he’d been given from a girl these days, he wasn’t so sure he counted her as such. So when she had left, tossed back into the pit she came from on that same horrible night Dean had been ripped away from him, there was no one left.
But if truth be told, they never really crossed his mind any more.
Dean did.
Every day. Every hour. Every fucking minute it seemed.
Bobby said that even though he understood Sam’s situation, “understood his pain,” the fixation he had with bringing Dean back was a breath away from being pure obsession. The unstoppable, dangerous, in-need-of-a-serious-reality-check sort that they put people in padded rooms for.
So, Sam left.
Found himself in Colby, Kansas two days later; a stone’s through away from the Colorado border if he looked west, and boring as hell. But at least it was quiet and no one bothered him while he dove into any and every book he could find and no one nagged at him or told him that it was unhealthy to hold on too tight.
June was hot and sticky in West Kansas, and every afternoon the rains pushed eastward across the outwardly-endless grassy plains and tried to wash the world clean. It was a Tuesday when he met her. She burst through the door at a near-full run, breathing hard and completely soaked. The wet, dark hair stuck to her face neck looked nearly black at the time, and despite here somewhat bewildered and out-of-breath gaze, she was smiling.
Thunder ripped though the sky when Sam glanced past her and through the glass entrance door of the library to catch a few more flashes of lightening. But she didn’t so much as move from her spot; just stood by the floor and watched the rain fall as a puddle of rainwater slowly formed around her shoes. She stood there the entire time without a word to anyone; just standing by the glass doorway and watched the rain fall. But almost as quickly as Sam went back to reading his book, he forgot all about her.
At least, until he went to leave.
The rain still fell in heavy, messy drops that pounded relentlessly against everything in its path and was quickly turning roadways into rivers, and the sticky, warm air from inside library was now foggy condensation on the tall glass doors.
He got as far as reaching to push the door open before mentally kicking himself for being a callous jerk.
“Hey, are you alright? You’ve been standing here a while.”
She just shrugged at him. “I’m fine.” Her voice was completely calm. “My tire’s flat. I forgot my phone at home. I don’t have a tire iron. And it’s raining.” But for a string of complaints, she just sounded bored.
He bit his lip before asking in spite of the answer he was predicting to get from her. “I can take you somewhere… if you need-“
“I’m fine,” she shook her head, but there was a sincere smile that came along with it. “Just waiting. I don’t want to change a tire in this rain, if I can help it. That’s all. Thanks though. You’re sweet.”
And so he left and didn’t think of her again.
At least not until two days later when he ran into in the gas station three blocks down from the library to pick up a bag of Doritos and a couple sodas and there she was with a pack of Twizlers.
They smiled at each other, and after learning that she was apparently competent with a car jack and a borrowed tire iron, she asked him if he wanted to meet her for a drink.
It was seven days later before he realized what it had been about her, and he couldn’t even bring himself to call her to say goodbye.
He’d seen them the entire time, smiling back at him. They’d been a comfort he couldn’t explain, but he hadn’t even realized it. Not until the night he’d asked her back to his hotel room, and she was there, splayed beneath him with full lips parted and dark hair in a beautiful mess of curls on his pillow.
She’d looked up at him and he nearly choked on his own heart.
Her eyes were the exact same colour as Dean’s.
lol, yes I quote Kelly Clarkson just for you, Sammy.
P.S. I love me some cherry pie. I've eaten like half the damn thing on my own tonight. Oops.
Title: Behind Hazel Eyes
Fandom: Supernatural
Character(s): Sam Winchester
Words: 831
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers/Warnings: This is set to take place a few weeks after the finale of Season Three, "No Rest For The Wicked."
After Jessica had died, it was months before Sam even looked at another girl let alone given one a serious thought. Sarah had caught his attention for a while – longer than anyone else on that level anyway. There was of course, Meg, but Sam didn’t like thinking about her if he could help it. And these days, just a flickering recollection of Bela seemed to leave a lingering sour taste in his mouth, which he found somewhat odd considering they hadn’t so much as kissed.
There was Ruby, of course. And while she was on the delivering end of the most constant attention he’d been given from a girl these days, he wasn’t so sure he counted her as such. So when she had left, tossed back into the pit she came from on that same horrible night Dean had been ripped away from him, there was no one left.
But if truth be told, they never really crossed his mind any more.
Dean did.
Every day. Every hour. Every fucking minute it seemed.
Bobby said that even though he understood Sam’s situation, “understood his pain,” the fixation he had with bringing Dean back was a breath away from being pure obsession. The unstoppable, dangerous, in-need-of-a-serious-reality-check sort that they put people in padded rooms for.
So, Sam left.
Found himself in Colby, Kansas two days later; a stone’s through away from the Colorado border if he looked west, and boring as hell. But at least it was quiet and no one bothered him while he dove into any and every book he could find and no one nagged at him or told him that it was unhealthy to hold on too tight.
June was hot and sticky in West Kansas, and every afternoon the rains pushed eastward across the outwardly-endless grassy plains and tried to wash the world clean. It was a Tuesday when he met her. She burst through the door at a near-full run, breathing hard and completely soaked. The wet, dark hair stuck to her face neck looked nearly black at the time, and despite here somewhat bewildered and out-of-breath gaze, she was smiling.
Thunder ripped though the sky when Sam glanced past her and through the glass entrance door of the library to catch a few more flashes of lightening. But she didn’t so much as move from her spot; just stood by the floor and watched the rain fall as a puddle of rainwater slowly formed around her shoes. She stood there the entire time without a word to anyone; just standing by the glass doorway and watched the rain fall. But almost as quickly as Sam went back to reading his book, he forgot all about her.
At least, until he went to leave.
The rain still fell in heavy, messy drops that pounded relentlessly against everything in its path and was quickly turning roadways into rivers, and the sticky, warm air from inside library was now foggy condensation on the tall glass doors.
He got as far as reaching to push the door open before mentally kicking himself for being a callous jerk.
“Hey, are you alright? You’ve been standing here a while.”
She just shrugged at him. “I’m fine.” Her voice was completely calm. “My tire’s flat. I forgot my phone at home. I don’t have a tire iron. And it’s raining.” But for a string of complaints, she just sounded bored.
He bit his lip before asking in spite of the answer he was predicting to get from her. “I can take you somewhere… if you need-“
“I’m fine,” she shook her head, but there was a sincere smile that came along with it. “Just waiting. I don’t want to change a tire in this rain, if I can help it. That’s all. Thanks though. You’re sweet.”
And so he left and didn’t think of her again.
At least not until two days later when he ran into in the gas station three blocks down from the library to pick up a bag of Doritos and a couple sodas and there she was with a pack of Twizlers.
They smiled at each other, and after learning that she was apparently competent with a car jack and a borrowed tire iron, she asked him if he wanted to meet her for a drink.
It was seven days later before he realized what it had been about her, and he couldn’t even bring himself to call her to say goodbye.
He’d seen them the entire time, smiling back at him. They’d been a comfort he couldn’t explain, but he hadn’t even realized it. Not until the night he’d asked her back to his hotel room, and she was there, splayed beneath him with full lips parted and dark hair in a beautiful mess of curls on his pillow.
She’d looked up at him and he nearly choked on his own heart.
Her eyes were the exact same colour as Dean’s.
P.S. I love me some cherry pie. I've eaten like half the damn thing on my own tonight. Oops.
