Melodramatic Fool

Swailing


Sunday morning,
just past 6
or 7
road dust on your shoes
creeping up your
pant legs
and you smell
like you've been rolling in a bonfire.
Some days
you think you sweat
charcoal lighter fluid.

(There's always salt on your
skin;
Some days
you think when you snap your fingers
you'll spark fire
At least then
you won't have to
carry all that with you anymore.)

Cleaning your tools of the trade
the plowshares
you both beat back into
swords
gravel grinds
beneath your feet
as your stance shifts with the motions
(Your stance was steady
last night--
mountain wide, redwood tall,
you've grown up
solid as you
dreamed you'd be.)

Hum a song
you know he hates.
He whistles while he works
(some ancient tune you can't stand)
rebuilding guns
like Jenga puzzles
(take out the
bullet
but they don't fall down)
You're a discordant harmony.

Funny how it sounds
just fine
to you.

The world slams shut
hollow metal whomp
but everything you orbit is still
right here
He stands next to you;  you're taller
but he always plants himself as your
windbreak.
Shoulder pressed to shoulder
hip to hip
There's the bump of knees;
there's the kick of his boot
against yours.
You kick him back.

Sunrise spreads flames
across the sky
like wildfire
It's dawn, and you smell like
smoke.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vietnam_Veterans_Memorial



Monuments

The last time they did a hunt in D.C.,
they visited The Wall
because it was Memorial Day
and they were thinking about their father
though neither of them said so out loud.
They stood in front of the monument,
flat and black and reflecting their faces
as if they were looking into a lake at midnight,
and Sam reached out to brush his fingers
over the cool gabbro stone.
"There's names on mine, too,"
he said. "Everyone's names.
They're all there."
Nearby, a tour group chattered about
mindless things as
Dean reached out and grabbed Sam's wrist.
They stared at each other silently;
Dean didn't say
Don't scratch, Sam
and Sam didn't say
I won't, Dean, I won't
but the words were there anyway.
A few feet away, a middle-aged woman
held a sheet of paper up to the surface of the Wall,
rubbed it with a crayon
until she had a name to carry away with her.
Sam let his hand drop to his side, but
Dean didn't let go of his wrist;
he held on,
held on.

http://latentfunction.livejournal.com/429378.html
Truth in Advertising, Sam/Dean, PG-13, 1700 words
Gorgeous, peaceful, lovely, domestic h/c schmoop. Seriously just quietly beautiful, that just gives me a good feeling about the boys. Bonus--hurt!Sam in it :) (Sorry, you know, my thing. :| )

And have I said yet how freaking SPECTACULACULAR this whole silverbullets thing is? Best community ever.

cemetery, silent.

shovel thunks
dirt thuds
wood cracks like dry bone
wind shrieks
shotgun blasts
salt hisses like sandy rain
match snaps
flame whumps
fire pops like cheap fireworks
voices murmur
footsteps fade
night quiets like they were never there.

Title: Go
Characters/Rating: Dean, Sam, G




Go
bullet-fast
over interstate stretched gunshot-straight
to the horizon
a flat grey graze wound
through the flesh of some midwestern state
Go
because
your brother called and said, I'm sorry
I'm sorry
can I come home?
trigger-pull firing you, and you
Go
with a stomach twisted into
cloverleafs and roundabouts
until the road ends at his highway-bend smile
a slow curve into will you forgive me
Engage safety, unload
because
you drove his home to him
you drove home to him
The guns are locked away and the engines that roared
are cooled and silent
not even pinging
Now, at last, you can
Stay.

by way of http://hyuuman.tumblr.com/...

( arghlgargl the cute eats my brain (references 6.14) )