(no subject)

[elinorwise]

It’s dizzying when Jack transports them into a diner. No one blinks, or seems to think it’s weird for two men to appear out of nowhere. Sam grabs Jack’s shoulder for stability, then lets go suddenly, as if he was burned.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to, I- I don’t know if it’s appropriate to…” he trails off and clears his throat.
Jack rolls his eyes. “Sam, you can touch me. I’m still Jack.”

Вот за что я люблю этот пейринг: это два мощных равноценных, разнонаправленных кинка в одном флаконе: Сэм/Джек и Бог/Сэм.
Бог, которого он заслужил. Выстрадал. Вырастил.

Jack’s thumb rests against his lower lip, and Sam can’t stop himself from touching the tip of his tongue to it, tasting it. This is what God tastes like. Tasting God is Sam’s right, because he raised Jack, he gave Jack everything and now Jack is giving him this much.

Автор, что ты делаешь. Продолжай.

“You know that’s not how this is supposed to work.”
“I know.” Sam doesn’t wait for Jack to refuse him. He can’t risk it. “I’ll beg. If that helps. I know how to beg, and I can… I’ll do anything.” He slides out of his side of the booth, drops to his knees next to Jack.
Jack looks down at him, not with pity or malice but with love. His eyes light up gold, and they’re suddenly out of the diner. They’re in a motel room, completely empty save for the Bible on the nightstand. Jack is sitting on the bed, and Sam is still on his knees in front of him.

Омайгад. ОМАЙГАААД

“I can’t promise you we’ll see each other again.”
Sam tries to beg, to scream, to protest, but his voice won’t come.
“But I can take away the pain. I never wanted to hurt you. And… I am sorry, for the times that I did.” Jack touches his fingers to Sam’s forehead. Warmth fills Sam’s body. “Goodbye, Sam. I love you.”

Оригинал записи на Дыбре