Rivers Deep | Sam Winchester

9. Dragons

"Fairy tales do not tell children that dragons exist. Children already know that. Fairy tales tell children that dragons can be killed." - Gilbert K. Chesterton

• • •

Collapsing down, Noah's head fell into the crease of Sam's shoulder and neck. They each groaned before Noah started sucking a bruise into Sam's skin. Sam buried his head in Noah's shoulder, and Noah found the feeling of his hair brushing against him an oddly arousing sensation.

Noah planted his hands firmly on either side of Sam's head before pushing himself up. Staring into Sam's eyes, he found the ring of blue around his pupil, moving further out to a beautiful shade of green, which blends into a dark brown outer ring, turning the outer edges hazel.

He ran a hand up the base of Sam's skull, twining his fingers through his grown out locks. He noted how his hair had lengthened since they first met, nearly a year ago then.

Sam returned the gaze with the same ferocious intensity, watching the whirlpools of honey, gold, and dark brown as they examined him again. Where Sam's own eye color formed in rings blending together, Noah's was like paint colors that hadn't quite been mixed all the way, they swirled together in a marble, shimmering in the dim lighting shining in from the parking lot.

Noah smirked and before Sam had time to register it, Noah gently tugged on his roots, making Sam gasp in shock as his back arched upwards slightly at the sensation that tingled down his body. Noah pulled his hand back down to cup the back of Sam's neck before leaning down, allowing their lips to meet once again.

When they pulled back, Sam panted as Noah's hand travelled south, "Noah."

"Noah."

• • •

"Noah! For crying out loud, Noah!" Noah's head snapped up to meet Sam's confused stare, "You've been staring into space for minutes now, and I think the gun's pretty well polished by now."

Noah looked down, and he shook his head as he remembered what was happening. Dean had ducked out to refill Baby's gas tank and grab some more shampoo and soap, both of which the Winhesters had run out of the night prior. Sam and Noah had been left with the task of cleaning the guns.

Noah stared at the body piece of one of his pistols, blinking back the shock of the flashback. It never seemed to leave his mind lately, almost like a bad dream. He shook his head, beore finishing off the body of that particular pistol, which he placed down onto the table. He grabbed another piece and began cleaning.

Silence fell between the two, only the sounds of metal clinking and cloth polishing said metal filled the room softly. Thoughts that Noah was completely oblivous to had started running through Sam's mind minutes ago, first sparsely, but as he willed them to go away more and more, they became more frequent.

Reminders of times filled with screaming back and forth with John Winchester, repressed memories of unfamilir words flying from John's mouth in an oh-so-familiar tone. As the dam broke, more flooded him, and in between were memories of a drunken night he wished to forget because it seemed to be ruining everything he had spent years building in his mind in order to protect himself.

Thoughts like these seemed to fill the silence for Sam every day ever since the memories of being drunk and wanting something so strongly, and deciding to rush Noah on the other motel bed and kiss him, and every other thing in that long night that followed. It was like a recurring nightmare to him, he couldn't piece the fragments of memory from his teen years together enough to come to any sort of understanding, key words in many of them seemingly blurred or faded out when they flashed through his mind.