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[personal profile] elohvee
from one to another extreme.
Supernatural. Gen. Light R. 400 words. For [livejournal.com profile] 15minuteficlets. Because this fandom needs more jealous-of-Dean-as-a-teenager!Sam. Title from Foreigner.


    Feelin' down and dirty, feelin' kinda mean
    I've been from one to another extreme


So Sam knows, right? He knows that Dean is beautiful, knows that everybody wants him, wants to do things to him. And he'd never admit it, but yeah. It makes him jealous sometimes. But only before he leaves—only before he realizes it's not just Dean.

There's still those past years. For as long as Sam can remember, his brother always has people hanging all over him. At first, when he's a kid, the women coo, Aw, isn't he sweet? and Sam thinks, He killed a demon last night. Shot it dead. Twice as big as you, and he killed it with one bullet.

Older, and the girls who might just be a step down from the town whores—they're giving it away for free, after all—drape their arms around him and buy him drinks because they think it empowers them, then blow him in the back alleys and cling to his elbows while Dean wins game after game of pool. Sam watches from a corner with a can of coke in his hand and chews his lower lip, thinking, He could kill you with his bare hands if he wanted. He could slit your throat before you knew where he'd gotten the knife.

There's a few years when Sam hardly sees his brother at all, not in the evenings, at least. Dean comes home stinking of sweat and cigarettes and cheap perfume, and Sam wants to hate him but doesn't know how. Few people do: it's all part of that charm.

He'd never admit it, but yeah, he gets jealous. He wants some of that attention, just a little. So instead, he focuses on school, work. And one day, at breakfast, he walks into the kitchen, yawns and stretches and scratches the top of his head with one long-fingered hand, and Dean's eyes follow him across the kitchen. The red pen circling obits and underlining key words like mysterious and unexplained and bizarre stops moving, and his coffee cup hovers inches above the table top in his hand.

It lasts a second, but in that moment, Sam knows: he's not a kid anymore. It's the day Dean stops calling him Sammy, and it's the day Sam stops sulking and digging his toes into the ground whenever they go to a bar. He knows. And everything changes, almost. Dean is still beautiful. He's just not the only one, now.


[ The word was envy. ]
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