notes: SPN/Lost crossover, because kissedbythegods made me do it. Warnings for a little wincest and character death, except not really. :) Mostly fluffy angsty with a side of humour, slightly AU. 687 words long. Insert a witty disclaimer here.
T-Minus and Counting Up
“I can't believe you fucking made us do this.” Dean said, gripping the arm rests and Sam shrugged, humming Nothing Else Matters under his breath. “You do know that's totally a rip-off.” Dean pointed out, but Sam laughed a little.
“You need to relax, dude.” Sam said, and Dean wanted to frickin' strangle him.
“Relax? Relax? This verifies every fear of flying I ever had! Babysitting a plane just to make sure it crashes? This is insane! This is so beyond insane that it's gone past insanity, into sanity and back into crazy! This is so-”
“Keep it down!” Sam snapped, and Dean settled for just glaring at him all throughout the pre-flight safety lecture.
“You sure we're doing the right thing, Sammy?” Dean asked about halfway through the first in-flight movie. They were showing Cellular, and Dean had seen ads for it in the papers he picked up daily but he didn't really care either way. The last movie he saw was Fight Club and he'd much rather have that be his last movie, anyways.
“Yes, Dean.” Sam said, exasperated.
“I can't believe that I uncovered a damn prophecy. This is the stupidest, most cliché thing we've ever done. Why couldn't we have just let the Apocalypse happen, or whatever, and we could have gone on fighting things. At least we wouldn't have to hide so goddamn much. Fucking open franchises or something, or maybe-”
“A little too late for maybes, Dean.” Sam said, and looked back towards his book. He was reading Mary Roach's Spook, and he thought it was ironically appropriate.
“We're about to die and all you want to do is read?” Dean said incredulously, and Sam slammed the book shut.
“Look, I didn't ask for this, OK? But fuck – it's better that this plane goes down than millions of people die. I don't like it – I fucking hate it – but there is nothing we can do about it now.”
“When did we become so goddamn selfless?” Dean asked and Sam wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry.
“We sure everybody's on this flight?” Dean asked, and Sam checked the manifest.
“Yeah – and they're sitting at the right seats and everything. Passenger 15 moved for a bit, but they're back now and I'm pretty sure the rest are tight.”
“OK, good.” Dean said, and moved the seat to its full and upright position. He might as well get a head start.
“You worried?” Sam asked, and Dean shook his head.
“Nah. We always cheat death somehow. We'll figure it out.” Dean looked at Sam carefully. “Don't worry, Sammy, we're doing the right thing. The half-assed, suicidal thing, but right nonetheless.”
Sam cuffed him upside the head lightly, smiling. “And here I go all thinking you were this big cocky bastard.”
“Hey, Sammy?” Dean whispered.
“Yeah, Dean?” Sam whispered back, looking carefully.
Dean didn't say anything, he just leaned in and pressed a kiss against Sam's lips, taking him by surprise, teeth and tongue and heat making letters in Sam's mouth. Dean leaned back for a second, looking into his brother's eyes. They were shining.
“I've always wanted to do that.” Dean whispered conspiratorially.
“I love you too, jerk.” Sam grinned.
Then everything broke and then everything went dark.
“Are we dead, Sammy?” Dean asked, waking up, sprawled across at his brother who was as bloody and scratched up as he was. He noticed he was in a room, and it was kind of all plush and if this was heaven, it might not be so bad.
“It's like No Exit, except not as bad.” Sam said, and Dean nodded.
“I wouldn't mind a couple of kinda lesbian chicks, though.” Dean teased, and Sam looked at him askance. Dean shrugged. I can read, dude his expression said, and Sam grinned a little.
The door opened (was that there before? Dean thought) and there was Death dragging in a poker table.
“A little help, guys?” Death asked breathlessly, and Sam moved to help.
Heh. Dean thought. This could get interesting.