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red-n-stuff · 2 years ago

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Thunder Only Happens When it’s Rainin’

The morning after the interrogation, Darlin wakes from a dream reliving their past. Guilt ridden and aching though they are, Sam is always there right when they need him.

It was some time towards the end of May. They remembered the time so clearly because the school year was coming to a close. DAMN was closing into summer break and Graduation caps had been ordered. The fields of wildflowers up on the foothills were starting to go to seed. All except the late blooming yellow asters.

Those yellow asters stuck out vividly in their memory. The smell of them often followed them home. Crushed into the grain of their skin. The petals finding their way into the edges of their shoes only to fall out and scatter the floor with small reminders of him. To their keen nose, Quinn always sort of smelt like the asters. Like something tangy and tart. Not fully there unless you were looking for it.

Strange, that a fragrance-free flower held such a scent based memory for them. Though, truthfully, they weren’t sure if Quinn smelt like the flowers- or if the flowers just smelt like Quinn.

The day leading up to their time on the hill was a haze, they couldn’t remember if it was a weekend or a weekday, though in the end it didn’t really matter. The setting was the important part anyway. The sky was orange and growing purple around the edges. A warm summer evening, the sun finally gone enough to be safe. Quinn’s Mustang was parked at the bottom of the hill by the trail they climbed together. Quinn playfully shoving their shoulders, and Darlin trying to trip him as they raced. They sat were it was flat, shoulder to shoulder. Asters brushing at their legs.

They were sharing a cigarette. The last of what they had been able to nick from their mom, lit with the lighter Quinn said he had stolen from his dad some long, forgotten time ago.

There was an unspoken understanding between the two of them. Up here, looking out onto the distant city lights, the rest didn’t matter. Not the hurtful words, or their family falling to pieces. Up here, they were something Precious. Two best friends on a perfect day.

At some point, they leaned their head onto his shoulder. Both their fingers brushing as the second-to-last drag was passed over. Quinn’s shoulders rising on the inhale, cheeks filling with it followed by a slow exhale chased by smoke. Handing it back to them, where they left the butt between their lips to ruminate.

Self destructive habits always seemed less unhealthy with a friend, and wrapped in the last of the days light, even adverse things felt healing. Even looking back on it now, they struggled to find the warning. The stop sign. Any indication of what would happen the deeper they fell. They couldn’t stop their reactions to him- not even the way their heart leapt as Quinn reached between them to curl his hand around theirs’. Not even when he rotated his hand to clasp their fingers. Not even the fact that, deep down, they knew the meaning of the gestures were wildly off balance. They didn’t regret a second of it- and maybe that was what made the truth of it so hard to swallow.

They remembered the way Quinn looked at them. The feel of his thick hair as it brushed against their neck when they turned to look up at them. His eyes were mischievous. Sort of on just this side of hazy. They had an oily sheen that made him look…tired- but then again- that wasn’t something that ever really changed. At the time, seeing him on that hill was their favorite. He looked…at ease. Relaxed and in turn, that made it easier for them. He was still and calm, and that was enough.

They often wondered if maybe they’d smiled with too much truth at the time, and that’s what caused it. If they’d flashed some semblance of the carefully repressed longing they’d been concealing. If there was some fatal flaw they may have missed. Either way, they were sure the outcome would have been the same. The atmosphere was too strong. It didn’t really matter who leaned in first.

Quinn reached up unexpectedly, fingers deftly plucking the cigarette directly from their mouth in a bold gesture that took them slightly off guard. They couldn’t take their eyes off Quinn’s lips as he took the final drag- not even as the smoke escaped in whisps like a promise from the back of his teeth. Exhaled like a question. Eyes not leaving theirs’ for a moment.

They had frozen, but they hadn’t tensed. Their cheeks had darkened. Eyes unwavering as Quinn crushed the cigarette into the dirt and shoved the butt in his pocket of his jacket.

Without a scrap of forethought, they had suddenly reached over with their hand curling around Quinn’s nicotine-stained fingers. They had guided his palm to rest firmly in place against thier cheek. Holding him there as their gazes held. Quinn’s breathe caught audibly in his throat, but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t scramble back in a moment of panic. The dare to hope coiled around their bobbing throat like barbed wire. The chance at fulfilling that ever present something ache that had burrowed in their chest. It was there- right in front of them in the form of blinking eyes full of tension, and raw stress-bitten lips half parted in apprehension.

They leaned in before they could talk themself out of it. Under the internal assurance that they’d come too far to stop now, they pressed their lips chastely against Quinn’s. A soft brush, a question.

Quinns hand tightened where it held his in the dirt between them. They could feel the soft gasp of air after the single second of pressure.

They didn’t recall when they’d shut their eyes, but they held them tightly closed. Unwilling to face the potential negative consequences they may find when they opened them. However, instead of a firm slap, they instead received an answer. Quinn had shifted closer, their foreheads pressing together solidly.

There was something akin to a fatal moment of hesitance in the breath between them in that moment. Like the feeling of knowing what you’re doing is wrong but falling headfirst into it anyway.

Quinn kissed them soft and sweet and slow, and of course they were weak to it. They couldn’t stop the rush they felt, the sparks that crackled behind their eyelids. Couldn’t stop the way they drew Quinn closer.

Their lips met and parted in quick succession, lengthening with each fresh press that Eventually dissolved into an extended kiss. One that felt like their lips were magnetic, both pulled and pushed by the force of suppressed want, and, oh how badly did they want him. They wanted to gather him up by the scruff and kiss him again and again and again until they were drunk on it. They wanted to taste all the bittersweet honey of nicotine and brown sugar.

Quinn shifted to press in closer, and they happily fell back against the ground. Those sunny-faced asters bobbing around their head as their lips slowly began to part. Above them, Quinn offered a breathy laugh, tinged by his accent. Their eyes opened just long enough to see the full force of Quinn’s quirked smirk before he laid down, tucking his nose against their throat.

“Tell me precious….Have you ever been bitten by a vampire?”

The scene faded around them, and their fluttering eyes slowly peeled open to the light that filtered in through the honey colored curtains like water. It bathed the room in warmth and comfort. Beside them, Sam was still asleep. Back pressed against their own. They could feel him breathing steadily.

For a moment, they were still disoriented. Lost between their past and their present. They inhaled slowly and exhaled again quietly.

A dense ball of prickling dread solidified in their stomach. Guilt made their scalp prickle.

They smacked their lips- expecting the taste of iron and nickel that accompanied their nightmares, but instead found only dryness and the memory of the cheap cigarettes they’d long since given up. They held as still as they could, blinking slowly as the memory of his touch faded against their hands.

It was hard to believe that once- sometime far away, in another lifetime, they had looked at Quinn and seen a future.

“I can hear the gears whirrin from here Darlin’” Sam’s husky voice arose from behind them, startling them from their thoughts. Still damp with sleep, he rolled slowly to face them. Tucking his nose up into their shoulder blades. Pressing a long, slow kiss against the knobs of their spine as his hand brushed against their hip. A question for consent.

They exhaled slowly, pressing back into his hold to encourage the arm looping around them securely.

“Dreamin?” Their mate questioned, lightly rubbing his thumb against their hip bone. His voice was twinged with concern in that way that betrayed his worry. Like he was trying not to press the issue, but he couldn’t help but care.

They nodded, throat feeling too sticky to answer.

Sam made a low sound of acknowledgment, tightening his arm slightly around them as he shifted up to press a kiss or two across their shoulder. His lips a bit chapped and rough against the delicate skin. The bare skin of his chest pressed warm and flush against their bare back.

“Do ya needta talk about it?” He asked, this time voice a little softer.

After everything that had happened yesterday, they felt guilty needing more. Needing him to hold them tighter. Needing to confess everything Quinn hadn’t already spilled.

They thought it over for a few moments. Through all of this- confiding was still hard. Vulnerability was still hard. The fight against their first instinct to hide everything they felt. The fight to just be themselves in that present moment. Their exhaustion helped to soften them.

“It was a memory,” they murmured after a long moment of silence, glad they weren’t facing him to say this. “Of Quinn…of before…before everything went to shit.”

Sam squeezed their hip comfortingly. They took the quiet time to try to sort through the swell of emotions that came with the admission.

“I…it’s hard to believe we ever…worked.” They murmured, curling in tighter on themselves. “That I..that I ever..did what we did.”

They sighed, rolling over to press their nose into his chest. Scrubbing a hand over their face.

“It’s alright Darlin,” he soothed, likely for the hundredth time in the span that he’d known them. Eternally patient. “Thunder only happens when it’s rainin’ after all…seein’ him again, and him…” he drew in a slow, steadying breath. Darlin could smell the spark of anger he tried to quell. The sent like gunpowder. “And him doing what he did…there’s bound to be stress that’s reopenin’ old wounds.”

“Yeah..” they affirmed quietly, worrying their lip between their teeth for a moment. Guilt rising in their chest. It hadn’t been a bad dream though. The shame and embarrassment of it left a bitter taste- but the memory itself was something like fond. One of the few handfuls they had of Quinn just being normal. It felt wrong to have any fondness when it came to that man.

“Just feels wrong.”

They heard Sam restrain a sound. Not sure fully what it would have been, but sure it was frustration. Sam’s fingers reached to slide gently through their hair, petting them slowly. Massaging their scalp.

“It ain’t wrong to love, Darlin..” he whispered, “it ain’t your fault he did what he did…people like that only love you when they’re playin sick, twisted games.”

He gently kissed their forehead, and they slowly let their eyes droop closed.

“You just feel whatever you needta feel, and dream whatever ya need to dream.” He squeezed them tighter, “we’re gettin through this. Together. Come hell or high water.”

They released a shuddery exhale, overcome with their love for this man. For the gentleness he shared with them. The delicate touch to all their broken scars.

“I…I’m so thankful for you.” They murmured against his skin.

“And I’m thankful for you Darlin’” he squeezed their shoulders tenderly, “ain’t a hair on your head that I don’t count amongst my blessin’s.”

Their lip quivered, and they pressed their face as hard as they could against his collarbones to stifle the rise of tears. They wouldn’t cry again. They wouldn’t.

Sam’s hand slowly rubbed the middle of their back, pretending like he didn’t notice the way their breathing changed or the salt against his skin.

“Let’s just stay in bed.” He soothed, “go back to sleep…we’re not in a hurry. I’ve got you Darlin.”

They nodded weakly.

“I love you, Sammy.” They whispered through choking breaths.

“I love you too Darlin.”

#redacted asmr #redacted #redacted darlin #redacted sam #shaw pack #redacted fanfic #redacted quinn #post interrogation #y’all I really like the idea that Quinn’s most of the reason that darlin is so untrusting and jaded #the idea that they used to be more open #and that Quinn acted like the perfect man only to turn all of it upside down on them the moment they were vulnerable #totally not me just projecting my own trauma 😳#Red Writes #Heavy

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