‘It doesn’t hurt anymore,’ Frodo says, and he means only right now, but he doesn’t specify. Elrond’s gaze shifts from Frodo’s shoulder to his eyes. He looks almost guilty in the moment that their eyes meet, like he hadn’t meant to stare, or he hadn’t meant to be caught, but Frodo turns his head away to look at Bilbo: he is sleeping. The sea rocks the ship like it is the waves and not the wind that moves them so quickly forward.
Elrond is quiet. He’s always quiet now.
Elrond has cuts on the palm of his hands in curves like little moons where his nails have bitten him. He turns his hands palm down on his knees when he catches Frodo looking.
There should be something more to say. He should be happier. Bilbo’s hand is warm in Frodo’s broken hand.
Galadriel laughs with Gandalf at the bow of the ship. Her hair is wild in the sun. Frodo doesn’t know if he’s ever seen anyone so happy.
‘Her family is waiting,’ Elrond says.
Frodo nods once because he already knows.
Frodo’s family isn’t waiting. They’re either on this ship, going forward too fast to turn around, or they’re back on the shore, learning to move on. There is no one he knows waiting for him on that far shore. He almost says this, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t think about it again.
He thinksof Sam’s brown eyes, and how Samcried so hard that henearly changed his mind.
That isn’t true. He did change his mind, six times at least, but he changed it back because the pain was dragging through his body, and he knew he wasn’t going to live. He couldn’t. It was all too much, no matter how vague saying that is, it was true.
Frodo slumps a bit forward, shifting Bilbo’s head on his left shoulder.
‘It doesn’t hurt,’ he says again, even though it does. His eyes have flooded with tears so fast and so strong that the world is only unspecified shapes in bleeding colours. That is his last memory of Sam and Merry and Pippin—they bled into the world like they belonged there. That will always be his last memory of them. He doesn’t know if Elrond is looking at him, but his voice is choked enough that Elrond would know he was crying even if he didn’t look.
Elrond lays his hand on Frodo’s knee. It is gentle in the way that nothing but far off dream-stained memories are—gentle like a summer morning in the Shire when the world was green and filled with buttercups, and the sunlight shone in a wondrous stream that painted the tall grass golden were the fairy flies flew.
But that is only a memory, and it would always be only a memory whether he stayed or whether he went. Elves live in their memories, he’s heard. Maybe it’s true. Everything is so much simpler in memories.
Even the pain.
Sometimes he misses the pain, the violence, because it was something to fill him—something to concentrate on. It was burning, but it was something to fight. It gave him a reason. There were seconds even where it made him feel whole. It was there always. It was his only companion.
That is a lie.
‘Does Sam know I’m sorry?’ he says, sudden and wild, waking Bilbo. Sam was too young.
‘Yes,’ Elrond says.
Frodo wipes his eyes with the back of his unbroken hand. He smiles at Bilbo. Bilbo can never blame himself.
‘It’s getting cold,’ he says.
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Characters: Dean X Reader, Sam, Unnamed Male (OMC)
Word Count: 1760
Warnings: Language, Angst, sad Dean, two idiots who cant express their feelings, insecure reader, Asshole Date
A/n: I don’t remember when i came up with this idea, i just know its been a while.
As always Feedback is more than welcome. The Good and The Bad. I really helps me.
Want to be tagged in the series and my upcoming work? Let me know Here
Today was the first time in a while that you had a date, and you are so excited to go. You had laid out a few different dresses, jackets, and shoes. You have been standing in front of your bed for a while now just trying to figure out what to wear. You couldn’t decide what to wear, so you needed help. You walked out of your room and walked into the war room where Sam and Dean were sitting.
“So, are you guys busy?” You looked between the two of them as they looked at each other.
“Well, that would depend on what’s up?” Sam looked at you with a curious look.
“I have a date tonight and I need help…” Before you could finish Sam spoke up again.
“Oh well, Dean would be more than willing to help you.” He quickly got up grabbing his laptop and speed walking to his room.
“Okay…” You turned to Dean. “Can you help me? Please?” You put on your best pouty face, not that you needed to.
“Yeah.” A smile shined on your face, what you didn’t notice was the sad look Dean had on his.
When Dean walked into your room it looked to him like your closet exploded. There were dresses, skirts, shirts, and other various clothes thrown in different spots. He looked at you with wide eyes, before looking back around at the clothes.
“It looks like a tornado came through here.”
“Well, I haven’t been on a date in a while, and I want to look nice.”
“Sweetheart, you could wear a garbage bag and still look gorgeous.” You rolled your eyes at him.
“Come on Dean. I have to leave in like thirty minutes and I still have to do my hair and make-up.”
He walked over to the dresses you had laid on the bed, he went over to a black one that he had seen you wear before. He loved you in that dress, he hated that you were going to wear it for someone else. He picked up the dress and a pair of booties and a leather jacket. Turning and holding them out to you.
“These.” He gave you a small smile. “You look great in these.”
“Thank you, Dean!” You grabbed the outfit from him, pulling him into a hug and giving him a kiss on the cheek before running into your bathroom to get ready.
Dean walked back out to the war room, pouring himself a drink before sitting down at the table. About twenty-five minutes later you came walking into the room. Dean’s back was to you, you walked up to him and placed your had on his shoulder. He turned around; he was absolutely stunned. He was internally kicking himself for picking out those clothes.
“So, how do I look?” You tilted your head at him, causing the butterflies in his stomach to flutter around.
“You look absolutely… beautiful.” His words were quiet, but you were still able to hear them.
“Really?” You looked down at your dress, then back with a smile.
“Yes. Go, have fun on your date.”
“I will.” You walked to the stairs but turned back. “Thanks again, Dean.”
He just held his drink up to you. You turned back around and headed out.
Once you got to the restaurant, he was already there. You sat down with him, and you were already getting some weird vibes from him. He was so nice on the app, but in person he was kind of a douche. He ended up talking to about himself the entire night. When he wasn't talking about himself, he was talking about how you could "Better Yourself". You have your insecurities, who doesn't but he was just laying into you like it was nothing. Finally having enough, you got up and walked out. It took everything in you to not deck him, but you didn't want to make a scene.
When you came into the bunker, all of the lights were off except for the ones on the war table. You had just come back from a date. You felt terrible about yourself, despite the fact that you left here almost an hour ago on cloud nine. You decided to delete the app as soon as you left the restaurant, giving up on dating for a while.
Slipping off your heels to walk down the stairs, Making your way over to the liquor cabinet. Pouring a generous glass of whiskey. Downing it in one shot, feeling the burn as it coated your throat.
"Easy there tiger. That's the good stuff." You turned to see Dean standing in the doorway.
"Yeah, with the night I had, I need that and more." You said as you looked down into your now empty glass.
“I should have just stayed home.”
"He was just another asshat telling me what I should be doing to better myself."
"Yeah. Then he just started picking me apart, like I didn't know these things. It's like he took every little thing I hate about myself and amplified it."
You were trying to keep your voice even; you didn't want to start crying because of that asshole. Dean heard the change in your voice. He walked over to you, taking the bottle out of your hand, and setting it down. He put his finger under your chin to make you look up at him. He could see that you were starting to tear up. He hated seeing you like this. He took the glass and set it down as well. Before you could protest, he pulled you into his arms. Holding you to him as close as possible. You were trying so hard to keep the tears from falling but once you were in his arm, that dam broke faster than you could say go. The two of you stood there for a while, until all of your tears had dried up.
Dean pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you without breaking his hold on you.
"Come on, let's get you to bed."
"No, that's ok Dean. I'm just going to sit here for a little while. You go to bed; you must be tired." You tried to get out of his hold, but his grip was too tight.
"I'm not going to let you sit out here in the dark by yourself, to think about what that asshole said to you."
"I'm fine Dean."
"You’re not fine sweetheart."
"No, you just had a horrible date. When you come home the first thing you did was down about half a glass of whiskey in one shot. Then I gave you a hug and you broke down. So don't stand there and tell me you're fine."
You wiped the tears off of your face. Then you moved to pull Dean's arms off of you, this time he let you. His arms fell to his side as he watched you sit down at the war table. You brought your elbows onto the table as you dropped your head into your hands. You sighed before looking over to Dean.
"What's wrong with me?"
"Is there something so wrong with me that it makes me undatable?"
"There is nothing wrong with you."
"I'm being serious Dean."
"So am I. You are amazing, funny, talented, beautiful and most importantly you are you."
"Obviously, I'm not funny enough, talented enough or beautiful enough. I'm clearly not enough. No matter what I do or who I go out with, it's never enough." You sighed.
"Y/n you are more than enough."
"Don't you get it? I'm the common denominator in all of these dates. I think it's time to just stop trying." You got up from your chair to leave but Dean was right there to stop you.
"They were all idiots. They let an amazing woman like you slip out of their fingers because they were assholes. That's on them, not you."
"You’re just saying this because you’re my best friend Dean."
"No, I'm not. I'm saying it because it's true."
He put his hands on the side of your face, causing you to look up at him.
"The truth is... I'm one of those idiots."
"What?" You gave him a confused look.
"I like you a lot, have for a long time. I didn't want to tell you because I can't lose you. Not after everything that we have been through."
You just stared into his eyes and saw that he was being genuine. You have been with the Winchesters for a long time, and you were able to tell when they were lying to you. Being with them for as long as you have, you had started developing feelings for the older Winchester. For the same reason that he didn't want to tell you, was the same reason you didn't want to tell him.
"I'm sorry to drop this on you. I just hate seeing you beat yourself up because other people can't see you for who you are. See you the way I see you."
He moved his hands off of your face and let them drop to his side once again. He was trying to read you, but your face was emotionless. He took a step back from you, before turning away to go to his room. Before he could get too far, you grabbed his arm to make him turn back around.
"Did you mean it?"
"I meant every word."
You stepped in front of him. You brought your hand to the side of his face, he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. You slowly moved your hand to the back of his neck. He opened his eyes and stared back into yours. He started leaning into you, you moved to the balls of your feet to meet him in the middle.
Both of you poured all of your emotions into that kiss. Everything that had been left unsaid over the years, came pouring out of the two of you.
"I like you a lot too Dean. I for a long as I can remember, but I just kept getting in my own way.”
“How about I take you on the date you deserve?”
“I think that can be arranged.”
Sam was in the doorway that led to his room, watching all of this play out.
“It’s about time those idiots finally got together.” He laughed to himself as he turned and walked back to his room.
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