[ Dean immediately clocks familiar flesh the second their hands clasp and fingers lace, his grip as tight as his brother's, each as equally unrelenting and unyielding as the other. It's been five years since he's seen or touched that skin in any capacity (handshake, shoulder bump, embrace), mere hours since he woke up here, still reeling from the crushing weight of an expensive, white shoe pressing down on his neck, the body of his brother standing over him, killing him, he can't--
he can't do this, but he can't let go, either, and God knows he tries. He tries to untangle their fingers, fling this beast back to where it belongs, but something keeps their hands connected, keeps Dean pulling.
The noise that escapes his lips is strangled, frustrated, animalistic - he's braced against the wall, dragging Sam through the cracks and rubble. A grimace twists through the weariness on his face, teeth clenched so hard with the strain of it that something in the back of his head worries they may crack.
Sam comes through and he's able to let go, breathing heavily, eyes wild as he lays eyes on his brother, and immediately he's reaching inside his jacket for the colt, because he's gonna put a fucking bullet in your brain, Lucifer-- ]
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he can't do this, but he can't let go, either, and God knows he tries. He tries to untangle their fingers, fling this beast back to where it belongs, but something keeps their hands connected, keeps Dean pulling.
The noise that escapes his lips is strangled, frustrated, animalistic - he's braced against the wall, dragging Sam through the cracks and rubble. A grimace twists through the weariness on his face, teeth clenched so hard with the strain of it that something in the back of his head worries they may crack.
Sam comes through and he's able to let go, breathing heavily, eyes wild as he lays eyes on his brother, and immediately he's reaching inside his jacket for the colt, because he's gonna put a fucking bullet in your brain, Lucifer-- ]
Shut your mouth, you son of a bitch.