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telarynFor ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
auroramama, who chose Faith/Sam.
She thinks a million times a day about leaving. His grief is just too massive on top of her own sorrow; sometimes Faith really feels like she’s suffocating under the weight of it all. You don’t owe him anything. They have no promises between them, no commitments. She hasn’t even been able to admit that she cares, let alone that she might really love him.
She raises her eyebrows upon entering Bobby’s library, and receives a noncommittal grunt and a small jerk of the head for her troubles. The tragedy is that it’s one of the most involved conversations any of them have managed since Dean went into the ground.
Sam is on the porch. Faith senses a sudden tension in his body, but there are no other signs he’s even aware she’s there. She freezes in place for a moment, debating with herself if it just wouldn’t be easier on both of them for her to pretend it was a mistake – to go back inside and leave him to his grief.
She’s no good at the touchy-feely crap.
Somebody’s got to make the first move. It’s been eight weeks now – Faith is as sure as she’ll ever be that it’s not going to be Sam. Blowing out a quiet breath, she tries not to bristle – forces herself to be as calm as possible when she goes to him and slips her arms around his waist. He doesn’t move at first, then slowly his arm raises, circling her shoulders and gently tugging her in close.
When she feels him start to shake with quiet tears, she says nothing; merely hugs him tighter. Tomorrow she’ll likely think about running again, but right now she knows she’s exactly where she belongs.
auroramama, who chose Faith/Sam.She thinks a million times a day about leaving. His grief is just too massive on top of her own sorrow; sometimes Faith really feels like she’s suffocating under the weight of it all. You don’t owe him anything. They have no promises between them, no commitments. She hasn’t even been able to admit that she cares, let alone that she might really love him.
She raises her eyebrows upon entering Bobby’s library, and receives a noncommittal grunt and a small jerk of the head for her troubles. The tragedy is that it’s one of the most involved conversations any of them have managed since Dean went into the ground.
Sam is on the porch. Faith senses a sudden tension in his body, but there are no other signs he’s even aware she’s there. She freezes in place for a moment, debating with herself if it just wouldn’t be easier on both of them for her to pretend it was a mistake – to go back inside and leave him to his grief.
She’s no good at the touchy-feely crap.
Somebody’s got to make the first move. It’s been eight weeks now – Faith is as sure as she’ll ever be that it’s not going to be Sam. Blowing out a quiet breath, she tries not to bristle – forces herself to be as calm as possible when she goes to him and slips her arms around his waist. He doesn’t move at first, then slowly his arm raises, circling her shoulders and gently tugging her in close.
When she feels him start to shake with quiet tears, she says nothing; merely hugs him tighter. Tomorrow she’ll likely think about running again, but right now she knows she’s exactly where she belongs.
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