Made a moodboard for one of my WIPs! It's currently just titled "Young OCD Sam" and I started it as a form of catharsis for my own intrusive/obsessive thoughts. I have no idea when (or if) it's actually going to be finished, but I felt like sharing this scene, so here you go. Sorta dark.
He watches Dean, laser-focused on his food as he shovels sausage and eggs into his mouth, sloppy. Sam glances down at his own fork held limply in his fist. He grips it tighter and imagines driving it into his own neck, imagines the shockingly red spray of his arterial blood painting his brother’s horrified face, and the diner erupting in screams before he blacks out and pitches face-first into his untouched plate of pancakes.
What would Dean have to say about that?
“Hey, earth to Sammy!” Sam jolts as Dean snaps his fingers in front of his face. “What’s your deal, dude?”
“Um,” Sam says helpfully. He eases his sweaty, white-knuckled grip on his fork and sets it aside with the rest of his unused silverware. “Nothing.”
Dean leans back in his seat and sighs, long-suffering. He waves a hand at Sam’s food. “You gonna eat?”
Sam looks down at his soggy pancakes and all he can see is blood, soaking the stacks red and pooling, sticky, on the plate below. He swallows down a wave of nausea and pushes them towards Dean, shaking his head. “Nah.”
Dean regards him with a critical eye for a long moment, Dad-like. Sam tries to hold his gaze, offering a weak smile, but he squirms in his seat under the scrutiny. Finally, Dean looks away and drags Sam’s plate towards him, digging into it with his usual mechanical fervor. Watching him makes Sam’s stomach turn again. He thinks that maybe, if he reached out and tried to take his food back, Dean would bite at him like a starving dog. The thought makes him snort, which he tries to cover with an overly loud cough.
“Freak,” Dean mutters around a mouthful of food, syrup running down his chin. He wipes it carelessly on the back of his hand, and Sam wonders what he’d look like with his mouth full of his little brother’s blood instead.
Yeah, Sam thinks, turning to stare out the grimy window as he worries his teeth over an already chewed-down thumbnail. Freak.
