![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Home for
Category: Gen
Rating: PG (Language)
Fandom: SPN
Words: 638
By:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kellifer_fic
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Written for entertainment purposes only. No money, no sue.
Summary: A timestamp for and hell followed with him
A smack on the ass brings Sam out of dreams. He’s confused for a second, disorientated and he’s about to bawl Dean out and demand a latte at the same time when he remembers.
He looks over his shoulder and Dean is there like he was expecting, but not the Dean he grew up with. He’s holding something up and Sam squints through the half-light. “What’s that?”
Dean’s grin gets bigger and Sam can’t help smiling back. Dean’s face is marred by scarring pulling it out of true, but when he grins big like that it all evens out.
“You’re the one who told the kids about Christmas, man. That means you get to play Santa.”
Sam sits up, rubs his eyes and looks again. Dean is holding a red flannel jacket, one of John’s if Sam isn’t mistaken, except now it has something white and fluffy sewn along the bottom and down the front. Bobby’s famous red long johns are the bottom half of the costume and there’s –
“Dude, what are those supposed to be?”
Dean looks at the red gloves with sticks protruding from the fingertips and he chuckles. “Kids have been making up their own stories. Apparently Santa Claws gives gifts to good kids and disembowels the naughty ones while they sleep.”
Sam’s mouth drops open.
“Hey, these kids didn’t grow up with roller coasters or horror movies. They have to make their own fun,” Dean adds.
“I’m sure they didn’t have any help,” Sam snorts, accepting the gloves and then setting them aside with a raised eyebrow. Dean is giving Sam his innocent face that usually means he’s guilty as hell.
Sam remembers with a start what he was dreaming about. It was that Christmas with his brother when Sam had decorated the motel room. Except, in his dream Dean had entered and Sam had merely been an onlooker, like watching a movie. The decorations were there but Sam wasn’t. As Dean took in the empty room panic had flooded his features. Sam had woken with Dean’s strangled call in his ears.
Sammy!
“Hey, Sammy?” Dean was clicking his fingers in front of Sam’s face and looking concerned.
“I have to go home,” Sam blurts and even though he hadn’t really meant to say it, as soon as the words hit the air he knows it’s true.
Dean, still holding most of the costume, seems to deflate in front of Sam’s eyes. “Oh, yeah,” he says, sounding so young and disappointed that Sam aches. “I mean, of course.”
Sam chuffs a laugh as he swings to his feet out of the bed and stands. “Not right this second,” he says, taking the jacket and pants from Dean’s nerveless fingers. “It’s not like there’s a library around here where I could research it so I don’t even know if it’s possible yet. I just… I gotta try if that makes sense.”
Sam sets the costume on the bed he’s just vacated and brings a hand up to Dean’s face, thumb rubbing over the most prominent line of Dean’s scar. He’s still in awe that this Dean doesn’t shy away from him, actually leans into the touch like he’s starved for it.
“C’mon my boys,” Mary says from the doorway, a gentle smile on her face. “Kids are waiting.”
Dean visibly swallows and nods, pulling away and only pausing when he reaches the doorway Mary has disappeared back through. Outlined in sunlight, Sam merely looks his fill, etching this Dean into his memory because he knows that when he leaves this place there will be pain and it won’t just be his.
Mary’s words settle on him like they have weight as he pulls Bobby’s pants on and only to find when pulled all the way up the bottoms are halfway up his shins and Dean starts laughing.
My boys…
Category: Gen
Rating: PG (Language)
Fandom: SPN
Words: 638
By:
kellifer_ficSpoilers: None
Disclaimer: Written for entertainment purposes only. No money, no sue.
Summary: A timestamp for and hell followed with him
A smack on the ass brings Sam out of dreams. He’s confused for a second, disorientated and he’s about to bawl Dean out and demand a latte at the same time when he remembers.
He looks over his shoulder and Dean is there like he was expecting, but not the Dean he grew up with. He’s holding something up and Sam squints through the half-light. “What’s that?”
Dean’s grin gets bigger and Sam can’t help smiling back. Dean’s face is marred by scarring pulling it out of true, but when he grins big like that it all evens out.
“You’re the one who told the kids about Christmas, man. That means you get to play Santa.”
Sam sits up, rubs his eyes and looks again. Dean is holding a red flannel jacket, one of John’s if Sam isn’t mistaken, except now it has something white and fluffy sewn along the bottom and down the front. Bobby’s famous red long johns are the bottom half of the costume and there’s –
“Dude, what are those supposed to be?”
Dean looks at the red gloves with sticks protruding from the fingertips and he chuckles. “Kids have been making up their own stories. Apparently Santa Claws gives gifts to good kids and disembowels the naughty ones while they sleep.”
Sam’s mouth drops open.
“Hey, these kids didn’t grow up with roller coasters or horror movies. They have to make their own fun,” Dean adds.
“I’m sure they didn’t have any help,” Sam snorts, accepting the gloves and then setting them aside with a raised eyebrow. Dean is giving Sam his innocent face that usually means he’s guilty as hell.
Sam remembers with a start what he was dreaming about. It was that Christmas with his brother when Sam had decorated the motel room. Except, in his dream Dean had entered and Sam had merely been an onlooker, like watching a movie. The decorations were there but Sam wasn’t. As Dean took in the empty room panic had flooded his features. Sam had woken with Dean’s strangled call in his ears.
Sammy!
“Hey, Sammy?” Dean was clicking his fingers in front of Sam’s face and looking concerned.
“I have to go home,” Sam blurts and even though he hadn’t really meant to say it, as soon as the words hit the air he knows it’s true.
Dean, still holding most of the costume, seems to deflate in front of Sam’s eyes. “Oh, yeah,” he says, sounding so young and disappointed that Sam aches. “I mean, of course.”
Sam chuffs a laugh as he swings to his feet out of the bed and stands. “Not right this second,” he says, taking the jacket and pants from Dean’s nerveless fingers. “It’s not like there’s a library around here where I could research it so I don’t even know if it’s possible yet. I just… I gotta try if that makes sense.”
Sam sets the costume on the bed he’s just vacated and brings a hand up to Dean’s face, thumb rubbing over the most prominent line of Dean’s scar. He’s still in awe that this Dean doesn’t shy away from him, actually leans into the touch like he’s starved for it.
“C’mon my boys,” Mary says from the doorway, a gentle smile on her face. “Kids are waiting.”
Dean visibly swallows and nods, pulling away and only pausing when he reaches the doorway Mary has disappeared back through. Outlined in sunlight, Sam merely looks his fill, etching this Dean into his memory because he knows that when he leaves this place there will be pain and it won’t just be his.
Mary’s words settle on him like they have weight as he pulls Bobby’s pants on and only to find when pulled all the way up the bottoms are halfway up his shins and Dean starts laughing.
My boys…
From:
no subject
Thanks. This was lovely as usual