SPN FIC - Sunset
A moment of tranquility, inspired by a picture.
CHARACTERS: John and wee!Dean (age 6)
GENRE: Gen
RATING: G
SPOILERS: None
LENGTH: 350 words
SUNSET
By Carol Davis
The sky's on fire behind them, crimson and blood red, deep orange, lavender, violet, a pale ivory. It's one of nature's great ironies that clear skies don't offer beauty like this; it's storms, a fouling of the horizon in some way or other, that creates these colors.
He's facing that way as he rows, relying on Dean to navigate.
They're halfway across, another half hour's worth of rowing from shore, when Dean's attention perks like a dog's. He's fascinated in that simple, fearless way - out of curiosity, nothing more - and the ordinariness of it makes John smile.
"What is that?" Dean asks. "That noise?"
"Life."
A frown creases the boy's forehead, barely visible in the shadows beneath the bill of his baseball cap.
"Frogs," John says. "Birds. The water."
Dean glances down at his feet, where Sam's curled up asleep, using a spare life jacket as a pillow. "Could be gators," he suggests, softly enough that there's no chance he'll wake his brother.
"Not a lot of gators this far north."
"The creature."
"Creature?"
"From the Black Lagoon."
That could well be. John's facing the other way; what's up ahead of them is anybody's guess - aside from there being a hearty dinner and warm beds at the end of a short drive. A quiet night. Maybe a little time spent reading the new issue of Sports Illustrated that's lying on the front seat of the car.
"You have fun today?" he asks Dean quietly, as if a louder tone will wake not only Sam, but…gators.
"Uh-huh."
There was a picnic, organized by a church they don't belong to, an event their neighbor of eight days insisted they attend. Swimming, fishing, a dozen folding tables laid out with food. Races and games for the kids. For a good part of it John sat in a lawn chair, sipping a beer, balancing a paper plate on his knees, listening to music broadcast from a portable cassette player and from his children.
"Did you?" Dean asks. His attention's zeroed in on John. Tight focus, awaiting the right answer.
"Yeah," John murmurs. "I did."
* * * * *
CHARACTERS: John and wee!Dean (age 6)
GENRE: Gen
RATING: G
SPOILERS: None
LENGTH: 350 words
SUNSET
By Carol Davis
The sky's on fire behind them, crimson and blood red, deep orange, lavender, violet, a pale ivory. It's one of nature's great ironies that clear skies don't offer beauty like this; it's storms, a fouling of the horizon in some way or other, that creates these colors.
He's facing that way as he rows, relying on Dean to navigate.
They're halfway across, another half hour's worth of rowing from shore, when Dean's attention perks like a dog's. He's fascinated in that simple, fearless way - out of curiosity, nothing more - and the ordinariness of it makes John smile.
"What is that?" Dean asks. "That noise?"
"Life."
A frown creases the boy's forehead, barely visible in the shadows beneath the bill of his baseball cap.
"Frogs," John says. "Birds. The water."
Dean glances down at his feet, where Sam's curled up asleep, using a spare life jacket as a pillow. "Could be gators," he suggests, softly enough that there's no chance he'll wake his brother.
"Not a lot of gators this far north."
"The creature."
"Creature?"
"From the Black Lagoon."
That could well be. John's facing the other way; what's up ahead of them is anybody's guess - aside from there being a hearty dinner and warm beds at the end of a short drive. A quiet night. Maybe a little time spent reading the new issue of Sports Illustrated that's lying on the front seat of the car.
"You have fun today?" he asks Dean quietly, as if a louder tone will wake not only Sam, but…gators.
"Uh-huh."
There was a picnic, organized by a church they don't belong to, an event their neighbor of eight days insisted they attend. Swimming, fishing, a dozen folding tables laid out with food. Races and games for the kids. For a good part of it John sat in a lawn chair, sipping a beer, balancing a paper plate on his knees, listening to music broadcast from a portable cassette player and from his children.
"Did you?" Dean asks. His attention's zeroed in on John. Tight focus, awaiting the right answer.
"Yeah," John murmurs. "I did."
* * * * *