SPN ficlet: "Ain't Lonely" (Sam, Dean, G.)
The past few days I've taken to sitting in the park for a while on my way home. This is what I wrote there today. I do not apologize for how ridiculously schmoopy it is. :-P
Title: Ain't Lonely
Characters: Sam, Dean
Rating: G
Summary: When Sam gets back from scoping out the building, Dean has made himself comfortable in the grass.
Word Count: 356
Spoilers: None.
Notes/Warnings: Pure fluffy schmoop. Unbetaed. Just for fun. Written 'cause I was feeling schmoopy earlier. :-) Oh, title from Friends by Led Zeppelin.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor do I profit from their use here. I fully recognize that Dean Winchester would probably shoot me for writing this.
When Sam gets back from scoping out the building, Dean has made himself comfortable in the grass. He's stripped off his overshirt and folded it under his head for a pillow, crossed his legs at the ankles, and thrown a wrist over his eyes to block the bright sunlight. He lifts his arm to squint blindly when he hears Sam approach, just long enough to confirm that it's his brother, and then, groaning dramatically at the sun, slaps his hand back down. His t-shirt is riding up, exposing a strip of pale belly, and his other hand rests there, fingers tapping a silent beat on his hip.
"You comfy?" Sam asks, amused.
"Mmhmm," Dean murmurs. He sounds half-asleep, voice laced with laziness. He reaches out blindly with his free hand and grabs Sam's pant leg, tugging lightly. "Siddown," he says.
Sam sits, crossing his legs carefully under himself. "So," he starts.
"Oh yeah, so. What'd you find out?" Dean mumbles.
"I talked to the owner's daughter," Sam tells him. He continues to fill him in and Dean nods every now and then to show he's listening. "Basically," he finishes, "we don't have to be back here for two days."
Dean nods but doesn't move.
"So," Sam clarifies, "we can leave anytime."
"Why would we want to leave? Lie down, Sammy, take a nap with me. Be good for you."
Sam blinks. "You want us to... sleep, here in public? Instead of in our nice, private motel room?"
"It's a beautiful day, man. Who wants to be inside?"
"You'll sunburn," Sam warns, but sitting in the sun has made him sleepy, too, and he's stretching out even as he says it. He doesn't have a shirt to cushion his head with, so he turns sideways and uses the softest thing he can find. Dean's stomach shakes under his head with exasperated laughter, but he doesn't shove him off, just tugs his hair a little and then rests his hand warmly on Sam's head while Sam lies there, grinning.
He's half asleep when he realizes something. "Dude," he laughs, "are you drumming Zeppelin on my head?"
Title: Ain't Lonely
Characters: Sam, Dean
Rating: G
Summary: When Sam gets back from scoping out the building, Dean has made himself comfortable in the grass.
Word Count: 356
Spoilers: None.
Notes/Warnings: Pure fluffy schmoop. Unbetaed. Just for fun. Written 'cause I was feeling schmoopy earlier. :-) Oh, title from Friends by Led Zeppelin.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor do I profit from their use here. I fully recognize that Dean Winchester would probably shoot me for writing this.
When Sam gets back from scoping out the building, Dean has made himself comfortable in the grass. He's stripped off his overshirt and folded it under his head for a pillow, crossed his legs at the ankles, and thrown a wrist over his eyes to block the bright sunlight. He lifts his arm to squint blindly when he hears Sam approach, just long enough to confirm that it's his brother, and then, groaning dramatically at the sun, slaps his hand back down. His t-shirt is riding up, exposing a strip of pale belly, and his other hand rests there, fingers tapping a silent beat on his hip.
"You comfy?" Sam asks, amused.
"Mmhmm," Dean murmurs. He sounds half-asleep, voice laced with laziness. He reaches out blindly with his free hand and grabs Sam's pant leg, tugging lightly. "Siddown," he says.
Sam sits, crossing his legs carefully under himself. "So," he starts.
"Oh yeah, so. What'd you find out?" Dean mumbles.
"I talked to the owner's daughter," Sam tells him. He continues to fill him in and Dean nods every now and then to show he's listening. "Basically," he finishes, "we don't have to be back here for two days."
Dean nods but doesn't move.
"So," Sam clarifies, "we can leave anytime."
"Why would we want to leave? Lie down, Sammy, take a nap with me. Be good for you."
Sam blinks. "You want us to... sleep, here in public? Instead of in our nice, private motel room?"
"It's a beautiful day, man. Who wants to be inside?"
"You'll sunburn," Sam warns, but sitting in the sun has made him sleepy, too, and he's stretching out even as he says it. He doesn't have a shirt to cushion his head with, so he turns sideways and uses the softest thing he can find. Dean's stomach shakes under his head with exasperated laughter, but he doesn't shove him off, just tugs his hair a little and then rests his hand warmly on Sam's head while Sam lies there, grinning.
He's half asleep when he realizes something. "Dude," he laughs, "are you drumming Zeppelin on my head?"