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spn_springflingTitle: Woke up just to see your face
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Any warnings: no dialogue..
Written by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
yanyann for fiercelynormal!
The 6 a.m. summer light shines against the thick curtains of the ground floor motel room. The window is opened and the ceiling fan is swinging lazily, but the still, heavy, hot air of August won't be moved.
Sam is laying on his back, spread angled and right hand on his stomach, looking up at the fan as it goes wush-wush-wush, round and round. He looks to his left, to watch Dean laying on his stomach, hands around and under his pillow, breathing deep as he sleeps.
The cotton sheets under them whisper as Sam moves to lay on his side, facing Dean. He is still for minutes, just looking at the other, then reaches out- movement slow and lazy - and ghosts lightly with his fingertips over Dean's face. Tracing under the light-brown hair on his forehead, down his cheekbones, over the neck and softly settles his palm over his brothers shoulder, thumb gliding over warm skin and firm muscle.
It's almost an hour later when Dean's breathing misses a beat, and he blinks awake. And the first thing he sees is Sam looking right back at him. He blinks again, as if contemplating for a moment wether or not he feels lively enough to go through with an idea. Then rises a little, enough to move himself the few inches separating him from his brother, and slots right into Sam. Chest to chest, entangled feet and hand over the others waist, Dean wiggles his head between Sam's cheek and and his pillow. Taking in a deep breath, he closes his eyes and is back asleep within moments.
Sam doesn't move for a few moments still. Hand hanging over Dean's shoulder almost in thin air.
He blinks a few times rapidly, trying to get rid of the sting behind his eyes. Almost two years into this and still, four times out of ten he wakes up and expects to face an overprotective big brother freak-out -to which he would answer with a sigh and a whack to Dean's head -, yet it never happens.
Two years, twelve hours and counting, and still, seven times out of ten, he doesn't expect Dean to reach out to him as if it had never even occurred to the older brother that there would be a reason that he shouldn't.
The thoughts are gone a second later and he's rolling his eyes at himself for all the drama he can come up with with ought even trying.
He tightens his hold on Dean as he glances to the kitchenette and the table there.
Empty beer bottles are scattered over every elevated surface, it that is nothing new for them. The strange new thing is the empty bottle of cheep champagne right next to the few remaining slices of pie Sam had gotten for Dean. And right next to them is a vase and in it a sunflower that Dean had gotten for him.
Sam blinks again, closes his eyes and follows Dean back to sleep.
Two years, almost thirteen hours and counting, and he wonders what they'll do next year.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Any warnings: no dialogue..
Written by
yanyann for fiercelynormal!The 6 a.m. summer light shines against the thick curtains of the ground floor motel room. The window is opened and the ceiling fan is swinging lazily, but the still, heavy, hot air of August won't be moved.
Sam is laying on his back, spread angled and right hand on his stomach, looking up at the fan as it goes wush-wush-wush, round and round. He looks to his left, to watch Dean laying on his stomach, hands around and under his pillow, breathing deep as he sleeps.
The cotton sheets under them whisper as Sam moves to lay on his side, facing Dean. He is still for minutes, just looking at the other, then reaches out- movement slow and lazy - and ghosts lightly with his fingertips over Dean's face. Tracing under the light-brown hair on his forehead, down his cheekbones, over the neck and softly settles his palm over his brothers shoulder, thumb gliding over warm skin and firm muscle.
It's almost an hour later when Dean's breathing misses a beat, and he blinks awake. And the first thing he sees is Sam looking right back at him. He blinks again, as if contemplating for a moment wether or not he feels lively enough to go through with an idea. Then rises a little, enough to move himself the few inches separating him from his brother, and slots right into Sam. Chest to chest, entangled feet and hand over the others waist, Dean wiggles his head between Sam's cheek and and his pillow. Taking in a deep breath, he closes his eyes and is back asleep within moments.
Sam doesn't move for a few moments still. Hand hanging over Dean's shoulder almost in thin air.
He blinks a few times rapidly, trying to get rid of the sting behind his eyes. Almost two years into this and still, four times out of ten he wakes up and expects to face an overprotective big brother freak-out -to which he would answer with a sigh and a whack to Dean's head -, yet it never happens.
Two years, twelve hours and counting, and still, seven times out of ten, he doesn't expect Dean to reach out to him as if it had never even occurred to the older brother that there would be a reason that he shouldn't.
The thoughts are gone a second later and he's rolling his eyes at himself for all the drama he can come up with with ought even trying.
He tightens his hold on Dean as he glances to the kitchenette and the table there.
Empty beer bottles are scattered over every elevated surface, it that is nothing new for them. The strange new thing is the empty bottle of cheep champagne right next to the few remaining slices of pie Sam had gotten for Dean. And right next to them is a vase and in it a sunflower that Dean had gotten for him.
Sam blinks again, closes his eyes and follows Dean back to sleep.
Two years, almost thirteen hours and counting, and he wonders what they'll do next year.
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