spn_hols; prompt #3
i’m the king of the snow fort
Prompt: #3 snow fort (spn_hols)
Fandom: Supernatural (GEN)
Rating: PG
Word Count: approx. 480
Warnings: none
Author’s Notes: ahhh, wee!chesters! sam is about… ten. yeah, ten’s nice age to still be living in a house.
-
“What are you doing?” Dean stopped in his tracks, boots crunching softly against the freshly fallen snow. He watched with odd interest as Sam, kneeling on the ground and shoulders hunched over, packed snow down with his hands.
“Making a snow fort,” Sam answered, reaching out to his right and pulling more snow towards his make-shift fort. “Wanna help?”
“Forts are for little kids, Sam,” Dean scoffed.
Sam glanced at Dean over his shoulder; his cheeks were a light pink and there were snowflakes stuck on his eyelashes. He wiped his blue mitten across his nose and smiled lopsidedly. “I know.” And he went back to packing down the snow.
Dean stood for a moment, watching Sam work, until he got fed up with the cold and went inside. There was a note left on the counter - Out hunting, be back later. Don’t order pizza. Love, Dad - and wet puddles leading from the small kitchen to the door.
“SAM! You’d better be cleaning this mess up!” Dean shouted from the kitchen window and was greeted with an inaudible yell, more than likely a protest, and snapped the window shut.
Dean scuffled around the house, trying to clean up the already meticulously neat house (they didn’t have much, so it really couldn’t get messy besides pizza boxes and take-out, but Sam usually ended up cleaning all that) before he fell onto the couch. Nothing was on TV - reruns, holiday parade, reruns, an infomercial - and his lip began to twitch. He looked over his shoulder towards the door and sighed. He had nothing to lose.
Once outside, Dean stood awkwardly by Sam as he finished the fort. He was only in his running shoes, his light winter jacket and no mitts. Sam was head-to-toe winter attire and it bugged Dean a little, but the kid was only ten.
Like most anything else Sam did, he made this small snow fort to perfection. He took his time molding the snow into little blocks, how he handled those blocks to stack them carefully on top of the other and how he managed to leave room for windows (like they were necessary) and doors (again, Dean could step over the walls).
“Okay, it’s done,” Sam said with a sense of utter accomplishment and pride in his voice.
“Good.” Dean pushed Sam aside and stepped into the fort, sitting down firmly on the cold ground. “I’m the king of the snow fort.”
Sam’s face fell, his shoulders sagged and his mouth fell open in a silent cry. “De-an! I’ve been working on this all day! I wanna be the king!” Sam went on with stamping his foot irritably and huffing, arms folded stubbornly across his chest.
“Hey,” Dean snapped, pointing his finger at Sam. “None of that, or I’m going make supper tonight.”
Sam instantly snapped his mouth shut. Dean was still the king.
-
I wrote for prompt #1 also (hot chocolate): PG-13, Sam/Dean, schoomp. It can be found here.
Prompt: #3 snow fort (spn_hols)
Fandom: Supernatural (GEN)
Rating: PG
Word Count: approx. 480
Warnings: none
Author’s Notes: ahhh, wee!chesters! sam is about… ten. yeah, ten’s nice age to still be living in a house.
-
“What are you doing?” Dean stopped in his tracks, boots crunching softly against the freshly fallen snow. He watched with odd interest as Sam, kneeling on the ground and shoulders hunched over, packed snow down with his hands.
“Making a snow fort,” Sam answered, reaching out to his right and pulling more snow towards his make-shift fort. “Wanna help?”
“Forts are for little kids, Sam,” Dean scoffed.
Sam glanced at Dean over his shoulder; his cheeks were a light pink and there were snowflakes stuck on his eyelashes. He wiped his blue mitten across his nose and smiled lopsidedly. “I know.” And he went back to packing down the snow.
Dean stood for a moment, watching Sam work, until he got fed up with the cold and went inside. There was a note left on the counter - Out hunting, be back later. Don’t order pizza. Love, Dad - and wet puddles leading from the small kitchen to the door.
“SAM! You’d better be cleaning this mess up!” Dean shouted from the kitchen window and was greeted with an inaudible yell, more than likely a protest, and snapped the window shut.
Dean scuffled around the house, trying to clean up the already meticulously neat house (they didn’t have much, so it really couldn’t get messy besides pizza boxes and take-out, but Sam usually ended up cleaning all that) before he fell onto the couch. Nothing was on TV - reruns, holiday parade, reruns, an infomercial - and his lip began to twitch. He looked over his shoulder towards the door and sighed. He had nothing to lose.
Once outside, Dean stood awkwardly by Sam as he finished the fort. He was only in his running shoes, his light winter jacket and no mitts. Sam was head-to-toe winter attire and it bugged Dean a little, but the kid was only ten.
Like most anything else Sam did, he made this small snow fort to perfection. He took his time molding the snow into little blocks, how he handled those blocks to stack them carefully on top of the other and how he managed to leave room for windows (like they were necessary) and doors (again, Dean could step over the walls).
“Okay, it’s done,” Sam said with a sense of utter accomplishment and pride in his voice.
“Good.” Dean pushed Sam aside and stepped into the fort, sitting down firmly on the cold ground. “I’m the king of the snow fort.”
Sam’s face fell, his shoulders sagged and his mouth fell open in a silent cry. “De-an! I’ve been working on this all day! I wanna be the king!” Sam went on with stamping his foot irritably and huffing, arms folded stubbornly across his chest.
“Hey,” Dean snapped, pointing his finger at Sam. “None of that, or I’m going make supper tonight.”
Sam instantly snapped his mouth shut. Dean was still the king.
-
I wrote for prompt #1 also (hot chocolate): PG-13, Sam/Dean, schoomp. It can be found here.