Yay for indulgence!
SOMEHOW watching Die Hard last night with hkath and kashmir1 ended up giving me THIS bunny. How...I have no idea. Maybe we were just chatting about Dean + kids? Eh.
Title: Bowhunting Is An Important Skill
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 1000
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. Actually, I don't own much of anything.
Summary: Sam and Dean have settled down. Dean returns home from trip.
A/N: Thanks so much to darci_marie for reading over and assuring me it works.
The screen door creaks open, rattling when it slams back into the frame. “In the kitchen,” Sam calls out.
There’s the thud of canvas hitting the floor and the heavy clomp of Dean’s boots. Sam continues to run his knife over the peppers in quick, precise motions. “Hey,” Dean says.
“How’d it go?”
Sam can hear Dean’s joints pop and click; pictures him stretching in the doorframe, arms raised above his head. He adds the peppers to the pot on the stove, stirring them in.
“Not bad. Danny caught a good sized trout, even gutted the bitch and fried it up. Didn’t end up as lunch meat for any god damn bears, so that’s always a plus.”
Sam grins. “So no Wendigos come chasin’ after your ass either?”
He can almost hear Dean shudder, the tiny break of his words. “Dude, don’t remind me. No. Did tell ‘em the story though, freaked ‘em right the fuck out.”
Sam spins, dishrag in one hand, and stares Dean down. “You didn’t. Jesus, Dean, they’re eleven, you can’t tell them stuff like that.”
His eyes crinkle in the corners, teeth gleaming. Dean’s propped against the doorway, khaki uniform wrinkled. There’s a spot of mud on his right knee. “Don’t go getting your panties in a knot. Left out the gory details.”
It’s hopeless is what it is. Four years in Greenville, Ohio and the local council had elected Dean their Scoutmaster. Never mind that he’d never been a boy scout himself or that he didn’t have his own kid. Seemed that being adept enough to earn honorary badges in First Aid and Family Life - and possibly saving the mayor from an enraged spirit storming around the town hall - was enough for the people of the small town to entrust him with their children overnight.
Dean was still pissed that he’d had to actually prove himself to earn the Auto Mechanics badge though. He probably should have received an honorary badge in Fingerprinting too, though neither Winchester was about to provide the explanation as to why.
“Still can’t believe they let you wander out into the wilderness with kids,” Sam says. He throws a cover on the pot of chili, letting it simmer.
“I’m a mentor,” Dean crows.
“You’re a terror, is what.” Sam doesn’t doubt for a minute that the boys are safe with his brother; just…not necessarily under the best influence. “You share the same mentality as them. It’s a perfect fit.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Dean wriggles his eyebrows. “I’m all man. Trevor even told me how his mom says I’m a ‘real hottie’. Might just adopt the little booger and set myself up real sweet with that.”
It takes Sam only two long strides to cross the kitchen. He twines his fist around the loose ends of the bandana wrapped around Dean’s neck and tugs him forward. “You wouldn’t dare.”
The fullness of Dean’s lower lip is slick and pink; quirks up at the corner. “Depends on how welcoming my own little lady is now that I’m home. Gonna give me a reason to stay, Sammy?”
Always challenging, the fucker. If Sam’s honest with himself he knows he wouldn’t have it any other way. He pulls Dean forward the rest of the way, nipping the smirk from his mouth, sliding his tongue hot and ready into the warm space when Dean parts his lips beneath the press of Sam’s. The troop hadn’t gone far, only a few miles for a quick overnight excursion but Sam felt every moment away from his brother like a phantom pain, missing limb tingling until the connection could be restored.
Sam brushes over the back of Dean’s neck, sweat and dirt gritty under his fingertips. Dean tastes like fruit juice and granola and Sam knows if he was to lick deeper he would find the sticky sweetness of marshmallow against the back of his teeth. He pulls back reluctantly, heart rate raised and body aching for more, slow final swipe of mouths together having to do for now.
Dean grins and pats Sam on the cheek; presses up slightly as Sam’s hand trails down his chest. “Archery’s coming loose. Be a doll and stitch it back up?”
Flattening his palm, Sam shoves Dean back against the door jam. “Ass.”
“You love it,” Dean responds. He makes sure to twist and shake said body part in Sam’s direction. “Can’t blame you. These pants make it look fantastic.”
“Again, how anyone thinks their kid should hang around you is a wonder. Gonna end up with a town full of ego-maniacs.”
“Nah,” Dean counters. “Gonna end up with a town full of fine, upstanding citizens who know the importance of good music and just how cool one Dean Winchester is.”
And the thing is: Dean’s probably right. The boys adore him and for all of Sam’s protests he knows Dean would never allow them to do anything too dangerous. He might be a little raw around the edges but with kids, Dean has some special ability to garner obedience balanced out with a good dose of fun.
Sam wanders back over to the stove, stirring the contents with a wooden spoon. “Wanna head out next weekend? Got a call from Bobby about this house down in Kentucky. Sounds like a simple spirit but it might be nice to get out on the road.”
“Eh, gotta car wash thing next weekend. Damn girl scouts and their fucking cookies. No fair to taunt a guy with delicious goodness and snag all the local charity up. ‘Specially when they don’t bake the fucking things themselves.” He huffs before turning to regard Sam. “We got any?”
Sam can’t help but snort. The tiny bit of disappointment fades when he catches the hopeful gleam in Dean’s eyes. “Susie stopped by this morning. But make a crack about how I should look into becoming a Brownie and you don’t get a one.”
“Okay,” Dean says, peeling himself from the doorframe. He stalks towards where Sam is leaning against the counter, the glint in his eyes sliding into something darker, hunger of a far different nature. He stops before Sam and raises his arm, three fingers pointing up. “Scouts’ honor.”
On my honor I will do my best
To do my duty to God and my country
and to obey the Scout Law;
To help other people at all times;
To keep myself physically strong,
mentally awake, and morally straight.
Title: Bowhunting Is An Important Skill
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 1000
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. Actually, I don't own much of anything.
Summary: Sam and Dean have settled down. Dean returns home from trip.
A/N: Thanks so much to darci_marie for reading over and assuring me it works.
The screen door creaks open, rattling when it slams back into the frame. “In the kitchen,” Sam calls out.
There’s the thud of canvas hitting the floor and the heavy clomp of Dean’s boots. Sam continues to run his knife over the peppers in quick, precise motions. “Hey,” Dean says.
“How’d it go?”
Sam can hear Dean’s joints pop and click; pictures him stretching in the doorframe, arms raised above his head. He adds the peppers to the pot on the stove, stirring them in.
“Not bad. Danny caught a good sized trout, even gutted the bitch and fried it up. Didn’t end up as lunch meat for any god damn bears, so that’s always a plus.”
Sam grins. “So no Wendigos come chasin’ after your ass either?”
He can almost hear Dean shudder, the tiny break of his words. “Dude, don’t remind me. No. Did tell ‘em the story though, freaked ‘em right the fuck out.”
Sam spins, dishrag in one hand, and stares Dean down. “You didn’t. Jesus, Dean, they’re eleven, you can’t tell them stuff like that.”
His eyes crinkle in the corners, teeth gleaming. Dean’s propped against the doorway, khaki uniform wrinkled. There’s a spot of mud on his right knee. “Don’t go getting your panties in a knot. Left out the gory details.”
It’s hopeless is what it is. Four years in Greenville, Ohio and the local council had elected Dean their Scoutmaster. Never mind that he’d never been a boy scout himself or that he didn’t have his own kid. Seemed that being adept enough to earn honorary badges in First Aid and Family Life - and possibly saving the mayor from an enraged spirit storming around the town hall - was enough for the people of the small town to entrust him with their children overnight.
Dean was still pissed that he’d had to actually prove himself to earn the Auto Mechanics badge though. He probably should have received an honorary badge in Fingerprinting too, though neither Winchester was about to provide the explanation as to why.
“Still can’t believe they let you wander out into the wilderness with kids,” Sam says. He throws a cover on the pot of chili, letting it simmer.
“I’m a mentor,” Dean crows.
“You’re a terror, is what.” Sam doesn’t doubt for a minute that the boys are safe with his brother; just…not necessarily under the best influence. “You share the same mentality as them. It’s a perfect fit.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Dean wriggles his eyebrows. “I’m all man. Trevor even told me how his mom says I’m a ‘real hottie’. Might just adopt the little booger and set myself up real sweet with that.”
It takes Sam only two long strides to cross the kitchen. He twines his fist around the loose ends of the bandana wrapped around Dean’s neck and tugs him forward. “You wouldn’t dare.”
The fullness of Dean’s lower lip is slick and pink; quirks up at the corner. “Depends on how welcoming my own little lady is now that I’m home. Gonna give me a reason to stay, Sammy?”
Always challenging, the fucker. If Sam’s honest with himself he knows he wouldn’t have it any other way. He pulls Dean forward the rest of the way, nipping the smirk from his mouth, sliding his tongue hot and ready into the warm space when Dean parts his lips beneath the press of Sam’s. The troop hadn’t gone far, only a few miles for a quick overnight excursion but Sam felt every moment away from his brother like a phantom pain, missing limb tingling until the connection could be restored.
Sam brushes over the back of Dean’s neck, sweat and dirt gritty under his fingertips. Dean tastes like fruit juice and granola and Sam knows if he was to lick deeper he would find the sticky sweetness of marshmallow against the back of his teeth. He pulls back reluctantly, heart rate raised and body aching for more, slow final swipe of mouths together having to do for now.
Dean grins and pats Sam on the cheek; presses up slightly as Sam’s hand trails down his chest. “Archery’s coming loose. Be a doll and stitch it back up?”
Flattening his palm, Sam shoves Dean back against the door jam. “Ass.”
“You love it,” Dean responds. He makes sure to twist and shake said body part in Sam’s direction. “Can’t blame you. These pants make it look fantastic.”
“Again, how anyone thinks their kid should hang around you is a wonder. Gonna end up with a town full of ego-maniacs.”
“Nah,” Dean counters. “Gonna end up with a town full of fine, upstanding citizens who know the importance of good music and just how cool one Dean Winchester is.”
And the thing is: Dean’s probably right. The boys adore him and for all of Sam’s protests he knows Dean would never allow them to do anything too dangerous. He might be a little raw around the edges but with kids, Dean has some special ability to garner obedience balanced out with a good dose of fun.
Sam wanders back over to the stove, stirring the contents with a wooden spoon. “Wanna head out next weekend? Got a call from Bobby about this house down in Kentucky. Sounds like a simple spirit but it might be nice to get out on the road.”
“Eh, gotta car wash thing next weekend. Damn girl scouts and their fucking cookies. No fair to taunt a guy with delicious goodness and snag all the local charity up. ‘Specially when they don’t bake the fucking things themselves.” He huffs before turning to regard Sam. “We got any?”
Sam can’t help but snort. The tiny bit of disappointment fades when he catches the hopeful gleam in Dean’s eyes. “Susie stopped by this morning. But make a crack about how I should look into becoming a Brownie and you don’t get a one.”
“Okay,” Dean says, peeling himself from the doorframe. He stalks towards where Sam is leaning against the counter, the glint in his eyes sliding into something darker, hunger of a far different nature. He stops before Sam and raises his arm, three fingers pointing up. “Scouts’ honor.”
On my honor I will do my best
To do my duty to God and my country
and to obey the Scout Law;
To help other people at all times;
To keep myself physically strong,
mentally awake, and morally straight.