Night Terrors
NIGHT TERRORS
Genre: mild angst
Rating K+
Character: Dean Winchester
Spoilers/warnings: spoilers for 1.04 - Phantom Traveller
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: Don't own, sorry!
This little snippet is dedicated to a certain scene in 'Phantom Traveller';a scene which I utterly and wholly blame for my hopelessly pathetic Supernatural obsession. Every fanfic I've written, every single name on my F-list here, every single penny I've spent at conventions; it can all be traced back to fifteen jaw-dropping seconds at the beginning of this episode.
Damn you Kripke ...
Even at rest, he is never 'at rest'.
Sprawled long and lean across the motel bed, the sweeping curve of his spine is taut beneath the black T-shirt that enfolds it.
Sheets kicked aside during a night of restless motion, are knotted around bare legs muscled and tightened by a lifetime of danger.
Beneath his pillow, slender fingers are closed around the hilt of his knife, secreted there for peace of mind which doesn't come.
He is a coiled spring.
Wary eyes snap open and the last vestiges of tormented sleep recede as Sam arrives bearing caffeine.
As if he needs it.
xxxxx
end
Genre: mild angst
Rating K+
Character: Dean Winchester
Spoilers/warnings: spoilers for 1.04 - Phantom Traveller
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: Don't own, sorry!
This little snippet is dedicated to a certain scene in 'Phantom Traveller';a scene which I utterly and wholly blame for my hopelessly pathetic Supernatural obsession. Every fanfic I've written, every single name on my F-list here, every single penny I've spent at conventions; it can all be traced back to fifteen jaw-dropping seconds at the beginning of this episode.
Damn you Kripke ...
Even at rest, he is never 'at rest'.
Sprawled long and lean across the motel bed, the sweeping curve of his spine is taut beneath the black T-shirt that enfolds it.
Sheets kicked aside during a night of restless motion, are knotted around bare legs muscled and tightened by a lifetime of danger.
Beneath his pillow, slender fingers are closed around the hilt of his knife, secreted there for peace of mind which doesn't come.
He is a coiled spring.
Wary eyes snap open and the last vestiges of tormented sleep recede as Sam arrives bearing caffeine.
As if he needs it.
xxxxx
end