Sam goes around the long way, clambering into John’s lap instead of sliding off the couch and onto the floor. He doesn’t release his hold on John’s shirt, doesn’t even turn around to face Jude.
“Sorry,” John says. “He gets a little shy.” As if to prove his words, Sammy presses his face into John’s chest as if he can burrow right in, pulling the edges of John’s flannel over his head again. “Sam,” John pulls the shirt away, but wraps an arm around Sammy nonetheless.
I love the way you totally pinpoint body language. Oh, Sammy! :)
Sammy tilts his head to the side, pressing his ear against John’s chest and letting his shoulders slump inward. It’s been a long few days for them all, and Sammy always tends to get clingier rather than irritable when he’s tired, like he’s reverting to a younger age when he could just give up all autonomy and have John be the provider of absolutely everything.
oh sammy!!
Sammy grips his thumb, wordless again, and drags John’s hand away from Dean and onto his own belly. John smiles, soft in the dark, and rubs gently until Sammy’s a boneless sprawl of unconsciousness.
you're still working on that oedipal Sam thing, right. RIGHT? that's just aww. so sweet. and you just know all those feelings of comfort and pleasure will get all tangled up with dreamshapes and urgent sexuality when he gets older.
She seems entirely unfazed by the strangers in her home, smiling politely at Dean and John, narrowing her eyes when she gets to Sammy. Sammy glances up from below his brows and growls, honest-to-god growls, and Jude gives a burst of startled laughter.
“The hell, John?” she says, highly amused. “You raise these boys with a pack of dogs?”
John’s just as baffled, shakes his head; but Aster’s gone tense-still, not breaking eye contact with Sammy until she suddenly jerks, bolts across the room and out of the sliding door. Before John can blink, Sammy’s bounded off the bed and after her, feet thumping loudly on the wooden floor.
“Well,” Jude says at length. “That went well.”
So. Awesome.
John sweeps Sammy up on his next loop around, arms and legs still kicking until John throws him over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift.
So perfect. I wouldn't exactly describe your writing as physical, because I think it's more cerebral than not. But in the way you can describe the exact right physical action.. I really love that. It's sharp. Wish I could do that. :)
oh ouch.. the end. and it's just perfectly right. i really like this.
“Sorry,” John says. “He gets a little shy.” As if to prove his words, Sammy presses his face into John’s chest as if he can burrow right in, pulling the edges of John’s flannel over his head again. “Sam,” John pulls the shirt away, but wraps an arm around Sammy nonetheless.
I love the way you totally pinpoint body language. Oh, Sammy! :)
Sammy tilts his head to the side, pressing his ear against John’s chest and letting his shoulders slump inward. It’s been a long few days for them all, and Sammy always tends to get clingier rather than irritable when he’s tired, like he’s reverting to a younger age when he could just give up all autonomy and have John be the provider of absolutely everything.
oh sammy!!
Sammy grips his thumb, wordless again, and drags John’s hand away from Dean and onto his own belly. John smiles, soft in the dark, and rubs gently until Sammy’s a boneless sprawl of unconsciousness.
you're still working on that oedipal Sam thing, right. RIGHT?
that's just aww. so sweet. and you just know all those feelings of comfort and pleasure will get all tangled up with dreamshapes and urgent sexuality when he gets older.
She seems entirely unfazed by the strangers in her home, smiling politely at Dean and John, narrowing her eyes when she gets to Sammy. Sammy glances up from below his brows and growls, honest-to-god growls, and Jude gives a burst of startled laughter.
“The hell, John?” she says, highly amused. “You raise these boys with a pack of dogs?”
John’s just as baffled, shakes his head; but Aster’s gone tense-still, not breaking eye contact with Sammy until she suddenly jerks, bolts across the room and out of the sliding door. Before John can blink, Sammy’s bounded off the bed and after her, feet thumping loudly on the wooden floor.
“Well,” Jude says at length. “That went well.”
So. Awesome.
John sweeps Sammy up on his next loop around, arms and legs still kicking until John throws him over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift.
So perfect. I wouldn't exactly describe your writing as physical, because I think it's more cerebral than not. But in the way you can describe the exact right physical action.. I really love that. It's sharp. Wish I could do that. :)
oh ouch.. the end.
and it's just perfectly right.
i really like this.
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RIGHT. though, it's been a while since we've worked on it. I shall have to suggest belly-rubbing to Derry, because... yes.
and you just know all those feelings of comfort and pleasure will get all tangled up with dreamshapes and urgent sexuality when he gets older.
Yes, yes I do. :D I almost want to re-name my fic lj to "HORMONE SOUP" in celebration of this :DD
YAY. Thank you. I am really glad you like this :D
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