Fic: Anthology (Dean/Layla)
Title: Anthology
Rating: PG-13
Summary: “You know, when we’re old and our memories start goin’, you’re gonna be glad I followed you around with a camera for a week.”
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. A girl can dream, but, alas, that's all it is.
Author's Note: Used for philosophy_20, prompt #9: orientation.
“Dean, it’s too early for the camera.”
“It’s noon.”
Layla rolls her eyes. “I just got up and I have bed-head.”
“You look cute,” he assures. She narrows her eyes at him. “You know, when we’re old and our memories start goin’, you’re gonna be glad I followed you around with a camera for a week.”
She eyes him over her shoulder as she cracks open a few eggs and drops them into the pan. Dean follows them, moves over to the bacon she already had on when he found her, then back up to Layla.
“As long as you don’t try to bring it into the bedroom again,” she says, accusingly.
“You’re no fun.”
“I’ll be plenty fun if you keep video out of it.”
“Fine. No sex tapes. I get it.”
“Good,” she answers. He zooms back in on the food. Next best thing he figures. Well, except maybe his girlfriend in her pajamas. Lucky for him, they were right there next to each other. “Do you want to put that down and help me with this?”
“I’m workin’ the camera,” he argues. She rolls her eyes at him, flipping a pancake over.
“You’re the one who wanted breakfast for lunch, so get over here, or you’re going to get plenty of video footage of me eating all of it.”
“Alright, fine,” he replies, with a fake, put-upon sigh, and sets the camera down on the kitchen counter. He does make sure, however, to keep it rolling and pointed at Layla (and the breakfast/lunch she’s making).
The camera records him wrapping his arms around her waist. It catches her giggle and the way that she leans back against him. It watches her pile up the pancakes, bacon, eggs on plates, and hand them to Dean.
“What about the camera?” Layla asks, out of range of the video, but not the audio.
“I’ll come back for it later,” he answers.
But he doesn’t. And neither does she. What the camera misses is Dean pressing Layla against the table after all of the plates are empty and lunch is long gone. What it fails to record is Layla pulling Dean by his shirt back to the bedroom, knowing neither of them have any intention of coming back out any time soon.
Instead, the camera records about three hours of the kitchen sink.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: “You know, when we’re old and our memories start goin’, you’re gonna be glad I followed you around with a camera for a week.”
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. A girl can dream, but, alas, that's all it is.
Author's Note: Used for philosophy_20, prompt #9: orientation.
“Dean, it’s too early for the camera.”
“It’s noon.”
Layla rolls her eyes. “I just got up and I have bed-head.”
“You look cute,” he assures. She narrows her eyes at him. “You know, when we’re old and our memories start goin’, you’re gonna be glad I followed you around with a camera for a week.”
She eyes him over her shoulder as she cracks open a few eggs and drops them into the pan. Dean follows them, moves over to the bacon she already had on when he found her, then back up to Layla.
“As long as you don’t try to bring it into the bedroom again,” she says, accusingly.
“You’re no fun.”
“I’ll be plenty fun if you keep video out of it.”
“Fine. No sex tapes. I get it.”
“Good,” she answers. He zooms back in on the food. Next best thing he figures. Well, except maybe his girlfriend in her pajamas. Lucky for him, they were right there next to each other. “Do you want to put that down and help me with this?”
“I’m workin’ the camera,” he argues. She rolls her eyes at him, flipping a pancake over.
“You’re the one who wanted breakfast for lunch, so get over here, or you’re going to get plenty of video footage of me eating all of it.”
“Alright, fine,” he replies, with a fake, put-upon sigh, and sets the camera down on the kitchen counter. He does make sure, however, to keep it rolling and pointed at Layla (and the breakfast/lunch she’s making).
The camera records him wrapping his arms around her waist. It catches her giggle and the way that she leans back against him. It watches her pile up the pancakes, bacon, eggs on plates, and hand them to Dean.
“What about the camera?” Layla asks, out of range of the video, but not the audio.
“I’ll come back for it later,” he answers.
But he doesn’t. And neither does she. What the camera misses is Dean pressing Layla against the table after all of the plates are empty and lunch is long gone. What it fails to record is Layla pulling Dean by his shirt back to the bedroom, knowing neither of them have any intention of coming back out any time soon.
Instead, the camera records about three hours of the kitchen sink.