SPN Fic: "Layover"
TITLE: Layover
AUTHOR: mad_server
PAIRING: Sam/Dean
RATING: PG13
SPOILERS: 7.22
WORDS: 400
A/N: I used this prompt, but I guess really the actual events of the prompt are more of an implied what-happens-next-ness.
SUMMARY: Sam takes some time out to look after Dean.
Dean's shivering in the car when Sam leans in with his armload of groceries.
"Hey," Sam greets him, sliding behind the wheel. He puts the big paper bag between them and reaches over it to test Dean's temple.
"I'm fine," Dean says with pale lips. "Bobby says hi."
Sam evaluates the flush in Dean's cheeks. He starts the car.
:::
"We're closing," Sam tells the Turducken man lingering in the cafe's bright white kitchen. "You can go."
The dazed cook blinks as Sam sets his sack of food on the counter. Sam produces an apple and puts it in the employee's hand.
"Good work today," Sam nods, shuffling him out the door.
:::
Sam helps Dean into the kitchen and settles him on one of the padded seats he's dragged inside. He repositions another and watches Dean haul his injured foot up onto it.
"There you go," Sam says, fishing a bag of ice out of the freezer and wrapping it in a tea towel. He lays it gently on his brother's hurt appendage.
Dean grunts in appreciation and reaches for his flask. Sam holds out a glass to him and Dean meets his eyes, then transfers the contents. Sam takes the flask outside without a word.
:::
"The bone of a righteous man," Dean reads aloud. He looks at Sam with sunken eyes. "Where the crap are we supposed to get this stuff?"
Sam looks up from chopping apples. Dean takes in his floury apron.
"Are you making pie?" Dean sits up straight. "Mother of Batman, are you making pie?"
:::
"Where'd they all go?" Dean murmurs into Sam's shoulder. There are pie crumbs on the corner of his mouth and Sam leans down and kisses them off. He rakes his fingers down the back of Dean's head.
"There used to be people, Sam. Good, solid people."
Sam runs a hand up and down his brother's side. He picks the dishcloth out of its bowl of water and wrings it out one-handed, then presses it to Dean's hairline.
Dean nuzzles closer. His eyes droop under the soothing influence of the rag. He sighs. "They all fell down."
Sam kisses the top of his head and hugs him close. He rests his palm on Dean's belly and nudges his thumb gently into Dean's navel. "I got you, buddy."
:::
end
AUTHOR: mad_server
PAIRING: Sam/Dean
RATING: PG13
SPOILERS: 7.22
WORDS: 400
A/N: I used this prompt, but I guess really the actual events of the prompt are more of an implied what-happens-next-ness.
SUMMARY: Sam takes some time out to look after Dean.
Dean's shivering in the car when Sam leans in with his armload of groceries.
"Hey," Sam greets him, sliding behind the wheel. He puts the big paper bag between them and reaches over it to test Dean's temple.
"I'm fine," Dean says with pale lips. "Bobby says hi."
Sam evaluates the flush in Dean's cheeks. He starts the car.
:::
"We're closing," Sam tells the Turducken man lingering in the cafe's bright white kitchen. "You can go."
The dazed cook blinks as Sam sets his sack of food on the counter. Sam produces an apple and puts it in the employee's hand.
"Good work today," Sam nods, shuffling him out the door.
:::
Sam helps Dean into the kitchen and settles him on one of the padded seats he's dragged inside. He repositions another and watches Dean haul his injured foot up onto it.
"There you go," Sam says, fishing a bag of ice out of the freezer and wrapping it in a tea towel. He lays it gently on his brother's hurt appendage.
Dean grunts in appreciation and reaches for his flask. Sam holds out a glass to him and Dean meets his eyes, then transfers the contents. Sam takes the flask outside without a word.
:::
"The bone of a righteous man," Dean reads aloud. He looks at Sam with sunken eyes. "Where the crap are we supposed to get this stuff?"
Sam looks up from chopping apples. Dean takes in his floury apron.
"Are you making pie?" Dean sits up straight. "Mother of Batman, are you making pie?"
:::
"Where'd they all go?" Dean murmurs into Sam's shoulder. There are pie crumbs on the corner of his mouth and Sam leans down and kisses them off. He rakes his fingers down the back of Dean's head.
"There used to be people, Sam. Good, solid people."
Sam runs a hand up and down his brother's side. He picks the dishcloth out of its bowl of water and wrings it out one-handed, then presses it to Dean's hairline.
Dean nuzzles closer. His eyes droop under the soothing influence of the rag. He sighs. "They all fell down."
Sam kisses the top of his head and hugs him close. He rests his palm on Dean's belly and nudges his thumb gently into Dean's navel. "I got you, buddy."
:::
end