Re: Daisies Running Riot, 2/2prufrock_26June 12 2012, 22:50:46 UTC
Dean's bent over a leafy pot when Sam emerges from the cool of the house into the blinking sunlight of the back porch. He's got his leg propped on a duffel bag in front of him, one hand scratching absentmindedly at the heavily autographed cast (Sam counts at least four different names with pronounced hearts and kisses, and wonders if any of them are the cute girl with the yellow mystery flowers). He's so caught up in drizzling rusty warm tap water into the damp potting soil that he doesn't look up until Sam clips him lightly on the shoulder.
“More fan mail,” he tells Dean, and his brother's eyes light up at the sight of the huge yellow blossoms.
“Give it here,” he says, beckoning, but Sam holds back for a minute, eyeing his brother's sweaty, flushed face critically. The skin's already peeling off his nose and cheeks where they burnt bright red last week after Dean sat out in the sun all day. Sam bought aloe but he's pretty sure Dean hasn't touched the bottle. He doesn't seem to have touched the lemonade perched on the porch railing, either; the pitcher's streaming with condensation, leaving a dark, wet patch on the splintered wood. Even after a couple of minutes in the sun, Sam can feel himself starting to sweat, the weight of the sunshine pressing down on him, hot and heavy and breathless.
“You're gonna get heatstroke,” he tells Dean.
“Dude, just hand over the damn begonia,” Dean demands, ignoring the medical advice and waving his hand impatiently.
Sam steps forward, and puts the begonia into Dean's lap. He should really, really, put a stop to this: drag Dean inside and round up all the flowers and throw them away, because it's not like they're going to settle down here or anything, and at some point Dean's going to have to say goodbye. But the sun-baked wood feels deliriously silky under his bare feet, and there's something about the combined scents of all Dean's flowers that's making him feel sleepy and lazy and not much like ordering anybody around right at the moment.
“Fifteen minutes,” he tells Dean, and Dean nods, nose bending to brush the petals as he examines the newest addition to his porch garden minutely, the way a jeweler studies a rare topaz.
Sam sets his watch, pulls up a battered plastic lawn chair, and leans back, closing his eyes. The sun envelopes him from above, and all he can smell is flowers and dirt and Dean.
He's going to have to take charge and tame the invasion - but not quite yet.
Re: Daisies Running Riot, 2/2mad_serverJune 12 2012, 23:27:07 UTC
:DDDD
YOU MAKE ME MAKE NOISES
Silky happy warm wood, and sleepy warm flower-smell, and DEAN FONDLING VIOLETS AND LIGHTING UP AT BEGONIAS, and Sam being like, "You're too hot my buddy, I'mma take you inside soon," and Dean being all GIVE ME THE PLAAAANT.
Re: Daisies Running Riot, 2/2prufrock_26June 13 2012, 19:12:49 UTC
See why I like your prompts so much? They let me write cozy, delicious things like this, and then everything is sleepy and warm and I've given Dean a passion for begonias and I don't even care. ♥
Re: Daisies Running Riot, 2/2prufrock_26June 13 2012, 19:30:34 UTC
Aww, thanks! I can't give enough credit to the prompt, though, for all the brilliance. I took the fact that it made me laugh loud enough to wake up my roommate as a sign that it Must Be Writ. :)
Re: Daisies Running Riot, 2/2juppschmitzJune 13 2012, 19:43:17 UTC
Aaww, this was so beautiful! The combined scents of all Dean's flowers are making me sleepy and lazy!
Favourite lines But apparently the geranium's wilting...; "Dude, just hand over the damn begonia..." (cause Dean's a closet florist who knows the names of the flowers and Sam doesn't) and, finally The sun envelopes him from above, and all he can smell is flowers and dirt and Dean. Such a perfect perfect prufrock moment!!
Plus I was thinking of Nick Cave all the time, with Camelias, Magnolias and Azaleas...
Re: Daisies Running Riot, 2/2prufrock_26June 14 2012, 19:43:54 UTC
*blushes*
I'm glad it made you sleepy: this is what summer is for. Sun and flowers and sleeping on porches instead of getting real work done. *nods sagely while ignoring growing stack of paperwork*
(Oh, and I'm deeply flattered that you think there's such a thing as a "prufrock moment." That's awesome.)
“More fan mail,” he tells Dean, and his brother's eyes light up at the sight of the huge yellow blossoms.
“Give it here,” he says, beckoning, but Sam holds back for a minute, eyeing his brother's sweaty, flushed face critically. The skin's already peeling off his nose and cheeks where they burnt bright red last week after Dean sat out in the sun all day. Sam bought aloe but he's pretty sure Dean hasn't touched the bottle. He doesn't seem to have touched the lemonade perched on the porch railing, either; the pitcher's streaming with condensation, leaving a dark, wet patch on the splintered wood. Even after a couple of minutes in the sun, Sam can feel himself starting to sweat, the weight of the sunshine pressing down on him, hot and heavy and breathless.
“You're gonna get heatstroke,” he tells Dean.
“Dude, just hand over the damn begonia,” Dean demands, ignoring the medical advice and waving his hand impatiently.
Sam steps forward, and puts the begonia into Dean's lap. He should really, really, put a stop to this: drag Dean inside and round up all the flowers and throw them away, because it's not like they're going to settle down here or anything, and at some point Dean's going to have to say goodbye. But the sun-baked wood feels deliriously silky under his bare feet, and there's something about the combined scents of all Dean's flowers that's making him feel sleepy and lazy and not much like ordering anybody around right at the moment.
“Fifteen minutes,” he tells Dean, and Dean nods, nose bending to brush the petals as he examines the newest addition to his porch garden minutely, the way a jeweler studies a rare topaz.
Sam sets his watch, pulls up a battered plastic lawn chair, and leans back, closing his eyes. The sun envelopes him from above, and all he can smell is flowers and dirt and Dean.
He's going to have to take charge and tame the invasion - but not quite yet.
Not for another fifteen minutes, at least.
~
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YOU MAKE ME MAKE NOISES
Silky happy warm wood, and sleepy warm flower-smell, and DEAN FONDLING VIOLETS AND LIGHTING UP AT BEGONIAS, and Sam being like, "You're too hot my buddy, I'mma take you inside soon," and Dean being all GIVE ME THE PLAAAANT.
Oh god. It's everything I wanted and more. ♥
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So, Dean discovers a secretly hidden passion for flowers, huh? *ggg*
I had to grin so hard the whole time while reading this!
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Favourite lines But apparently the geranium's wilting...; "Dude, just hand over the damn begonia..." (cause Dean's a closet florist who knows the names of the flowers and Sam doesn't) and, finally The sun envelopes him from above, and all he can smell is flowers and dirt and Dean. Such a perfect perfect prufrock moment!!
Plus I was thinking of Nick Cave all the time, with Camelias, Magnolias and Azaleas...
Reply
I'm glad it made you sleepy: this is what summer is for. Sun and flowers and sleeping on porches instead of getting real work done. *nods sagely while ignoring growing stack of paperwork*
(Oh, and I'm deeply flattered that you think there's such a thing as a "prufrock moment." That's awesome.)
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