SPN Gen
Dude. It's a gen fic. My first ever. Supernatural.
Title: My Watchful Care Shall Hover
Author: MF Luder
Category: Gen, Supernatural
Keywords: Gen, pre-series
Time Frame: No particular time
Rating: G
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: They belong to the WB and whoever produces the show.
Archive: Sam/Dean Archive, my LJ, Biani's Slash Archive, anywhere else, please just let me know so I can visit and pet my baby on occasion.
Summary: For a kid, even the simplest thing can seem like a major crisis; Dean offers assurance that he’ll always be ready and willing to be there for Sam.
Feedback: Mulder_Loves_Scully_Forever@hotmail.com
Author's Notes: I have no clue if the date was on a Sunday or not. Just go with the flow, people. The title is taken from a cute children's poem I found, All Through the Night. You can find it here: http://www.cswnet.com/~erin/child.htm#allth
Beta Thanks: Many thanks to my wonderful SPN betas, Xscribe and Siberian Skys.
Dean shuffled into the pew Sam was seated in, absent-mindedly playing with one of those tiny pencils that lived in the slot next to the contribution envelopes, swinging his feet that just barely brushed the floor.
“What's up?” he asked.
“Nothin',” Sam replied, sullenly.
“It's no use lying to me, kid. I know somethin's wrong.”
Sammy just shrugged, a half attempt to move his shoulders.
Dean sighed and sat down next to his baby brother. He picked up a pencil too, twisting it in his fingers, watching it dance over his knuckles as he waited for Sam to say whatever was on his mind. Dean knew if he sat there long enough, his brother would spill the beans.
They sat in silence a moment, the only movement the pencils in their hands, the only sound, their breathing.
Finally, in a small voice, and after what suspiciously sounded like a hiccup-one of those you make when you're trying not to let someone know you're crying-Sam asked, “Do you know what day it is today?”
“Sure,” Dean said. “It's May second.” He did a double take. “Sammy, it's your birthday.”
“Uh-huh,” was the answer in the middle of another hiccup.
"Sammy," Dean said, it finally dawning on him what was wrong, "you know, he didn't forget on purpose. He had to go kill that thing before it killed anybody else."
Dad had left just that morning after dropping them off with Pastor Jim, and picking up a few needed items.
“Aw, Sammy,” he said. He nudged closer to Sam. “Tell you what. I bet Pastor Jim didn't forget. In fact,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “I'm pretty sure I saw some ice cream up there.”
Sam looked up finally, pencil stilling. His face was splotchy with tear tracks, more threatening to tumble down.
“Cookie dough?” he asked, a hopeful tone to his voice even as he sniffled, wiping his nose on his sweatshirt sleeve. Dean noticed he'd have to do some laundry while Dad was gone. Sam's shirt had chocolate smeared on the front and marker on the sleeve.
“My little bro's turning seven. Nothing but the best,” Dean smiled.
He was rewarded with a giant Sammy grin and a giggle as the small boy threw his arms around him.
After a moment, Sam unabashedly climbed into his lap, and really, he was getting too old to do that-seven today-but Dean allowed it. Sam needed it since Dad wasn't here. And Dean couldn't help but like it, just a bit.
Dean reached up and used his sleeve to wipe away his brother's tears. Sam squirmed and wiggled in his arms, trying to get comfortable, moving with the constant energy little kids had.
When he finally settled, Dean spoke, “I'm sorry.”
One more sniffle, but this time Sam's voice was strong. “It's ok, Dean. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you didn't forget. That-that you didn't leave.”
“Oh, Sammy,” Dean sighed in to the shaggy hair, never tamable, that covered his brother's head. It smelled like baby powder and motel shampoo. Against his nose it was soft, like those down pillows they'd once slept on. He remembered those pillows because they felt soft like Mommy-Mom, he corrected himself. He thought for a second. He guessed Sam felt like Mom then, his body cushioned with baby fat still and that soft, soft hair.
He continued. “I'd never leave you. I could never leave you, Sammy. I'm your big brother; I'll always be here for you.”
Sam nodded knowingly, and snuggled in closer, head riding in the crook of his brother's neck.
They sat there for awhile, oblivious to the small trickle of people entering the church. They were the only ones in the world at the moment. Dean always loved his brother sitting in his lap. Dad had said Dean had to be a big boy now, that he'd soon be going on hunts with Dad, not just watching Sam. And maybe, he shouldn't feel the need to hug his little brother all the time, maybe that was too babyish.
But there was something about holding his little brother. It made him feel warm and happy, knowing Sammy was safe, that he trusted Dean enough to want to hold his hand, to snuggle. It was something only they shared. Sammy was getting so big-seven, his brain reminded him again. It wouldn't be long before he was all grown up. He was already the smartest first grader at his school.
Dean stroked Sam's hair, feeling the slippery soft strands through his fingers. He looked up and noticed people filling the church then, and saw Pastor Jim smiling at them from his door. Knowing the service would start soon, he gave Sam a tight squeeze and held him out from his body so he could look at his brother.
“You ok now?”
Sam nodded, his bangs flopping in his eyes.
“Remember,” Dean said, “ice cream later, k?”
Sam grinned again and made to get off of Dean's lap.
Dean thought about it, but he was feeling mushy already, so proud of his kid brother, that he decided to go for it. He leaned towards Sam and gave him a little peck on the cheek.
Sam was suddenly wriggly, scrambling off his lap and bumping into the lady who'd sat next to them as he furiously wiped at his cheek. “Ew! Dean slobber!! You're gross, Dean! No kisses.” He pouted, a little wrinkle above his nose.
The lady sitting next to them 'ahhed' quietly, patting Sam on his head, who attempted to edge away from her with a patented Sammy glare.
Dean just smiled.
Title: My Watchful Care Shall Hover
Author: MF Luder
Category: Gen, Supernatural
Keywords: Gen, pre-series
Time Frame: No particular time
Rating: G
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: They belong to the WB and whoever produces the show.
Archive: Sam/Dean Archive, my LJ, Biani's Slash Archive, anywhere else, please just let me know so I can visit and pet my baby on occasion.
Summary: For a kid, even the simplest thing can seem like a major crisis; Dean offers assurance that he’ll always be ready and willing to be there for Sam.
Feedback: Mulder_Loves_Scully_Forever@hotmail.com
Author's Notes: I have no clue if the date was on a Sunday or not. Just go with the flow, people. The title is taken from a cute children's poem I found, All Through the Night. You can find it here: http://www.cswnet.com/~erin/child.htm#allth
Beta Thanks: Many thanks to my wonderful SPN betas, Xscribe and Siberian Skys.
Dean shuffled into the pew Sam was seated in, absent-mindedly playing with one of those tiny pencils that lived in the slot next to the contribution envelopes, swinging his feet that just barely brushed the floor.
“What's up?” he asked.
“Nothin',” Sam replied, sullenly.
“It's no use lying to me, kid. I know somethin's wrong.”
Sammy just shrugged, a half attempt to move his shoulders.
Dean sighed and sat down next to his baby brother. He picked up a pencil too, twisting it in his fingers, watching it dance over his knuckles as he waited for Sam to say whatever was on his mind. Dean knew if he sat there long enough, his brother would spill the beans.
They sat in silence a moment, the only movement the pencils in their hands, the only sound, their breathing.
Finally, in a small voice, and after what suspiciously sounded like a hiccup-one of those you make when you're trying not to let someone know you're crying-Sam asked, “Do you know what day it is today?”
“Sure,” Dean said. “It's May second.” He did a double take. “Sammy, it's your birthday.”
“Uh-huh,” was the answer in the middle of another hiccup.
"Sammy," Dean said, it finally dawning on him what was wrong, "you know, he didn't forget on purpose. He had to go kill that thing before it killed anybody else."
Dad had left just that morning after dropping them off with Pastor Jim, and picking up a few needed items.
“Aw, Sammy,” he said. He nudged closer to Sam. “Tell you what. I bet Pastor Jim didn't forget. In fact,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “I'm pretty sure I saw some ice cream up there.”
Sam looked up finally, pencil stilling. His face was splotchy with tear tracks, more threatening to tumble down.
“Cookie dough?” he asked, a hopeful tone to his voice even as he sniffled, wiping his nose on his sweatshirt sleeve. Dean noticed he'd have to do some laundry while Dad was gone. Sam's shirt had chocolate smeared on the front and marker on the sleeve.
“My little bro's turning seven. Nothing but the best,” Dean smiled.
He was rewarded with a giant Sammy grin and a giggle as the small boy threw his arms around him.
After a moment, Sam unabashedly climbed into his lap, and really, he was getting too old to do that-seven today-but Dean allowed it. Sam needed it since Dad wasn't here. And Dean couldn't help but like it, just a bit.
Dean reached up and used his sleeve to wipe away his brother's tears. Sam squirmed and wiggled in his arms, trying to get comfortable, moving with the constant energy little kids had.
When he finally settled, Dean spoke, “I'm sorry.”
One more sniffle, but this time Sam's voice was strong. “It's ok, Dean. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you didn't forget. That-that you didn't leave.”
“Oh, Sammy,” Dean sighed in to the shaggy hair, never tamable, that covered his brother's head. It smelled like baby powder and motel shampoo. Against his nose it was soft, like those down pillows they'd once slept on. He remembered those pillows because they felt soft like Mommy-Mom, he corrected himself. He thought for a second. He guessed Sam felt like Mom then, his body cushioned with baby fat still and that soft, soft hair.
He continued. “I'd never leave you. I could never leave you, Sammy. I'm your big brother; I'll always be here for you.”
Sam nodded knowingly, and snuggled in closer, head riding in the crook of his brother's neck.
They sat there for awhile, oblivious to the small trickle of people entering the church. They were the only ones in the world at the moment. Dean always loved his brother sitting in his lap. Dad had said Dean had to be a big boy now, that he'd soon be going on hunts with Dad, not just watching Sam. And maybe, he shouldn't feel the need to hug his little brother all the time, maybe that was too babyish.
But there was something about holding his little brother. It made him feel warm and happy, knowing Sammy was safe, that he trusted Dean enough to want to hold his hand, to snuggle. It was something only they shared. Sammy was getting so big-seven, his brain reminded him again. It wouldn't be long before he was all grown up. He was already the smartest first grader at his school.
Dean stroked Sam's hair, feeling the slippery soft strands through his fingers. He looked up and noticed people filling the church then, and saw Pastor Jim smiling at them from his door. Knowing the service would start soon, he gave Sam a tight squeeze and held him out from his body so he could look at his brother.
“You ok now?”
Sam nodded, his bangs flopping in his eyes.
“Remember,” Dean said, “ice cream later, k?”
Sam grinned again and made to get off of Dean's lap.
Dean thought about it, but he was feeling mushy already, so proud of his kid brother, that he decided to go for it. He leaned towards Sam and gave him a little peck on the cheek.
Sam was suddenly wriggly, scrambling off his lap and bumping into the lady who'd sat next to them as he furiously wiped at his cheek. “Ew! Dean slobber!! You're gross, Dean! No kisses.” He pouted, a little wrinkle above his nose.
The lady sitting next to them 'ahhed' quietly, patting Sam on his head, who attempted to edge away from her with a patented Sammy glare.
Dean just smiled.