Fic: Coyote, Wolf and Hound (1/9)
Fic: Coyote, Wolf and Hound (1/9)
Series: Special Projects
Summary: The honeymoon is over and the Winchester family settles into family life by doing what they do best: Hunting. This time they head into the Superstition mountains to look into another beheading case. Can you say Lost Dutchman Mine?
Author: pen37
Beta: Strangevisitor7
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean
Pairing:Chloe/Dean
Rating: pg-13
This is a part of the Special Projects series. You can find the rest of the series here.
Also submitted for the Crossovers_100 challenge. Prompt # 81 Mountain.
Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9
Cant you see that its just raining
Aint no need to go outside...
But Baby, You hardly even notice
When I try to show you this
Song is meant to keep ya
From doing what your supposed to
Like waking up too early
Maybe we can sleep in
I'll make you banana pancakes
Pretend like its the weekend now
Dean woke with his head on Chloe's lap, while she read a book that was thicker than his forearm and listened to some kind of mellow guitar music. He looked around the stateroom of the floating hotel in confusion. Then, like a welcome friend, his memory returned to wrap him in a warm blanket of happiness.
He'd gotten married. Chloe was his wife. Wife. Just thinking the word left him with a big, sloppy grin on his face. Barely a year ago, he'd been a bachelor with two things on his mind: hunting down as many evil sons of bitches as he possibly could and then finding someone soft, warm and anonymous to lose himself inside.
Then Chloe had come into his life: fierce like a whirlwind. Cleansing like a spring rain. She’d battered down his carefully built walls. Left him exposed; with no place to hide from himself.
Yet at the same time, she fortified him so that he didn't have to hide. Filled up the empty parts of his soul, so that he felt her with him, even when she wasn't physically present. And yet for all that, she insisted that Sam was his soul mate (in that platonic, brotherly way), and refused to even try to usurp that place in his heart.
And that, more than anything, had caused Dean to make a place in his heart just for Chloe. Had gotten Sam to decide that she was the one for Dean. And had gotten them both to push for this moment: when she belonged to them. With them. Wore his name. Sister to Sam, wife to him. Family.
She felt him stir, and looked down from the book to give him a tender smile. “Morning sleepy head,” she said quietly.
“Sleepy head?” he asked.
She nodded in response. “Thought you were going to sleep forever.”
“Well, not all of us are blessed with only needing three or four hours sleep at night,” he said.
“Even if we can shake off a twelve-story drop?” she raised an eyebrow at him.
“Be nice to me,” he said as he stretched. “I had a strenuous night.”
“Awww, poor baby.” Chloe said with mock sympathy. “I suppose I ought to go easy on you this morning, then.”
“I wouldn't go that far,” he said.
“Didn't think you would.”
“What are you listening to?”
“Jack Johnson,”
“Why?”
“It kind of fits my mood right now. Just sorta mellow and happy.”
“Huh,” Dean tilted his head to the side and listened as the song changed. Before long, Chloe leaned over so that she could look into his eyes, and sang along with the music.
There's no combination of words
I could put on the back of a postcard,
No song that I could sing
But I can try for your heart,
Our dreams, and they are made out of real things,
Like a shoebox of photographs,
With sepiatone loving,
Love is the answer
At least for most of the questions in my heart,
Like why are we here? And where do we go?
And how come it's so hard?
It's not always easy,
And sometimes life can be deceiving,
I'll tell you one thing, its always better when we're together
He smiled up at her. Chloe had a pretty singing voice - that she completely wasted by singing loud, off-key, mostly-dirty Irish ballads. And while the two of them would probably never see eye to eye on music, it was kind of nice when she shared her other musical tastes with him.
She didn't really hold herself to one kind of music. Other than the Irish stuff she'd learned from her Grampy Sullivan. Mostly she picked things that captured a mood, or had a nice turn of phrase. He could see why she liked that one, with words like sepiatone loving.
As the song drifted into a chorus, she lapsed into humming, and turned back to her book.
“What are you reading?”
“Full of questions today, aren't you, Mr. Winchester?”
“I want to know everything there is to know about my wife, Mrs. Winchester,” he said.
“It's The Three Musketeers,” she turned the book over so that he could see the cover. “Kind of like you, me and Sam.”
“There's four of them on the cover,” he observed.
“That's because d'Artagnan isn't a Musketeer at this point.”
“I think Sammy read that when he was a kid,” Dean nodded. “He liked all those books: Treasure Island, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. Whenever I was working on the Impala, I'd get him to sit behind the wheel. He'd have his nose stuck in a book and occasionally I would get him to work the pedals or crank the engine.”
“My dad used to read it to me when I was a little girl,” Chloe said. “It was one of my favorites. I loved how it was full of romance and adventure. Fencing, fighting, true love.”
“Sounds familiar,” Dean said. “There wouldn't happen to be a girl named Buttercup in this, would there?”
“You've heard of The Princess Bride?
“Watching it was the only thing that would shut Sammy up when he was four. Besides, I liked the sword fighting.”
“Figures,” Chloe rolled her eyes.“Another one of my favorites, but a lot less weighty to read.”
“Since you're determined to stick your nose in a book this morning, would you read to me?” Dean asked.
Chloe looked down at him, and raised her eyebrow at that. “Has anyone ever read to you before?”
“Not since I was little. Before --” He broke off and looked away.
She pursed her lips at that, and nodded slowly. Then she picked up the book, cleared her throat, and began to read again.
“You do not understand me, gentlemen,” said D’Artagnan, throwing up his head, the sharp and bold lines of which were at the moment gilded by a bright ray of the sun. “I asked to be excused in case I should not be able to discharge my debt to all three; for Monsieur Athos has the right to kill me first, which I must abate your valor in your own estimation, Monsieur Porthos, and render yours almost null, Monsieur Aramis. And now, gentlemen, I repeat, excuse me, but on that account only, and--on guard!”
At these words, with the most gallant air possible, D’Artagnan drew his sword.
As Chloe's voice washed over him like a gentle wave, Dean shut his eyes, leaned his cheek into the softness of her belly and let her words paint a picture in his mind. In a few days, they'd probably be back to business as usual. But for now, he had this time with his new wife in which he was determined to just be.
A/N: I know that Schmoop and Dean do not mix. But you know the guy has a soft gooey center that he dosen't let anyone see. And if ever there was a time that he'd show it, this would be it. Next chapter he's back to being the crusty guy we all know and love.