SPN: S&S: Lazy
Challenge word: Lazy
Meaning: Averse or disinclined to work, or a situation that encourages a sense of sluggishness.
Word Count: 500 on the first shot, no rewrites. *smug*
Time Frame: Adult, after series, I suppose AU, since I doubt this will ever happen.
Warnings/Spoilers: Established Wincest relationship, but nothing explicit. No kissing even.
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Dean slowly became aware of two breaths feathering across his skin; one was Sammy, pressed tight to his side, breathing deep and steady across his brother’s chest as he slept. The other was quick and rapid pants against his hand, which was hanging off the edge of the mattress. He yawned, stretching a little as he craned his head, and watched the small puppy that whimpered and wiggled closer.
He had to go out. Damnit. He closed his eyes, letting his head thump soundlessly back onto the pillow, and barely suppressed a groan. He was warm (Sam was a freaking furnace of heat), comfortable (so glad Sam talked him into that memory foam mattress) and a little boneless still (again, Sam’s fault. He’s starting to see a trend here…). From the window on Sam’s side of the bed, he could see the thick fluffy snowflakes trailing down in the early dawn light.
That meant it was cold. Damnit. Icarus whined again, stretching up to nudge his hand, and he sighed. He couldn’t make him wait, it was too mean.
He felt Sam rumble a chuckle against his chest, nuzzling his chest as he stretched. “Mornin.” The word was slurred, still sleep-husky, and Dean couldn’t help but grin at the sheer adorableness Sam still presented. It didn’t matter how old he got, he’d still look like a sleepy little toddler when he first woke up.
“Good morning. Gotta let the pup out.” Sam muttered something that could be affirmative, derision, or a comment about the Impala, it was hard to tell. He slipped out of the warm cocoon, not surprised as Icarus started spinning in gleeful, anxious circles, and Sam just curled up in the warm space with a soft sigh. “Hang on boy. Gotta get dressed.”
It really wasn’t fair that it was winter. He couldn’t get away with leaning in the doorway in just boxers. Too damned cold for that. No, he had to layer on the jeans and the socks and the shirts, and find his coat, and by then, the little bit of sleepiness that was still clinging determinedly got blasted away the moment he opened the door.
Icarus was an odd one; he wouldn’t do anything unless you stood on the porch and made sure the evil somethingorother wasn’t going to snatch him away. So Dean shuffled from foot to foot while the puppy found the BEST spot, and tried really hard to not think about warm beds and snuggling siblings and days off while being snowed in.
It was hard.
And he couldn’t really say he was surprised to go back in ten minutes later, to find the coffee already brewed, and a mug being pushed into his hands before his boots were off. Sam was good at reading his mind like that, and as he settled in on the couch, Sam’s warm weight against his legs under the heavy quilt, he couldn’t help but think it was gonna be a pretty damned good day.
Meaning: Averse or disinclined to work, or a situation that encourages a sense of sluggishness.
Word Count: 500 on the first shot, no rewrites. *smug*
Time Frame: Adult, after series, I suppose AU, since I doubt this will ever happen.
Warnings/Spoilers: Established Wincest relationship, but nothing explicit. No kissing even.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Dean slowly became aware of two breaths feathering across his skin; one was Sammy, pressed tight to his side, breathing deep and steady across his brother’s chest as he slept. The other was quick and rapid pants against his hand, which was hanging off the edge of the mattress. He yawned, stretching a little as he craned his head, and watched the small puppy that whimpered and wiggled closer.
He had to go out. Damnit. He closed his eyes, letting his head thump soundlessly back onto the pillow, and barely suppressed a groan. He was warm (Sam was a freaking furnace of heat), comfortable (so glad Sam talked him into that memory foam mattress) and a little boneless still (again, Sam’s fault. He’s starting to see a trend here…). From the window on Sam’s side of the bed, he could see the thick fluffy snowflakes trailing down in the early dawn light.
That meant it was cold. Damnit. Icarus whined again, stretching up to nudge his hand, and he sighed. He couldn’t make him wait, it was too mean.
He felt Sam rumble a chuckle against his chest, nuzzling his chest as he stretched. “Mornin.” The word was slurred, still sleep-husky, and Dean couldn’t help but grin at the sheer adorableness Sam still presented. It didn’t matter how old he got, he’d still look like a sleepy little toddler when he first woke up.
“Good morning. Gotta let the pup out.” Sam muttered something that could be affirmative, derision, or a comment about the Impala, it was hard to tell. He slipped out of the warm cocoon, not surprised as Icarus started spinning in gleeful, anxious circles, and Sam just curled up in the warm space with a soft sigh. “Hang on boy. Gotta get dressed.”
It really wasn’t fair that it was winter. He couldn’t get away with leaning in the doorway in just boxers. Too damned cold for that. No, he had to layer on the jeans and the socks and the shirts, and find his coat, and by then, the little bit of sleepiness that was still clinging determinedly got blasted away the moment he opened the door.
Icarus was an odd one; he wouldn’t do anything unless you stood on the porch and made sure the evil somethingorother wasn’t going to snatch him away. So Dean shuffled from foot to foot while the puppy found the BEST spot, and tried really hard to not think about warm beds and snuggling siblings and days off while being snowed in.
It was hard.
And he couldn’t really say he was surprised to go back in ten minutes later, to find the coffee already brewed, and a mug being pushed into his hands before his boots were off. Sam was good at reading his mind like that, and as he settled in on the couch, Sam’s warm weight against his legs under the heavy quilt, he couldn’t help but think it was gonna be a pretty damned good day.