[Fic] John'Verse - Side Story Five - Early One Morning
Title: Early One Morning
Author: Stolen Childe
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters do not belong to me. They belong to Kripke and Co.
Rating: G
Warnings: Domestic, kid!fic, mild slash
Pairings/Characters: Dean/Castiel, Sam, Bobby, John T.
Word Count: 1200
Summary: Just another morning for the Winchesters, but one like they aren’t used to.
Author’s Notes: I have no idea what my obsession is with morning fics. Oh well. I enjoy writing them. This is Side Story Five of my John’Verse. No real plot, so I’m relegating it to Side Story status. Also, I’m running out of titles. *headdesk* Enjoy!
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Early One Morning
There were those quiet perfect days, where you wake up feeling fantastic with the sun beaming in and all the weight lifted from your shoulders. There were those quiet perfect days when all you wanted to do was smile and all you did was smile. When the smallest thing made you laugh or chuckle and you could just take joy in being.
Once upon a time, Dean thought those days were a myth. Once upon a time they were just fairy-stories of other people’s lives. Once upon a time was once upon a time.
Now though, with the sun beaming in white and crisp with just a hint of golden, the air still and clear and spring on the horizon was one of those days for him. How could he not be joyful when he had an angel at his side and miracle of a little boy between them? Today was a day that called for pancakes and perhaps a trip to the park later to take in the scent of fresh grass and newly budding trees.
Dean shifted just so, easing himself away from his slumbering three-year-old and the peaceful form of his blue-eyed angel. Castiel stirred, never fully asleep and cracked open eyes, beautiful and clear in the early morning sunshine, a brilliant blue that almost seemed backlit with the shear luminosity of the shade. Dean smiled and leaned down, kissing Castiel feather-light on sleep flushed lips then eased away from the bed. Castiel reached up and snagged Dean’s t-shirt, pulling him back before the green-eyed man could escape and stealing another longer, but still chaste, kiss. When Dean pulled back this time he was grinning. Castiel smiled gently and shifted slightly, curling the sleeping John closer to his chest and falling back into a relaxed doze.
Dean padded softly through Bobby’s old creaky house, knowing just where to step to avoid the worst of the whining as he made his way downstairs. Sam was sprawled, mouth open in a silent snore across Bobby’s old rickety couch, one sock foot dragging on the ground the other half curled under a threadbare blanket that was more for comfort than warmth. Dean smiled, walked silently into the kitchen, made a pot of coffee and sorted through the cupboards for a bowl, a pan and pancake mix.
Dean waited for the first pot of coffee to trickle and percolate before starting in on the pancakes, he knew the scent of strong, brown liquid would stir Sam from sleep and the taller Winchester would be in the kitchen in moments. Bobby wouldn’t be too far behind, moving slower now in his advanced years but not at all slowing down. Castiel would acknowledge the noise and movement in the house, gently ease John from slumber and bring the still blurry-eyed boy down for breakfast. At this point in their lives, they had the routine down to a science. It had been altered and modified over the years but had only improved as both the Winchesters and their family grew.
Dean watched the dust-motes dance, shimmering happily in a beam of now golden sunlight and poured first one then another cup of coffee. Sam shuffled in as if on cue, loading the cup up with cream and sugar to which Dean scowled, before Sam plunked in lanky body into one of the mismatched kitchen chairs.
“Morning,” Sam greeted.
“Morning. Catch any flies last night?” Dean teased.
“Ah, ha,” Sam wrinkled up his nose, it wasn’t his fault he slept with his mouth open, he couldn’t control it - He was sleeping. Dean smiled warm and Sam immediately picked up on Dean’s mood, melting into the easy, lazy morning as sure as Dean had.
“Pancakes?” Sam asked eagerly, spying the box on the counter.
“Yessir,” Dean grinned.
“What are you two idjits grinning about?” Bobby grumbled, shuffling in the kitchen and favouring his right leg, stiff from old injuries and sleep.
Dean handed Bobby a chipped mug with a large mouthed bass on the front of it without being asked. Bobby grunted his approval of the beverage and sat in the one padded chair he had dragged in from the dining room and placed in the kitchen. It was the chair with the torn seat cushion caused by one of Bobby’s overenthusiastic past mutts - Horatio. He had been Dean’s favourite.
“Just one of those days,” Dean said lightly and began to gently mix and fold the pancake batter, letting is sit for a moment until it filled with air. John liked big fluffy pancakes and Dean was never one to shirk his fatherly duties. John would get exactly the pancakes he desired.
“Never used to be any of those days,” Bobby mused.
“Now there’s more than I know what to do with,” Dean added.
“I’ll drink to that,” Sam clinked his mug against Bobby’s, the porcelain echoing dully in the kitchen, the air already turning warm and buttery with the smell of gently browning pancake.
Dean poured the last cup of coffee from the pot as he heard a footstep on the stair and Castiel glided into the kitchen moments later, John still sleepy and balanced on his hip; the little boy resting his sleep-mussed head on his father’s shoulder.
Castiel sat at the table and Dean placed the creamy coffee in front of the angel. Dean had never been able to convince the blue-eyed being of celestial intent that coffee tasted better black, so Dean always put cream in the angel’s coffee.
Dean had another pot of coffee brewing away and a glass of milk set before John. The boy picked up his sippy-cup and began to drink happily, staring with rapt attention at the pancake nearly finished on the griddle.
“It’s coming, Monkey,” Dean said.
“Pancake,” John said. “I want booberry syrup.”
“Sorry, Buddy, the store didn’t have any booberry syrup, they said the ghosts were on strike,” Dean teased.
John sent a little boy glare in Dean’s direction that Dean thought terribly adorable. Dean just grinned and John turned beseeching green eyes towards Castiel.
“What kind of syrup would you like, John?” Castiel prompted.
John pouted before he said, carefully this time, “I want blueberry syrup, please.”
“That we have,” Dean said triumphantly as he slid John’s pancake onto his plate and liberally coated it with the requested flavour. Dean sliced the pancake with efficiency borne of practice and placed it with flourish in front of John, still sitting eagerly in Castiel’s lap. John picked up his fork and took the largest piece he could find on the plate before shovelling it into his mouth.
He chewed a few times before swallowing and smiling up at Dean. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“Welcome,” Dean replied.
Dean placed the other pancakes on a tray which he set in the middle of the table, Sam having just finished setting out forks, knives and plate for the adults. Once they were all seated they realized vital condiments were missing. Dean groaned and moved to get the butter and maple syrup from the refrigerator but it materialized in the middle of the table before Dean got to his feet.
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean grinned across the table at his partner.
“Not a problem,” Castiel said lightly.
“Not that this is news to anyone, but having an angel is awesome,” Sam said, grinning at Dean and Cas.
“Here, here,” Dean clinked their coffee mugs together while Castiel silently preened and Bobby let out a mumbled ‘idjits’ under his breath.
“Happy Saturday, everyone,” Dean announced.
End
Author: Stolen Childe
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters do not belong to me. They belong to Kripke and Co.
Rating: G
Warnings: Domestic, kid!fic, mild slash
Pairings/Characters: Dean/Castiel, Sam, Bobby, John T.
Word Count: 1200
Summary: Just another morning for the Winchesters, but one like they aren’t used to.
Author’s Notes: I have no idea what my obsession is with morning fics. Oh well. I enjoy writing them. This is Side Story Five of my John’Verse. No real plot, so I’m relegating it to Side Story status. Also, I’m running out of titles. *headdesk* Enjoy!
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Early One Morning
There were those quiet perfect days, where you wake up feeling fantastic with the sun beaming in and all the weight lifted from your shoulders. There were those quiet perfect days when all you wanted to do was smile and all you did was smile. When the smallest thing made you laugh or chuckle and you could just take joy in being.
Once upon a time, Dean thought those days were a myth. Once upon a time they were just fairy-stories of other people’s lives. Once upon a time was once upon a time.
Now though, with the sun beaming in white and crisp with just a hint of golden, the air still and clear and spring on the horizon was one of those days for him. How could he not be joyful when he had an angel at his side and miracle of a little boy between them? Today was a day that called for pancakes and perhaps a trip to the park later to take in the scent of fresh grass and newly budding trees.
Dean shifted just so, easing himself away from his slumbering three-year-old and the peaceful form of his blue-eyed angel. Castiel stirred, never fully asleep and cracked open eyes, beautiful and clear in the early morning sunshine, a brilliant blue that almost seemed backlit with the shear luminosity of the shade. Dean smiled and leaned down, kissing Castiel feather-light on sleep flushed lips then eased away from the bed. Castiel reached up and snagged Dean’s t-shirt, pulling him back before the green-eyed man could escape and stealing another longer, but still chaste, kiss. When Dean pulled back this time he was grinning. Castiel smiled gently and shifted slightly, curling the sleeping John closer to his chest and falling back into a relaxed doze.
Dean padded softly through Bobby’s old creaky house, knowing just where to step to avoid the worst of the whining as he made his way downstairs. Sam was sprawled, mouth open in a silent snore across Bobby’s old rickety couch, one sock foot dragging on the ground the other half curled under a threadbare blanket that was more for comfort than warmth. Dean smiled, walked silently into the kitchen, made a pot of coffee and sorted through the cupboards for a bowl, a pan and pancake mix.
Dean waited for the first pot of coffee to trickle and percolate before starting in on the pancakes, he knew the scent of strong, brown liquid would stir Sam from sleep and the taller Winchester would be in the kitchen in moments. Bobby wouldn’t be too far behind, moving slower now in his advanced years but not at all slowing down. Castiel would acknowledge the noise and movement in the house, gently ease John from slumber and bring the still blurry-eyed boy down for breakfast. At this point in their lives, they had the routine down to a science. It had been altered and modified over the years but had only improved as both the Winchesters and their family grew.
Dean watched the dust-motes dance, shimmering happily in a beam of now golden sunlight and poured first one then another cup of coffee. Sam shuffled in as if on cue, loading the cup up with cream and sugar to which Dean scowled, before Sam plunked in lanky body into one of the mismatched kitchen chairs.
“Morning,” Sam greeted.
“Morning. Catch any flies last night?” Dean teased.
“Ah, ha,” Sam wrinkled up his nose, it wasn’t his fault he slept with his mouth open, he couldn’t control it - He was sleeping. Dean smiled warm and Sam immediately picked up on Dean’s mood, melting into the easy, lazy morning as sure as Dean had.
“Pancakes?” Sam asked eagerly, spying the box on the counter.
“Yessir,” Dean grinned.
“What are you two idjits grinning about?” Bobby grumbled, shuffling in the kitchen and favouring his right leg, stiff from old injuries and sleep.
Dean handed Bobby a chipped mug with a large mouthed bass on the front of it without being asked. Bobby grunted his approval of the beverage and sat in the one padded chair he had dragged in from the dining room and placed in the kitchen. It was the chair with the torn seat cushion caused by one of Bobby’s overenthusiastic past mutts - Horatio. He had been Dean’s favourite.
“Just one of those days,” Dean said lightly and began to gently mix and fold the pancake batter, letting is sit for a moment until it filled with air. John liked big fluffy pancakes and Dean was never one to shirk his fatherly duties. John would get exactly the pancakes he desired.
“Never used to be any of those days,” Bobby mused.
“Now there’s more than I know what to do with,” Dean added.
“I’ll drink to that,” Sam clinked his mug against Bobby’s, the porcelain echoing dully in the kitchen, the air already turning warm and buttery with the smell of gently browning pancake.
Dean poured the last cup of coffee from the pot as he heard a footstep on the stair and Castiel glided into the kitchen moments later, John still sleepy and balanced on his hip; the little boy resting his sleep-mussed head on his father’s shoulder.
Castiel sat at the table and Dean placed the creamy coffee in front of the angel. Dean had never been able to convince the blue-eyed being of celestial intent that coffee tasted better black, so Dean always put cream in the angel’s coffee.
Dean had another pot of coffee brewing away and a glass of milk set before John. The boy picked up his sippy-cup and began to drink happily, staring with rapt attention at the pancake nearly finished on the griddle.
“It’s coming, Monkey,” Dean said.
“Pancake,” John said. “I want booberry syrup.”
“Sorry, Buddy, the store didn’t have any booberry syrup, they said the ghosts were on strike,” Dean teased.
John sent a little boy glare in Dean’s direction that Dean thought terribly adorable. Dean just grinned and John turned beseeching green eyes towards Castiel.
“What kind of syrup would you like, John?” Castiel prompted.
John pouted before he said, carefully this time, “I want blueberry syrup, please.”
“That we have,” Dean said triumphantly as he slid John’s pancake onto his plate and liberally coated it with the requested flavour. Dean sliced the pancake with efficiency borne of practice and placed it with flourish in front of John, still sitting eagerly in Castiel’s lap. John picked up his fork and took the largest piece he could find on the plate before shovelling it into his mouth.
He chewed a few times before swallowing and smiling up at Dean. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“Welcome,” Dean replied.
Dean placed the other pancakes on a tray which he set in the middle of the table, Sam having just finished setting out forks, knives and plate for the adults. Once they were all seated they realized vital condiments were missing. Dean groaned and moved to get the butter and maple syrup from the refrigerator but it materialized in the middle of the table before Dean got to his feet.
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean grinned across the table at his partner.
“Not a problem,” Castiel said lightly.
“Not that this is news to anyone, but having an angel is awesome,” Sam said, grinning at Dean and Cas.
“Here, here,” Dean clinked their coffee mugs together while Castiel silently preened and Bobby let out a mumbled ‘idjits’ under his breath.
“Happy Saturday, everyone,” Dean announced.
End