SDMB art post: City Lights Lay Out Before Us
Title: City Lights Lay Out Before Us
Author: emerri03
Artist: cassiopeia7
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG (Art only)
Warnings: None.
Summary: While Sam's at Stanford, he and Dean only talk on anniversaries, birthdays, and holidays. Then one day, Dean shows up out of the blue, and Sam must confront the real reason he ran away.
Artist notes: I am so happy that I decided to claim a second SDMB, and that this was the one I chose. The story turned out to be a wonderful look at pre-series Sam and Dean, and my author, a certified sweetheart. "City Lights" is also the first time that I was inspired to sketch a 75% complete story banner . . . before I'd even heard from my author, much less read the fic. Talk about inspiration! Thanks, emerri03, for (a) writing this story, and (b) for being so enthusiastic and responsive and awesome. And hey, despite life throwing us curve balls right, left, and center, despite illness on both our parts, despite your midterm exams, despite my computer meltdown -- we overcame ALL of that there adversity and we did it, bb!
A boatload of virtual roses and and no small amount of gratitude go to my SuperBeta, maichan, (who's probably off somewhere surfing in Hawaii right this second) for her guidance and marvelous suggestions. Couldn't have done it without you!
Finally, thanks to our mods cordelia_gray, marciaelena, and neros_violin, for making this a painless and wonderful experience. Y'all rock!
Art this way . . .
“Heeya Sammy.”
Dean’s voice was low and smooth and hit Sam somewhere between his chest and stomach.
“Dean?”
“Happy birthday, little bro.”
“Dean, what are you doing?”
“Calling you Sammy.”
His voice was a little too smooth, vowels and consonants slurring together in a pattern Sam recognized like a song from his childhood.
“‘S your birthday right? Didn’t mess up the date again, did I?”
“Dean, what do you want?” Sam was done, didn’t want to play whatever game Dean had in mind.
“Go to your window.”
“What??”
“Your window Sam. Jesus I swear you’ve gotten dumber since you left.”
“Dean what the hell is going on?”
“Sam. For once in your life, just stop bitching and do what I say.”
“For once in…” Sam walked over to the window, the instinct to obey Dean overriding his annoyance, and looked down at the sidewalk.” “Dean stop screwing arou-” Standing there - in Dad’s old leather jacket - was Dean, looking every bit the dangerous bad boy, and Sam felt his stomach bottom out.
Why are you here Dean? Why now?”
Dean looked back up at the fireworks, and Sam was starting to think that Dean was just going to ignore him.
“Ninety-six.”
“What?”
“Last time I saw fireworks was July fourth, nineteen-ninety-six.”
Sam felt the gears in his brain working overtime through the haze of whiskey and beer to remember the date. “Wait…the year we snuck out to that field?” And yeah, that was it because the memory came flashing back then in bits of bright colors and sparks and Dean.
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