Ass Out of You and Me: After the Fact (Sam/Dean) 13.1/30
Title: After the Fact
Author: destial
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: John's POV.
Spoilers: None.
Word Count: 903
Notes/Prompt(s): The morning after (not that kind of morning after you perverts) Balance. Now being made into awesome podfic by the lovely and talented weimar27 found here! Check often for updates!
Summary: John eyes his son for a moment. Dean's flushed, the color high on his cheeks making his freckles blend in for once. Until he noticed John, he'd stood there in a relaxed slouch, but he could see the tension in Dean's limbs now. It was minute, but present. He, too, wore only his boxers and a tee. "You taking the day off too, boy?" John asks sternly. Dean shrugs, a sheepish smile on his face. "It's Sunday."
After the Fact
John is exhausted when he gets back to the motel he left the boys at.
He doesn't bother trying the door knob. One of the first things he taught Dean when they hit the road was the importance of always locking down a room; there was no question about it, the door was locked. So he knocks, leaning heavily against the door frame.
There's a curse from inside, faint but rather distinguishable. Has to be Sam, Dean usually fell silent when someone comes to the door. He'd have to work on training Sam out of that.
There's some scrambling sounds, too, and a faint thud, as if Sam had tripped or fallen. John would like to think Sam would grow out of that clumsiness, but growing was the problem. He'd have to talk to Dean about increasing their tactile training - Sam had always responded better to Dean training with him than John and being sixteen seemed not to agree with Sam as much as it had with Dean. Whatever made the experience easier for all of them.
The door cracks open, barely a half inch, and one of Sam's eyes peers through it over the chain.
"Dad?" The door shuts and then reopens, this time without the chain. "You're, um, you're back earlier than you said."
"No need to sound happy about it," John snaps, then sighs. He doesn't want to start a fight, but he's been up a day and a half. He scratches at his head and looks Sam up and down. He can't say one way or another about his boxers, but just the fact that Sam's in just them and not fully dressed speaks volumes. His shirt hasn't changed either. When John pushes past his youngest so he can step into the room, Sam's bed is rumpled and the other looks freshly made. Considering it's nearing three in the afternoon, even on a Sunday, John feels a spike of irritation shoot through him. "Feeling lazy today?"
Sam laughs nervously, running a hand through his hair. "Guess I'm busted."
"You do this every time I leave on a hunt?"
He's not sure what he expects Sam to answer, but the boy just shrugs and says, "It's Sunday," as explanation.
The bathroom door opens, then, and Dean walks out, scratching his stomach absently.
"Hey, Sam, you wan-" Dean cuts himself off, his eyes going wide as he notices John. "Dad! You're back early! What happened with the hunt?"
John eyes his son for a moment. Dean's flushed, the color high on his cheeks making his freckles blend in for once. Until he noticed John, he'd stood there in a relaxed slouch, but he could see the tension in Dean's limbs now. It was minute, but present.
He, too, wore only his boxers and a tee.
"You taking the day off too, boy?" John asks sternly.
Dean shrugs, a sheepish smile on his face.
"It's Sunday."
"That's what I hear."
Dean shrugs again, his eyes darting over to Sam before returning to John.
"So, the hunt? You've only been gone a day."
"I apparently had a hell of a lead," John says, dropping his duffle onto the table. Sam's books are spread out on it, causing the boy to let out an annoyed huff. "Werewolf jumped me almost as soon as the moon rose."
"That was lucky," Sam sneers, his tone snide.
John looks at him, startled.
"Excuse me?" he asks as Dean barks, "Sam!"
Sam blinks and looks surprised himself, quickly saying, "That you found it so soon. Less victims that way, since it was the start of the cycle."
"Yea, right," John says slowly. "Well, now that that warm welcome is out of the way, I've been on the road close to eight hours."
He walks past Dean into the bathroom and can't help but notice as Dean rocks away from him. Once in the bathroom, he can hear the boys' voices, but can't make out what they're saying. Once he walks back out the door, Dean's glaring at the wall, now wearing a pair of jeans. Sam turns to him, smiling a tight lipped little smile.
"Hey, dad? I'm, uh, I'm really glad you're back and safe."
"Yea, I know, Sam," John responds.
Sam nods and heads over to his duffle and Dean seats himself at the table - it's almost as if he was trying to keep the distance between them. Dean busies himself with unloading John's duffle, moving Sam's school work off the table.
"I think I'll head up to the library," Sam says as he changes.
John grunts in acknowledgement, going over to help Dean. First rule of weapon care: keep them clean. Especially guns after use.
"Dean, you think you could give me a ride?"
That gets Dean to glance up. It's just for a second and then his eyes are back on the gun in his hands.
"No, don't think so. Dad, why do you get some sleep, I'll take care of this for you."
"Thanks son."
"Have a good rest, dad," Sam says from the door. He hesitates a moment at the door before saying, quietly, "Bye Dean."
Dean grunts. He doesn't look up until the door closes, but John catches it when he does. Then Dean leans over and takes the rifle out of John's hands.
"Go to bed, dad. I got this covered."
Continued in : Apologies Don't Come From Nowhere
Author: destial
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: John's POV.
Spoilers: None.
Word Count: 903
Notes/Prompt(s): The morning after (not that kind of morning after you perverts) Balance. Now being made into awesome podfic by the lovely and talented weimar27 found here! Check often for updates!
Summary: John eyes his son for a moment. Dean's flushed, the color high on his cheeks making his freckles blend in for once. Until he noticed John, he'd stood there in a relaxed slouch, but he could see the tension in Dean's limbs now. It was minute, but present. He, too, wore only his boxers and a tee. "You taking the day off too, boy?" John asks sternly. Dean shrugs, a sheepish smile on his face. "It's Sunday."
After the Fact
John is exhausted when he gets back to the motel he left the boys at.
He doesn't bother trying the door knob. One of the first things he taught Dean when they hit the road was the importance of always locking down a room; there was no question about it, the door was locked. So he knocks, leaning heavily against the door frame.
There's a curse from inside, faint but rather distinguishable. Has to be Sam, Dean usually fell silent when someone comes to the door. He'd have to work on training Sam out of that.
There's some scrambling sounds, too, and a faint thud, as if Sam had tripped or fallen. John would like to think Sam would grow out of that clumsiness, but growing was the problem. He'd have to talk to Dean about increasing their tactile training - Sam had always responded better to Dean training with him than John and being sixteen seemed not to agree with Sam as much as it had with Dean. Whatever made the experience easier for all of them.
The door cracks open, barely a half inch, and one of Sam's eyes peers through it over the chain.
"Dad?" The door shuts and then reopens, this time without the chain. "You're, um, you're back earlier than you said."
"No need to sound happy about it," John snaps, then sighs. He doesn't want to start a fight, but he's been up a day and a half. He scratches at his head and looks Sam up and down. He can't say one way or another about his boxers, but just the fact that Sam's in just them and not fully dressed speaks volumes. His shirt hasn't changed either. When John pushes past his youngest so he can step into the room, Sam's bed is rumpled and the other looks freshly made. Considering it's nearing three in the afternoon, even on a Sunday, John feels a spike of irritation shoot through him. "Feeling lazy today?"
Sam laughs nervously, running a hand through his hair. "Guess I'm busted."
"You do this every time I leave on a hunt?"
He's not sure what he expects Sam to answer, but the boy just shrugs and says, "It's Sunday," as explanation.
The bathroom door opens, then, and Dean walks out, scratching his stomach absently.
"Hey, Sam, you wan-" Dean cuts himself off, his eyes going wide as he notices John. "Dad! You're back early! What happened with the hunt?"
John eyes his son for a moment. Dean's flushed, the color high on his cheeks making his freckles blend in for once. Until he noticed John, he'd stood there in a relaxed slouch, but he could see the tension in Dean's limbs now. It was minute, but present.
He, too, wore only his boxers and a tee.
"You taking the day off too, boy?" John asks sternly.
Dean shrugs, a sheepish smile on his face.
"It's Sunday."
"That's what I hear."
Dean shrugs again, his eyes darting over to Sam before returning to John.
"So, the hunt? You've only been gone a day."
"I apparently had a hell of a lead," John says, dropping his duffle onto the table. Sam's books are spread out on it, causing the boy to let out an annoyed huff. "Werewolf jumped me almost as soon as the moon rose."
"That was lucky," Sam sneers, his tone snide.
John looks at him, startled.
"Excuse me?" he asks as Dean barks, "Sam!"
Sam blinks and looks surprised himself, quickly saying, "That you found it so soon. Less victims that way, since it was the start of the cycle."
"Yea, right," John says slowly. "Well, now that that warm welcome is out of the way, I've been on the road close to eight hours."
He walks past Dean into the bathroom and can't help but notice as Dean rocks away from him. Once in the bathroom, he can hear the boys' voices, but can't make out what they're saying. Once he walks back out the door, Dean's glaring at the wall, now wearing a pair of jeans. Sam turns to him, smiling a tight lipped little smile.
"Hey, dad? I'm, uh, I'm really glad you're back and safe."
"Yea, I know, Sam," John responds.
Sam nods and heads over to his duffle and Dean seats himself at the table - it's almost as if he was trying to keep the distance between them. Dean busies himself with unloading John's duffle, moving Sam's school work off the table.
"I think I'll head up to the library," Sam says as he changes.
John grunts in acknowledgement, going over to help Dean. First rule of weapon care: keep them clean. Especially guns after use.
"Dean, you think you could give me a ride?"
That gets Dean to glance up. It's just for a second and then his eyes are back on the gun in his hands.
"No, don't think so. Dad, why do you get some sleep, I'll take care of this for you."
"Thanks son."
"Have a good rest, dad," Sam says from the door. He hesitates a moment at the door before saying, quietly, "Bye Dean."
Dean grunts. He doesn't look up until the door closes, but John catches it when he does. Then Dean leans over and takes the rifle out of John's hands.
"Go to bed, dad. I got this covered."
Continued in : Apologies Don't Come From Nowhere