lyryk
in
hi_de_nugis
(no subject)
Hi, de-nugis, hi! Have I mentioned lately how awesome you are? ♥ Here is a tiny curtain!ficlet for you (with snuggling + kitty).
--
Dean enters the kitchen, his bare feet making no noise, and just watches for a minute. Sam’s asleep at the table, his hair half-covering his face, his cheek pressed against the open pages of a ridiculously large textbook.
‘Sam. Sammy.’
‘Five more minutes.’ Sam shrugs off the hand shaking his shoulder, tries to roll over, and almost falls off the kitchen chair.
‘Whoa.’ Dean grabs his collar and hauls him upright.
‘’s it time to wake up?’
Dean slides Sam’s glasses off his nose, folding them up and putting them on the table. ‘Time to come to bed.’
‘Mmkay.’
‘Dude, seriously, you’re studying way too hard,’ Dean says as they make their way up the stairs, Sam yawning his head off and vaguely trying to push his hair out of his eyes. It’s a lost cause.
‘Gotta ace this quiz.’ Sam falls facedown on the bed. His hand reaches for the cat lounging in the middle of the bed, fingers squishing her soft fur.
‘What are you, in high school?’ Dean rolls Sam over, unbuckles his belt, and pulls down his jeans.
‘This girl in class dared me to try to beat her,’ Sam says through another monstrous yawn. ‘If she scores higher, I have to buy her lunch for a week.’
‘You’re not buying anyone lunch.’ Dean tugs off Sam’s socks and tosses them in the direction of the laundry basket.
‘Jealous?’ Sam asks, sleepy and adorable, as Dean flicks off the light and climbs into bed.
‘You wish.’ Dean slides an arm under Sam’s head and reels him in. There’s a deafening purr against his ear as the cat settles on the pillow beside his head.
‘Stop it, Cat.’ Sam burrows into Dean’s neck, insinuating his head between Dean’s and the cat’s.
‘Stop calling her Cat. Her name is Kerouac.’
‘She’s a girl, Dean.’
‘Girls can totally be named Kerouac.’ Dean pulls the blankets up around them and Kerouac promptly wriggles into the space between them, a vibrating lump of fur against his side.
‘In what universe?’ Sam’s arm slides across Kerouac and Dean’s chest, and he tucks his fingers beneath the waistband of Dean’s shorts.
‘It’s her surname.’
‘No, her surname is Winchester. Obviously,’ Sam slurs, half-asleep. A muffled, amenable mew drifts out from beneath the blankets.
Dean smothers his face in Sam’s hair. ‘Stop talking and go to sleep. Both of you.’
-end-
--
Dean enters the kitchen, his bare feet making no noise, and just watches for a minute. Sam’s asleep at the table, his hair half-covering his face, his cheek pressed against the open pages of a ridiculously large textbook.
‘Sam. Sammy.’
‘Five more minutes.’ Sam shrugs off the hand shaking his shoulder, tries to roll over, and almost falls off the kitchen chair.
‘Whoa.’ Dean grabs his collar and hauls him upright.
‘’s it time to wake up?’
Dean slides Sam’s glasses off his nose, folding them up and putting them on the table. ‘Time to come to bed.’
‘Mmkay.’
‘Dude, seriously, you’re studying way too hard,’ Dean says as they make their way up the stairs, Sam yawning his head off and vaguely trying to push his hair out of his eyes. It’s a lost cause.
‘Gotta ace this quiz.’ Sam falls facedown on the bed. His hand reaches for the cat lounging in the middle of the bed, fingers squishing her soft fur.
‘What are you, in high school?’ Dean rolls Sam over, unbuckles his belt, and pulls down his jeans.
‘This girl in class dared me to try to beat her,’ Sam says through another monstrous yawn. ‘If she scores higher, I have to buy her lunch for a week.’
‘You’re not buying anyone lunch.’ Dean tugs off Sam’s socks and tosses them in the direction of the laundry basket.
‘Jealous?’ Sam asks, sleepy and adorable, as Dean flicks off the light and climbs into bed.
‘You wish.’ Dean slides an arm under Sam’s head and reels him in. There’s a deafening purr against his ear as the cat settles on the pillow beside his head.
‘Stop it, Cat.’ Sam burrows into Dean’s neck, insinuating his head between Dean’s and the cat’s.
‘Stop calling her Cat. Her name is Kerouac.’
‘She’s a girl, Dean.’
‘Girls can totally be named Kerouac.’ Dean pulls the blankets up around them and Kerouac promptly wriggles into the space between them, a vibrating lump of fur against his side.
‘In what universe?’ Sam’s arm slides across Kerouac and Dean’s chest, and he tucks his fingers beneath the waistband of Dean’s shorts.
‘It’s her surname.’
‘No, her surname is Winchester. Obviously,’ Sam slurs, half-asleep. A muffled, amenable mew drifts out from beneath the blankets.
Dean smothers his face in Sam’s hair. ‘Stop talking and go to sleep. Both of you.’
-end-