(no subject)
Hey everybody!This is just a short piece I had bouncing around in my crazy head. I actually dreamed about it last night, it was very strange, but I remembered bits and pieces, one of them being Sam and Dean sitting on a park bench, watching the sun rise. So I turned it into this little one shot! Yay! It's very schmoopy! Lol, hope you enjoy! Feedback is love *wink*
-Punkin
"Bright Eyed and Bushy Tailed"
"How do you get up in the morning?"
"That's a good question…"
-Sam, Interrupted
It was the smell of coffee that initially aroused him from slumber. His dreams had been good, an unusual and infrequent happenstance. Hell hadn't managed to claw its way in for once, leaving his subconscious to revel in dark and undisturbed peace. It was as good as any gift anyone could've given him, an ultimate brief relinquishment from relentless anguish. Dean didn't want to open his eyes though. It was so warm underneath the covers, and he felt more rested than he had in a very, very long time.
He imagined he could just continue laying there, preferably for an indefinite amount of time. Perhaps he'd just refuse to get up, perhaps he'd let the world burn down around him while he carelessly and obliviously slept. How easy that would be, to just let humanity destroy itself. For a split moment, he very nearly did fall back under, but the abrupt realization that he could hear no other movement inside the motel room had him forcing away the beguiling hold of sleep and spurring his body into reluctant action.
Sam…
Dean's eyes immediately snapped open.
A quick, desperate scan of the room established it to be completely empty, the bed his brother had claimed neatly made up and a steaming mug of coffee sitting in all its glory upon the rickety nightstand. Dean leapt from the bed, a cursory glance in the bathroom revealing it to be lacking in occupancy as well. Ignoring the coffee, although the aroma was damn near enticing, Dean made it to the window in practically two bounds, hands ripping the curtains open with an unnecessary amount of force.
All of the pent up air Dean didn't know he'd been keeping inside his strained lungs escaped in a staggering sigh of relief, his tense body sagging as his gaze swept across the familiar shape of his little brother's broad shoulders, the recognizable hunched figure sitting idly on an old wooden bench across the parking lot. Dawn was just breaking over the horizon, the first light of the brilliant morning sun hitting Sam's turned face and revealing the unexpected, gentle smile his lips formed. He got up to watch the sun rise?
Rapid and all encompassing warmth bloomed within Dean's chest, soothing the prominent goose bumps on his arms as it continued on a fixed path all the way down to his toes. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, merely watching Sam as he in turn watched the impending daybreak.
It was beautiful.
Dean grimaced when he thought about how creepy he was being right now, but what really shocked him was the prospect that he had almost stayed in bed, that he had almost missed…this.
Not bothering putting on shoes, or socks for that matter, Dean was out the door and making his way towards Sam in an instant. He was almost afraid of breaking the ambiance, of destroying the genuine and contented atmosphere he had been witnessing from behind the glass veil of the window. That fear evaporated though when, after taking a seat beside his brother, he got a perfect view of Sam's smooth face, free of the lines that had made their home there in the wake of each and every evil they seemed to futilely counter. It was like the man was all but four years old again. Sam's hazel orbs were continually fixed on the sunrise, the dazzling and radiant colors reflecting in the depths of his pupils and shining amongst the sheer wonder and awe that resided there.
Sam glanced over at him, smiling softly, his shoulder brushing against Dean's in a time old gesture they used in place of all others. It would never cease to speak volumes, despite the fact that everything else would always change. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"
The question was tentative. Just…raw concern. Dean swallowed the unbidden lump forming inside his throat. "No." It was all he could manage without coming across like a hormonal girl. Trying not to sound as if he were lying, Dean added with an endearing grin, "Couldn't resist the coffee." He wondered if Sam would observe the filled to the brim and completely untouched mug when they returned to the room.
Sam smiled at him once more, capturing Dean with that look. He was sure at times that his little brother used it to get what he wanted, to ingeniously bend Dean to his will. More often than not, though, Dean was even more certain that it was merely trademark Sammy, with those big, soulful eyes and earnest smiles. That was the thing about Sam, he was sincere in everything he did and said. He never bull shitted anybody, he never put on a convincing facade. It was what Dean loved most about him.
"It's amazing, isn't it?" Sam whispered, the clouds before them painted and swathed in iridescent purples and pinks.
Dean could see it all in his little brother's face, in his wide, penetrating gaze. "Yeah," Dean assented, voice lingering in the air, "it really is." Sam hadn't noticed yet that Dean had been staring at him for the entire time. Both of them were utterly immersed, downright captivated in fact, and would remain so for quite some time.
The apocalypse could wait.
Dean bumped his knee against Sam's, not caring in the least that his grin must have been idiotic. And to think that he almost stayed in bed. Because really, there was only one reason why he got up every morning.
*End*
-Punkin
"Bright Eyed and Bushy Tailed"
"How do you get up in the morning?"
"That's a good question…"
-Sam, Interrupted
It was the smell of coffee that initially aroused him from slumber. His dreams had been good, an unusual and infrequent happenstance. Hell hadn't managed to claw its way in for once, leaving his subconscious to revel in dark and undisturbed peace. It was as good as any gift anyone could've given him, an ultimate brief relinquishment from relentless anguish. Dean didn't want to open his eyes though. It was so warm underneath the covers, and he felt more rested than he had in a very, very long time.
He imagined he could just continue laying there, preferably for an indefinite amount of time. Perhaps he'd just refuse to get up, perhaps he'd let the world burn down around him while he carelessly and obliviously slept. How easy that would be, to just let humanity destroy itself. For a split moment, he very nearly did fall back under, but the abrupt realization that he could hear no other movement inside the motel room had him forcing away the beguiling hold of sleep and spurring his body into reluctant action.
Sam…
Dean's eyes immediately snapped open.
A quick, desperate scan of the room established it to be completely empty, the bed his brother had claimed neatly made up and a steaming mug of coffee sitting in all its glory upon the rickety nightstand. Dean leapt from the bed, a cursory glance in the bathroom revealing it to be lacking in occupancy as well. Ignoring the coffee, although the aroma was damn near enticing, Dean made it to the window in practically two bounds, hands ripping the curtains open with an unnecessary amount of force.
All of the pent up air Dean didn't know he'd been keeping inside his strained lungs escaped in a staggering sigh of relief, his tense body sagging as his gaze swept across the familiar shape of his little brother's broad shoulders, the recognizable hunched figure sitting idly on an old wooden bench across the parking lot. Dawn was just breaking over the horizon, the first light of the brilliant morning sun hitting Sam's turned face and revealing the unexpected, gentle smile his lips formed. He got up to watch the sun rise?
Rapid and all encompassing warmth bloomed within Dean's chest, soothing the prominent goose bumps on his arms as it continued on a fixed path all the way down to his toes. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, merely watching Sam as he in turn watched the impending daybreak.
It was beautiful.
Dean grimaced when he thought about how creepy he was being right now, but what really shocked him was the prospect that he had almost stayed in bed, that he had almost missed…this.
Not bothering putting on shoes, or socks for that matter, Dean was out the door and making his way towards Sam in an instant. He was almost afraid of breaking the ambiance, of destroying the genuine and contented atmosphere he had been witnessing from behind the glass veil of the window. That fear evaporated though when, after taking a seat beside his brother, he got a perfect view of Sam's smooth face, free of the lines that had made their home there in the wake of each and every evil they seemed to futilely counter. It was like the man was all but four years old again. Sam's hazel orbs were continually fixed on the sunrise, the dazzling and radiant colors reflecting in the depths of his pupils and shining amongst the sheer wonder and awe that resided there.
Sam glanced over at him, smiling softly, his shoulder brushing against Dean's in a time old gesture they used in place of all others. It would never cease to speak volumes, despite the fact that everything else would always change. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"
The question was tentative. Just…raw concern. Dean swallowed the unbidden lump forming inside his throat. "No." It was all he could manage without coming across like a hormonal girl. Trying not to sound as if he were lying, Dean added with an endearing grin, "Couldn't resist the coffee." He wondered if Sam would observe the filled to the brim and completely untouched mug when they returned to the room.
Sam smiled at him once more, capturing Dean with that look. He was sure at times that his little brother used it to get what he wanted, to ingeniously bend Dean to his will. More often than not, though, Dean was even more certain that it was merely trademark Sammy, with those big, soulful eyes and earnest smiles. That was the thing about Sam, he was sincere in everything he did and said. He never bull shitted anybody, he never put on a convincing facade. It was what Dean loved most about him.
"It's amazing, isn't it?" Sam whispered, the clouds before them painted and swathed in iridescent purples and pinks.
Dean could see it all in his little brother's face, in his wide, penetrating gaze. "Yeah," Dean assented, voice lingering in the air, "it really is." Sam hadn't noticed yet that Dean had been staring at him for the entire time. Both of them were utterly immersed, downright captivated in fact, and would remain so for quite some time.
The apocalypse could wait.
Dean bumped his knee against Sam's, not caring in the least that his grin must have been idiotic. And to think that he almost stayed in bed. Because really, there was only one reason why he got up every morning.
*End*