(no subject)
It rained all day, and I hate lab reports. The end. Have a ficlet. This is for sazzlette, who is sick and had an earthquake. I feel like that firmly classifies things as a bad day, so I wrote her some deangirl, both because everyone needs chicken soup fic when they're sick AND because I love Sazz.
Sam/girl!Dean, PG for like... some nakedness or whatever, a tiny somewhere-relatively-close-to-Faith snippet. Featuring bad weather and completely unadulterated sprawling on Sam's part. 600 words.
Heat
By the time Sam finds a room at a Microtel just outside of Chatanooga, it's pushing two in the morning and Dean's asleep in the passenger seat underneath his jacket. The heat hasn't been working for the past hour or two, but it's not like there have been any vacancies, and there's no way Sam's sleeping in the car for a second night in a row. It's raining harder than Sam's ever seen on this section of the interstate, the sort of rain that only happens in South Florida or Seattle, and his eyes are starting to blur from following taillights. The rain coming down is hard and cold, brutal enough that Sam ends up soaked to the skin just going into the lobby to get a room. He makes three trips back and forth to their room, taking things in, and then goes back for Dean. It only takes a couple minutes for her to wake up and get inside, but she ends up even wetter than he is, literally dripping water.
"God damn it," Dean says, shivering hard enough that Sam's actually worried, and sits down on the edge of the bed.
He can tell she's not awake entirely, even with the cold water - it hasn't been that long since the reaper, and she's tired all the time, slower to react.
"Hey," Sam says, reaching out to push her jacket off her shoulders, and Dean gets the idea and comes out of it with a scowl, throwing her soaking wet shirt into his face.
"Don't even think about looking," she says, rummaging in the bottom of Sam's suitcase for something dry, still shivering, while Sam turns the heat up as high as it'll go.
The room's cold enough that Sam turns the shower on high and changes in the bathroom. He has to force himself out again, the kind of bone deep tired that means he wants to sleep even more than he wants to be warm or clean, and wraps a hand around Dean's wrist while she's brushing her teeth. He waits for her to rinse, then pulls her across the room. He lets go when she starts to twist, locking the door - she's got salt down already - and waits for Dean to get all the way into the bed closest to the heater before he follows her.
"You're freezing," Dean mutters, but she rolls closer, and Sam turns off the light and settles in over her, face against the curve of her neck, their stomachs pressed together. He's not the only one who's cold.
"Mm," Sam says, almost asleep already, spreading his palm out against her side, feeling her skin warm up beneath him, and Dean breathes out, deep and even.
"God, you're such a girl," she says, but she slides her hands up to his back, stroking up beneath his t-shirt, over his shoulder blades, and rubs a little of the tension out of the back of his neck, fingertips pressing in against his shoulders.
"Yeah," Sam agrees, nudging his nose up against her shoulder, warming her up with his breath, and presses his mouth to the hollow of her collarbone, tugging the blankets up a little. The heater's actually working, starting to pull the room temperature up, and Sam realizes he's actually warm mostly because Dean stops shivering all at once and relaxes underneath him, wrapping her arms around his neck to get closer.
"Night," Dean says, with a yawn, and Sam falls asleep, solid over her.
Sam/girl!Dean, PG for like... some nakedness or whatever, a tiny somewhere-relatively-close-to-Faith snippet. Featuring bad weather and completely unadulterated sprawling on Sam's part. 600 words.
Heat
By the time Sam finds a room at a Microtel just outside of Chatanooga, it's pushing two in the morning and Dean's asleep in the passenger seat underneath his jacket. The heat hasn't been working for the past hour or two, but it's not like there have been any vacancies, and there's no way Sam's sleeping in the car for a second night in a row. It's raining harder than Sam's ever seen on this section of the interstate, the sort of rain that only happens in South Florida or Seattle, and his eyes are starting to blur from following taillights. The rain coming down is hard and cold, brutal enough that Sam ends up soaked to the skin just going into the lobby to get a room. He makes three trips back and forth to their room, taking things in, and then goes back for Dean. It only takes a couple minutes for her to wake up and get inside, but she ends up even wetter than he is, literally dripping water.
"God damn it," Dean says, shivering hard enough that Sam's actually worried, and sits down on the edge of the bed.
He can tell she's not awake entirely, even with the cold water - it hasn't been that long since the reaper, and she's tired all the time, slower to react.
"Hey," Sam says, reaching out to push her jacket off her shoulders, and Dean gets the idea and comes out of it with a scowl, throwing her soaking wet shirt into his face.
"Don't even think about looking," she says, rummaging in the bottom of Sam's suitcase for something dry, still shivering, while Sam turns the heat up as high as it'll go.
The room's cold enough that Sam turns the shower on high and changes in the bathroom. He has to force himself out again, the kind of bone deep tired that means he wants to sleep even more than he wants to be warm or clean, and wraps a hand around Dean's wrist while she's brushing her teeth. He waits for her to rinse, then pulls her across the room. He lets go when she starts to twist, locking the door - she's got salt down already - and waits for Dean to get all the way into the bed closest to the heater before he follows her.
"You're freezing," Dean mutters, but she rolls closer, and Sam turns off the light and settles in over her, face against the curve of her neck, their stomachs pressed together. He's not the only one who's cold.
"Mm," Sam says, almost asleep already, spreading his palm out against her side, feeling her skin warm up beneath him, and Dean breathes out, deep and even.
"God, you're such a girl," she says, but she slides her hands up to his back, stroking up beneath his t-shirt, over his shoulder blades, and rubs a little of the tension out of the back of his neck, fingertips pressing in against his shoulders.
"Yeah," Sam agrees, nudging his nose up against her shoulder, warming her up with his breath, and presses his mouth to the hollow of her collarbone, tugging the blankets up a little. The heater's actually working, starting to pull the room temperature up, and Sam realizes he's actually warm mostly because Dean stops shivering all at once and relaxes underneath him, wrapping her arms around his neck to get closer.
"Night," Dean says, with a yawn, and Sam falls asleep, solid over her.