SPN: Spooks: Furtive
Challenge word: Furtive
Meaning: Stealth, secretive, to escape notice
Word Count: 500 dead on. Whoot!
Time Frame: WAY pre-series, like….we're talking Wee-chesters here.
Warnings/Spoilers: None that I can think of! Maybe insane sugary-sweetness? *gryns gamely*
It was so hard to wait, to lay quietly and not make any noise, when what you wanted was just a few steps away. Dean squirmed a bit, sighing into the darkness as the clock kept counting away. Just a little longer….
He heard the creak of the top step, and froze, stiller than one would think a toddler capable of. Feet approached, stopped. The creak of the door was quiet, but when that was a sound he was tuned into, it was as loud as a train. Six breaths, and the door creaked shut again, the steps coming closer.
Dean watched the light from the bottom of the door, and snapped his eyes shut as he saw the shadows from underneath. The door creaked open, and he struggled to lay limp, deep breaths steady. Steps closer, and he felt his Dad's hand brush through his hair, a soft kiss to his forehead. He made a small noise, stretched…and fell back into 'sleep'. He tried not to smile as John shut the bedroom door, waited a moment as his eyes adjusted in the darkness again.
He scrambled out of his bed, dashing to the door to press against it. No noise…he cracked the door, peering out. The door to his parent's room was shut, the light dim but still on. He shuffled from foot to foot, bouncing impatiently.
Finally! The light flicked off, and he furtively snuck down the hall, pressed against wall, listening with keen ears to the soft murmurs of his Mom and Dad. The sheets rustled, and quiet reigned supreme again in the house. He flicked his gaze to his goal, just a yard away. Bare feet padded quietly on the hardwood, and he was supremely proud when the door didn't squeak for -him-, not when he pushed it open just enough to slip inside.
In the crib, Sammy stared at him with big eyes, a small fist in his mouth as he watched. "Hi Sammy." Dean snuck closer, giggling as Sam waved a slobbery fist at him and made random nonsense noises. "Shhh. Mom will hear you on that." He pointed to the baby-listening device, red light glaring warningly at the two. It just took the work of a moment to scramble up the slats and over, landing lightly on the firm mattress. Sam squealed gleefully, and Dean froze, eyes locked on the door and breath held. After six breaths and no noises indicating his parents were returning, he settled down, sitting in a crib much smaller than he remembered from his own time in it. Sam sighed contently; closing his dark eyes as Dean scooted closer, rubbing his hand against the warm sleeper. "Night Sammy. Angels are watching over you too." He pressed a kiss to his brother's downy hair before curling up against him, waiting.
He waited until the warmth sparkled through the room, the sense of peace and protection, and he let go of awareness. That was the angels watching them, he knew.
*****************
Previous (Ridiculous) Home Next: Lightning 1