Mama Deb (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} mamadebfic) wrote,@ 2008-02-15 15:46:00 |
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New story - Supernatural
Incest warning, non-explicit Sam/Dean
Forrayphile
Life
"Thank you, Mrs. Anderson. That is the *finest* lemonade I have ever had." Dean, steaks of dirt on his face, handed the glass back to the beaming old lady.
"You boys deserve it - it wasn't your fault that my garden was damaged, but here you are, fixing it up just for me." She collected a glass from Sam as well before going back into the house, where Sam could smell chocolate chip cookies over the odor of fertilizer and fresh soil.
"We shouldn't still be here, Dean!" Sam began digging out the holes for the new shrubs. "The demon is gone and we have too much to do."
"That's where you're wrong, Sammy. This is exactly what we should be doing." He carefully placed bulbs in a neat arc by the house, knee deep in the loose earth. "Giving something back - I'm not going to have a lot more chances of that. And we did tear this place up last night."
"We did not. It was that hellspawn - if it weren't for it, this place would still be winning prizes." It was a weird plant creature, turning the formal garden into a zoo of carnivorous flowers. They had to destroy all of them before sending it back where it belonged. Sam wanted to salt the place just to be sure, but Dean wouldn't let him. Made him dig out some ritual that wouldn't make the place barren instead. And now, after a night of fighting, and then that whole cleansing thing, he looked.
Happy. Peaceful, almost. Like he looked when he tinkered with the Impala, or used to. Sam wanted to memorize that look forever. Not that he would have to, of course, but even so. Dean, filthy and exhausted, was more beautiful than he'd ever been.
Sam refused to squash that thought down. Instead, he slipped the root ball of the azalea bush into place. It felt. Good. He'd been dealing in death, living with death so long that doing this was completely alien and new.
Dean looked like there was nothing else he'd rather do. Sam, who thought he knew his brother, didn't realize there was this about him that craved life, that would do anything to affirm it.
Mrs. Anderson was tending her cookies and there was no traffic on the road, and Sam decided, for once, to do what would feel good. So when Dean asked for the garden hose, Sam walked up to him and kissed him the way he'd knew was not right.
And Dean smiled against his lips and kissed him back.
Incest warning, non-explicit Sam/Dean
For
rayphileLife
"Thank you, Mrs. Anderson. That is the *finest* lemonade I have ever had." Dean, steaks of dirt on his face, handed the glass back to the beaming old lady.
"You boys deserve it - it wasn't your fault that my garden was damaged, but here you are, fixing it up just for me." She collected a glass from Sam as well before going back into the house, where Sam could smell chocolate chip cookies over the odor of fertilizer and fresh soil.
"We shouldn't still be here, Dean!" Sam began digging out the holes for the new shrubs. "The demon is gone and we have too much to do."
"That's where you're wrong, Sammy. This is exactly what we should be doing." He carefully placed bulbs in a neat arc by the house, knee deep in the loose earth. "Giving something back - I'm not going to have a lot more chances of that. And we did tear this place up last night."
"We did not. It was that hellspawn - if it weren't for it, this place would still be winning prizes." It was a weird plant creature, turning the formal garden into a zoo of carnivorous flowers. They had to destroy all of them before sending it back where it belonged. Sam wanted to salt the place just to be sure, but Dean wouldn't let him. Made him dig out some ritual that wouldn't make the place barren instead. And now, after a night of fighting, and then that whole cleansing thing, he looked.
Happy. Peaceful, almost. Like he looked when he tinkered with the Impala, or used to. Sam wanted to memorize that look forever. Not that he would have to, of course, but even so. Dean, filthy and exhausted, was more beautiful than he'd ever been.
Sam refused to squash that thought down. Instead, he slipped the root ball of the azalea bush into place. It felt. Good. He'd been dealing in death, living with death so long that doing this was completely alien and new.
Dean looked like there was nothing else he'd rather do. Sam, who thought he knew his brother, didn't realize there was this about him that craved life, that would do anything to affirm it.
Mrs. Anderson was tending her cookies and there was no traffic on the road, and Sam decided, for once, to do what would feel good. So when Dean asked for the garden hose, Sam walked up to him and kissed him the way he'd knew was not right.
And Dean smiled against his lips and kissed him back.
