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mickeymTitle: The Best Part of Waking Up
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~800
Spoilers/Warnings: No spoilers. This is a/u. Sam is underage, and though I didn't specify an age, I had in mind that he's around 15.
Disclaimer: They're not mine, and they never will be. Dammit.
Summary: Dean's coming home.
A/N: Okay. The context/genesis for this is here: http://drvsilla.livejournal.com/597328.html, and I fully blame![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
drvsilla for this :) There does, however, need to be more Sam-waiting-for-Dean-coming-home stories. In my opinion. *g* Many thanks to arliss for a quick-as-lightning beta. Hope y'all enjoy :)
He's been awake since 5:53am, even though it was well past midnight before he fell asleep, excitement and adrenaline pumping through him.
Dean's coming home. Dean's coming home. Dean's coming home.
Sam's pretty sure he was never as excited about Santa coming as he is about his brother coming home from college.
Outside is a winter wonderland; a storm last night dumped an unusually large snowfall that's covering everything in a heavy layer of white. If Sam was a little younger he might be tempted to put on a half-dozen layers and go sledding down the street.
He's been kneeling against the back of the couch for nearly an hour, watching the sky lighten slowly as the minutes tick by. There've been exactly two cars come up the street in all that time, and one person braving the snow and cold to walk their dog.
It's started to snow again, the flakes falling fast and thick, and Sam dismisses the car coming up the street until it stops in front of their house, bright yellow with TAXI spelled out on the side. His heart jumps when a familiar figure gets out, swinging a duffle over his shoulder. He pays the driver and turns toward the house, and by then Sam has the door open, launching himself toward Dean.
Dean grunts with the impact, but he's laughing, pulling Sam in close for a hug. "God, I think you grew some more since I've been gone." He squeezes Sam, strong and warm and solid, and here, and Sam can't keep his smile from spreading across his face.
"I can't believe you're finally home," he says, finally pulling away so they can get inside where it's warm. "I didn't think it was ever going to be the sixteenth."
Dean smiles as he unzips his jacket, hanging it over his scarf on the halltree. He kicks his duffle out of the way, and heads for the kitchen. "Miss me, Sammy?"
Sam rolls his eyes but smiles. "Maybe."
He laid out the stuff for coffee while he was waiting for the sun to come up, and now Sam boosts himself up onto the counter beside it, watching as Dean measures out grounds and water and turns the coffee maker on. They'll have a few minutes yet before anyone else wakes up, but already the rich coffee smell is filling the kitchen. He shifts so Dean can step in between his legs, standing so close, but still not close enough.
"Just maybe? I think I'm hurt." Dean leans in and touches his forehead to Sam's, his breath warm and moist against Sam's mouth.
Sam smiles faintly and reaches to pull Dean in for another hug. He presses his face to Dean's throat and inhales his scent: aftershave and a faint whiff of smoke, and the salty smell of clean sweat. "Did you miss me?"
The hands that were rubbing up and down Sam's back slow, then stop, settling at the small of his back. "You know I did. Sammy."
The last word is rough, hoarse with things neither of them say often but both feel, and Sam blinks at the stinging in his eyes. Dean's mouth is soft, gentle, when he brushes it against Sam's; he's back immediately, pressing harder, licking at Sam's lips, teasing them open for a deep, wet, hungry kiss.
Sam feels like a fire's been lit in his belly, spreading outward to consume him. He wriggles closer, wrapping his legs around Dean's waist to hold him close, tongue sweeping around Dean's mouth to taste as much of him as possible. Dean gentles the kiss, slowing it until they're barely pressing against each other, just sharing breath.
"I brought you a cool present," Dean says eventually, pulling back a little. He skims his hand through Sam's hair and smiles, his eyes crinkling. "Though maybe I should just take you for a haircut."
Sam turns his head and brushes a kiss across Dean's wrist. "You're my present, this Christmas. I don't want anything else."
Dean shrugs and gives him a half-smile. "Well, you'll just have to humor me and open it anyway."
There's a shout from somewhere back in the house, and the sound of feet stamping overhead, so Sam unwinds his legs and lets Dean move away. He doesn't go far, just to the cupboard to take out the hot cocoa mix, turning just in time to catch their younger brother and sister up in a big hug while their parents crowd in close behind.
Sam jumps down off the counter and goes to start toast while everyone else hugs Dean and talks at him a million miles an hour. They'll have time later for more kisses, and for caresses, and as much more as they can manage.
~fin~
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~800
Spoilers/Warnings: No spoilers. This is a/u. Sam is underage, and though I didn't specify an age, I had in mind that he's around 15.
Disclaimer: They're not mine, and they never will be. Dammit.
Summary: Dean's coming home.
A/N: Okay. The context/genesis for this is here: http://drvsilla.livejournal.com/597328.html, and I fully blame
drvsilla for this :) There does, however, need to be more Sam-waiting-for-Dean-coming-home stories. In my opinion. *g* Many thanks to arliss for a quick-as-lightning beta. Hope y'all enjoy :)He's been awake since 5:53am, even though it was well past midnight before he fell asleep, excitement and adrenaline pumping through him.
Dean's coming home. Dean's coming home. Dean's coming home.
Sam's pretty sure he was never as excited about Santa coming as he is about his brother coming home from college.
Outside is a winter wonderland; a storm last night dumped an unusually large snowfall that's covering everything in a heavy layer of white. If Sam was a little younger he might be tempted to put on a half-dozen layers and go sledding down the street.
He's been kneeling against the back of the couch for nearly an hour, watching the sky lighten slowly as the minutes tick by. There've been exactly two cars come up the street in all that time, and one person braving the snow and cold to walk their dog.
It's started to snow again, the flakes falling fast and thick, and Sam dismisses the car coming up the street until it stops in front of their house, bright yellow with TAXI spelled out on the side. His heart jumps when a familiar figure gets out, swinging a duffle over his shoulder. He pays the driver and turns toward the house, and by then Sam has the door open, launching himself toward Dean.
Dean grunts with the impact, but he's laughing, pulling Sam in close for a hug. "God, I think you grew some more since I've been gone." He squeezes Sam, strong and warm and solid, and here, and Sam can't keep his smile from spreading across his face.
"I can't believe you're finally home," he says, finally pulling away so they can get inside where it's warm. "I didn't think it was ever going to be the sixteenth."
Dean smiles as he unzips his jacket, hanging it over his scarf on the halltree. He kicks his duffle out of the way, and heads for the kitchen. "Miss me, Sammy?"
Sam rolls his eyes but smiles. "Maybe."
He laid out the stuff for coffee while he was waiting for the sun to come up, and now Sam boosts himself up onto the counter beside it, watching as Dean measures out grounds and water and turns the coffee maker on. They'll have a few minutes yet before anyone else wakes up, but already the rich coffee smell is filling the kitchen. He shifts so Dean can step in between his legs, standing so close, but still not close enough.
"Just maybe? I think I'm hurt." Dean leans in and touches his forehead to Sam's, his breath warm and moist against Sam's mouth.
Sam smiles faintly and reaches to pull Dean in for another hug. He presses his face to Dean's throat and inhales his scent: aftershave and a faint whiff of smoke, and the salty smell of clean sweat. "Did you miss me?"
The hands that were rubbing up and down Sam's back slow, then stop, settling at the small of his back. "You know I did. Sammy."
The last word is rough, hoarse with things neither of them say often but both feel, and Sam blinks at the stinging in his eyes. Dean's mouth is soft, gentle, when he brushes it against Sam's; he's back immediately, pressing harder, licking at Sam's lips, teasing them open for a deep, wet, hungry kiss.
Sam feels like a fire's been lit in his belly, spreading outward to consume him. He wriggles closer, wrapping his legs around Dean's waist to hold him close, tongue sweeping around Dean's mouth to taste as much of him as possible. Dean gentles the kiss, slowing it until they're barely pressing against each other, just sharing breath.
"I brought you a cool present," Dean says eventually, pulling back a little. He skims his hand through Sam's hair and smiles, his eyes crinkling. "Though maybe I should just take you for a haircut."
Sam turns his head and brushes a kiss across Dean's wrist. "You're my present, this Christmas. I don't want anything else."
Dean shrugs and gives him a half-smile. "Well, you'll just have to humor me and open it anyway."
There's a shout from somewhere back in the house, and the sound of feet stamping overhead, so Sam unwinds his legs and lets Dean move away. He doesn't go far, just to the cupboard to take out the hot cocoa mix, turning just in time to catch their younger brother and sister up in a big hug while their parents crowd in close behind.
Sam jumps down off the counter and goes to start toast while everyone else hugs Dean and talks at him a million miles an hour. They'll have time later for more kisses, and for caresses, and as much more as they can manage.
~fin~
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no subject
Date: 2010-11-18 10:59 am (UTC)