Snow Drabble: Supernatural
Dec. 10th, 2013 12:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tarotgalTitle: Dean’s First Snow Day
Author: tarotgal
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Disclaimer: Not my boys! No money made! I’m just playing!
Summary: Sam’s got a cold. Dean shovels snow. It’s all good.
Notes: I got a snow day! So here’s a drabble :-)
“Best day ever, Sammy!” Dean stomped on the doormat with his boots, shaking off the snow and ice that clung to them.
Sam was wrapped up in a blanket on the couch, watching football on TV and the snow fall outside the window. He had a tunnel out through the blanket through which he could stick his hand to grab a tissue from the box at his side. And he had a sea of balled-up tissues on his lap, beneath the blanket. His nose was all stuffed-up, his head pounded, and if he moved the wrong way, the shivers attacked him and wouldn’t let go until he got some tea or a hot water bottle or Dean’s arm around his shoulder. This was far from the worst he’d ever had in life, but he wouldn’t call this the best day ever. He had always assumed that he’d at least be able to breathe properly on the best day ever. And he would have assumed it wouldn’t involve Dean outside doing manual labor for hours on end. “You were out there shovelig?”
“Damn right I was!” Dean hung his hat, gloves, and jacket up on the hooks by the front door. His jeans had patches of wet on them from the snow and his cheeks were bright red from the cold, but his grin was impossible to miss.
“You’re just gettig over this cold. And you wadted to go out there id the cold add tire yourself out?”
Dean grinned and nodded. He flopped onto the other side of the couch, stretching his legs out, crossing them at the ankles on Sam’s lap. “Oh yeah.”
“The abartbedt coblex hires beoble to… to… tuh-UHShihhh! To do that, Dead.”
Dean gestured toward his ear. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Bless you, by the way.” He wiggled his toes inside the two pairs of socks jammed on his feet. “Hey, you gonna rub my feet or what?”
“You wish.” Sam reached out and pushed them off. Then he took another tissue and rubbed at his nose. “Where’d you eved get the shovel? We dod’t owd ode.”
“Broke into the janitor’s closet downstairs. Took me a whole minute to spring the lock. I’m rusty, man.”
“Well, it’s beed a year. What’d you exbect?”
Shrugging, “Hey, I got there in the end. And I got the whole sidewalk shoveled from the stoplight to the corner. It was awesome.”
“Awesobe?”
“Well, at first it was hard to get the hang of. Shovel kept sliding off the ice. But then I got in deep. Snow’s a whole lot heavier than it seems, you know. But then I got a rhythm going and the sidewalk’s clear. And every muscle in me hurts.” He put his feet back up on Sam’s thighs and threw his head back as he stretched.
“Add this is how you sbed your first sdow day ever?”
The garage had called first thing in the morning, telling Dean to stay home from work. The town had been blanketed overnight with four feet of snow. And even though there were a couple tow trucks out there because accidents were piling up, it wasn’t safe on the roads and they were expecting an ice storm to hit that afternoon. Dean was one of the low men on the totem pole still, so they could do without him. Which meant, Dean got a snow day.
Growing up, he’d hated snow days. John had made him spend them home from school looking after Sammy and melting down bullets over the stove. Between hot chocolate and silver, he’d never gotten to have a normal snow day with sledding and snowball fights and all that. And maybe shoveling snow wasn’t as much fun as that, but it had felt damn good to be out there helping out the neighborhood and doing something so physical.
“ihhh-Yitchhuh! Hih-Shihhhhh!”
“Bless you, bless you.”
“heh-heh-IHTChhhh!”
“And bless you.” He leaned his foot against Sam’s chest and rubbed a little. “Sounds like you’re getting worse.”
“I dod’t feel worse.”
“Did I sound that bad when I had this cold?”
“Oh yeah.”
“You wanna go lie down? Get into bed?”
Sam shook his head and rubbed his nose with another tissue. “I’b okay here.”
“No.” Dean grinned. He leaned forward a little, a sly look on his face. “I mean, you… wanna get into bed?”
Sam reached a hand out from under the blankets and squeezed one of Dean’s feet. He slid his hand up Dean’s leg. “Yeah. I do. But, ah, you’d better brig the tissue box?”
Dean grabbed the box, crunching it in his hand, as he jumped up. “You got it, Sammy. Best day ever!”
Author: tarotgal
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Disclaimer: Not my boys! No money made! I’m just playing!
Summary: Sam’s got a cold. Dean shovels snow. It’s all good.
Notes: I got a snow day! So here’s a drabble :-)
“Best day ever, Sammy!” Dean stomped on the doormat with his boots, shaking off the snow and ice that clung to them.
Sam was wrapped up in a blanket on the couch, watching football on TV and the snow fall outside the window. He had a tunnel out through the blanket through which he could stick his hand to grab a tissue from the box at his side. And he had a sea of balled-up tissues on his lap, beneath the blanket. His nose was all stuffed-up, his head pounded, and if he moved the wrong way, the shivers attacked him and wouldn’t let go until he got some tea or a hot water bottle or Dean’s arm around his shoulder. This was far from the worst he’d ever had in life, but he wouldn’t call this the best day ever. He had always assumed that he’d at least be able to breathe properly on the best day ever. And he would have assumed it wouldn’t involve Dean outside doing manual labor for hours on end. “You were out there shovelig?”
“Damn right I was!” Dean hung his hat, gloves, and jacket up on the hooks by the front door. His jeans had patches of wet on them from the snow and his cheeks were bright red from the cold, but his grin was impossible to miss.
“You’re just gettig over this cold. And you wadted to go out there id the cold add tire yourself out?”
Dean grinned and nodded. He flopped onto the other side of the couch, stretching his legs out, crossing them at the ankles on Sam’s lap. “Oh yeah.”
“The abartbedt coblex hires beoble to… to… tuh-UHShihhh! To do that, Dead.”
Dean gestured toward his ear. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Bless you, by the way.” He wiggled his toes inside the two pairs of socks jammed on his feet. “Hey, you gonna rub my feet or what?”
“You wish.” Sam reached out and pushed them off. Then he took another tissue and rubbed at his nose. “Where’d you eved get the shovel? We dod’t owd ode.”
“Broke into the janitor’s closet downstairs. Took me a whole minute to spring the lock. I’m rusty, man.”
“Well, it’s beed a year. What’d you exbect?”
Shrugging, “Hey, I got there in the end. And I got the whole sidewalk shoveled from the stoplight to the corner. It was awesome.”
“Awesobe?”
“Well, at first it was hard to get the hang of. Shovel kept sliding off the ice. But then I got in deep. Snow’s a whole lot heavier than it seems, you know. But then I got a rhythm going and the sidewalk’s clear. And every muscle in me hurts.” He put his feet back up on Sam’s thighs and threw his head back as he stretched.
“Add this is how you sbed your first sdow day ever?”
The garage had called first thing in the morning, telling Dean to stay home from work. The town had been blanketed overnight with four feet of snow. And even though there were a couple tow trucks out there because accidents were piling up, it wasn’t safe on the roads and they were expecting an ice storm to hit that afternoon. Dean was one of the low men on the totem pole still, so they could do without him. Which meant, Dean got a snow day.
Growing up, he’d hated snow days. John had made him spend them home from school looking after Sammy and melting down bullets over the stove. Between hot chocolate and silver, he’d never gotten to have a normal snow day with sledding and snowball fights and all that. And maybe shoveling snow wasn’t as much fun as that, but it had felt damn good to be out there helping out the neighborhood and doing something so physical.
“ihhh-Yitchhuh! Hih-Shihhhhh!”
“Bless you, bless you.”
“heh-heh-IHTChhhh!”
“And bless you.” He leaned his foot against Sam’s chest and rubbed a little. “Sounds like you’re getting worse.”
“I dod’t feel worse.”
“Did I sound that bad when I had this cold?”
“Oh yeah.”
“You wanna go lie down? Get into bed?”
Sam shook his head and rubbed his nose with another tissue. “I’b okay here.”
“No.” Dean grinned. He leaned forward a little, a sly look on his face. “I mean, you… wanna get into bed?”
Sam reached a hand out from under the blankets and squeezed one of Dean’s feet. He slid his hand up Dean’s leg. “Yeah. I do. But, ah, you’d better brig the tissue box?”
Dean grabbed the box, crunching it in his hand, as he jumped up. “You got it, Sammy. Best day ever!”
no subject
Date: 2013-12-11 03:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-11 05:40 am (UTC)Hope you got a little writing done today too!
no subject
Date: 2013-12-11 01:49 pm (UTC)You painted a beautiful picture of Sick Sammy on the couch, mmm, one of my favorite things to daydream about. :)
And I agree, I love Dean all enthusiastic and obnoxious, but always caring. Love that he gave the cold to Sam in the first place too! Oh to be a fly on the wall in that house...
no subject
Date: 2013-12-11 11:34 pm (UTC)Thanks for your feedback. I'm glad you liked it. Sick Sammy on a couch... gotta be one of the new wonders of the world, no?
Love that he gave the cold to Sam in the first place too!
Something about the way you said this made me read this sentence over, like, 20 times. Guh. Dean's such a caring and GENEROUS guy; of course he'd give it to Sammy *EG*