The night after revisiting the boy’s home is unexpectedly awful for Dean. He’s exhausted, and the sky is dark by the time he and Sam pull up to the bunker and clambor out to stretch their aching legs. They don’t take time to cook anything, though Sam makes him a microwaved burrito, which Dean wordlessly accepts before trudging back to his room, throwing on pajamas, and collapsing facefirst onto his bed.
He wakes up later with fog in his mouth, his entire left arm tingling where he’d shoved it under his pillow. By the time he’s shaken feeling back into his hand, he’s too unsettled to go back to sleep, so after listening for and not hearing any signs that his brother or Kevin might still be awake, he braves the possibility of being caught and walks out into the halls in his bathrobe, finally ending up in the kitchen.
Hot chocolate can be simple to make, but Dean’s gotten really into trying new things with it lately. This time, he’s popping a few cinnamon hearts into the steaming fluid as he lifts his phone to his ear, Cas’ number pre-dialed. It’s 3:30 AM in the morning, and Cas always mutes his phone at night, so Dean’s planning to leave a brief hello message and disappear, hoping it reaches Cas in the morning.
Instead, Cas answers the phone.
I wrote a little sam/jack ficlet. I will probably expand it, but for now, here’s the nsfw part, below a cut:
“Sam!” Jack caught up with the taller man and grabbed his arm. Sam started to pull away, but instead found himself with Jack’s arms around him, head tucked against his shoulder. A ragged sob tore from his chest, whole body shaking. Jack didn’t speak, just held him, rubbing a soothing hand along his back.
It’s not your fault. I’m sorry you lost your brother. You saved the world. Jack Harkness knew better than most just how shallow words could be. He could feel how fragile Sam was in his arms, and how could he not be? Yes, the world was saved, but at what great cost? Alice’s face flickered in his mind and his heart clenched.
“It should have been me,” Sam said finally, brokenly.
Jack pulled back a little and kissed the tears on his cheeks. “You aren’t alone.”
Sam suddenly grabbed Jack’s face and kissed him fiercely, shoving him up against the alley wall. Jack moaned. “Sam…”
The remaining Winchester didn’t speak, just went for Jack’s belt before shoving the bracers down, and followed by the man’s trousers and pants. Jack knew this too, this need to feel anything. He fished the lube out of his pocket as Sam spun him around, barely avoiding scraping his face on the bricks. Sam took it and pinned his wrists above his head with one large hand, the other roughly pushing inside Jack. Pain was good sometimes and Jack felt himself welcoming it. After all, he hadn’t been able to save Dean either.
Far too quickly Sam was pushing himself inside. Jack groaned and braced himself against the larger man, bare knees scraping against the wall. Sam bit at his neck and shoulder, just taking what he wanted. Jack wanted to give him everything, to remind him that sometimes life had to go on.
With a groan Sam filled him, dropping his forehead against Jack’s shoulder and loosening his grip when he came. Jack dropped one hand to get himself quickly off with Sam still inside him. Then he turned and wrapped Sam in his arms, kissing his cheek.
“I’m sorry,” said Sam softly.
“Don’t be,” said Jack, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Sam took a deep breath and kissed Jack one more time before pulling away and looking down at the ground. Jack quickly got himself tucked away and back in order. “Come on, Sam. Let’s see where the road takes us.”
Reblog if you would actually name your future kid after an inspirational character.
Just to show my parents that I’m not the only one.
I guess I’m not the only one
“jace it is just a rubber duck”
“katniss put the squirrel down”
“percy get over here you hyperactive little turd”
“augustus stop you are giving mommy feels”
“loki, you’re adopted”
“mom?”
– “what is it, eren?”^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
“MATT DID YOU WASH THE LAUNDRY LIKE I ASKED?” I shout from the kitchen where I’m preparing dinner for tonight.
“NO, MOM. I FORGOT! DOIN’ IT NOW,” Matt yells from the laundry room.
Sighing I turn down the stove so the rice doesn’t over boil and start walking towards the laundry room.
“God damn it Matthew Loki! This is the 3rd time this week you’ve "forgotten” your chores! Why can’t you be more Thomas Benedict? Never forgets a thing that boy! Even Toni does what ask without being told twice and-“
I’m in the doorway of the laundry. All the clothes and linens that were all over the floor this morning, retail folded in the baskets, ready to be put away. Matthew is leaning against the washing machine and dryer, arms folded with a self satisfied smirk on his face chocolate eyes twinkling with glee. He straightens up, fixes his bow tie, and chuckles,
"Loki’d!”
I’m silent for a few seconds and then I walk over and muss up his short, black hair,
“You little shit, I’m gonna kill you one day. What do you want for dessert?”
This is the cutest ficlet ever
*whispers* Sam holding a baby and Jack smiling at how peaceful they both look.
Jack stood in the doorway, just watching as Sam rocked slowly in the chair, holding the little girl. She had one chubby little finger wrapped around his pinky, watching his face as he tunelessly hummed a song at her.
Sam looked up and caught Jack’s grin, giving him a shy smile back. “She was crying.”
“Well she’s not now,” Jack stayed where he was, not wanting to ruin the moment.
Sam had other idea, standing carefully and walking to Jack to kiss him. “You want to hold her?”
“No, no, I think you’re doing a fine job. Not that great with babies.” Something flickered in his eyes, something Sam knew meant one of his secrets, one of his past lives.
“She’s almost asleep again anyway.” Same rocked her and carried her back over to the crib. “I’ll be back to bed in a minute.”
“All right.” Jack playfully swatted at his bottom as he walked away. Sam’s eyes automatically checked the wards they’d put on the crib as he set her down. For once the night was quiet and still as he watched her settle deeper into sleep.
Would just like to drop a prompt. Prompt: Sherlock and John comes home to see Mycroft playing with Hamish. [And allows Hamish to play with his black umbrella]
It ended up being a ficlet, so I’ll just post it here:
John smiled at Sherlock as they walked back into Baker Street. It had taken some convincing for Sherlock to just go on a date, but well worth it. His husband had hardly seen the point; after all they were together every day anyway. But this was dinner and not a case and John was secretly hoping Mrs. Hudson wouldn’t mind watching Hamish for a little bit longer. He leaned up and kissed Sherlock as he pushed open the door.
“Pappa! Daddy!” John abruptly broke the kiss as Hamish crashed into them. John swung his head around and saw the incongruous sight of Mycroft sitting on the floor in front of the couch laughing.
“What the hell are you doing here?” John turned as Hamish tried to climb him. He picked up his son and glared at the elder Holmes.
Mycroft smiled. John held Hamish a little closer. “Can’t I come see my nephew?” Hamish squirmed down and went for the umbrella.
Sherlock put a hand on John’s shoulder. “You waited until we were gone.”
Sighing, Mycroft watched Hamish play with his umbrella. The boy was four and curious. “I have not seen much of him.”
John took a breath. “We’re not looking to keep you from him.” He moved to go make tea. “You’re welcome to babysit next time.”
Hamish got the umbrella open and crawled under it, peeking out at the adults. Sherlock sat down next to his big brother. “You are good with children.”
“I do believe John had other plans for when you got home. I could take Hamish out.”
A small smile crossed Sherlock’s face. “I believe Hamish would enjoy spending time with his Uncle.”
John reappeared with tea and handed one to Mycroft. Hamish came out from under the umbrella, something in his fist. “Uncle?” he asked.
“Oh, let me have that Hamish.” Mycroft quickly pried it from his hand before John could see what it was. “Probably you shouldn’t play with that umbrella.” He tugged it closed and put it behind himself.
John shook his head. Better not to ask.
“Mycroft is going to take Hamish for the night,” said Sherlock.
“Oh?” John raised an eyebrow.
“Yay!” Hamish climbed into his Uncle’s lap.
“Well, can’t argue with that.”
Mycroft stood up, taking the umbrella in one hand and Hamish’s hand in the other. John put a coat on his son. “You be good for Uncle Mycroft.”
“Yes Papa.”
They watched as Mycroft walked him out. John looped an arm around Sherlock’s waist. “I suppose he’ll be fine. Come on to bed.”
It’s not much and it’s probably not that great, but I wrote a supernatural thingy:
“This is so stupid Dean. I’m not a little kid anymore.” Sam glared up at his big brother.
“Dude, It’s Halloween. Free candy day.” Dean jammed the hat on his little brother’s head. He was wearing last spring’s t-ball uniform from four towns ago. The fact that it still fit wasn’t helping his mood any.
“How come you’re not dressing up?” Sam slouched his way out the motel door behind his brother.
“Just your chaperone,” grinned Dean. “Unless you want me to grab that clown wig I saw…”
Sam visibly shivered. “Whatever. I’m not holding your hand when we cross the street though.”
There was a neighborhood just a few blocks from the motel. Dean watched kids running up and down the streets with parents or older siblings tagging along behind. Sam might have been ten, but he was still cute enough to score them extra candy at a few houses while Dean lingered behind and smiled at the high school girls. Sam just rolled his eyes and dutifully rang doorbells until they reached a falling down, dark house at the end of the street.
“You don’t want to go in there, that’s the Witch’s house,” said one boy as they looked at it.
“Oh yeah?” Dean stood up a little straighter.
“Yeah. And last Halloween some girl hung herself in there.”
“Really.” Dean eyed the house while Sam rolled his eyes again. “Thanks. We should probably head home anyway.”
They headed back to the hotel. Sam shoved the bag of candy at Dean. “I know you want it anyway. Are we really going to investigate a house on Halloween? Without Dad?”
Dean popped a candy in his mouth. “Why not? Probably just kids telling stories anyway.”
Last nights Supernatural made me want to write something Superwood, so here’s a little ficlet:
You’re Still Important – Jack shows up at the Men of Letters bunker with Castiel in tow.
