Smile ☆ Supernatural

Character/Pairing: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Family
Prompt: Smile
Date Written: 19/08/2009

“Honey, what are you doing?”

“He just … lays there.” A small voice replied. “And looks.” Looking up at his mother, he simply blinked. “Is that normal?”

Her smile was radiant as she came to kneel beside him, following his gaze down into the carrier that a tiny baby Winchester laid in. Placing her hand on her eldest son’s back, she chuckled. “He’s only a baby right now, Dean. He won’t do much for the first year or so.”

Still hugging his knees as he stared into the clump of blue blankets surrounding the chubby face, Dean wasn’t sure what else to really say. “But that’s so far.” He concluded rather impatiently.

Mary smiled and placed a kiss to the top of Dean’s head, getting back onto her feet with wavering balance. “You’ll just have to be patient. You’ll see, he’ll grow up in no time and soon you’ll be wondering whatever happened to that little baby boy.”

Dean watched his mother wander off, not entirely interested in where she was going. She looked tired and Sam was quiet. Maybe she was going to get some rest. Dad had said that taking care of a baby was a lot of work and that Dean should try his best to just be helpful. He did try but he was only little after all, he could only do so much.

Turning his own adolescent face toward his younger brother once more, he rested his chin on his knees, simply staring back at the child. He’d whined, he’d cried, he’d gurgled and he’d slept. Dean had seen him do nothing else. Were all babies like this?

Little Sammy blinked up at the boy and yawned, little arms stretching out in whatever direction they managed before he settled once more, blankets all ruffled. Unlocking his legs from his arms, Dean rocked himself forward and fixed the blanket like he’d seen Mary do before, making certain he tucked the little piece of cloth around the baby’s arms. Sam, however, didn’t seem to enjoy that very much and poked his arms out once more.

“Sammy, you’ll get cold.” Dean mumbled softly, moving to fix the blanket once more but Sam squirmed a bit and the boy backed off. Last thing he wanted was to make Sammy cry because as he’d learned earlier, babies cried easily.

“Sammy.” Dean called softly, keeping his voice at a whisper. He hoped to distract the boy enough to make sure he didn’t start weeping. Wiggling his own little fingers at the boy, he brushed the tips against the baby’s open palm. “Saaaaaammmyyyyyy…” He cooed, wiggling them lightly against his skin.

Babies were really warm.

Infant Sam looked to the fingers curiously, simply blinking before his eyes shifted to Dean. Unsure of what else to really do, Dean retracted his fingers from him and stared for a moment. Reaching up, he placed an index finger on each corner of his lips and pulled his mouth apart, making a funny face.

Baby Sammy did nothing. His blank expression wasn’t what Dean had been hoping for.

A bit discouraged by the lack of reaction, Dean figured he’d try again. Maybe Sam just didn’t understand what he was supposed to do. “You laugh, Sammy. Laugh.” He explained the best he could. “Smile, Sammy.”

And nothing again.

He paused a moment and reached up, tugging at the ends of his ears and puffing out his cheeks. He made a muffled noise that was supposed to resemble a monkey but it simply came out like he was gasping for air.

Sam squirmed again but he seemed interested. His little hands were pressed together and his attention was fully on Dean even if there were no traces of amusement anywhere on his tiny face.

Dropping his hands, Dean made a stubborn expression and reached forward slowly. “Why you no smile, Sammy?” He questioned, reaching forward and very lightly poking the boy in the nose.

And there it was, totally unexpected. His little lips curled up and a clear view of his toothless gums were shown. His entire face brightened at it and Dean mirrored it perfectly. “Sammy smiled! I made him smile!”

Baby Sammy picked up on Dean’s excitement and a quiet giggle bubbled forth. The older boy swelled with pride as he reached forward, fingers poking lightly at the baby’s balled hands. He didn’t laugh again and his little smile had slowly died away as well but Dean had seen it, he’d been the one to hear it and that was good enough for him.

To his knowledge, he’d been the first person to make his baby brother smile. And that made him feel wonderful.

As little Sammy stared up at the toddler with his previous blank expression, Dean couldn’t get rid of his grin. “When you get big, like me, I’ll make you smile lots, okay?”

The baby blinked.

“So grow up fast, Sammy.”

FIN ★ ☆ ★ Constructive critique always welcome!

Uniform ☆ Supernatural

Character/Pairing: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Wincest
Prompt: Uniform
Date Written: 26/09/2009

The moment the door handle so much as jingled, Dean Winchester was on his feet, hand shooting up in a stiff salute. His form was sturdy and standing at attention, eyes staring forward and waiting impatiently to be addressed. Not so much that the position was uncomfortable, years of that had long since trained his body for it to become second nature. No, what he wanted to be able to do was simply-

“At ease, Lieutenant.”

Ahh and there it was. That firm tone that caused his insides to tingle. His arm dropped back to his side before he visibly relaxed, his knees bending a bit and he freely allowed himself to take in the sight of the man before him. “Thank you, sir.”

It never went past Dean how damn tempting he could be in his uniform. That pure white cloth fit perfectly over his long limbs and was pulled just right over his torso, covering up the solid form he knew entirely well lay just underneath. Even the way his eyes stared out at him from under the dark visor of his white hat made him look so-

He had to bite the inside of his lip to suppress anymore thoughts. He was getting ahead of himself again.

“Have you been waiting long?” He questioned, pulling the hat off and setting it up on one of the filing cabinets.

Dean shock his head and smirked. “I don’t like to wait around like someone I know. Sir.” He added playfully.

His view of the room shifted as large fingers were laid on his hip and guided him back until he bumped into the desk he’d been staring hungrily at only moments ago. Now, however, green eyes were tilted up by those commanding hands he adored so much. His superior slid closer, forehead pressed against his and his lips breathing charm against his own. Dean allowed one slow pant to leave his lungs early.

“Keep up the attitude and next time I’ll make you wait longer.”

That was a terrible thought and he wanted to avoid having that happen. Tipping his chin up, Dean hoped to be able to claim those lips that rested so delicately close but found that they’d started to slide down the flushed skin that patterned his cheeks. That was not the cause of Dean’s reaction time.

“And here I thought that you were actually going to pick up the pace today. You usually- ah!” He hissed, hand shooting up to tightly grip his clothed biceps. A dull pain pulsed from his ear where his General’s lips were currently pressed against. “-tease.” He finished shortly, figuring the bite had been to shut him up.

Keeping his other hand behind him, palm pressed against the desktop for support, Dean leaned into the man more only to be crushed back into the desk. Electricity pulsed through his veins at the pressure of such a close proximity. The navy blue jacket covering his shoulder was pushing to the side awkwardly and soon a familiar tongue was dragging across the skin found there. Tipping his head a bit to the opposite side, his lungs puffed out a couple quiet moans, low enough for their ears alone. Something was telling him to keep his voice low or someone outside was bound to hear and break this up.

“You’re a cruel man, General Wesson.” He chuckled softly, hoping that maybe if he annoyed the man a little, he might give Dean what he wanted.

“I don’t see how that’s supposed to be a complaint. You keep coming back, don’t you?” The reply was immediate, like he’d been expecting just that comment. His lips trailed up along his neck and placed a quick kiss to the corner of his lips before he leaned his head back a bit.

“Under orders.” Dean replied, staring back into hazel eyes that were swimming in their own satisfaction. He couldn’t really be annoyed when such a sexy smile was spread across those lips he wanted so badly.

Fingers gripped his chin tightly and Dean fell silent, curiosity peaked and aching for his hope to be fulfilled. “Do you really expect me to believe that, Winchester?” There was mockery in his voice and Dean couldn’t blame him. They both knew that was a lie. The grip tightened just the slightest and he moved in a few inches, wrapping his free arm around the Lieutenant’s waist. “You, who is practically chained to my desk, who is constantly at my beck and call, want me to believe that you’re solely here underorders?”

It wouldn’t have mattered even if Dean had wanted to reply because the General moved in more and soon their noses were brushing and he forgot how to breath for a moment. The strong fingers moved down from his chin, sliding his palm along the column of his neck as his smirk only increased.

Winchester was reduced to panting.

“Well then, I order you to leave.” He spoke but made no motion at all to let the other go. He stared into his eyes with a challenge and Dean had always been good at picking up on those.

“Like hell.” He nearly growled, both hands coming forward to curl into the rough fabric, pulling down hard on his collar to finally crush their lips together in a desperate hunger.

Fingers slid from his collar to wrap around his neck as his lips fell open in invitation. A hand slid down his hip and rested against Dean’s ass, pulling him close. That devilish tongue had no qualms about sliding against his, all too happy to produce a throaty moan from the smaller man. Melting into the kiss, he allowed himself to be dominated, content to simply be wrapped up in these enticing arms.


The man in question allowed his eyes to wander open until he noticed something. Their mouths were still connected in their heated exchange.

“Dean!” That was definitely his voice, commanding as usu-

A shove against the side of his skull and the elder bolted into a sitting position. Sniffing loudly, he realized there was a wet spot on the corner of his mouth and he wiped it away hastily.

“I leave for ten minutes and you pass out on my computer?” Sam questioned, setting down a brown paper bag and a tray that perfectly fit two paper cups. Pulling one out, he handed it over to Dean before looking at him oddly. “Did you at least findanything?”

Blinking a couple times, Dean rubbed the side of his face as he looked over at the screen lite up before him. His eyes were still a bit hazy but he shifted his position and allowed his eyes to focus. Finally, they settled on the article he’d been reading before he dozed off. He couldn’t remember having fallen asleep. Though he supposed it made perfect sense. One minute he was reading about this old Navy ghost from some war and the next he was being ravished by …

“Yeah, I found something … just … haven’t read through it completely.” He spoke, looking up at his younger brother and had to blink twice because in his sleepy state, he could have sworn he’d seen him with a white hat. Ohh, there was no way that dream was ever coming up in conversation so he had to ensure that he kept his facial expression drowsy. No sign of anything odd and Sam would be none the wiser.

It was then that he noticed the cup and plucked it from the awaiting hand. Sipping back a pipping hot gulp of coffee, Dean slowly rose to his feet and twisted himself about so that his back was facing Sam when he walked past him. It didn’t seem to matter anyway since it was then that Sam replaced his brother at the chair and pulled the computer toward him.

“Ahh, Dean! Come on!”

“What?” He called over his shoulder as he stepped into the bathroom.

“You drooled on my keyboard!”

Setting the cup down on the edge of the counter, Dean shut the door behind himself and locked it. “Just wipe it off, it’s fine.”

“That’s not the point, Dean.”

Reaching over to the tap, he turned both on full blast, figuring that’d be enough noise to drown out both whatever complaint Sam had next and would in turn keep Sam oblivious from what problem he was taking care of behind closed doors. He’d keep this fantasy to himself. It would come in handy later.

FIN ★ ☆ ★ Constructive critique always welcome!

White Noise ☆ Supernatural

Character/Pairing: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Wincest
Prompt: 2AM
Date Written: 16/05/2010

He couldn’t sleep.

Simple as that.

How could he? Every time he closed his eyes, he felt panic bubble in his chest and swallowing didn’t settle it. However, while his eyes were open, all he could do was stare at the ceiling. The perfectly speckled ceiling.

The hotels never had that. The inns were just painted over. The motels had water damage. Rolling his head to the side, he noted the beside table next to his side of the bed. No second bed on the other side; just neatly drawn curtains slid across a window. The house smelt of perfumes and candles. Who would have guessed he’d miss the smell of mildew? The bed was comfortable. No lumps, no springs. It didn’t even creak when he shifted.

A sigh to his right.

Quiet and peaceful.


Probably having picture perfect, white washed dreams with plenty of colour and lights. When was the last time Dean had had one of those? Had he ever?

He couldn’t sleep.

Pulling the covers off, he laid them down beside the woman he’d promised to be with and live this glorified apple pie life. Rolling off the bed, he got to his feet and for a moment just stood there. The room was so … full. Everything was so full. Ornaments, pictures, plants. No simple lamp, generic telephone or notepad with the company logo on it.

Nibbling the inside of his lip, Dean slipped out of the room and closed the door silently behind him. Moving to the living room, he sat down upon the couch. A couch. Tired eyes glanced up at the clock and for a moment, he even read the hands backwards. His mind corrected himself.

2 am.

The house was too silent. No noisy neighbors, no snoring; not even white noise from a humming air conditioner.

Reaching for the remote control that still had all its buttons, Dean flicked it on. With the volume turned down to a more familiar softness, he began surfing through them. He was looking for something particular.

There were too many channels.

He pressed on. Then, finally, a familiar looking blue screen flashed on, scribbled with 1-800 numbers and credit card logos.

Infomercials. The background noise to his past 4 years.

Leaning forward, his eyes flicked back and forth across the screen as the scenes continued shifting. Horrible acting, useless inventions and the idiot at the end who takes all the credit.

God, he’d missed this.

Placing the remote on the table, he reached back to pull off the thin blanket draped over the back of the couch. Pulling it over himself, he laid down with his arm tucked under his head for support. The couch had lumps. If he pressed hard enough, he could feel the springs. The material of the cushions had turned stubborn rather then soft with use.

He couldn’t recall ever feeling so at ease.

The thought cut through the guilt that had long since nestled in the pit of his stomach.

He couldn’t sleep.

“God dammit, Sammy.” I’m so sorry, kid.

FIN ★ ☆ ★ Constructive critique always welcome!