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kowaiyoukaiTitle: This Time of Year
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kowaiyoukai
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): implied incest, the love child of schmoop/fluff/angst, chick-flick moments
Spoilers: Pilot… does that even count?
Word Count: 847
Challenge:siriuslyyellow, Christmas snowfall, Stanford, novel-length text message, "I always miss you this time of year."
Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and the CW. No profit is being made from this fanfiction.
Beta Acknowledgment: None.
Summary: This would be the first Christmas without Dean.
A/N: This challenge was the easiest I've ever written for this comm. And I loved every gooey second of it.
The dormitory was empty. Except for two other students, both of whom Sam only knew about because they saw each other in the cafeteria, everyone had gone home for Christmas break. It was an odd sensation, being alone in the dorms. All of his friends had packed up and left, even his roommate. Sam was unnerved by the hollow feeling in the hallways and the way the shadows seemed to elongate in his room at night. A thick, heavy silence sprawled across everything, making it hard to speak at all. So it ended up being a good thing that he didn't want to speak. After all, he had nothing to say.
And no one to say it to.
Sam was in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He had no books to read, essays to write, or friends to meet up with. There was nothing to distract him from going to sleep. There was no reason why he should be lying awake, at 3:41 in the morning on Christmas Eve, looking out the window and thinking about Dean.
It was snowing—that was why his thoughts lingered on Dean. He always remembered Dean when it snowed. Every memory he had of the snow was intertwined with memories of Dean. Pushing him down in the snow, maybe. Throwing snowballs at him, sure. Wrestling with him until one or both of them got ice down their pants, a few times.
But as they grew up, the memories had changed. Dean would make hot chocolate and they'd sit and watch a movie together as the snow piled up right outside the motel room door. Other times, Sam would draw meaningless shapes on the window and Dean would come up just behind him and turn each one into something lewd until they both cracked up. And what Sam remembered the most, the very last time they had been together and it had snowed, was that the heater hadn't worked. So they had gotten together on one bed, huddled for warmth, all the blankets and pillows they could find surrounding them like a fortress. Dean had wrapped his arms around Sam, holding him closer than he ever had before, and it hadn't felt wrong or weird or disgusting or any of the other things Sam had imagined it would be. It had simply been right.
That had been why he knew he had to leave. If he would have stayed, things would have escalated. So he had left.
This would be the first Christmas without Dean. There had been plenty of Christmases without dad around. Sam would be hard pressed to remember when their father had been present. But Dean had always been there, would always be there as far as Sam had been concerned. Dean would be there now except that Sam had pushed him away.
Sam reached over and grabbed his cell phone. It wasn't that he needed to call Dean right that second. But he wanted to look at Dean's name on the phone, to know that he could call Dean right now if he wanted to. They hadn't talked at all since he had left. Sam didn't think it would matter to Dean how long they didn't have contact for. They still had that connection. They were still brothers, and they might have been more if Sam wasn't afraid.
Sam flipped open his phone and a blinking message came up—one new text. He opened it with the press of a button and saw that Dean had sent him a message.
I always miss you this time of year.
He blinked, read it again, and still didn't believe it. Had Dean actually sent him something serious, something emotional, something out of a chick-flick? A smiled tugged at the corner of his mouth. Sam could easily picture Dean, struggling for an hour to type the message in and trying to re-word it so that it wasn't so girly. He could only imagine what it had said at first. Or maybe Dean just hadn't figured out how to delete letters. Sam grinned and started to reply.
He wanted to write something that would let Dean know what he was thinking. That Sam missed him, that he thought about him way too much, that he was sorry he wasn't curled up next to Dean right now. So he started typing, fingers moving with the speed and skill of someone who texted way too often, and he ended up saying too much. It was pages and pages of texts, so long that Sam was surprised his fingers weren't too sore to move, and he briefly debated deleting some of it before he hit send.
Dean never sent a reply, and Sam spent a few months wondering if the text had gotten lost or if it had just been too big to send. It was when they were back on the road and Dean had forgotten his cell phone on the bedside table when he went to get take-out that Sam found the text message, all twenty-three pages, saved on Dean's phone.
fin.
Feedback is love. ^_^*
Author:
kowaiyoukaiRating: PG-13
Warning(s): implied incest, the love child of schmoop/fluff/angst, chick-flick moments
Spoilers: Pilot… does that even count?
Word Count: 847
Challenge:
siriuslyyellow, Christmas snowfall, Stanford, novel-length text message, "I always miss you this time of year."Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and the CW. No profit is being made from this fanfiction.
Beta Acknowledgment: None.
Summary: This would be the first Christmas without Dean.
A/N: This challenge was the easiest I've ever written for this comm. And I loved every gooey second of it.
The dormitory was empty. Except for two other students, both of whom Sam only knew about because they saw each other in the cafeteria, everyone had gone home for Christmas break. It was an odd sensation, being alone in the dorms. All of his friends had packed up and left, even his roommate. Sam was unnerved by the hollow feeling in the hallways and the way the shadows seemed to elongate in his room at night. A thick, heavy silence sprawled across everything, making it hard to speak at all. So it ended up being a good thing that he didn't want to speak. After all, he had nothing to say.
And no one to say it to.
Sam was in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He had no books to read, essays to write, or friends to meet up with. There was nothing to distract him from going to sleep. There was no reason why he should be lying awake, at 3:41 in the morning on Christmas Eve, looking out the window and thinking about Dean.
It was snowing—that was why his thoughts lingered on Dean. He always remembered Dean when it snowed. Every memory he had of the snow was intertwined with memories of Dean. Pushing him down in the snow, maybe. Throwing snowballs at him, sure. Wrestling with him until one or both of them got ice down their pants, a few times.
But as they grew up, the memories had changed. Dean would make hot chocolate and they'd sit and watch a movie together as the snow piled up right outside the motel room door. Other times, Sam would draw meaningless shapes on the window and Dean would come up just behind him and turn each one into something lewd until they both cracked up. And what Sam remembered the most, the very last time they had been together and it had snowed, was that the heater hadn't worked. So they had gotten together on one bed, huddled for warmth, all the blankets and pillows they could find surrounding them like a fortress. Dean had wrapped his arms around Sam, holding him closer than he ever had before, and it hadn't felt wrong or weird or disgusting or any of the other things Sam had imagined it would be. It had simply been right.
That had been why he knew he had to leave. If he would have stayed, things would have escalated. So he had left.
This would be the first Christmas without Dean. There had been plenty of Christmases without dad around. Sam would be hard pressed to remember when their father had been present. But Dean had always been there, would always be there as far as Sam had been concerned. Dean would be there now except that Sam had pushed him away.
Sam reached over and grabbed his cell phone. It wasn't that he needed to call Dean right that second. But he wanted to look at Dean's name on the phone, to know that he could call Dean right now if he wanted to. They hadn't talked at all since he had left. Sam didn't think it would matter to Dean how long they didn't have contact for. They still had that connection. They were still brothers, and they might have been more if Sam wasn't afraid.
Sam flipped open his phone and a blinking message came up—one new text. He opened it with the press of a button and saw that Dean had sent him a message.
I always miss you this time of year.
He blinked, read it again, and still didn't believe it. Had Dean actually sent him something serious, something emotional, something out of a chick-flick? A smiled tugged at the corner of his mouth. Sam could easily picture Dean, struggling for an hour to type the message in and trying to re-word it so that it wasn't so girly. He could only imagine what it had said at first. Or maybe Dean just hadn't figured out how to delete letters. Sam grinned and started to reply.
He wanted to write something that would let Dean know what he was thinking. That Sam missed him, that he thought about him way too much, that he was sorry he wasn't curled up next to Dean right now. So he started typing, fingers moving with the speed and skill of someone who texted way too often, and he ended up saying too much. It was pages and pages of texts, so long that Sam was surprised his fingers weren't too sore to move, and he briefly debated deleting some of it before he hit send.
Dean never sent a reply, and Sam spent a few months wondering if the text had gotten lost or if it had just been too big to send. It was when they were back on the road and Dean had forgotten his cell phone on the bedside table when he went to get take-out that Sam found the text message, all twenty-three pages, saved on Dean's phone.
fin.
Feedback is love. ^_^*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-01-08 08:42 pm (UTC)Aaaawwwwww!!♥
Oh, the schmoop. I can't stand it. I may die of fluff and squee. I'm so serious.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-09 09:06 pm (UTC)How the fuck do you do that damn little heart thingy? I can't figure it out!! *is jealous*
no subject
Date: 2009-01-10 01:30 am (UTC)♥♥♥♥♥
Character map! Copy/paste. Or drag, whatever.
Also: ♪♫♣♠♂♀☺
no subject
Date: 2009-01-10 03:38 pm (UTC)♪♫♣♠♂♀☺
I copied and pasted. That's life. *shrugs*
no subject
Date: 2009-01-12 06:54 pm (UTC)The whole writing style is great, as usual, and you used my challenge perfectly. I like it, I love it, I want more of it!!
*GLOMPS* Thanks again!! *runs off to fangirl in a fluffy way* ^/////^**
no subject
Date: 2009-01-12 07:10 pm (UTC)I'm glad you like it! The fluff sort of killed me, but in a good fluffy bunny kind of way. <3