Happy Birthday, Josh!
Jul. 18th, 2007 10:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turpsI want to say happy birthday to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ninjetti75. Josh is one of my oldest online friends and over the years he's been at my side through bad times and good. He's a friend of the family now, but sadly one that lives far away. He's made of awesome and is just a special guy.
I used to write him fic for his birthday, last year I didn't, but promised a story. He's still waiting because I suck. However, I do have something for today. It's only a ficlet, it's Supernatural. It's schmoop, because I know he likes that. Thanks tomickeym who read it over for me and reasurred me I wouldn't embarrass myself by posting.
Dean believes in hiding in full sight.
It’s a balmy summer evening; white lights strung against an indigo sky, salt scented air and the sound of the waves brushing against wet dark sand. Dean’s eating cotton candy. A froth of pink wrapped around a striped red cone. He licks at his lips after each bite, sticky sugar wiped away with a swipe of his tongue.
He’s another face in the crowd. Baggy board-shorts and a sunburned nose; except he’s wearing canvas shoes. Dean says it’s because he hates anything between his toes, but Sam knows it’s because you can’t run properly in flip-flops.
It’s another crack in a persona of normality. The way Dean smiles at the children that chatter and cling to their parents hands, while always looking around. Memorising and plotting for the danger that’s always a world and a half step away.
“Sammy.” Dean crams the remaining cotton candy in his mouth and throws the cone into the mouth of a giant frog-shaped trash can. “Want to ride with me?”
He indicates the love boat ride, his mouth quirked into a sticky smile, one eyebrow raised in challenge. Sam thinks all of a second before calling his bluff.
“Sure,” Sam says, and he rests his hand against Dean’s shoulder – against sun warm freckled skin— caressing through the briefest of touch.
“Feeling adventurous?” Dean asks, and he’s smiling up at Sam, amused and surprised and a thousand other emotions Sam’s spent a life time trying to understand.
Sam shrugs and grins. “It’s not every day you volunteer to ride a swan.”
“We can’t all be princesses, Princess,” which makes no real sense, but Dean’s still smiling as he heads into the crowd. He prowls past a group of bikini clad girls, and jumps to grab a toddler’s unicorn shaped balloon that escapes toward the sky. He never looks back for Sam, he doesn’t have to.
Up close the ride is gloss painted over decay. The swans are brilliant white, but their wings are cracked. Proud birds bound to earth and forced to endlessly circle a pre determined track. Sam shivers when he sees them move forward, absorbed into the darkness of the ride, and he’s ready to walk away when Dean digs out the tokens from his pocket.
The attendant doesn’t look up, just holds out his hand and kicks open the gate with his foot.
Immediately Dean walks to one of the swans. He steps in and folds himself down onto the low seat. His knees are chest height and Sam wonders if he’ll even fit inside.
“I’ve saved you a seat.” Dean pats the space next to him, covertly flirtatious and still joking with just that hint of believing this is something normal couples do.
One long stride and Sam’s stepping into the boat. It rocks, making the water ripple and splash, and when he sits the swan is tipped slightly to his side. He shifts, knees to his chin and his thigh pressed hard against Deans, then the swan begins to move.
There’s a grind of gears and they’re pulled toward that pitch darkness. Dean’s eyes are wide in mock fright and Sam’s heart is racing.
Then they’re inside.
Hearts hang from the ceiling, plump cherubs holding bows, swaying in the artificial breeze as Whitney Houston sings I Will Always Love You. It’s tacky and ridiculous and within seconds Sam knows they’re both guilty of seeing something that doesn’t exist.
“I should kill you,” Dean says. He’s looking around, expression disgusted as they inch past more cherubs frolicking on a cloud. “Whitney Houston, Sam. My ears are defiled.”
“Yet you knew who was singing. My brother, the Whitney fan.” Sam grins, his smile widening as Dean glares.
“Motels, Sam. They all played that movie back then, and it’s not like there was much choice at night.”
Sam hangs onto his smile, determined to focus on the now and not then. He wiggles and the swan tilts and sways, but when he’s finished he’s seated to the side, his hand against Dean’s thigh. “We could take advantage of the situation.”
“We’re surrounded by cherubs.” Dean’s mouth is twisted, as if even the words are distasteful, but he’s easing into Sam’s touch. Solid and warm and alive and Sam presses his face against Dean’s neck, so close he can feel each heart beat as he kisses up to Dean’s jaw, his lips brushing against skin that tastes of sugar and salt.
“We’re nearly out.” Dean warns, and Sam signals his reply with one last kiss.
The sun is blinding when they emerge outside. Glossy cracked swans and chattering crowds, and when Sam stands he runs his tongue over his lips, thankful for the one thing in his life that’s real.
Also, happy birthday,dazzlingstar. Hope it's a good one, honey!
ninjetti75. Josh is one of my oldest online friends and over the years he's been at my side through bad times and good. He's a friend of the family now, but sadly one that lives far away. He's made of awesome and is just a special guy. I used to write him fic for his birthday, last year I didn't, but promised a story. He's still waiting because I suck. However, I do have something for today. It's only a ficlet, it's Supernatural. It's schmoop, because I know he likes that. Thanks to
mickeym who read it over for me and reasurred me I wouldn't embarrass myself by posting.Dean believes in hiding in full sight.
It’s a balmy summer evening; white lights strung against an indigo sky, salt scented air and the sound of the waves brushing against wet dark sand. Dean’s eating cotton candy. A froth of pink wrapped around a striped red cone. He licks at his lips after each bite, sticky sugar wiped away with a swipe of his tongue.
He’s another face in the crowd. Baggy board-shorts and a sunburned nose; except he’s wearing canvas shoes. Dean says it’s because he hates anything between his toes, but Sam knows it’s because you can’t run properly in flip-flops.
It’s another crack in a persona of normality. The way Dean smiles at the children that chatter and cling to their parents hands, while always looking around. Memorising and plotting for the danger that’s always a world and a half step away.
“Sammy.” Dean crams the remaining cotton candy in his mouth and throws the cone into the mouth of a giant frog-shaped trash can. “Want to ride with me?”
He indicates the love boat ride, his mouth quirked into a sticky smile, one eyebrow raised in challenge. Sam thinks all of a second before calling his bluff.
“Sure,” Sam says, and he rests his hand against Dean’s shoulder – against sun warm freckled skin— caressing through the briefest of touch.
“Feeling adventurous?” Dean asks, and he’s smiling up at Sam, amused and surprised and a thousand other emotions Sam’s spent a life time trying to understand.
Sam shrugs and grins. “It’s not every day you volunteer to ride a swan.”
“We can’t all be princesses, Princess,” which makes no real sense, but Dean’s still smiling as he heads into the crowd. He prowls past a group of bikini clad girls, and jumps to grab a toddler’s unicorn shaped balloon that escapes toward the sky. He never looks back for Sam, he doesn’t have to.
Up close the ride is gloss painted over decay. The swans are brilliant white, but their wings are cracked. Proud birds bound to earth and forced to endlessly circle a pre determined track. Sam shivers when he sees them move forward, absorbed into the darkness of the ride, and he’s ready to walk away when Dean digs out the tokens from his pocket.
The attendant doesn’t look up, just holds out his hand and kicks open the gate with his foot.
Immediately Dean walks to one of the swans. He steps in and folds himself down onto the low seat. His knees are chest height and Sam wonders if he’ll even fit inside.
“I’ve saved you a seat.” Dean pats the space next to him, covertly flirtatious and still joking with just that hint of believing this is something normal couples do.
One long stride and Sam’s stepping into the boat. It rocks, making the water ripple and splash, and when he sits the swan is tipped slightly to his side. He shifts, knees to his chin and his thigh pressed hard against Deans, then the swan begins to move.
There’s a grind of gears and they’re pulled toward that pitch darkness. Dean’s eyes are wide in mock fright and Sam’s heart is racing.
Then they’re inside.
Hearts hang from the ceiling, plump cherubs holding bows, swaying in the artificial breeze as Whitney Houston sings I Will Always Love You. It’s tacky and ridiculous and within seconds Sam knows they’re both guilty of seeing something that doesn’t exist.
“I should kill you,” Dean says. He’s looking around, expression disgusted as they inch past more cherubs frolicking on a cloud. “Whitney Houston, Sam. My ears are defiled.”
“Yet you knew who was singing. My brother, the Whitney fan.” Sam grins, his smile widening as Dean glares.
“Motels, Sam. They all played that movie back then, and it’s not like there was much choice at night.”
Sam hangs onto his smile, determined to focus on the now and not then. He wiggles and the swan tilts and sways, but when he’s finished he’s seated to the side, his hand against Dean’s thigh. “We could take advantage of the situation.”
“We’re surrounded by cherubs.” Dean’s mouth is twisted, as if even the words are distasteful, but he’s easing into Sam’s touch. Solid and warm and alive and Sam presses his face against Dean’s neck, so close he can feel each heart beat as he kisses up to Dean’s jaw, his lips brushing against skin that tastes of sugar and salt.
“We’re nearly out.” Dean warns, and Sam signals his reply with one last kiss.
The sun is blinding when they emerge outside. Glossy cracked swans and chattering crowds, and when Sam stands he runs his tongue over his lips, thankful for the one thing in his life that’s real.
Also, happy birthday,
dazzlingstar. Hope it's a good one, honey!
