Come Spring

tumblr_l9k4raCh1J1qclbsno1_500My parents live about 4 hours away from me, and to get to them, to the town I grew up in, I tend to take the backroads, that kind wind through a handful of counties that are littered with little towns, places with not much more than a stoplight. Driving back to my house last Thanksgiving, key pieces of what would become this story came to me in chunks: the opening lines, for instance; then passing by a tractor dealership strung up in Christmas lights; then seeing a little cafe tucked in at a railroad crossing.

A long way of saying: sometimes, stories sneak up on you. And then take months and months to make any damn sense.

Objectively, he can see that his brother isn’t beautiful. Not like this, stretched out like some humanoid starfish, his hair in his eyes and his mouth a drawbridge open to sleep. No, Sam looks like a naked frat boy who passed out in his little brother’s bed, legs knotted in Spiderman sheets and feet almost touching the floor. He looks oversized, too big for the everyday world they’ve wound up in; but then, he’s always been too much for Dean.

Continue reading “Come Spring”

Before We Can Speak

Part V [jesus] in the Stray No More series. Standard warnings for RPF, knotting, and the possibility of mpreg.

In this story, Jared accidentally tells the truth and ends up in Jen’s arms.

Before We Can Speak

You lean on the freaking doorbell as hard as you can. Inside, you can hear the chime sound again and again, this tinny awful sound that hits your nerves just wrong, ratchets up your teeth that much higher.

He’s here. He’s gotta be.

His car’s in the driveway, for Christ’s sake.

But more that that, deeper, you know he’s here. You can feel it. Your body can.

So you lean and you wince and you pound on the door, now, one fist heavy against the wood and steady: pound. pound. pound. Continue reading “Before We Can Speak”

The Storybook Comes to a Close


Pre-series. Pre-slash. Dean’s always taken care of Sam. Or is it the other way around?  
Inspired in part by the awesome askbabynatural’s tumblr. Go check it out.

The Storybook Comes to a Close

When Sam was four, he got lost in a used bookstore in Maine.

It was one of those places that was more barn than store, an old warehouse with row after row of tumbled-down shelves with books piled on them three deep. There were stacks of magazines and paperbacks and postcards and it was exactly the kind of place that their dad liked to hide in when his flask got a little too familiar. When he’d spent too many nights in a row on the couch, a blanket over his hips and a bottle curled in his hand. With Dean perched in the doorway, one eye on his father and the other on Sammy.

So it was good for him to be up and around and bullshitting with the owner, chatting up the locals who wandered through. Digging through the knowledge there in more ways than one. It was good. Dean knew that.

But it didn’t stop him from being bored of his mind.

He sat on the floor under the counter while Sammy leaned into Dad’s hip, his fingers dug into Dad’s knee. Every now and then, Dad would reach down and rustle Sam’s hair or squeeze his shoulder, Sam grinning like the happiest of clams.

Dean couldn’t follow what his dad was saying, couldn’t understand why anyone would want to talk to the old guy behind the counter about fishing or tackle or the nearest lake or whatever. And he couldn’t even play with Sam, or at least annoy him, because Sam was staring up at Dad like he was the greatest thing in the world and Dean wasn’t a big fan of that.

That was his look, Sammy’s eyes wide and happy like that. Those were his. Dad hadn’t done a damn thing to earn it and Dean didn’t know how Sam couldn’t see that. How he couldn’t know who it was who loved him. Took care of him.

It sure as hell wasn’t Dad.

So he pulled into himself, shoved his head into his knees and bit his lip, hard. So that if he did cry, if Dad saw his tears, he’d have an excuse.

Continue reading “The Storybook Comes to a Close”