turn that frown upside down

[tiptoe39]

I want to write and be read today. Is there anything I can write for yall? Leave commentfic prompts if you like.

I can't promise anything and whatever I write will be small but....

I'd just like to write something that isn't fivesentencesmut right now.

EDIT thanks guys... i'm mopey and slow so sorry i'm not goin thru these faster.

Comments

[morganoconner.livejournal.com]

I probably won't have a chance to read anything until I get back from my interview late this afternoon, but it would be really lovely to have some Dean/Gabriel schmoop to come home to? Maybe some cuddling and smooches after Dean's been hurt on a hunt?

*huggles* I'm sorry you're depressed bb. If there's anything I can do to help, let me know? Love you!

♥

this came out super angstyyy and not very schmoopy at all.

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

Neither Dean nor Gabriel is the cuddly sort, not by a long shot. They're not holding hands in public, they're not using endearments unless they're facetious (but honey bear, I told you that the ice cream would melt all over the floor, so clean it up, schnookums!), they're just not doing any of that. If they have begrudgingly decided they honestly just like each other enough to live together, and if the sex is good enough (and is it ever!), that's not because of some fairy-pants, Pollyanna, spoon-gaggingly romantic love. It just works. There's no need to shout it from the rooftops.

But sometimes, just once in a while, Dean comes back from a hunt with blood caked in his hair and the dying breath of an innocent lingering on his fingertips. He scuffs his shoes on the mat, looking down, trying to see if the guilt will come off with the grass and mud.

And Gabriel, who's been watching the Three Stooges since 3 p.m., stops mid-laugh and rises, his eyes bright with concern. He doesn't say a word, because any word would be wrong. He just comes over, stands with his toes at the edge of the mat, and raises a palm to Dean's face.

Dean's still looking down. "You're wearing those striped socks," he says. "I hate those damn socks."

A moment of wavering, a slight pressure of Gabriel's hand, and Dean crumples forward.

His head bows into Gabriel's shoulder. There's a comforting smell there, like caramel and coffee, and he holds tight as Gabriel guides him across the floor and down onto the couch. There are grown men poking each other in the eye and getting hit by cream pies on the TV screen, and the manic regularity of their movements is something like comfort too -- a reminder that life still moves on in the background, quick and ridiculous, when the heart comes to a standstill.

Gabriel folds his knees, lets Dean down to lie in his lap. Perhaps he's meant to sleep there, but Dean just stares at the striped socks until he can't stand it anymore. He sits up. "Those are so distracting," he complains.

He gets a tilted head and a quirked brow in response. And for the first time since the hunt went bad, Dean finds the strength to smile.

Re: this came out super angstyyy and not very schmoopy at all.

[morganoconner.livejournal.com]

Oh... *wibbles* This was perfect. Angsty or not, this was beautiful. ♥

Re: this came out super angstyyy and not very schmoopy at all.

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

love you bb, glad you enjoyed it