Part 3 to a verse!

[foolscapper.livejournal.com]

Title: A Little Extra
Rating: PG
Genre: Domestic Fluff / Angst / Comfort
Warnings: mention of hell trauma, mentally-altered Sam due to said trauma
Notes: This is some juicy comfort fic of sorts to the hurt that was The Long Calendar! It takes place after the second part of the verse, Through the Seasons (where said date is mentioned, but we never get to see him go on it, booo). It features a Sam first-person POV, because I wanted to give it a shot and see if I could. Plus, Dean’s POV would be him in a far cafe booth being unable to hear anything, hahaha. This one’s for you, anon requester!! Cross-posted from tumblr. You'll wanna read The Long Calendar and Through the Seasons first, probably.
Summary: Sam cleans up, determined to keep up normal appearances, and finally goes on that date.

“Sam,” Dean’s voice wriggles, humming like busted eardrums after an explosion, “Stop unbuttoning your shirt, man. I just got you looking like a model. I mean, as long as we cover your face, she’ll totally be sold on your look.”

Dean’s got a point. I rub my beard, and it scratches across my skin. My fingers’re ugly, too, but I can’t cut my fingers off like I can my beard; kinda need those. I do a lot around the house nowadays, and if I don’t have any fingers, I can’t take Bixy for a walk. Still, I’m just saying, a smooth face is probably preferred.

“I should shave,” I say.

READ THE REST HERE.

[Liquor Is One Way Out, and Death's The Other]

[foolscapper.livejournal.com]

AUTHOR'S NOTES: For a prompt requested at tumblr. Sorry if it’s heavier than even the prompt is expecting — this is actually kind of a really personal piece in a lot of ways, as something I’ve had to deal with in the past, so it was a bit emotional to throw this all out there and write it up. It deals with very strong and verbally/physically abusive alcoholism and isn’t a very nice Dean to read about, though I will say it is not evil!Dean, simply my rendering of a severely alcoholic Dean who’s negative character traits are especially vicious. Takes place after the Darkness is handled in later seasons.

WARNINGS FOR ALCHOLISM, ABUSE, DARK!DEAN, AND VIOLENCE.

It’s been five years since the Darkness, since everything was put back together and everything had a system — the Bunker was expanded on, hunters brought in, taught, trained. There were hours of operation, meetings, new recruits who demanded revenge (though Sam had always tried to drive home that revenge would kill you faster than any vamp ever did, in the ways that mattered; he would always make that note, and Dean would nod and agree, a knowingness in his eyes).

But still, when it came to living there, it was the same as it ever was: a guest room for Cas, and then their rooms. Home. As close as it’ll ever get to one, though Sam has never let his guard down there. The walls of his living quarters is still brick and bare, his shelves lined with mostly lore books, desk neat and clothes still carefully in his duffel when they’re not lazily left on the floor from the day before. Sam hasn’t moved in. Sam simply knows better. His brother, however — his room is expanded and personal, and Sam would never want to change that; his room has his scent of leather and gasoline and gun grease, of trash that seriously needed to be emptied out, of liquor. More bottles than Sam would ever like.

… The liquor smell, he’d like to change. Just the liquor smell.

READ THE REST HERE.