Fic: Lake Havasu, Arizona (PG)

[unamaga]

• If y'all haven't heard already, hell_quarterly's first edition has been out for a while. I have a story featured, if you're interested, and there are a few other fantastic ones as well. So, yeah...



• There seems to be a kind of backlog of fic on my harddrive, some half-finished, others just (really) needing a beta, and some that I've barely started and I'm not sure I'll ever finish. I hate not giving all my fics the love they need, so would anyone want to adopt a bunny? Complimentary wood shavings?



• When I sent out my Christmas Cards forever ago, I participated in shibbyfangirl's ficlet card challenge. I'm not sure you ever got that, hon, but I'm going to post it anyway, for posterity, and because I can't ever keep track of things for much longer than two months and I fear it will soon slip into the ether. The picture on the front of the card was what inspired this little ditty - two little boys sitting on the edge of a lake, one with his arm around a large dog's neck.

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Lake Havasu, Arizona [PG] ~280
Sam, Dean - Gen

Sam is still too little to really understand what’s going on when they move to Arizona. His hair is soft to the touch, baby-fine and almost as light as Dean’s, and he toddles around unsteadily, following after his big brother with stars in his eyes.

The first Christmas they spend away from Kansas, Dean takes Sammy down to the lake by their house and they sit, side by side, next to the dock. Sam’s little body is restless and twitchy, and he keeps crawling out of his seat to investigate the dirt or splash his tiny fists in the shallow water lapping against the shore.

Dean sits back and watches him, giggling when Sam gets mud on his nose and making sure his little brother never strays far.

They stay there for a few hours, just enjoying the lake and the tiny critters that occasionally come hoping up, and then they hear the distinct sound of a cracking branch. Sammy doesn’t seem that alarmed, sticking a big handful of dirt into his mouth, but Dean’s instantly alert and wary, moving to put himself between the trees and his baby brother.

A tense few moments later, a large dog comes trotting out of the tree-line, smiling a doggy smile and shaking its head like someone’s just hosed it down well and good.

Dean eases back into his seat, relieved, and the dog comes right over to paw at his chair leg and beg for pets. Immediately, Dean names him Sammy, and when John comes home from work a few hours later, just before the sun sets, the three of them are sitting together, picture-perfect.