#the beanbags are jensens floor sitting dream

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

so obsessed w jensen and bryce having very few "normal" pieces of furniture. they have a bunch of weird vintage shit and huge beanbags bc god forbid the gays be restricted by regular seating options

[writingthingsisdifficult]

Not an April Fool’s Joke

Written for @mrswhozeewhatsis April fool’s challenge. I wasn’t originally going to write anything – I just couldn’t come up with an idea, but then I had this dream last night. I blame my medicines for this.

There’s no pairing in this story (other than wishful thinking from me), and I’ve cheated and removed my husband from the equation, because I have a feeling he wouldn’t deal well with a visit from the Winchesters.

As always: let me know what you think. I thrive on comments and feedback.

Word count: 2666

The sky was swirling with dark grey clouds and rain that fell sideways blew hard into the window glass. The drumming made me sleepy, but my empty stomach kept me awake. For two hours I’d been telling myself to go make dinner, but I couldn’t be bothered.

The door rang and I sank deeper into my sofa. Maybe, if I just ignored them, my nosy neighbour would go away. Sure: it was April – and I was well aware that I had a half brown Christmas tree resting by the hedge. But I’d just spent the last two weeks hacking up my lungs and trying to sleep sitting upright. It was just in the past three days I’d started to feel kinda normal again. Hell, my throat was still itchy, and I had the energy of a beanbag. The last thing I wanted – or needed – was for her to start that whole ‘value of the property’ thing again. I shuddered. God forbid she should try to convince me to get rid of the hedge altogether. Again. I liked my privacy.

The door rang again. This time with a little more urgency, and I could hear someone talking outside. What if there was an emergency or something? I gathered my blanket and pulled it tight around me and shuffled to the door. Through the frosted glass I could see two large shadows. That was unusual. Did the salespeople come back? Was it really that time of the year already? I checked my mental calendar. No, they usually came around Midsummer, what with people having extra money and all.

The door creaked slightly when I opened it, threatening to blow wide open unless I gripped it tight. The most effective set of puppy eyes I’d ever seen almost blew me off my feet. “Synnøve, thank God you’re home. We need you.”

He botched my name horribly, but I didn’t care. Jared Padalecki could call me whatever the hell he wanted, and I would answer like a labrador. Right there and then I had no words whatsoever, not even a greeting: I just stared, both amazed that two of my greatest heroes stood on my doorstep, and horrified that I’d opened the door wearing my sweatpants and a fucking blanket.

A thousand theories ran through my brain. Maybe Thina managed to pull an elaborate April Fool’s joke. Not likely, though. Had I won a contest I didn’t remember entering? I could not get the horrible feeling that something was off balance out of my head. They felt so unreal, almost alien.

“Uh…” Jensen hesitated. “You sure this is the right woman, Sam?”

Jared nodded – wait: Sam? …and there it was: that tiny piece that didn’t fit the puzzle. I took a step backwards and stumbled over the pile of shoes on the floor.

Once I let go of the door, it flew open, crashing loudly into the metal base for the rain cover overhead, revealing two very tired, very wet Winchesters on my doorstep. Flustered, I accidentally dropped the blanket, showing the shirt I was wearing underneath. It was black with a white ring of salt, and in the middle it said Don’t believe the demons. The look Dean gave me told me everything.

Grabbing anything to stay on my feet, I tore a couple of jackets off the wall before I managed to stabilise myself. “Fuck me!” Not knowing what else to do, waved them inside. “C-come in. Can’t let the one upstairs get ideas now.”

Following my gestures, they stepped inside, after glancing up into the window across the yard. The curtains rustled, and I caught a glimpse of a foot and a backside scurrying out of sight. They hung their jackets in the hallway, but I stopped them.

“Oh no, no… give me your jackets – we’ll hang them in the bathroom. They’ll dry quicker there. And bring your shoes. They’re sopping wet,” I heard my voice say, but it sounded distant. Inside, I was screaming.

I didn’t have much to offer them other than fresh socks and a towel, but they seemed content with it. Sam hung his flannel shirt next to his jacket, and shook his hair, sending droplets everywhere. Dean sent him a threatening look, but followed suit, and soon, both of them were standing in my bathroom, wearing t-shirts and jeans. They were practically naked, and I almost averted my eyes, before I remembered that t-shirts were clothes too.

When I was satisfied they were dry and comfortable, I showed them to my living room, and placed them on my sofa; maybe a little bit more forcefully than necessary, before I sank down into my comfy chair. “So…” I said, slowly finding my way back. “Sam. And Dean. Winchester?” I couldn’t believe I said it out loud.

“Uh-huh.”

“This is insane! Am I sleeping? That’s it, right? I’m dreaming. But you look so real.”

Jensen, no Dean – this was going to take a while getting used to – winked at me. “Oh, we’re real, sweetheart.”

“No. I’m dreaming. Never had a dream so lucid before. Not that I’m complaining. So. What can I do for you?”

“Well…” Sam began, grinning apologetically when his growling stomach roared over his voice.

I got to my feet. “You’re hungry. Shit, I’m gonna make you dinner. It’s about time anyway.” Looking over my shoulder as I dashed to the kitchen, I was half expecting them to pop out of existence, but I really hoped they wouldn’t.

To my surprise, and joy, they got up and followed me.

“You don’t have to,” they said in unison.

“Yes, I do. You’re practically wasting away. Look at you! I never noticed how thin you were getting. And that greasy diner food isn’t healthy you know. No offence, Dean. I know how much you love your burgers.”

“You sound just like Sam.”

Well, it could be worse, I thought to myself. After all, Sam was one of the smartest characters I knew of. People, I corrected myself silently. “That’s because he’s right,” I replied. “When was te last th-time you had a proper dinner, huh?”

Since I wasn’t mentally prepared to talk English, every word was fumbled out, mixing t and d with th and w with v. I grew redder and redder with every blunder. “Sorry about my English,” I muttered, scratching the back of my neck. “I’m better at writing than speaking.” I busied myself with finding the right recipe.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Dean replied with a grin. “You’re understandable.”

Sam nodded. “I think it’s adorable,” he muttered.

Not quite sure I heard what I heard, I decided to file it away in the back of my brain, and ignore it for now. “Uh… what brings you to my humble home? Please don’t tell me it’s haunted? I’ve got too much shit to move again.” I handed Dean a knife and a bundle of carrots. “Help me dice these?”

They both started laughing loudly. “No, no haunting,” Dean snorted. He was surprisingly good at chopping vegetables. Though, when I thought about it, I already knew he had knife skills.

“Good. Too much paperwork,” I joked, cringing inside, then pointed to a bowl on the top shelf. “Sam?”

“We need, uh, to lay low for a while,” Sam started, reaching over me to get the bowl, “so Cas gave us your name and suddenly we weren’t in the motel anymore.”

“Yeah, you’re so very average that the angels can’t find you,” Dean interrupted, waving he knife around, scattering bits of carrot all over the floor.

I opened my mouth and closed it again. That was not the answer I was expecting, and it hurt. I mean: it was true, but hearing it from him was… excruciating.

Sam rolled his eyes and slapped the back of Dean’s head. “What my idiot brother is trying to say is that you’re normal. There’s no magic in you, no special powers –“

I nodded, swallowing fast so they wouldn’t see it. Way to squash my hopes of an extraordinary life. “Mhm.”

Dean nodded too, regret shining in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Synnøve. I didn’t mean… It’s like Sam said: there’s nothing unusual here; nothing the angels can trace.”

“But…” I said, not knowing how to phrase what was on my mind. Instead I gestured with my head towards them, clumsily and silently asking how come the angels couldn’t track them. “I guess they can’t track you personally because of the…” I gestured over my own chest. “You’re hidden. But… but you were sent here by magic, right? Couldn’t they – “

“Well,” Sam nodded with a satisfied smirk, “we landed quite far from here.”

Dean looked absolutely miserable. “Cas sent us to a, a… museum full of dried fish,” he said with a shudder. “God the smell…”

“HAH! …sorry. Yeah, it can be a bit overpowering. So you got sent to the Hanseatic Museum. How’d you…?”

Sam smiled, and I nearly fell over. Never had I thought he would have that kind of power over me in real life. I mean; I spent evenings upon evenings drooling at the TV screen, but to actually see him smile in the flesh? Amazing to the point of painful. “Took the light rail for ages, then a taxi,” he said. “Got your address off the internet.”

Right. Giggling, I measured them up and down: they really were giants. “Well, hope you got a Mercedes at least.”

“Prius,” Dean replied with a disgusting snarl. “I miss my baby.”

As we chatted and joked while cooking, it became clearer and clearer to me that it wasn’t a dream at all, and when everything was done and the food was in the oven, my brain kinda short circuited. Not knowing what to do, I just stood in the middle of the floor, squinting at Sam and Dean.  Mom had never prepared me for something like this.

“So, will you let us stay?” Dean’s voice shook me out of my trance.

I probably stared harder than I should have, but to be honest, this was sort of a dream come true. “Of course. Of course you’re staying. But…” Suddenly a thought occurred to me: where were they going to sleep?

They looked at me in confusion, like they thought I’d changed my mind.

“Um, yeah… my… uh, my house isn’t that big. I’ve got a small bed in the guestroom, and…” I hesitated. This was turning awkward. They were both way too big to sleep on my sofa. Hell, I was too big to sleep on my sofa, even they could see that. I blushed and held my eyes fixed on the Treebeard painting on the wall. “I’ve only got a queen sized in my bedroom –“

“Awesome!” Dean grinned. “Who’s the lucky fucker who gets to share with you?”

Stuttering and turning beet red, I really had no clue how to answer. During my trips to America, I’d come to expect Americans to be forward and bold, but it still took me by surprise; grabbing me by the ankles and hanging me upside down to make sure every drop of blood relocated to my face.

Luckily, Sam came to my rescue. “Rock, paper, scissors. I mean, if… if you’re okay with sharing.” He pointed to Dean and then himself. “We, we could… but…”

Shaking myself out of the haze, I decided to channel my inner American for the moment. “Oh no, it’s fine. I’m fine,” I squeaked, not quite nailing my faux confidence. “I get you guys don’t want to…” Clearing my throat, I turned to put a spoon we’d forgotten into the dishwasher.

My back was turned maybe four seconds, and when I turned back, Sam was beaming, and Dean looked defeated, pouting and frowning. “Oh man!”

It was hard to hide my excitement, but I did my best to put on a neutral face. “Let’s give you the tour. Prepare to walk at least seven steps!”

Opening the door to the first room, I winced from the sight that met me. The bed was made, but littered with unused clothes, and the floor was almost covered by stacks of books and DVDs. Turning to Dean, I grinned apologetically. “Sorry for the mess, I don’t get guests that often. But the bed is soft enough.

And this is the bathroom,” I said moving on quickly after Dean sat his duffle on it, claiming it for his own. “Oh, of course, you already knew that. Um… Just press this button to turn on the floor heating.” Stopping in front of the last door, I hesitated for a second. “My bedroom. This is where you’ll be sleeping, Sam. We… us… I mean…” A small blush crept up my neck, but I don’t think they noticed. They were too busy staring into the room that mirrored my soul almost perfectly.

Every inch of wall was covered in bookshelves, and every shelf held double rows of books. This was also where I kept my Funko Pop collection, and of course the small Impala replica I was so proud to find on my last vacation. Luckily I’d cleaned up all my dirty clothes off the floor earlier that day.

“Wow, Sammy, look at all those books. You’re in heaven here. At least you won’t be bored.”

He had a point. I looked from Sam to Dean and back again. “You’re both probably going to go mad with boredom. If I know you, you both need something to do. But I’ve got both Netflix and Viasat, and as you saw my bedroom’s filled with books, so hopefully it won’t be too painful being stuck here. Oh, and Sam, there’s a pretty good running trail just a bit further up the mountain – if you don’t have to be inside the house at all times.”

Sam looked thrilled. Dean, on the other hand, frowned. He was never the type to sit around hiding from danger, I knew that much. To cheer him up, I brought out my secret weapon. “You know… there’s a go cart track just a short drive up the road too. And I love to bake. Finally I have someone to try new pie recipes on.”

Slowly, a smile spread on Dean’s face. “Oh,” he nodded happily. “We’ll be okay here.”

“Good. All that’s left now is the wifi password, and then –“ I paused, giggling when I heard my alarm go off: Misha was telling me to make it happen, capt’n. “– dinnertime. Help me set the table?”

Dinner turned out great. They both inhaled the food as if they hadn’t eaten in days – which was probably true – and Dean entertained me with funny stories about Sam, to Sam’s huge embarrassment. But he got in a few shots himself, so I deemed the whole thing even, really.

When the sky outside turned darker, and the rain lightened a little bit, Dean suggested we’d watch a movie.

“I’m in! Popcorn’s in the cupboard – takes just a couple of minutes to pop. And candy too – even liquorice, Dean.” Leaving them to pick the movie, I headed for the kitchen to hunt for snacks.

“Ew,” Sam grimaced.

“Hey, don’t hate just because you’ve got an immature palate, Sammy,” Dean snickered.

Poking my head around the door, I put on my most serious Mom-face. “Behave, you two!” I wasn’t able to keep it straight for long, though, and soon I was giggling like a drunk, along with both Sam and Dean, who continued to bicker and joke around while I got all the good stuff out.

Finally, I emerged from the kitchen, balancing a tray with popcorn and three bottles of beer in one hand and a large bowl of candy in the other.

“Scoot.” Dropping a bag of liquorice on Dean, I wedged myself in between them. Sam lifted his arm and I snuggled into his side, and rested my feet in Dean’s lap. “This is perfect,” I sighed, memorising the feeling. I hoped it would never ever end.

Gotta tag my friends:

@awesomeahwu @brynleewolfe @funwithfanfics @babeinthebowtie @savingapplepie-eatingthings @winchesterprincessbride @savvythedork @littlegreenplasticsoldier @youtubehelpsmesurvive @blackcherrywhiskey @mrswhozeewhatsis @schwarzwaelder-kirschtorte @iamreadinginsecret @aiaranradnay