#somesunnyday

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"Hey, Dean," Tom's recorded voice groans in his ear. "I know I said I'd be back this afternoon, but… I am… uh. So, so hungover. I just woke up, I'm gonna take it easy, then grab late brunch with the guys. Urghh. Really late brunch. I'm really sorry. Hope it's okay if I don't see you until tonight. Love you." The message pauses, there is a sound of shuffling and then Tom again. "Uh. Okay." Then a beep. 

@daenw

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Dean goes inside and makes a sandwich, streams a few episodes of Doctor Sexy on Tom's fancy internet TV while fighting off a nap, and then gets up to pour himself a glass of whiskey. Somewhere before the first sip and the last, it's time. He's not sure why, but doesn't fight the feeling. He goes to his room, retrieves the keys to the Impala, and goes out into the yard. First he walks out to the shed, grabs the keys to the truck, and climbs into the driver's seat. He sticks the key into the ignition and turns it, then reaches for the clutch. His hand moves through empty air and he lets out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan.

"God. It's a fucking automatic," he mutters to himself.

His hands tremble on the transmission as he puts the truck in reverse, moves it carefully out of the garage, and parks it to the left side of the driveway. He walks back down to the Impala slowly, his legs turning to lead with every step and his hands clenching tighter and tighter around the keys in his hand. He stops a couple yards from the driver's side door.

He's shaking in earnest now. He never shook facing demons, or vampires, or zombies, or werewolves or wendigos. But the idea of getting into that car again is making him almost lightheaded with terror.

@daenw

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Chapter 19 of “Some Sunny Day”

Tom's swiping around on one of his recipe apps when hears the door to the guest bedroom open and then close. Dean lurches out, smoothing down his hair as he crosses the living room. He's got deep red pillow lines across his face, and Tom can tell by the way his clothes are wrinkled that he slept in them again, which wouldn't have bothered him, but he's pretty sure Dean slept in those clothes all night too.

"Hey," Dean says quietly, and Tom feels another quick wave of relief. He's talking already. He hadn't been able to say a word all day yesterday, even when he had been awake, and he'd had to work up to it for almost two hours the day before. Tom's surprise must have registered on his face, because Dean looks guilty, then clears his throat. "You hungry?"

"I was thinking about getting something started," Tom replies. He points to the beer on the counter, Dean nods. Tom pops the cap off and slides it to the other side of the kitchen island.

Dean takes a grateful gulp. "I… I was thinking I could do dinner tonight. As a thank-you."

"I wouldn't mind watching you work your way around a kitchen," Tom says. He's forcing his tone too light, and he can hear it, but not stop it.

Dean hesitates. "I'm not really… great in the kitchen." He takes another drink from his beer. "Maybe I could take you out?"

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@amirosebooks

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Bobby regards him for an uncomfortably long moment. But hell, everything about this is uncomfortable. Tom knows that Dean's time, energy and desire to deal with his sexuality have a low ceiling, and he can respect that. What with all the surviving emotional abuse, hunting monsters, and saving the world, Tom understands that Dean hasn't exactly had an opportunity to make it to a pride parade, or even indulge in a little bit of queer cinema binge.

But being okay with those things when he only interacts with Dean one on one, and trying to figure out how to respect Dean's privacy when he's just been abandoned in South Dakota while Dean and his brother go off to hunt a fucking horseman of the apocalypse while their Angel friend tries to hunt down actual, literal death, and is now trapped in a house with an old man who may have no idea how he and Dean know each other is… impossible.

Tom clears his throat, and Bobby sighs.

"Look, kid, how about I make this easy on you? I know.”

Some sunny day dmc/devil may cry edit

New Chapter finally finished!

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He's never voluntarily drunk wine when something else was available, but the smoothness of it is nice, compared to the bite of whiskey. It's even a little bit sweet.

For a while, Dean just sits in the still water, letting the warmth work into his sore muscles. He sinks further down into the warmth and sighs with pleasure.

And then he realizes that he's feeling… pleasure. He looks down between his legs, where he sees that, yes, his cock is starting to plump. He watches it with detachment for a few moments before he realizes that he hasn't even touched himself since before the apocalypse.