NIGHT TERRORS
WOW: Flannel. Sleep doesn't come easy when you're a hunter.
A/N - Spoilers for 1.04, Phantom Traveller. This is a brief tribute to the one scene that I blame utterly and totally for my hopeless obsession with Supernatural.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, probably a good thing!
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Even at rest, he is never 'at rest'.
Sprawled long and lean across the motel bed, the sweeping curve of his spine is taut beneath the black flannel T-shirt that enfolds it.
Sheets kicked aside during a night of restless motion, are knotted around bare legs muscled and tightened by a lifetime of danger.
Beneath his pillow, slender fingers close around the hilt of his knife, secreted there for peace of mind which doesn't come.
He is a coiled spring.
Wary eyes snap open and the last vestiges of tormented sleep recede as Sam arrives bearing caffeine.
As if he needs it.
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end