Title: when leaves are moist and small and winds are gentle
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Denise Levertov
Warnings: takes place sometime during season two, I think
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 210
Point of view: third
Dedication: for moodswingers , to the prompt something happy for Sam and Dean
They're driving down a country road out at the ass-end of nowhere. One of the Dakotas, Sam thinks. He'd been asleep when they crossed the state line.
Dean's humming along with Zeppelin, of course, because he's a broken record. Sam blinks the sleep out of his eyes and yawns wide enough it hurts.
The car is stopped and Dean's looking out the window. Sam follows his gaze to a herd of horses cantering around the fenced-in pasture. There's only about five or six-they're all almost the same color, with the same markings, so Sam can't really tell them apart.
But Dean's enthralled with them. Always has been, and Sam's never understood it. Horses are pretty enough, he supposes, but he'd prefer a book to watching them any day. And actually getting on one? Not a chance. Too unpredictable and so frickin' huge. But Dean? He could ride for hours and never get tired of it.
They have nowhere to be; everything can wait for as long as Dean needs. It's been awhile since Sam saw him smile so happily, one that wasn't a con or forced for Sam's benefit.
Dean watches the horses, face wide open and innocent, content in the secondhand freedom to run, and Sam watches Dean.