July 29th, 2018


Fic: But Now I See Face to Face [SPN]

Thanks to wetsammy for the original prompt and zmediaoutlet for general hand-holding
Part 1 | Part 2

It's both easier and harder to deal with once they're back home again--they set themselves up in the library with the usual piles of books, laptops open and a Skype session running in the background: Sam's speakers muted and Dean with headphones on so Sam doesn't have to keep listening to his own voice echoing back at him. It's better than in the car, because Dean can look at the video and see Sam--pixelated, badly lit, but there. But the books still move themselves when Dean blinks, and the closeness to normality makes him bitterly aware of how easily they could adjust to this way of living and how much he doesn't want to. After a while he leaves Sam to it and goes to make dinner in the kitchen, where Sam wouldn't be anyway.

They'd been gone only a couple days so the food in the fridge is still mostly good, which means that he can make chicken-fried steak because he deserves some compensation for being whammied--and Sam's distracted enough at the moment that he'll probably eat it without commenting on the cholesterol count, which is always a plus.

Also a plus is the excuse to just pound on something for a little while, beating the steak to tender smithereens that get dunked and coated and fried to perfection. They have few slightly-shriveled potatoes in a bin on the bottom shelf of one of the racks, so he mashes them up as well, divvies everything up between two plates, and smothers it all in gravy. And he actually managed to distract himself enough with the process that it's a small shock to carry the plates into the library and find it empty.

He actually says, "Sam?" before remembering that it's pointless because the laptop's back in the kitchen, and with a muttered "Never mind," just puts the plate down on the nearest table before retreating back to the refuge of technology.

"We're going to figure this out," Skype-Sam tells him as soon as he's within view of the laptop camera.Collapse )

Ninth Sunday after Trinity

(Prayer requests?)

What am I, and where am I?
Strange myself and paths appear;
Scarce can lift a thought on high,
Or drop one heart feeling tear.
Yet I feel I'm not at home,
But know not which way to move:
Lest I farther yet should roam
from my blessed love.

Some small glimmering light I have,
Yet too dark to see my way;
Jesus' presence still I crave;
When, O when will it be day?
Is the evening time at hand?
Will it then indeed be light?
Will the sun its beams extend,
To chase away the night?

Will the Lord indeed appear,
Give me light and joy and rest,
Drive away my gloomy fear,
Draw me to his lovely breast?

Then his love is rich and free;
Jesus let me feel its power,
And my soul will cling to thee,
Love and praise thee and adore.