& again
title: Concession
author: acidquill
disclaimer: don’t own em
rating: g
character(s): Dean
warnings: none
word count: 322
notes: & finally back to my original woobie roots (Deano, u so easy.) a resurrected mini nano '11 project. late pre-series.
The year Dean turns twenty four, he spends his birthday in the dark. His seat’s squeaky but comfortable, four rows from the front, on the aisle end so he’s as close to the middle of the screen as he can get. He’s got a coke the size of his head. Slick-buttered popcorn and two boxes of Sno-Caps.
They were his mom’s favorite.
He remembers the special days when it was him and mom, Sammy just a bump under her shirt. The two (three) of them watched Saturday matinees with cartoons Dean laughed at, no matter how many times he saw the same ones. They shared popcorn out of a big bag and Dean usually ate his m&ms before the house lights went down.
He was never afraid of the dark because his mom was right there. Sometimes he’d sneak his hand over hers in the dark. Hold on with his fingers that were never quite big enough to close all the way around and hold on tight. His mom would turn her hand over, let their fingers criss-cross and squeeze, just enough. That was okay too.
He opens the candy during the previews. Ignores some dude hissing behind him about the crinkling plastic and throws back a handful. Dean never crunches them, but lets the chocolate melt on his tongue. Wants to keep the taste, thick and bittersweet, at the back of his mouth.
He watches the movie in silence. When it’s over, he shrugs on his coat and gathers up the trash. Smiles at a cute brunette walking up from the front row. She smiles back; her boyfriend doesn’t.
Dean lets everyone else file out before he steps into the aisle. The light from the screen flickers as the end of the reel clicks through the projector. He shoves his hands in his pockets and heads toward the exit.
Behind him, there’s an unopened box on the seat next to his.
- end
author: acidquill
disclaimer: don’t own em
rating: g
character(s): Dean
warnings: none
word count: 322
notes: & finally back to my original woobie roots (Deano, u so easy.) a resurrected mini nano '11 project. late pre-series.
The year Dean turns twenty four, he spends his birthday in the dark. His seat’s squeaky but comfortable, four rows from the front, on the aisle end so he’s as close to the middle of the screen as he can get. He’s got a coke the size of his head. Slick-buttered popcorn and two boxes of Sno-Caps.
They were his mom’s favorite.
He remembers the special days when it was him and mom, Sammy just a bump under her shirt. The two (three) of them watched Saturday matinees with cartoons Dean laughed at, no matter how many times he saw the same ones. They shared popcorn out of a big bag and Dean usually ate his m&ms before the house lights went down.
He was never afraid of the dark because his mom was right there. Sometimes he’d sneak his hand over hers in the dark. Hold on with his fingers that were never quite big enough to close all the way around and hold on tight. His mom would turn her hand over, let their fingers criss-cross and squeeze, just enough. That was okay too.
He opens the candy during the previews. Ignores some dude hissing behind him about the crinkling plastic and throws back a handful. Dean never crunches them, but lets the chocolate melt on his tongue. Wants to keep the taste, thick and bittersweet, at the back of his mouth.
He watches the movie in silence. When it’s over, he shrugs on his coat and gathers up the trash. Smiles at a cute brunette walking up from the front row. She smiles back; her boyfriend doesn’t.
Dean lets everyone else file out before he steps into the aisle. The light from the screen flickers as the end of the reel clicks through the projector. He shoves his hands in his pockets and heads toward the exit.
Behind him, there’s an unopened box on the seat next to his.
- end