You Know what they say about Elephants!
This is also cross posted at spn_gen.
Title - You know what they say about Elephants!
Fandom - Supernatural
Characters - Sam and Dean Winchester
Rating - PG
Disclaimer - I do not own or make any money off this fiction.
Warnings - Brotherly affection of the none slashy sort.
Summary - The aftermath of something…..
The smell of coffee and the door closing woke Dean. His hand was all ready curled around the handle of his revolver. He didn’t hide the fact that he would have shot anyone else if it hadn’t been Sam who’d brought him the coffee.
“My, you’re up early,” Dean muttered as he sat up in bed. The motel was normal for them. Bright wild patterns of starfish yellow and deep sea green were splashed across the wall in the guise of Albert Einstein. The furniture was bland compare to that.
Sam sat down on his bed, furthest from the door, “Yeah,”
He looked tired and Dean wasn’t entirely sure why. They both suffered from nightmares and insomnia. It wasn’t odd for one of them to be tossing and turning all night long. Though, he had a rather nice sleep and…
“Did you drug me!?” Dean asked as he threw the blankets away from him. He didn’t remember undressing either.
“No, why?” Sam replied. Dean’s nostrils flared and he could tell his younger brother was lying. The older sibling always knew when the younger of the troop was up to something not very nice.
“Sammy…” Dean stressed the pet-name and Sam caved.
“Its just that…you were getting bags and I was worried,” Sam tried to stave off his older brother, “I only wanted you to be all right,” he trailed off and looked away, almost ashamed fro what he’d done. Not entirely, though.
“Sam, I’m fine. You needn’t drug me,” Dean took the lid off his coffee cup and smelt it for anything remotely strange. It was black, no sugar or cream to disguise anything. He stated it and deemed it worthy of consumption.
“So what, you’ve done it to me,” Sam replied hotly.
“Sam, you were hurt and saying really odd stuff, I thought it better for you to be asleep than suffer through memories of shit we never talk about,” Dean rolled his eyes. Sam never understood the plight of the eldest child. It really did suck sometimes.
“But…”
“Sam, no more buts!” Dean all but yelled. He was standing now. Yet, he refused to be embarrassed because of his hole-ridden boxers.
“Don’t ever drug me again!” and with that he grabbed his clothes - with dignity - and stomped off to the bathroom.
That left Sam sighing in the bedroom; “Well,” he mused to himself, “he never remembers being sick,” and he drank his coffee in peace.
Title - You know what they say about Elephants!
Fandom - Supernatural
Characters - Sam and Dean Winchester
Rating - PG
Disclaimer - I do not own or make any money off this fiction.
Warnings - Brotherly affection of the none slashy sort.
Summary - The aftermath of something…..
The smell of coffee and the door closing woke Dean. His hand was all ready curled around the handle of his revolver. He didn’t hide the fact that he would have shot anyone else if it hadn’t been Sam who’d brought him the coffee.
“My, you’re up early,” Dean muttered as he sat up in bed. The motel was normal for them. Bright wild patterns of starfish yellow and deep sea green were splashed across the wall in the guise of Albert Einstein. The furniture was bland compare to that.
Sam sat down on his bed, furthest from the door, “Yeah,”
He looked tired and Dean wasn’t entirely sure why. They both suffered from nightmares and insomnia. It wasn’t odd for one of them to be tossing and turning all night long. Though, he had a rather nice sleep and…
“Did you drug me!?” Dean asked as he threw the blankets away from him. He didn’t remember undressing either.
“No, why?” Sam replied. Dean’s nostrils flared and he could tell his younger brother was lying. The older sibling always knew when the younger of the troop was up to something not very nice.
“Sammy…” Dean stressed the pet-name and Sam caved.
“Its just that…you were getting bags and I was worried,” Sam tried to stave off his older brother, “I only wanted you to be all right,” he trailed off and looked away, almost ashamed fro what he’d done. Not entirely, though.
“Sam, I’m fine. You needn’t drug me,” Dean took the lid off his coffee cup and smelt it for anything remotely strange. It was black, no sugar or cream to disguise anything. He stated it and deemed it worthy of consumption.
“So what, you’ve done it to me,” Sam replied hotly.
“Sam, you were hurt and saying really odd stuff, I thought it better for you to be asleep than suffer through memories of shit we never talk about,” Dean rolled his eyes. Sam never understood the plight of the eldest child. It really did suck sometimes.
“But…”
“Sam, no more buts!” Dean all but yelled. He was standing now. Yet, he refused to be embarrassed because of his hole-ridden boxers.
“Don’t ever drug me again!” and with that he grabbed his clothes - with dignity - and stomped off to the bathroom.
That left Sam sighing in the bedroom; “Well,” he mused to himself, “he never remembers being sick,” and he drank his coffee in peace.