Fic: Still
Fic: Still
Fandom: Supernatural
Written for the prompt "aphasia" at the ohsam "You Only Hurt the One You Love" fic meme.
He’d been an early talker, pointing at the landscape outside the car windows and naming everything they passed on countless cross-country trips, nestled comfortably in his car seat beside Dean.
Trees!
Cow!
Sky!
Dean, airplane! Look! Airplane!
As he’d grown up, the words changed but the habit didn’t. Even at the height of his surly teenage years, they’d always talked in the car. Just him and Dean and Dad, together.
Now, the conversation has been replaced by silence. At first, Dean had tried to fill the void with music, jokes, endless chatter about nothing in particular. But eventually they got used to it, and the silence became comfortable, too.
He gazes over at Dean in the driver’s seat, then past him to where the sun is low in the western sky, saturating the clouds in deep shades of pink and orange.
“D-de--…” he stammers, voice catching at the end. There are some sounds he still can’t quite manage.
Dean glances over, waiting patiently.
They’ve been driving all day, and Sam is tired, has a headache that is slowly sapping his remaining energy.
He opens his mouth, takes a breath, pauses. Endless cycle of speak, falter, repeat, one frustrating word at a time.
“…Bed,” he finally manages, the single syllable escaping his lips with a breathless sigh that’s part relief, part triumph.
Dean needs no further explanation. He just nods and answers, “Yeah, it’s been a long day. I’ll keep an eye out for motel signs.”
Sam’s not so good with reading these days, either.
He nods in appreciation as Dean navigates the two-lane blacktop and settles back against the passenger seat, watching as the first stars blink into view over the darkening horizon.
Fandom: Supernatural
Written for the prompt "aphasia" at the ohsam "You Only Hurt the One You Love" fic meme.
He’d been an early talker, pointing at the landscape outside the car windows and naming everything they passed on countless cross-country trips, nestled comfortably in his car seat beside Dean.
Trees!
Cow!
Sky!
Dean, airplane! Look! Airplane!
As he’d grown up, the words changed but the habit didn’t. Even at the height of his surly teenage years, they’d always talked in the car. Just him and Dean and Dad, together.
Now, the conversation has been replaced by silence. At first, Dean had tried to fill the void with music, jokes, endless chatter about nothing in particular. But eventually they got used to it, and the silence became comfortable, too.
He gazes over at Dean in the driver’s seat, then past him to where the sun is low in the western sky, saturating the clouds in deep shades of pink and orange.
“D-de--…” he stammers, voice catching at the end. There are some sounds he still can’t quite manage.
Dean glances over, waiting patiently.
They’ve been driving all day, and Sam is tired, has a headache that is slowly sapping his remaining energy.
He opens his mouth, takes a breath, pauses. Endless cycle of speak, falter, repeat, one frustrating word at a time.
“…Bed,” he finally manages, the single syllable escaping his lips with a breathless sigh that’s part relief, part triumph.
Dean needs no further explanation. He just nods and answers, “Yeah, it’s been a long day. I’ll keep an eye out for motel signs.”
Sam’s not so good with reading these days, either.
He nods in appreciation as Dean navigates the two-lane blacktop and settles back against the passenger seat, watching as the first stars blink into view over the darkening horizon.