SPN gen ficlet - Territorial Dispute - Wee Winchesters and John
I spent this evening tagging about 60 of my SPN fics; now I've about 40 left to do. *feels virtuous, then realises it should have been done ages ago, and slinks away*
I also did the 15minuteficlets challenge #183. After watching Tall Tales, I wanted to write some back of the car brotherly bashing.
TITLE: Territorial Dispute
RATING: PG (gen)
CHARACTERS: Young Sam, Dean and John
DISCLAIMER: This is my childhood. I just insert the boys into it.
NOTES: 620 words. John POV. Backseat battles.
It’s too quiet.
He steps into the motel room, warmth from the duffle of freshly-tumbled clothes seeping into his shoulder, soothing the ache that’s built up from five hours of driving.
The boys hadn’t helped. He thinks it was Dean who started it. Territorial wars. An invisible line drawn down the middle of the back seat, and both of them finding ways to drive the other nuts.
“Your leg’s on my side.”
“Your hand’s on my side.”
“Your ass is on my side.”
“Dad, Dean said ass.”
“Daaad, Dean thaid asth.”
“Stop copying me.”
“Sthtop copying me.”
“I don’t sound like that!”
“I don’t thound like that.”
“Dad!”
He’d gripped the steering wheel so hard he felt each of his knuckle bones crack individually, then gritted out "Boys.”
That had worked for, oh, about ten miles. Then:
“Your fat ass is still on my side.”
He’d pulled over, carefully, exaggerating the maneuver, and got out of the car. Put the duffle of dirty laundry between his brats and explained to them in detail exactly what would happen to their asses if they dared move them from their current position.
That had worked for, oh, maybe forty miles. Then the poking started. Which quickly deteriorated into smacking, punching and inevitably, in Sammy’s case, hair pulling. John had finally broken it up when he saw the clump of hair in Sam’s fist, Dean’s scalp still attached.
He’d have to remember to even out Dean’s hair later with the clippers.
He’d made good on his previous threat, because the boys need to understand that he’s a man of his word, then put Dean in the front seat, and told them both that the next one to speak would be riding all the way to Duluth in the trunk.
That had worked. Mostly.
There’d been hand gestures, and some real sly dirty looks, but they’d kept their mouths shut.
They got to the motel early evening, and John had dumped them in the room with burgers, fries, and strict instructions to stay inside, keep the doors and windows locked till he got back from the laundry room.
Now he’s back and it’s too quiet.
Dean’s sitting at the rickety table, reading a book. It’s pretty convincing, except that he’s reading it upside down.
“Where’s your brother?” John drops the duffle by the door, scans the room for signs of a hyperactive six year old.
Dean shrugs, works on making it casual. He almost succeeds. “Around.”
“Dean.” John runs his hand over his face, thinks he feels new lines there. “Around where?”
“Somewhere.” Dean waves his hand airily. “He maybe went to the bathroom.”
Right. John straightens to his full height, fixes Dean with his sternest glare. “Dean Winchester. Front and centre.”
To Dean’s credit, he snaps to attention pretty damn quick. John folds his arms over his chest. “What did you do with him?”
“Why do you think I did something - maybe he’s just hiding or playing or - ” Dean’s voice dwindles as he realizes the futility of his protests.
“Dean.” This time John only has to raise an eyebrow.
“Oh, f - fine!” Dean strides over to the cupboard, opens the doors, and lowers the hide-a-bed down carefully.
Sam is bound to the mattress, his arms and legs held tight with firm elastic straps. He’s a little flushed, probably from being upside down for however the hell long he’s been in there, but he doesn’t look particularly annoyed.
“Daddy!” Sam grins brightly. “I’m back from the moon! Is it Dean’s turn for the space shuttle now?”
John nods and unhooks the straps, then lifts Sammy free. He looks over at Dean, who’s suddenly as red-faced as his brother.
“Yeah, Sammy. It’s Dean’s turn now."
Challenge #183 - moon.
AN2 - I really had to resist the urge to title this "brother in a hotel bed"
I also did the 15minuteficlets challenge #183. After watching Tall Tales, I wanted to write some back of the car brotherly bashing.
TITLE: Territorial Dispute
RATING: PG (gen)
CHARACTERS: Young Sam, Dean and John
DISCLAIMER: This is my childhood. I just insert the boys into it.
NOTES: 620 words. John POV. Backseat battles.
It’s too quiet.
He steps into the motel room, warmth from the duffle of freshly-tumbled clothes seeping into his shoulder, soothing the ache that’s built up from five hours of driving.
The boys hadn’t helped. He thinks it was Dean who started it. Territorial wars. An invisible line drawn down the middle of the back seat, and both of them finding ways to drive the other nuts.
“Your leg’s on my side.”
“Your hand’s on my side.”
“Your ass is on my side.”
“Dad, Dean said ass.”
“Daaad, Dean thaid asth.”
“Stop copying me.”
“Sthtop copying me.”
“I don’t sound like that!”
“I don’t thound like that.”
“Dad!”
He’d gripped the steering wheel so hard he felt each of his knuckle bones crack individually, then gritted out "Boys.”
That had worked for, oh, about ten miles. Then:
“Your fat ass is still on my side.”
He’d pulled over, carefully, exaggerating the maneuver, and got out of the car. Put the duffle of dirty laundry between his brats and explained to them in detail exactly what would happen to their asses if they dared move them from their current position.
That had worked for, oh, maybe forty miles. Then the poking started. Which quickly deteriorated into smacking, punching and inevitably, in Sammy’s case, hair pulling. John had finally broken it up when he saw the clump of hair in Sam’s fist, Dean’s scalp still attached.
He’d have to remember to even out Dean’s hair later with the clippers.
He’d made good on his previous threat, because the boys need to understand that he’s a man of his word, then put Dean in the front seat, and told them both that the next one to speak would be riding all the way to Duluth in the trunk.
That had worked. Mostly.
There’d been hand gestures, and some real sly dirty looks, but they’d kept their mouths shut.
They got to the motel early evening, and John had dumped them in the room with burgers, fries, and strict instructions to stay inside, keep the doors and windows locked till he got back from the laundry room.
Now he’s back and it’s too quiet.
Dean’s sitting at the rickety table, reading a book. It’s pretty convincing, except that he’s reading it upside down.
“Where’s your brother?” John drops the duffle by the door, scans the room for signs of a hyperactive six year old.
Dean shrugs, works on making it casual. He almost succeeds. “Around.”
“Dean.” John runs his hand over his face, thinks he feels new lines there. “Around where?”
“Somewhere.” Dean waves his hand airily. “He maybe went to the bathroom.”
Right. John straightens to his full height, fixes Dean with his sternest glare. “Dean Winchester. Front and centre.”
To Dean’s credit, he snaps to attention pretty damn quick. John folds his arms over his chest. “What did you do with him?”
“Why do you think I did something - maybe he’s just hiding or playing or - ” Dean’s voice dwindles as he realizes the futility of his protests.
“Dean.” This time John only has to raise an eyebrow.
“Oh, f - fine!” Dean strides over to the cupboard, opens the doors, and lowers the hide-a-bed down carefully.
Sam is bound to the mattress, his arms and legs held tight with firm elastic straps. He’s a little flushed, probably from being upside down for however the hell long he’s been in there, but he doesn’t look particularly annoyed.
“Daddy!” Sam grins brightly. “I’m back from the moon! Is it Dean’s turn for the space shuttle now?”
John nods and unhooks the straps, then lifts Sammy free. He looks over at Dean, who’s suddenly as red-faced as his brother.
“Yeah, Sammy. It’s Dean’s turn now."
Challenge #183 - moon.
AN2 - I really had to resist the urge to title this "brother in a hotel bed"