Into the Night
Genre: Mild angst/family/humor.
Pairing: Gen.
Rating: Pretty PG.
Word Count: Drabble; 500 words.
Warnings: Some depressing doom and gloom, but mostly just happy Disney stuff.
Prompt: For Sam's birthday commentfic. Sam and Dean finally go to Disneyland.
"Sam, Sammy. We need to sneak around The Haunted Mansion; come on, it's practically our home base, isn't it."
"Wow, Dean, original."
"I'm just sayin'..."
Sam drifts among the throngs of women, children, and men (wearing unfortunate family-matching T-shirts) to sit near a shaded tree, long legs tucked up, smile genuine under pale moons beneath his eyes. Dean is smiling a little too and his hands are in his pockets, and Sam knows he won't admit it, but it makes him happy to see so many contented kids out there; sure, there were screamers, and tantrum-throwers, but those were mostly just funny and endearing and so human that it hurt their chests. They wander through the sights: Dean lays in Pluto's bed and Sam regrets not being able to take photos, because they never really ever seem to have had enough photos, and he sort of regrets that now; they also go to Space Mountain and enjoy the stars. Fake or not, those seem to be their thing. The Nemo submarine was kind of claustrophobic, though.
Standing next to a rack full of mickey ears in some overpriced gift shop, Dean says, "We should hitch a ride behind some star-crossed lovers and surprise them in the middle of making out, or something. Come on, Sam, where's your sense of adventure?"
"I believe that would be across the block. California Adventure." He wanders over.
"Ha, ha. You would look completely precious in one of these mouse hats, by the way."
Dean shoplifts a few and plants some on some unsuspecting kids. They love it, though they never see who'd done it.
It's growing late. Thunder Mountain roars around them. Sam is mildly anxious, listening to the tracks rattle, and he wishes he could get over it, but the sounds of metal skimming metal and screaming still sets him on edge, a clear aura around him that isn't exactly brother-proof; Dean drags him off to the Haunted Mansion as planned, and they scare star-crossed lovers. As planned. So Dean says. Sam forgets about the scent of gasoline and the blaze of fire in the back of his mind and laughs like he's 21. Soon the fireworks are on display, and they sneak off as close as possible to the explosion of colors and sit in complete silence together to watch. Sam's not about to say it's kind of emotional. That's just not something you admit about Disney-anything (except maybe Toy Story, Lion King, maybe).
When it's dark outside and the eerie mists roll in beyond them, they wander back toward the scorched Impala materializing in the gloomy, empty parking lot. A guard wandering on his shift gasps, runs from two mouse-eared hats bobbing emptily through the air, and Dean thinks it's the funniest shit ever.
"... Happy birthday, Sammy."
Sam glances at his washed-out brother, undaunted by the burn marks on one side of Dean's face, and smiles a dimpled smile, crooked and pale-lipped.
With a breath of soft, whistling air, the boys disappear, and the totaled car somehow drives off into the night.
Pairing: Gen.
Rating: Pretty PG.
Word Count: Drabble; 500 words.
Warnings: Some depressing doom and gloom, but mostly just happy Disney stuff.
Prompt: For Sam's birthday commentfic. Sam and Dean finally go to Disneyland.
"Sam, Sammy. We need to sneak around The Haunted Mansion; come on, it's practically our home base, isn't it."
"Wow, Dean, original."
"I'm just sayin'..."
Sam drifts among the throngs of women, children, and men (wearing unfortunate family-matching T-shirts) to sit near a shaded tree, long legs tucked up, smile genuine under pale moons beneath his eyes. Dean is smiling a little too and his hands are in his pockets, and Sam knows he won't admit it, but it makes him happy to see so many contented kids out there; sure, there were screamers, and tantrum-throwers, but those were mostly just funny and endearing and so human that it hurt their chests. They wander through the sights: Dean lays in Pluto's bed and Sam regrets not being able to take photos, because they never really ever seem to have had enough photos, and he sort of regrets that now; they also go to Space Mountain and enjoy the stars. Fake or not, those seem to be their thing. The Nemo submarine was kind of claustrophobic, though.
Standing next to a rack full of mickey ears in some overpriced gift shop, Dean says, "We should hitch a ride behind some star-crossed lovers and surprise them in the middle of making out, or something. Come on, Sam, where's your sense of adventure?"
"I believe that would be across the block. California Adventure." He wanders over.
"Ha, ha. You would look completely precious in one of these mouse hats, by the way."
Dean shoplifts a few and plants some on some unsuspecting kids. They love it, though they never see who'd done it.
It's growing late. Thunder Mountain roars around them. Sam is mildly anxious, listening to the tracks rattle, and he wishes he could get over it, but the sounds of metal skimming metal and screaming still sets him on edge, a clear aura around him that isn't exactly brother-proof; Dean drags him off to the Haunted Mansion as planned, and they scare star-crossed lovers. As planned. So Dean says. Sam forgets about the scent of gasoline and the blaze of fire in the back of his mind and laughs like he's 21. Soon the fireworks are on display, and they sneak off as close as possible to the explosion of colors and sit in complete silence together to watch. Sam's not about to say it's kind of emotional. That's just not something you admit about Disney-anything (except maybe Toy Story, Lion King, maybe).
When it's dark outside and the eerie mists roll in beyond them, they wander back toward the scorched Impala materializing in the gloomy, empty parking lot. A guard wandering on his shift gasps, runs from two mouse-eared hats bobbing emptily through the air, and Dean thinks it's the funniest shit ever.
"... Happy birthday, Sammy."
Sam glances at his washed-out brother, undaunted by the burn marks on one side of Dean's face, and smiles a dimpled smile, crooked and pale-lipped.
With a breath of soft, whistling air, the boys disappear, and the totaled car somehow drives off into the night.