Oct 17, 2008 14:15
>> My home is not a place, it is people. -- Lois McMaster Bujold
Sam is snoring again. Like a chainsaw. Again.
Dean counters with turning the bow chick bow wow music of the porn he's not watching up to eleven and chucking his shoe at Sam's head.
"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!"
He's pretty sure Sam might have invented a few of the swears he just flung at Dean. He's never been prouder, not ever. Free ride to Stanford, law school aspirations, standing up to Dad... nope, this trumps them all.
So Dean turns the volume higher and grins.
"What? Higher? You kinky slut."
Laughing, he rolls his eyes as he heads for the door, hearing the echoing silence fall around them as Sam vaults across the bed to grab the remote.
"Dean wait!"
He stops at the door but doesn't turn around. "Sam."
The sigh behind him is practically despondent. They're going to have to go back to the basics. One foot out the door, he turns and looks back at Sam. "No chick flick moments, Sammich. Get your pants on. I'm getting' coffee."
entry: prompt