Fic: Be A Good Boy [Supernatural]
So, this is a little nerve wrecking. I don't know how many of you watch Supernatural, but I figured I'd give it a go, fic-wise, now that first season is over. (I never write fanfiction for something because the first season is over. Things can change far too quickly and often. I don't know why I included that information, but know you know).
Author: Stephanie (Gildedmuse)
Title: Be A Good Boy
Characters: (Teenaged) Dean and Sam
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: 1,580
Summary: Dean catches Sam after school, and in a rotten mood. Not that Dean is to worried. He can handle his little brother.
Notes: I promised to write Tiff a wee!Winchesters, but it's not going how I want it to. So I figured I'd practice on them a bit by going backwards. So the step before 6 and 10 year old Sam and Dean. would be 16 and 20 year old Sam and Dean. This is my first Supernatural fic, but I think I got the characterization down okay considering that it's seven years before the story starts, and you know how much seven years changes people. Also... I have no idea what groups I can post this in. I'm working on that.
Be A Good Boy
“So,” Dean asks, lips curled around a cigarette as he jumps off the wall and follows after his brother. “What was that about?”
Sam must look truly pathetic, walking away from the school with his head lowered and books clutched tight against his chest. He looked bad enough, at least, that his brother starts to hover over him with this look of almost, but never quite really concern. Normally he would be teasing him by now; poking and ruffling his hair, slapping his shoulder and calling him a geek. Something about Sam seems off, though, so Dean follows after him closely, peaking over his shoulder as if he can easily spot in those books he is carrying or maybe spoiled across his shirt of jeans why his little brother looks so upset.
“Did you get in to some trouble?” Dean asks, and now he does poke Sam in the shoulder hard enough to bruise, looking for some kind of reaction. When Sam turns his head, glaring, Dean just smiles back. “I didn’t know little Sammy could manage that in school. Thought he was supposed to be the good boy.”
Sam huffs and turns back around, shrugging Dean off of him. Or at least trying. He just wants to walk home in peace without his brother bothering him like always.
Dean gets the message, but ignores it. He can’t just leave his brother alone. “So, what you do?” He puts on another grin, that lopsided one of his that makes him look charming and like an idiot at the same time, depending on who you talk to. To Sam, it makes him look like a complete moron, and if he weren’t busy pouting he probably would have told him that. “Caught looking up some girls skirt, ehe,” he says, playfully nudging Sam in the side. “Come on, Sammy, there are better ways to get dates.”
“Leave me alone,” Sam says, trying to shrug him off again and harder now, almost hitting Dean with his shoulder in attempt to get him the hell away.
He’s sixteen, and honestly Dean expects him to be a little broody. Even he got a little down at that age, what with girls and all. It still makes him cringe when Sam knocks him back. There was a time when he was little and just his Sammy and Dean took care of his little brother. He wouldn’t have done that back then, or if he did Dean just had to give it a few hours and Sammy would come back with his tail between his legs, begging for his brother’s attention and approval all over again. Dean was his hero back then.
Now it’s his government teacher, Mr. Potelli. Who the fuck would choose a fat old guy who spent all his time talking about the damn white house and shit over Dean?
“Come on, Sammy…” Dean is just trying to push now, and just like he figured, Sam snaps this time.
“Don’t call me that,” he grumbles, kicking at the sidewalk and sending a rock flying towards some teacher’s car. Dean can’t help but hope that it’s Mr. Potelli’s. “And stop coming to pick me up. I’m sixteen. I can walk home by myself.”
Dean pats the back of his jeans, the handle of his gun sticking up into his shirt, barely showing. “Just here to watch out for you. Dad doesn’t like you walking back alone when he’s off on a hunt. Something dangerous could come around looking for payback.”
It’s a sensible explanation, and Dean really doesn’t expect Sam to get so pissed, but Dean’s hardly finished reminding Sam why he comes to pick him up after school when Sam jerks around so fast that Dean almost draws the gun on him out of pure instinct. Sam’s face is distorted, angrier than Dean had ever seen him because and he’s seen Sam plenty angry. “What are you going to protect me from?” He asks, the books and papers in his arms falling to the ground as he reaches out, shoving Dean back a few steps. Dean lets Sam push him around, holding his hands up in surrender and keeping an eye on Sam, trying to see what the fuck is going on in that head of his. “Some demon jumping out at me from around the corner? Like dad’s always talking about. Well, guess what Dean? In eleven years of walking home from school that’s never happen, and it isn’t going to. Dad’s just paranoid.”
“Hey,” Dean says, pointing at Sam in some idly threatening way, but Sam knows that if he crosses too many lines Dean won’t hesitate to throw a few punches to calm him down. He hasn’t had to do that in years, though, since Sam was just a kid. “Dad has saved your ass from a lot more than you know.” He can’t stand this, Sam acting like he’s just a normal teenager with a normal life who can afford to throw fits like this. He knows better than that. “You know that shit is out there.”
“That shit,” Sam repeats, almost spitting at Dean, building himself up as much as he can. He’s in that awkward teenage phase and they both know he couldn’t take Dean if that is what it came down to, but he’s willing to put up a fight to make his point. “That stuff that dad has been dragging us into-“
“Whoa.” Dean is trying to keep together, he really is. He doesn’t want to beat up Sammy in front of his school. He doesn’t really want to beat his brother up at all, but he’s really pushing it now. “Dad didn’t drag us into this. He’s just doing what he has to.”
“What he has to!” Dean can’t tell if Sam is about to scream or laugh, and either one at this point will get him a punch to the gut at this point. Sam seems to see that look in Dean’s eyes, he had to see it enough with all the bar fights Dean’s been getting him into since he hit eighteen, willing to fight with anything that comes along dad would say. Sam backs down, or at least gives them some time to cool off, bending over to collect his books and assignments that he spilled earlier. While he’s down there and can’t see and get more pissed, Dean rolls his eyes at him. Fuck, he was never this bad as a teenager. “He drags us to a new school each year, and hotel room to hotel room. He’s mess with our whole lives, Dean, and how can you say he had to do that?”
“You know why,” Dean snaps, and he loves his little brother but if this shit keeps up… Sam can’t just say that about their dad. He keeps them alive, keeps this family moving and does more to protect people than any teacher Sam looks up to. “Dad is just trying to do the right thing, Sam, and he’s taught us how to protect ourselves. That’s more than you’re gonna get in some history class.”
“He taught us how to use guns when we were kids, Dean!” Sam is on edge again, but this time he just turns and starts to walk away. Like he can just walk away from this family and this life. Well, he’s a Winchester and sooner or later he’s going to learn that this is a job he can’t get up and run off from.
“Jesus, Sammy,” Dean mutters as he walks after him, hands balled into fists hidden by his jean pockets. “Don’t get your panties in a wad. What is this really about? You afraid to take some girl home or something?”
“You want to know why I was late?” Sam asks, turning around and Dean swears he’s seen that same look of disgust and determination on his dad’s face, when he went out for a hunt. “I was talking with a counselor, and she said that with my tests scores and grades, I could get into any school I wanted. Any school I wanted, do you know how many kids want to hear that?”
“Me? That is just another thing I have to keep from dad,” Sam is almost shouting now, but it’s too quiet to be a shout. It’s dad’s voice and dad’s face but totally different at the same time. Dean recognizes it all, but he has never seen Sam so worked up about something before. “Because heaven forbid one of his sons turned out to be anything but exactly like him!”
“Dad doesn’t want that,” Dean protests, because Sam is just a kid and doesn’t understand like he does what dad is doing. Someone has to stick up for the old man while Sam is having this fit of his.
“You have no idea what I’d give to just… just run away. Go to college, have a girlfriend, live a normal fucking life!” And with that Sam turns and storms off down the street, leaving Dean to roll his eyes and follow after. This is just an angsty teenage stage, like that whole thing when he was nine and becoming a park ranger had just been a stage. He’ll get over, Dean decides, taking a drag of his forgotten cigarette and giving Sam some space as they walk back to the hotel they’re shut up in for the school year. It isn’t like he can just leave them, after all. He’s still a Winchester.
Author: Stephanie (Gildedmuse)
Title: Be A Good Boy
Characters: (Teenaged) Dean and Sam
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: 1,580
Summary: Dean catches Sam after school, and in a rotten mood. Not that Dean is to worried. He can handle his little brother.
Notes: I promised to write Tiff a wee!Winchesters, but it's not going how I want it to. So I figured I'd practice on them a bit by going backwards. So the step before 6 and 10 year old Sam and Dean. would be 16 and 20 year old Sam and Dean. This is my first Supernatural fic, but I think I got the characterization down okay considering that it's seven years before the story starts, and you know how much seven years changes people. Also... I have no idea what groups I can post this in. I'm working on that.
Be A Good Boy
“So,” Dean asks, lips curled around a cigarette as he jumps off the wall and follows after his brother. “What was that about?”
Sam must look truly pathetic, walking away from the school with his head lowered and books clutched tight against his chest. He looked bad enough, at least, that his brother starts to hover over him with this look of almost, but never quite really concern. Normally he would be teasing him by now; poking and ruffling his hair, slapping his shoulder and calling him a geek. Something about Sam seems off, though, so Dean follows after him closely, peaking over his shoulder as if he can easily spot in those books he is carrying or maybe spoiled across his shirt of jeans why his little brother looks so upset.
“Did you get in to some trouble?” Dean asks, and now he does poke Sam in the shoulder hard enough to bruise, looking for some kind of reaction. When Sam turns his head, glaring, Dean just smiles back. “I didn’t know little Sammy could manage that in school. Thought he was supposed to be the good boy.”
Sam huffs and turns back around, shrugging Dean off of him. Or at least trying. He just wants to walk home in peace without his brother bothering him like always.
Dean gets the message, but ignores it. He can’t just leave his brother alone. “So, what you do?” He puts on another grin, that lopsided one of his that makes him look charming and like an idiot at the same time, depending on who you talk to. To Sam, it makes him look like a complete moron, and if he weren’t busy pouting he probably would have told him that. “Caught looking up some girls skirt, ehe,” he says, playfully nudging Sam in the side. “Come on, Sammy, there are better ways to get dates.”
“Leave me alone,” Sam says, trying to shrug him off again and harder now, almost hitting Dean with his shoulder in attempt to get him the hell away.
He’s sixteen, and honestly Dean expects him to be a little broody. Even he got a little down at that age, what with girls and all. It still makes him cringe when Sam knocks him back. There was a time when he was little and just his Sammy and Dean took care of his little brother. He wouldn’t have done that back then, or if he did Dean just had to give it a few hours and Sammy would come back with his tail between his legs, begging for his brother’s attention and approval all over again. Dean was his hero back then.
Now it’s his government teacher, Mr. Potelli. Who the fuck would choose a fat old guy who spent all his time talking about the damn white house and shit over Dean?
“Come on, Sammy…” Dean is just trying to push now, and just like he figured, Sam snaps this time.
“Don’t call me that,” he grumbles, kicking at the sidewalk and sending a rock flying towards some teacher’s car. Dean can’t help but hope that it’s Mr. Potelli’s. “And stop coming to pick me up. I’m sixteen. I can walk home by myself.”
Dean pats the back of his jeans, the handle of his gun sticking up into his shirt, barely showing. “Just here to watch out for you. Dad doesn’t like you walking back alone when he’s off on a hunt. Something dangerous could come around looking for payback.”
It’s a sensible explanation, and Dean really doesn’t expect Sam to get so pissed, but Dean’s hardly finished reminding Sam why he comes to pick him up after school when Sam jerks around so fast that Dean almost draws the gun on him out of pure instinct. Sam’s face is distorted, angrier than Dean had ever seen him because and he’s seen Sam plenty angry. “What are you going to protect me from?” He asks, the books and papers in his arms falling to the ground as he reaches out, shoving Dean back a few steps. Dean lets Sam push him around, holding his hands up in surrender and keeping an eye on Sam, trying to see what the fuck is going on in that head of his. “Some demon jumping out at me from around the corner? Like dad’s always talking about. Well, guess what Dean? In eleven years of walking home from school that’s never happen, and it isn’t going to. Dad’s just paranoid.”
“Hey,” Dean says, pointing at Sam in some idly threatening way, but Sam knows that if he crosses too many lines Dean won’t hesitate to throw a few punches to calm him down. He hasn’t had to do that in years, though, since Sam was just a kid. “Dad has saved your ass from a lot more than you know.” He can’t stand this, Sam acting like he’s just a normal teenager with a normal life who can afford to throw fits like this. He knows better than that. “You know that shit is out there.”
“That shit,” Sam repeats, almost spitting at Dean, building himself up as much as he can. He’s in that awkward teenage phase and they both know he couldn’t take Dean if that is what it came down to, but he’s willing to put up a fight to make his point. “That stuff that dad has been dragging us into-“
“Whoa.” Dean is trying to keep together, he really is. He doesn’t want to beat up Sammy in front of his school. He doesn’t really want to beat his brother up at all, but he’s really pushing it now. “Dad didn’t drag us into this. He’s just doing what he has to.”
“What he has to!” Dean can’t tell if Sam is about to scream or laugh, and either one at this point will get him a punch to the gut at this point. Sam seems to see that look in Dean’s eyes, he had to see it enough with all the bar fights Dean’s been getting him into since he hit eighteen, willing to fight with anything that comes along dad would say. Sam backs down, or at least gives them some time to cool off, bending over to collect his books and assignments that he spilled earlier. While he’s down there and can’t see and get more pissed, Dean rolls his eyes at him. Fuck, he was never this bad as a teenager. “He drags us to a new school each year, and hotel room to hotel room. He’s mess with our whole lives, Dean, and how can you say he had to do that?”
“You know why,” Dean snaps, and he loves his little brother but if this shit keeps up… Sam can’t just say that about their dad. He keeps them alive, keeps this family moving and does more to protect people than any teacher Sam looks up to. “Dad is just trying to do the right thing, Sam, and he’s taught us how to protect ourselves. That’s more than you’re gonna get in some history class.”
“He taught us how to use guns when we were kids, Dean!” Sam is on edge again, but this time he just turns and starts to walk away. Like he can just walk away from this family and this life. Well, he’s a Winchester and sooner or later he’s going to learn that this is a job he can’t get up and run off from.
“Jesus, Sammy,” Dean mutters as he walks after him, hands balled into fists hidden by his jean pockets. “Don’t get your panties in a wad. What is this really about? You afraid to take some girl home or something?”
“You want to know why I was late?” Sam asks, turning around and Dean swears he’s seen that same look of disgust and determination on his dad’s face, when he went out for a hunt. “I was talking with a counselor, and she said that with my tests scores and grades, I could get into any school I wanted. Any school I wanted, do you know how many kids want to hear that?”
“Me? That is just another thing I have to keep from dad,” Sam is almost shouting now, but it’s too quiet to be a shout. It’s dad’s voice and dad’s face but totally different at the same time. Dean recognizes it all, but he has never seen Sam so worked up about something before. “Because heaven forbid one of his sons turned out to be anything but exactly like him!”
“Dad doesn’t want that,” Dean protests, because Sam is just a kid and doesn’t understand like he does what dad is doing. Someone has to stick up for the old man while Sam is having this fit of his.
“You have no idea what I’d give to just… just run away. Go to college, have a girlfriend, live a normal fucking life!” And with that Sam turns and storms off down the street, leaving Dean to roll his eyes and follow after. This is just an angsty teenage stage, like that whole thing when he was nine and becoming a park ranger had just been a stage. He’ll get over, Dean decides, taking a drag of his forgotten cigarette and giving Sam some space as they walk back to the hotel they’re shut up in for the school year. It isn’t like he can just leave them, after all. He’s still a Winchester.