sorry it took me so long, the week was a bit hectic!
"Focus" Sam, Dean, 319 words
Sam wakes up from his nap disoriented and his sense of dread recedes when he sees Dean's stuff thrown all over the other bed. He takes deep steadying breaths and relaxes back into his lumpy pillow. Everything is calm, and he watches for a moment the dust hanging in the rays of light slicing through the room. Sam stretches and gets up, pushing aside the ugly paisley curtains to look into the parking lot.
He's not surprised to see that Dean is polishing the Impala, rubbing in slow circles until the hood shines so much it could be used as a mirror. There is a method to this ritual that Dean insists on doing himself. He gets so focused, Sam is pretty sure it acts as a meditation exercise. He watches his bother smile and even sometime talk to the car and he feels a small twinge of jealousy. He's the center of Dean's universe, he knows that, but that car deflects some of that attention and sometimes Sam resents it. It's childish, but he can't help it.
Dean is examining his handy work now, finally done, hand on his hips and with a proud smile. He throws the Armor All, the car wax and the rags in the trunk and Sam petulantly put the lock on the door as he goes to booth his laptop. He hears Dean try the door, mutter and try to unlock before he pounds.
"Hey, Sam, open up."
Sighing, Sam gets up and when he opens Dean grins up at him.
"Afraid I'd walk in on some quality alone time?"
Sam grunts and rolls his eyes as Dean pushes him aside, laughing.
"Ahh, Sammy Sammy Sammy."
There is so much affection in his eyes that Sam can only smile back and shake his head.
"Shut up."
Of course he won't, though. And if he's honest, Sam would not have it any other way.
"Focus" Sam, Dean, 319 words
Sam wakes up from his nap disoriented and his sense of dread recedes when he sees Dean's stuff thrown all over the other bed. He takes deep steadying breaths and relaxes back into his lumpy pillow. Everything is calm, and he watches for a moment the dust hanging in the rays of light slicing through the room. Sam stretches and gets up, pushing aside the ugly paisley curtains to look into the parking lot.
He's not surprised to see that Dean is polishing the Impala, rubbing in slow circles until the hood shines so much it could be used as a mirror. There is a method to this ritual that Dean insists on doing himself. He gets so focused, Sam is pretty sure it acts as a meditation exercise. He watches his bother smile and even sometime talk to the car and he feels a small twinge of jealousy. He's the center of Dean's universe, he knows that, but that car deflects some of that attention and sometimes Sam resents it. It's childish, but he can't help it.
Dean is examining his handy work now, finally done, hand on his hips and with a proud smile. He throws the Armor All, the car wax and the rags in the trunk and Sam petulantly put the lock on the door as he goes to booth his laptop. He hears Dean try the door, mutter and try to unlock before he pounds.
"Hey, Sam, open up."
Sighing, Sam gets up and when he opens Dean grins up at him.
"Afraid I'd walk in on some quality alone time?"
Sam grunts and rolls his eyes as Dean pushes him aside, laughing.
"Ahh, Sammy Sammy Sammy."
There is so much affection in his eyes that Sam can only smile back and shake his head.
"Shut up."
Of course he won't, though. And if he's honest, Sam would not have it any other way.
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