Challenge 4: Writing Between the Lines / PROMPT POST
This is the post where you can submit prompts for Writing Between the Lines: A Dean-focused hurt/comfort fic challenge, which is not a regular fic challenge! You can find out more about it HERE.
( Rules for prompting can be found beneath the cut. )
( Rules for prompting can be found beneath the cut. )
Sam was still sleeping deep, so Dean went and had his morning beer out on the front porch.
Bobby found him sometime after the sun came the rest of the way up. “You look like refried shit, kid,” he said, moving to stand next to him.
“Thanks,” Dean rasped, skimming a sleeve under a pink nose. “That’s very descriptive.”
“You sure you oughta be drinking that? Bad for the immune system.”
“Who are you now, Sam?” Dean said.
“Just been noticing, you’re drinkin’ an awful lot. And if I think so, that’s saying something.”
“Oh, you think so, do you?” Dean said, but he didn’t have the fight left in him to take it any further. He shrugged. “We all drink a lot, Bobby. It’s a way of life.”
Dean probably would have won this round without even trying, because there wasn’t much Bobby could say to that, but Bobby wasn’t Sam and Dean didn’t feel the same abject need to pull a grin up from nowhere for him, so he found himself saying, “I can’t sleep, Bobby. Not on my own, not for a long time now. Just trying to get by, okay?” The beer was gone without him having tasted it. Dean put it down, started playing with the peeling paint on the railing with a thumbnail, couldn’t stop even though he wanted to, bad, his visibly shaking fingers making him feel small and warm with embarrassment. “Man’s gotta sleep, right?”
“Yeah, Dean,” Bobby said gently. “Man’s gotta sleep.”
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