Putting the slash fiction back in Slash Fiction
So! lazy_daze said she wished it could be hiatus, so we could all write lots of schmoopy making up fic, and I of course wish that too.
Sadly, the universe is still strangely resistant to bending to my will, but here is the next best thing. The 706 Reunionating Comment-Fic Meme!
A place full of post-706 reunionation and schmoop (gen or wincest, as you ( Read more... )
Sadly, the universe is still strangely resistant to bending to my will, but here is the next best thing. The 706 Reunionating Comment-Fic Meme!
A place full of post-706 reunionation and schmoop (gen or wincest, as you ( Read more... )
By the time he gets out of the car and looks back at the edge of the dock, there's already a hand sadly rising up from the water and grabbing at the planking.
Dean blinks, and walks the path Sam just took to the edge of the dock. He peers over, and sees Sam glaring up at him, his lower body submerged, his upper body drenched, one hand clinging to the dock, the other wrapped tight around his backpack strap.
"Don't," says Sam, hair plastered damply over his face.
Strangly enough, Dean doesn't feel the urge to laugh. He was in the midst of a self loathing tirade against himself about how much he deserved Sam walking out on him, so he figures the extremes of emotions - his brother just walked off a pier, there's pretty much nothing funnier in the known universe - have cancelled each other out and left him blank and mostly just bemused.
He kneels down on the dock, the dampness bleeding through the knees of his jeans, and silently hauls the soggy mess of Sam back up onto the planking.
"How--?" he says.
Sam glares at him. "I wasn't paying attention. I tripped. No thanks to you."
"Okay," says Dean, and helps Sam stand. There's a growing puddle of water around him. His backpack is dripping in steady wet streams that speak to a reservoir lurking inside it.
"Don't--" says Sam again, holding up a hand as if to ward off Dean's ridicule, but Dean just spreads his hands calmly.
"You okay?" says Dean instead of anything Sam is probably expecting.
Sam shifts awkwardly. "Yeah." He glares at Dean again. "I'm still mad."
"I know."
"If I weren't all wet I'd still leave. But I can't hitchhike like this. So."
"I know."
Sam shoots him another look this time, more woebegone. "My laptop."
"We'll get you a new one."
They shuffle down the dock, Sam leaving a trail like a slug, Dean leaving more distinct wet footprints after standing around in Sam's puddle.
"Hey, Sam?"
Sam looks at Dean out of the corner of his eye, looking like he's bracing himself. "Yeah?"
"I'm really, really sorry."
Sam doesn't say anything for a moment. "I'm still mad."
"I know. Hey." Dean stops, not above resorting to last-ditch efforts. Sam stops too, looks at him warily. "Hug it out?"
Sam frowns and looks down at himself. "Really? I--"
Dean just nods, and Sam purses his lips like he wants to refuse, then sighs and drops his shoulders and stands there passively as Dean hugs him. Dean doesn't let go, though, cold smelly lake water soaking through his own shirt and the front of his jeans, and eventually Sam slowly hugs him back, tentatively at first, then hard, pressing his face and the wet clinging tendrils of his hair into Dean's neck.
When they pull back, Sam's eyes look wet, or maybe it's the lake water.
"Sorry," says Dean again, and finally Sam nods, sending a rivulet of water down his forehead.
"Okay," he says.
Relief floods through Dean's body, which would be great except that it un-flicks the switch on the whole blank, bemused thing he has going on, and it's like he properly takes note of the way Sam's shoes make a flop-squelch-flop noise with each step and the way his eyelashes are starfished out and his backpack is still sadly leaking, and his mouth twitches hard. He turns his head away, but Sam notices and punches Dean in the arm. "Dean! he complains.
Dean hurries to the car and opens the door; it's absent a familiar creak and Dean's momentarily thankful he doesn't have to make the decision of whether his desire to have Sammy not run away outstrips his desire not to have wet Sam ruin the Impala's seats. "I didn't say anything!" He can't look at Sam's wet, indignant face, but he can hear him squelching around the car, and a snort escapes him, and by the time Sam opens the passenger side door, Dean's lost it, half slumped in the driver's seat, face buried in his arms on the steering wheel, shaking with silent laughter.
Sam punches him in the arm again and goes red and sulky and fumes silently all the way to the nearest motel, but stays exactly where he is - right next to Dean - and maybe things are going to be alright.
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I love how Sam starting to forgive him is the thing that allows Dean to unfreeze his emotions - very sweet. And also funny :)
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I loved how Dean's self-loathing tirade cancelled out the humor of the whole walking off the pier thing, because it would have taken a boatload of self-loathing to accomplish that. And the hug. And that Dean offered it. And that Sam's still mad, he keeps saying so, so he must be.
Fantastic! I hope this exact scenario is how the show opens next week.
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