Fic: Hopes and Dreams of a Normal Morning
Title: Hopes and Dreams of a Normal Morning
Author: [info]leighleighla
Genre: Gen
Disclaimer: Sadly, they’re not mine. If they were, they would be my squishies.
Rating: PG-13 for possible language. And random donkey show talk.
Spoilers: Takes place post 4.14, so beware of spoiler-y things.
Summary: Sam and Dean clear the air after “Sex and Violence.” At least they try to.
Written for the SPNflashfic "a little more conversations" challenge.
Under the cut!
“What are you waiting for, Sam?”
“Yeah, Sam,” Dean said, his voice thick and gravely.
Sam looked from Ruby to Dean, who was beneath him; face bloody and eyes glazed over. His nose is broken and he’s got a chipped tooth. Sam glimpsed his bloodied fist, and swallowed.
“Kill him,” Ruby said.
“Yeah, go on, kill me,” Dean said. “You been waitin’ to do this for years.”
Which was when Sam promptly woke up.
It was still dark outside their Colorado motel room, and the only thing Sam could really make out was the digital red numbers of the clock on the bedside table, which read three-oh-five in the morning. He sighed and closed his eyes, before opening them again and getting to his feet.
He then proceeded to do something he hadn’t done since he was nine(eleven).
He got into Dean’s bed and lay on his back, looking at the ceiling. Which, bizarrely enough, had a mirror on it. Well, not so bizarre. It wasn’t the first motel they’d slept in with a mirrored ceiling. Still. Very Vegas.
Dean said the words he always used to say when Sam did this. “Don’t you have your own bed?”
“I had a weird dream,” Sam confessed.
“Yeah?” Dean asked, cracking an eye open. “Clowns, midgets or groundhog day?”
Sam let his lips twist into a slight smirk, but he stayed silent for a long moment.
“Do you want to die?”
Dean took a long moment of his own to answer, opening his eyes. “Not anymore.”
“But…you did.”
The older Winchester nodded. “I used to. Before hell; even before the deal.”
“But not anymore.”
Dean shook his head. “I just want all this to be over.”
Sam nodded. “Me, too.” He glanced at Dean. “Still want to be a fireman?”
Dean chuckled. “Nah. Seen enough fire for one lifetime.”
“So, what would you do?” Sam asked hesitantly. “If we didn’t have to hunt anymore, if this was all over?”
Dean shrugged and gazed up at the mirror. “I could fix cars. I’d be happy doin’ that the rest of my life.”
Sam ginned just a little.
“I could be a food critic,” Dean chuckled roughly. “That’d be awesome.”
“Except that you think all food is awesome,” Sam pointed out. “Not much of a critic.”
“All food is awesome. Except for Brussels sprouts. And broccoli.” Dean looked from the mirror to Sam. “What about you? Still wanna be a lawyer?”
Sam shook his head. “No.”
“So? You keep waffling back and forth,” Dean pointed out. “One second you say hunting is your life now and the next you want it all to be over, so make up your mind.”
Sam sighed and rubbed his eye. “I think I could be happy teaching.”
“Ugh,” Dean shuddered. “Glorified babysitting. No thanks.”
“Shut up, you like kids,” Sam laughed.
“Yeah, but stuck in a room with fifteen of ‘em for a whole day?”
Sam grinned. “I was thinking more on a college level.”
Dean nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. “You’d be good at that. You’re all smart.”
“Gee, thanks,” Sam drawled out.
They laid there in silence for a long moment before Dean finally spoke up again.
“I really hold you back?”
Sam couldn’t answer.
Dean stared up at himself in the mirror, keeping his eyes from straying to his younger brother.
“I used to think that of dad,” Sam said slowly. “That’s why we never got along. I thought he was holding me back from doing what I wanted to do. And I always thought you and I were in the same boat; he was doing the same thing to you.”
Dean nodded.
“Except he wasn’t. You wanted to hunt.”
When Sam got no reply to that, he turned to Dean again. “Did you want a normal life when we were growing up?”
“Sometimes,” Dean said.
Sam waited.
“I had this weird fantasy of normal mornings.”
“Huh?” Sam asked, looking at him through the mirror again.
“You know, wakin’ up in the same house every morning,” Dean explained. “I’d go downstairs, and you and Dad would already be up and we’d share the newspaper. We’d drink coffee and eat cereal before going to school.”
Sam scoffed with a laugh. “Seriously?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Never mind. Bitch.”
After a few moments, Sam spoke up again. “What sections would we read?”
“You’d read national news and the front page,” Dean replied. “I’d read the funnies, and Dad would read the local section.”
Sam had to grin a little, before swallowing and plucking up a bit of courage. “What would mom read?”
Dean replied instantly. “She’d swipe the local section before Dad could get it and he’d be stuck reading the style section.”
Sam snorted, and did his best impression of their father’s voice. “You boys know that Manolo has a new fall line?”
They both dissolved into laughter, rolling a little on the bed, trying not to fall off of it.
“Mary, look,” Dean said with a gasp of breath, doing his own imitation of John Winchester. “Pink is the new black!”
They laughed harder, Dean holding his tummy and Sam covering his face with a pillow.
When they started to come down, Dean took a deep breath and shook his head.
“Oh, what’re we gonna do, Sammy?”
Sam sighed and let the pillow drop to the floor, his head hitting the mattress with a soft thud. “I don’t know, Dean. I really don’t.”
“Well, we never did get to take in that donkey show…”
“Shut up.”
Dean gave a short chuckle and they lapsed into silence, both of them looking at the ceiling again.
“You know,” Dean said finally, slowly. “If I’m holding you back, then maybe…” he paused for a long time. “Maybe you should just…go.”
“Go.”
Dean nodded. In the dark, Sam almost thought he looked nervous. “Yeah. You could…call Ruby and she could come get you and you could just…” He stopped for a moment. "Nobody's stopping you."
“Do you want me to do that?” Sam asked.
He didn’t get an answer. Not that he needed one. The answer would always be no, and he knew it.
Sam glanced from the ceiling to Dean, gazing steadily. He hated to admit that he’d learned from their encounter with the siren, but he’d be lying if he claimed he hadn’t. The biggest lesson (and possibly surprise), was that Dean was more worried about him than anything else.
Or maybe it was that Dean could still pound him into the ground.
That axe had looked awful sharp.
Sam sighed heavily and rolled out of Dean’s bed, crawling back into his own. “Let’s get pancakes for breakfast.”
Dean watched him, and then turned over. “Bacon, too?”
Sam closed his eyes. “Bacon, too.”
I can haz feedbacks? *looks cute*
Author: [info]leighleighla
Genre: Gen
Disclaimer: Sadly, they’re not mine. If they were, they would be my squishies.
Rating: PG-13 for possible language. And random donkey show talk.
Spoilers: Takes place post 4.14, so beware of spoiler-y things.
Summary: Sam and Dean clear the air after “Sex and Violence.” At least they try to.
Written for the SPNflashfic "a little more conversations" challenge.
Under the cut!
“What are you waiting for, Sam?”
“Yeah, Sam,” Dean said, his voice thick and gravely.
Sam looked from Ruby to Dean, who was beneath him; face bloody and eyes glazed over. His nose is broken and he’s got a chipped tooth. Sam glimpsed his bloodied fist, and swallowed.
“Kill him,” Ruby said.
“Yeah, go on, kill me,” Dean said. “You been waitin’ to do this for years.”
Which was when Sam promptly woke up.
It was still dark outside their Colorado motel room, and the only thing Sam could really make out was the digital red numbers of the clock on the bedside table, which read three-oh-five in the morning. He sighed and closed his eyes, before opening them again and getting to his feet.
He then proceeded to do something he hadn’t done since he was nine(eleven).
He got into Dean’s bed and lay on his back, looking at the ceiling. Which, bizarrely enough, had a mirror on it. Well, not so bizarre. It wasn’t the first motel they’d slept in with a mirrored ceiling. Still. Very Vegas.
Dean said the words he always used to say when Sam did this. “Don’t you have your own bed?”
“I had a weird dream,” Sam confessed.
“Yeah?” Dean asked, cracking an eye open. “Clowns, midgets or groundhog day?”
Sam let his lips twist into a slight smirk, but he stayed silent for a long moment.
“Do you want to die?”
Dean took a long moment of his own to answer, opening his eyes. “Not anymore.”
“But…you did.”
The older Winchester nodded. “I used to. Before hell; even before the deal.”
“But not anymore.”
Dean shook his head. “I just want all this to be over.”
Sam nodded. “Me, too.” He glanced at Dean. “Still want to be a fireman?”
Dean chuckled. “Nah. Seen enough fire for one lifetime.”
“So, what would you do?” Sam asked hesitantly. “If we didn’t have to hunt anymore, if this was all over?”
Dean shrugged and gazed up at the mirror. “I could fix cars. I’d be happy doin’ that the rest of my life.”
Sam ginned just a little.
“I could be a food critic,” Dean chuckled roughly. “That’d be awesome.”
“Except that you think all food is awesome,” Sam pointed out. “Not much of a critic.”
“All food is awesome. Except for Brussels sprouts. And broccoli.” Dean looked from the mirror to Sam. “What about you? Still wanna be a lawyer?”
Sam shook his head. “No.”
“So? You keep waffling back and forth,” Dean pointed out. “One second you say hunting is your life now and the next you want it all to be over, so make up your mind.”
Sam sighed and rubbed his eye. “I think I could be happy teaching.”
“Ugh,” Dean shuddered. “Glorified babysitting. No thanks.”
“Shut up, you like kids,” Sam laughed.
“Yeah, but stuck in a room with fifteen of ‘em for a whole day?”
Sam grinned. “I was thinking more on a college level.”
Dean nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. “You’d be good at that. You’re all smart.”
“Gee, thanks,” Sam drawled out.
They laid there in silence for a long moment before Dean finally spoke up again.
“I really hold you back?”
Sam couldn’t answer.
Dean stared up at himself in the mirror, keeping his eyes from straying to his younger brother.
“I used to think that of dad,” Sam said slowly. “That’s why we never got along. I thought he was holding me back from doing what I wanted to do. And I always thought you and I were in the same boat; he was doing the same thing to you.”
Dean nodded.
“Except he wasn’t. You wanted to hunt.”
When Sam got no reply to that, he turned to Dean again. “Did you want a normal life when we were growing up?”
“Sometimes,” Dean said.
Sam waited.
“I had this weird fantasy of normal mornings.”
“Huh?” Sam asked, looking at him through the mirror again.
“You know, wakin’ up in the same house every morning,” Dean explained. “I’d go downstairs, and you and Dad would already be up and we’d share the newspaper. We’d drink coffee and eat cereal before going to school.”
Sam scoffed with a laugh. “Seriously?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Never mind. Bitch.”
After a few moments, Sam spoke up again. “What sections would we read?”
“You’d read national news and the front page,” Dean replied. “I’d read the funnies, and Dad would read the local section.”
Sam had to grin a little, before swallowing and plucking up a bit of courage. “What would mom read?”
Dean replied instantly. “She’d swipe the local section before Dad could get it and he’d be stuck reading the style section.”
Sam snorted, and did his best impression of their father’s voice. “You boys know that Manolo has a new fall line?”
They both dissolved into laughter, rolling a little on the bed, trying not to fall off of it.
“Mary, look,” Dean said with a gasp of breath, doing his own imitation of John Winchester. “Pink is the new black!”
They laughed harder, Dean holding his tummy and Sam covering his face with a pillow.
When they started to come down, Dean took a deep breath and shook his head.
“Oh, what’re we gonna do, Sammy?”
Sam sighed and let the pillow drop to the floor, his head hitting the mattress with a soft thud. “I don’t know, Dean. I really don’t.”
“Well, we never did get to take in that donkey show…”
“Shut up.”
Dean gave a short chuckle and they lapsed into silence, both of them looking at the ceiling again.
“You know,” Dean said finally, slowly. “If I’m holding you back, then maybe…” he paused for a long time. “Maybe you should just…go.”
“Go.”
Dean nodded. In the dark, Sam almost thought he looked nervous. “Yeah. You could…call Ruby and she could come get you and you could just…” He stopped for a moment. "Nobody's stopping you."
“Do you want me to do that?” Sam asked.
He didn’t get an answer. Not that he needed one. The answer would always be no, and he knew it.
Sam glanced from the ceiling to Dean, gazing steadily. He hated to admit that he’d learned from their encounter with the siren, but he’d be lying if he claimed he hadn’t. The biggest lesson (and possibly surprise), was that Dean was more worried about him than anything else.
Or maybe it was that Dean could still pound him into the ground.
That axe had looked awful sharp.
Sam sighed heavily and rolled out of Dean’s bed, crawling back into his own. “Let’s get pancakes for breakfast.”
Dean watched him, and then turned over. “Bacon, too?”
Sam closed his eyes. “Bacon, too.”
I can haz feedbacks? *looks cute*