A walk in the park
Title: A walk in the park
Characters: Sam, Dean
Rating: PG-13
Genre: crack-fic
Word Count: ~1,000
Summary: Sam, Dean, a park. Crazyness ensues. Enjoy!
A/N: Okay, this really happened. Kind of. Uhm, well… You'll know what I mean after reading it, promise!
Anyway, before you read this do the following: Close your eyes, picture Sam and Dean, go back a few seasons (right back to season 1), think shaggy!Sam (like, really shaggy Sam!) and awesome-big-brother!Dean, otherwise this won't work. And then have fun! :P
Awesome quick-beta once again by ghostfour , thanks a lot! And thanks even more for letting me steal the lines! :)
Disclaimer: Don't own them, don't want them, just goofing around.
A walk in the park
"So not funny…"
A snort.
"Dean, stop it."
A barely suppressed chuckle.
"Dean."
Another chuckle. Actually more like a giggle.
A giggle!
Silence.
Snort.
"Oh, for god's sake…"
"Hehehe…"
"Dammit, Dean, just stop it, okay?"
"Should have seen your face, Sam."
"Bite me…"
A pause.
He blinks. And blinks again.
Dammit.
He quickens his pace but the damage is done.
"Sam, sit!"
Just ignore him, keep walking…
"Heel, boy!"
Keep walking, Sam.
"Hey, Sam, look at that - wanna join the puppies over there?"
I hate him.
Damn reflexes.
"You'd fit right in there, you know?"
So not funny…
"All fluffy and cute and puppy-dog-eyes…"
Okay, so yeah, the reaction had been a little weird.
"Aww, come on, Sammy, don't be mad."
But it wasn't really his fault. Right?
"Dude, quit pouting!"
Right.
Not his fault.
It's not like he'd had any control over it.
And it sooo isn't his fault that (literally!) everybody and their dog seems to think there's no better name for a flea bag than Sam. Or, even worse, Sammy.
Never been a problem, at least not until today.
"Sam."
Damn reflexes.
"Hey, Sam!"
They're in a park. The weather is great, the sun is shining, people all around them, hundreds of kids. And dogs. Everywhere you look there's dogs, all breeds, shapes and sizes. Like there's a nest of them somewhere or something.
Whatever.
"Dude!"
So they were in that friggin' park, walking down one of the many paths. And he had been feeling fine, he'd been actually enjoying himself. He liked sun, he liked dogs, so, yeah, a good day. Dean had been chatting in the background, waxing philosophical on the joys of the blond-brunette? he had been with the night before. Or maybe he had been talking about the car, Sam still isn't sure, he hadn't exactly been listening to him and sometimes it's really hard to tell with his brother.
"Hey, dog-boy!"
Anyway, he had been feeling fine.
Relaxed, at ease. Nowhere to go, nothing to do.
And suddenly there had been this shout. Right next to him - some guy yelling at the top of his lungs.
"SAM, DOWN!"
And he'd just reacted, okay? He is a hunter after all. Dropping on that cue had been second nature for a long time.
And he hadn't felt stupid.
For a moment.
The one second where even Dean had tensed beside him, one hand going for his gun. And Sam had not felt stupid.
Until he had found himself looking up (up!) at his brother from where he had dropped to a crouch, gun drawn, pointed at the oblivious man who had started running toward some stupid golden retriever who was humping some other dog at the other end of the park. There had been this moment, just a second where Dean had looked half-way concerned and then…
Then they had both realized what had just happened. Sam had felt the blood heating his cheeks as Dean's eyes had started to sparkle.
"Who says you don't follow commands, Sammy-boy!"
And Dean just wouldn't stop.
Because Dean never stopped.
Even when Sam snapped at him that horny dogs should be named 'Dean' his brother had simply shrugged it off.
"Well, at least I'm not neutered…"
And god, how much he wants to be anywhere else but here right now…
"Sammy, if you don't stop I'm gonna put a leash on you."
"Like hell you will."
Stupid jackass.
Never knows when to quit. Like a dog with a bone. And, damn, now he's doing it too.
"Okay, okay, I'm done, okay? No more dog-analogies."
Yeah, right.
"Really, Sam, I'll shut up, I promise."
Never trust him when he uses that tone, not ever, you know that.
"Besides, I'm glad those rusty reflexes of yours still work."
Come on, you're not dumb enough to fall for that. No way.
"Seriously, Sam, it was good, you were on guard, that's what counts."
Suddenly there's an arm around his shoulder and Dean pats him slightly. "Your reaction was good."
A moment of silence, then he feels his shoulders relax a little.
"Come on, let's go to a bar, I'll buy you a drink."
Well, maybe his brother isn't such a dickhead-
"You know, hair of the dog that bit you…"
Jerk.
Fin.
A/N 2: Seriously, where I live there are at least three dogs named Sam/Sammy in my neighborhood and I get "Sam, down", "Sammy, heel" or "Sam, roll over" all the time. ;)
Characters: Sam, Dean
Rating: PG-13
Genre: crack-fic
Word Count: ~1,000
Summary: Sam, Dean, a park. Crazyness ensues. Enjoy!
A/N: Okay, this really happened. Kind of. Uhm, well… You'll know what I mean after reading it, promise!
Anyway, before you read this do the following: Close your eyes, picture Sam and Dean, go back a few seasons (right back to season 1), think shaggy!Sam (like, really shaggy Sam!) and awesome-big-brother!Dean, otherwise this won't work. And then have fun! :P
Awesome quick-beta once again by ghostfour , thanks a lot! And thanks even more for letting me steal the lines! :)
Disclaimer: Don't own them, don't want them, just goofing around.
A walk in the park
"So not funny…"
A snort.
"Dean, stop it."
A barely suppressed chuckle.
"Dean."
Another chuckle. Actually more like a giggle.
A giggle!
Silence.
Snort.
"Oh, for god's sake…"
"Hehehe…"
"Dammit, Dean, just stop it, okay?"
"Should have seen your face, Sam."
"Bite me…"
A pause.
He blinks. And blinks again.
Dammit.
He quickens his pace but the damage is done.
"Sam, sit!"
Just ignore him, keep walking…
"Heel, boy!"
Keep walking, Sam.
"Hey, Sam, look at that - wanna join the puppies over there?"
I hate him.
Damn reflexes.
"You'd fit right in there, you know?"
So not funny…
"All fluffy and cute and puppy-dog-eyes…"
Okay, so yeah, the reaction had been a little weird.
"Aww, come on, Sammy, don't be mad."
But it wasn't really his fault. Right?
"Dude, quit pouting!"
Right.
Not his fault.
It's not like he'd had any control over it.
And it sooo isn't his fault that (literally!) everybody and their dog seems to think there's no better name for a flea bag than Sam. Or, even worse, Sammy.
Never been a problem, at least not until today.
"Sam."
Damn reflexes.
"Hey, Sam!"
They're in a park. The weather is great, the sun is shining, people all around them, hundreds of kids. And dogs. Everywhere you look there's dogs, all breeds, shapes and sizes. Like there's a nest of them somewhere or something.
Whatever.
"Dude!"
So they were in that friggin' park, walking down one of the many paths. And he had been feeling fine, he'd been actually enjoying himself. He liked sun, he liked dogs, so, yeah, a good day. Dean had been chatting in the background, waxing philosophical on the joys of the blond-brunette? he had been with the night before. Or maybe he had been talking about the car, Sam still isn't sure, he hadn't exactly been listening to him and sometimes it's really hard to tell with his brother.
"Hey, dog-boy!"
Anyway, he had been feeling fine.
Relaxed, at ease. Nowhere to go, nothing to do.
And suddenly there had been this shout. Right next to him - some guy yelling at the top of his lungs.
"SAM, DOWN!"
And he'd just reacted, okay? He is a hunter after all. Dropping on that cue had been second nature for a long time.
And he hadn't felt stupid.
For a moment.
The one second where even Dean had tensed beside him, one hand going for his gun. And Sam had not felt stupid.
Until he had found himself looking up (up!) at his brother from where he had dropped to a crouch, gun drawn, pointed at the oblivious man who had started running toward some stupid golden retriever who was humping some other dog at the other end of the park. There had been this moment, just a second where Dean had looked half-way concerned and then…
Then they had both realized what had just happened. Sam had felt the blood heating his cheeks as Dean's eyes had started to sparkle.
"Who says you don't follow commands, Sammy-boy!"
And Dean just wouldn't stop.
Because Dean never stopped.
Even when Sam snapped at him that horny dogs should be named 'Dean' his brother had simply shrugged it off.
"Well, at least I'm not neutered…"
And god, how much he wants to be anywhere else but here right now…
"Sammy, if you don't stop I'm gonna put a leash on you."
"Like hell you will."
Stupid jackass.
Never knows when to quit. Like a dog with a bone. And, damn, now he's doing it too.
"Okay, okay, I'm done, okay? No more dog-analogies."
Yeah, right.
"Really, Sam, I'll shut up, I promise."
Never trust him when he uses that tone, not ever, you know that.
"Besides, I'm glad those rusty reflexes of yours still work."
Come on, you're not dumb enough to fall for that. No way.
"Seriously, Sam, it was good, you were on guard, that's what counts."
Suddenly there's an arm around his shoulder and Dean pats him slightly. "Your reaction was good."
A moment of silence, then he feels his shoulders relax a little.
"Come on, let's go to a bar, I'll buy you a drink."
Well, maybe his brother isn't such a dickhead-
"You know, hair of the dog that bit you…"
Jerk.
Fin.
A/N 2: Seriously, where I live there are at least three dogs named Sam/Sammy in my neighborhood and I get "Sam, down", "Sammy, heel" or "Sam, roll over" all the time. ;)