comment fic meme!
Following the results of the poll we took last month (don't make it easy on us or anything, guys, haha!), we've decided to hold a comment fic meme once every three months. This gives everyone time to write and prompt to their heart's content, and allows us mods to keep up with y'all. And we're starting right now!
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“I don’t sleep walk,” Sam bit out as snow crunched under his feet on the way to the Impala. The story Dean told about him out in the snow, in the middle of the night was ridiculous. He might have woken up feeling under the weather but Sam Winchester did not sleep-walk. He had enough problems and sleep-walking would just prove his mind couldn’t shut the hell up long enough to rest or he had some serious problems.
“You do,” Dean slammed the trunk closed. “And you’re lucky I woke up because your stupid sleepy ass couldn’t close a door. You could have gotten frostbite or some shit!”
“Whatever Dean, can we just get out of here?” Sam slumped into the passenger seat and wrapped his arms a little tighter around his chest. He let out a sneeze and grimaced at the pressure in his chest.
“What ever you say princess,” Dean flipped on the heater, “But next motel, I’m rigging the door so I know if you escape cause that shit ain’t safe.”
The next motel Dean did rig up a system to wake him up if Sam woke up and decided to go for a stroll in the middle of the night. It wasn’t that great of a system but a butt load of empty beer bottles and a chair by the door was bound to make some noise.
The sound of beer bottles toppling over against linoleum and the forceful scrap of a chair had Dean bolting out of his bed and flipping a light on. Sam was lying on the floor, cut up and still asleep. It took Dean maneuvering Sam up off the floor to wake him.
“What are you doing?” Sam muttered out before he registered blood on his arm and the pain. “What happened?”
“Well you see,” Dean guided Sam towards the foot of a bed and waited for Sam to sit before darting to his bag for the first aide kit, “My plan to wake myself up if you decided the room wasn’t to you liking worked awesome for me. Not so good for you.”
Sam looked at his arms and brushed his fingers along the side of his face before he looked over towards the door. He let out a heavy sigh, “Beer bottles. Beer bottles that could cut me? That was your plan?”
“I didn’t have much time,” Dean explained as he dabbed an alcohol swab over the cuts and bandaging Sam up. “Had to think on the fly. I promise tomorrow I’ll figure out something better.”
Sam watched Dean’s face scrunch up in a grimace, “What is it?”
“I think you hit the chair on the way down.”
“Wouldn’t doubt it,” Sam slapped his hands down on his thighs.
“I mean to say,” Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably, “You hit your head on the chair and I need to stitch you up.”
“Oh come on!” Sam flopped back on the bed with a groan. He didn’t complain as Dean worked though. He closed his eyes and took even, steady breaths. “Why’s it always me?”
“Because someone’s got to be the freak,” Dean answered as he threw away the mess he made. He smacked Sam on the thigh, “Move over.”
“Your bed is over there,” Sam pointed to the opposite bed.
“You want the beer bottles back by the door?” Dean asked as he tugged on the covers Sam was holding on to.
“Fuck,” Sam rolled on to his stomach. “Maybe I’ll punch you in my sleep.”
“Sleepy Sam is way nicer than awake Sam.” Dean mumbled.
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