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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Dean's face gets all tight and twisted, and Sam shifts uncomfortably on the chair. He's bigger than Sam, wears a cool leather jacket even though it's warm, and he's stuck dragging Sam around while Uncle John's off somewhere. Sam's been told the boy is his cousin, but it doesn't seem right. He's Uncle John's son, though. Uncle John's a pretty cool guy. Sam doesn't have a dad like him. He kinda wishes he does.
Dean doesn't get mad. "They're just french fries, Sam," he says patiently. "It's cool with...with everyone if you eat them."
They don't talk about Sam's mom. Sam doesn't know why. Strangely enough, he's not missing her right now. He's ten, sure, and missing people is for babies, but Sam knows he's kind of a baby. He's small, shrimpy, with hair that hangs in his face. He's the definition of the uncool kid. Not old enough to hang with the teens, too old to hang with the babies. Mommy said he'd grow up too fast one day anyway. She'd always get this look in her eyes when she said it, told Sam maybe one day he wouldn't grow up so fast. It was sort of creepy, but parents were always creepy. Even Uncle John is sort of creepy, with all his weapons and talk about monsters and witches.
Dean's not creepy, even though he believes what Uncle John says. And he doesn't know why the teen is hanging out with Sam. Dean's not really a boy. Dean's fourteen and cool and tall and big. He's got muscles and looks like he could start shaving any day. His hair's all slicked up and gelled and short and he's just the epitome of everything Sam wants to be.
"Eat up," Dean tells him, nudges his boot against Sam's midget sneaker. "We gotta meet up with Dad at the motel."
"Can I call my mom?" Sam asks, obediently eating a few fries. They taste okay, really greasy, but he doesn't want to embarrass Dean in front of everyone in the fast food joint. "I should probably check in with her." He doesn't feel like it, though.
And now Dean's got this look on his face like he bit into something sour. Dean doesn't have a mom, Sam knows somehow, and he wishes he'd bitten off his own tongue. He's such a baby; always gotta call his mommy, always needs to be in check with her apron strings. "Never mind, sorry, I know," he mumbles, his cheeks flaming. God he feels stupid, and more than a little sorry for Dean, who's stuck babysitting him.
"Already called her," Dean tells him. "She said to have a good time and stop worrying." He pokes Sam again, frowning a little. "What do you mean, you know?"
That I'm a baby, a wuss, the brat you have to watch, he thinks, but keeps his thoughts to himself. "Nothing," Sam says, giving a small smile. Dean's just so damn cool and a teen and he probably hangs out with all the cool kids at school doing...whatever it is cool kids do. Sam doesn't know. He's the shortest kid in his class. Something that's pounded into him every day of the week. Sometimes literally.
Dean's still frowning at him, though, and Sam's reminded that Dean's one of those eighth graders that would put him in a locker for the afternoon if he had the chance. "I'm ready," Sam tells him, the fries heavy in his stomach now.
Dean snorts incredulously but grabs their trays - even Sam's - and heads to the trash. Sam tries not to follow close behind, to give Dean his space, but Dean's not having any of that. He grabs Sam's hand before leading them both out of the restaurant.
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Yeah, and then braid each other's hair. God he's such a girl. And Dean's still holding his hand across the street, and Sam's ten, which is old enough to cross on his own, but Dean's leading him without tugging, like he's done this before. Maybe Uncle John makes him babysit kids a lot. Sam feels really bad for him now.
"Gotta hold the baby's hand, huh?"
Oh god no. Dean's already whirling around, forcing Sam to do the same. There's Danny Metzer and his two best friends, the three of them the worst eighth graders in the school. Danny likes to see how tiny he can make Sam every day. He's gotten him into one of the half lockers already. That one had hurt, though Sam had done his best not to cry.
"Let the little girl walk herself home, or let us handle the geek," Danny says now, and Sam's trying to pull his hand out of Dean's. Anything to get away from what's about to happen. Because getting beat up by Danny on a Saturday is so not what Sam wants. Or, worse, have Dean help Danny beat him up.
Or worse still, have Dean realize that babysitting Sam's lame and laugh at him, shove him around, do what eighth graders are supposed to do.
One of Danny's friends watches as Sam rapidly tries to get his hand free. "Need a little help, squirt?" he asks, stepping forward and looming over Sam. Sam's about to start whimpering, but Dean won't let go, and he's panicking now, ready to break his wrist if it means getting away.
Except Dean still won't let go. And when Danny's friend takes one more step, Dean reacts.
He throws a punch with his free hand at Danny's friend #1, the closest one, and knocks him out. Friend #2 hurries forward and gets his legs knocked out with a well timed kick. And when Danny rushes forward towards Sam, and Sam barely has time to duck for cover, Dean kicks him straight in the balls.
All without letting go of Sam.
"Let's go," Dean barks, and he tugs at Sam to move. Sam hurries after him, eyes wide and locked on the three moaning eighth graders Dean's left on the sidewalk. His mom doesn't let him swear, but a holy shit is applicable right about now.
A block from the motel, Dean shoves him into an alley. Sam's still so wound up from the fight that he stumbles and hits the ground, automatically trying to get away. Dean grabs him and hauls him behind a dumpster and-
Holds him tight. Pulls him in close so Sam's head is under Dean's chin. Sam doesn't get a chance to ask what's going on when a car passes by, slowly, as if the driver's searching for something. Sam gets a glimpse of a red car, almost like his mom's, before it speeds away. There's nothing but the pounding of Sam's heart against his ribcage as he sits with Dean in the alley.
"You okay?"
The question comes from out of nowhere, and Sam looks up at Dean with wide eyes. Dean's looking down, looking angry and frowning hard like Sam screwed it all up, and Sam's completely and utterly befuddled.
"Those kids, Sammy. They hurt you?"
He's mad at Danny, not Sam. He's mad for Sam. Wow. That's just...wow. "Not just now," Sam says, and he sort of regrets saying it, because Dean's got what looks like thunderclouds in his eyes.
"Not just now?" Dean repeats, and he hauls Sam to his feet. He's gentle about it, and when they go back out, he's still got Sam by the hand. Like he cares. Like he's not forced to babysit Sam, like he wants to watch out for Sam. It's a nice feeling. It's just a hard thing to believe.
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Sam? Sam's the geek who transferred in just this past week and a half on account of his mom getting a new job suddenly. He's short and small and he's got long hair and no friends at all. He's the bottom of the cool factor, the anti-cool. No one likes Sam.
Dean seems to, though. Though Sam thinks that maybe Uncle John paid Dean somehow.
"Sam? They bug you at school?"
They're heading up to the motel now, Dean glancing everywhere around but always seeming to keep his gaze on Sam. "Just little stuff," Sam says with a shrug. The last thing Dean needs to know is just how lame Sam is, how easy it is for kids to shove Sam's head down the toilet or push him into a locker or trip him or spill stuff on him.
From the look on Dean's face, he probably already knows the truth. "It's not that bad," Sam stammers, feeling stupider and lamer by the minute. "J-Just stuff."
"Stuff," Dean repeats in a monotone voice. Paid by Uncle John or not, he's not gonna put up with Sam much longer. "Stuff like getting beat up?"
Sam hangs his head and hunches in on himself. There's a few pebbles on the sidewalk and he pushes them around with the toe of his sneaker. Easy. Like the way Danny and the other kids at school push him around.
Dean makes a growling sound, and that's it, Sam's hit the end of the road. Great. "I'll watch TV," he says to the cement. "You can go hang out with...with the others." The cool kids. "You don't have to babysit me. I won't tell your dad, I swear."
There's silence, like Dean's already moved on from him, and Sam curls in on himself as he steps away. For a few minutes, he'd actually believed Dean liked being around him. What an idiot. He's so stupid. Stupid, tiny, baby Sammy. No friends for him to call his own, no siblings for him to play with.
He dreams of having an older brother to protect him, sometimes. He wishes he had one like Dean.
He hasn't made it more than three steps when Dean catches his arm. "No, we're not watching TV," Dean says, and when Sam dares to glance up, Dean looks pissed again. But he's also got that bit into something sour look again, too, like someone hurt him. Sam doesn't know who could hurt Dean, with him being so strong and so cool.
"It's not babysitting, either," Dean says. "Dad didn't tell me to do squat, because he knows I'll always watch out for you. It's my job, Sammy."
"Not always," Sam blurts out. His cheeks flush red but he keeps going anyways. "You're only staying until your dad's done with his job, and then you're leaving." Dean would get tired of him if he lived with Sam all the time, Sam knows it.
But Dean's shaking his head. "It's my job, Sammy," he says again. "I'll always watch out for you."
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"Paying me?" Dean says incredulously, eyes wider by the second. "Sammy, no-"
"I'm not cool like you are," Sam finally says miserably. "I'm just a dorky kid who gets thrown into lockers and tripped and picked on. Why are you hanging out with me, protecting me from the bullies? You should be one of the guys that bullies me!"
Dean's face darkens, and Sam knows he's not mad at the bullies now. "No way," Dean snarls. "Never. I would never, ever hurt you. Not a chance in hell, Sammy."
A sharp burning pain suddenly lances through his chest, and it's so intense that he cries out in surprise. He winds up on his ass on the sidewalk, Dean in front of him, eyes terrified as his frantic yells fade out until all Sam can hear is a roaring in his ears. Like a sea wave that's about to swallow him whole, that's going to put out the fire in his chest but drown him.
And then it's gone, and everything returns to startling clarity. There's almost two weeks full of memories of a life that isn't Sam's, of a mom that wasn't his, of a school he doesn't belong in, bullies that should never have been a part of his life because they're usually beaten back by-
Dean. His big brother, who's kneeling right in front of him. "Sammy?" Dean asks, hands on Sam's shoulders like he's been holding him tight.
Sam smiles. "Hey bro," he says, and Dean gasps out a laugh and hauls him in tight. Whatever the hell happened, he's pretty certain his dad took care of it. God, Uncle John? Seriously, what were they thinking? They should've just told him that John was his dad and Dean was his big brother.
He might've believed them on the dad part. The Dean being his big brother...that would've been tough to believe. Sam still can't shake the feeling of being alone.
Dean pulls away to look Sam in the eye. "You okay? All the pieces back together?" he asks.
Sam nods. "I think so. Dean, what happened?"
"Witch wanted a kid of her own, she picked you," Dean says succinctly. He pulls Sam up to his feet, looking him over like it's the first time he's seen Sam in weeks. It sort of has been: Sam hasn't seen his brother since his 'mom' moved him, almost two weeks ago. How they found him, Sam doesn't know. But he's glad they did.
The next thing Sam knows, he's being cuffed over the back of his head like an errant puppy. "Ow! What'd I do?" he whines, rubbing at his scalp.
"That's for thinking you're not cool," Dean says, and that terrible feeling of being the lame, geeky loner comes back. Dean's leaning down to catch his eye, though, and Sam can see the love from his brother shining through. "You're my little brother, and there will never be a moment where I don't want to be around you. Even when you're a total pain in my ass. There's no 'babysitting' and there never has been, got it?"
Sam gets it. Now, now that he's back in the skin of Sam Winchester, little brother to Dean. He likes this skin a lot better than his other one. "Yeah," he says.
Then Dean's right there, hugging him and telling him to stay away from witches and threatening all the bullies at the school who'd made Sam's life hell, and Sam lets himself sink against the cool kid, his idol, his protector who's never been too cool to let Sam hang around him.
His big brother.
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To have my prompt filled so quickly, and by such a talented writer - it's just too much. And the fic was way better than I imagined. I especially liked the addition of the bullies, how you showed what Sam's life (or, false life + two weeks) was like without Dean.
Thank you so very much. :)
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The boys are adorable, delightful, and perfectly in character. The story is well-written, charming, with a touch of suspense. You are AWESOME!
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LOVED these lines :
He's gentle about it, and when they go back out, he's still got Sam by
the hand. Like he cares. Like he's not forced to babysit Sam, like he
wants to watch out for Sam. It's a nice feeling. It's just a hard thing
to believe.
"It's my job, Sammy," he says again. "I'll always watch out for you."
Seriously, your characterization is so spot on. kudos. Really, really, loved that fic ! :D
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