Supernatural- "Nothing Different"
Title: Nothing Different
Universe: Supernatural
Theme/Topic: N/A
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing/s: Sam and Bobby (DeanxCas)
Spoilers/Warnings: Through S7
Word Count: 1,710
Summary: Sam is being creepy and Bobby just wants to do the laundry.
Dedication: For no one, because I’m pretty sure this fails all sense of story.
A/N: I just really needed to do some fun writing today. Forgive me if my word vomit makes zero sense.
Disclaimer: No harm or infringement intended.
After Bobby finally finishes fixing the goddamned leaky faucet in the upstairs guest bathroom he heads downstairs to start sorting and folding the last load of clean laundry that’s waiting for him in the dryer. Chores, he’s discovered, are great because they involve all the little things he missed about his life while he’d been dead. Things like being corporeal and, you know, alive. There are gutters outside that haven’t been cleaned since Dean’s 21st birthday. Bobby is thinking of maybe doing them today because he’s not dead. Hallelujah.
This indomitable sense of joie de vivre, however, comes to an abrupt and complete standstill when Bobby walks past the kitchen. This sudden stop, like all of the unexpected turns in Bobby’s life, involves a Winchester. Only a Winchester has the power to halt the world in its tracks like that.
This time, it involves Sam Winchester being creepy as all hell.
Bobby frowns as he stares into the kitchen, where Sam is, while Sam stares out into the living room, to where Dean and Cas are. Dean and Cas are too busy staring at the TV to notice the serial killer face Sam is currently making at them. From what Bobby can see, there is just a lot of pointless staring going on in general right now. Which is not uncommon, especially for Dean and Cas. Sam, though, Sam’s staring makes Bobby want to grab holy water and mutter exorcisms.
But Bobby gives Sam the benefit of the doubt and turns to look at Dean and Cas again, more intently this time, in case maybe he missed something on first glance and Sam isn’t just being a creepy stalker after all.
From what he can see, Dean and Cas are sitting side by side on the couch watching the game. Dean flings his arms up in the air in frustration as a whistle blows on the screen and a ref jogs out to the middle of the field. “False start!” Dean shouts at the TV, and makes a rolling motion with his hands that look like he’s playing a rousing game of The Wheels On The Bus Go Round and Round.
Castiel tilts his head in confusion and asks, “What’s a false…”
“He crossed the line of scrimmage before he was supposed to,” Dean answers absently around grin. “Five yard penalty. First down.” Dean leans back against the couch and makes a grabbing motion with his hand in the former angel’s general direction.
Castiel’s brow furrows but he stops asking questions and obligingly passes Dean the popcorn. “Chiefs versus Titans seems like very serious business,” he says after a moment, and tilts his head in the other direction as play resumes on the screen. Dean waves him off with his free hand, eyes trained on the players lining up on either side of the line of scrimmage.
In other words, it is, as far as Bobby can tell, nothing out of the ordinary.
Bobby turns back to Sam, who still looks like he should be bundled up and hustled down into the panic room.
After a minute of debate-he supposes the laundry will keep for a bit longer-Bobby heads towards Sam so that he’s standing next to the kitchen table, looking at things from the exact same angle that Sam is looking at things from.
It looks the same as from the other angle.
So Bobby eyes Sam for a long, quiet moment instead. Sam has his big arms crossed around his big chest while his big forehead is lined with wrinkles that mean he’s trying to figure something out. Either that or make his brother’s head explode telekinetically. Which, in all fairness, he probably could have done during at least one point in his life.
“Something wrong, Sam?” Bobby asks, after Sam doesn’t say anything.
Sam shakes his head and his forehead wrinkles get more intense. Eventually, he turns to Bobby with a look of utter befuddlement on his face. “I don’t get it,” he says, like that means something. It doesn’t.
Bobby has all the patience in the world though, because he’s alive now and that’s what matters. “What don’t you get?” he asks. It’s like helping a five year old Sam with his reading homework all over again. He’s pretty sure they did it at this very same table too.
Sam’s gestures helplessly in the general direction of Dean and Cas. “Nothing’s changed.”
Bobby blinks. “Nothing’s changed?”
Sam just nods in lieu of expanding on his comments.
Bobby starts to wonder if Sam is worrying about whether or not some deeply traumatic events in Purgatory are being kept from him by his brother and the not-so-angelic-anymore angel. It’s entirely possible, given that it’s Dean and Cas, but on the other hand, Cas seems to have no qualms about talking about anything and everything these days. Apparently he’s learned his lesson after the Crowley thing and in the interest of redemption and full disclosure, the former angel is telling everyone everything now, regardless of whether or not they want to hear those things in the first place. Proof lies in the fact that Bobby has learned way more than he’s ever wanted to about Cas’s bedroom preferences in the last few months.
To be perfectly honest, it’s way too much sharing for Bobby’s tastes.
Sam doesn’t look like he feels the same.
Bobby starts to feel old again, despite being newly alive in a technical sense. “Son,” he begins, around a sigh, “we’ve been over this already. If something that bad happened they’ll tell us in their own time.”
Sam makes a face that clearly means Bobby misunderstands him. “No,” he says, “it’s not about Purgatory. We’ve all been to Hell. How can Purgatory be worse than Hell?”
Fair enough.
Bobby’s eyes flicker toward the living room again. “So then…”
Sam gestures in that general direction too. “It’s about them.”
Still vague. “Them?” Bobby asks.
Sam looks like a helpless kid all over again. “I mean, they’re a thing now, right?”
‘Thing’ had been Dean’s term, not Sam’s. Dean gets uncomfortable whenever anyone calls boffing the angel anything other than a ‘thing.’
Which is fine, because everyone else gets uncomfortable when Castiel calls it ‘a relationship involving penetrative intercourse.’ Of their limited options, Bobby much prefers ‘thing.’
Bobby nods slowly at Sam, mostly because he doesn’t get what Sam is getting at still. “Yeah. Like they said. A…thing.”
Sam gestures at them again, more insistently. “But nothing’s changed,” he says, like it’s driving him crazy. Bobby turns to watch the two idjits on the couch as Dean throws his hands up over his head again, except this time in victory, when the Chiefs cross into the end zone on a 26-yard touchdown pass. “Suck it, Tennessee!” he shouts, while Castiel holds onto the popcorn because Bobby will kill them if they spill the damn bowl all over the living room again. Dean turns to Cas for a high five. Cas obligingly smacks his hand to Dean’s but pauses and says, “Kansas is still losing, Dean.”
Dean scowls at the reminder. “Dude. We still have an entire quarter to go. Miracles happen.”
Castiel nods like that makes perfect sense and then spends the next few minutes absorbed in the commentator’s stats on the Chiefs’ offensive line, probably crunching numbers and probabilities in his own nerdy little brain while Dean waits for the game to resume for real. Their shoulders are touching on the couch and Dean’s got one hand curled around a cold bottle of Corona and the other digging around in the popcorn bowl on Cas’s lap.
Bobby turns back to Sam. “Yeah they’re still idjits,” he admits. Nothing much has changed there for sure.
Sam makes this exasperated sound in the back of his throat and leans back in his chair with a huff, like he used to do when he was a teenager and disappointed in how anticlimactic a movie ending was. “I don’t know, Bobby, after the years and years of watching them be them, I thought that when they finally got to this point, when they finally got together, it would make something different.”
Bobby isn’t sure what Sam thought would happen. He frowns. “What’d you expect, gay fireworks?” he asks.
Sam sighs dramatically. “I dunno. I guess I just thought something would change now that they’re in love.”
Bobby considers this. Considers everything about Dean and the damn angel and their relationship from the moment they knew each other.
Then, after a second, responds to that kind of idjit thinking in the only way he knows how.
Bobby takes off his baseball cap and calmly uses it to smack Sam upside the head.
Sam reels, his massive hands going up to his massive head as he turns to look at Bobby all wounded and shocked like. “What was that for!?”
Bobby is unimpressed with his big Stanford-smart brain. “Why in the hell would you expect something to change,” he says, “when nothing’s changed?” Then he pauses to give Sam a look while that sinks in.
Eventually it does, and Sam’s eyes get big with realization. “Huh.”
Bobby snorts. “Huh,” he echoes sarcastically, and turns to head to the laundry room again. Now that they’re in love? Christ. Sometimes he thinks those boys would be dead without him. Dead.
In the background, the Titans score a 52-yard punt return touchdown and Dean jumps up and screams at the injustice of the world. There’s a crashing sound too, which is probably the popcorn bowl being overturned. This is confirmed by Castiel muttering something about finding the vacuum cleaner before Bobby returns.
Bobby sighs and shakes his head as he crouches in front of the dryer and yanks open the door. It smells springtime fresh. He starts pulling their clean clothes out and piling it into the laundry basket.
A moment later, over the distant whine of the vacuum cleaner and Dean’s impressive stream of cursing, Bobby also hears a series of big, clunking footsteps headed right at him, which probably means Sam is behind him now, hopefully not being intensely creepy anymore.
“Need help?” Sam asks, and runs a rueful hand through his ridiculous hair.
Bobby obligingly tells him he can pair the socks.
END
Universe: Supernatural
Theme/Topic: N/A
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing/s: Sam and Bobby (DeanxCas)
Spoilers/Warnings: Through S7
Word Count: 1,710
Summary: Sam is being creepy and Bobby just wants to do the laundry.
Dedication: For no one, because I’m pretty sure this fails all sense of story.
A/N: I just really needed to do some fun writing today. Forgive me if my word vomit makes zero sense.
Disclaimer: No harm or infringement intended.
After Bobby finally finishes fixing the goddamned leaky faucet in the upstairs guest bathroom he heads downstairs to start sorting and folding the last load of clean laundry that’s waiting for him in the dryer. Chores, he’s discovered, are great because they involve all the little things he missed about his life while he’d been dead. Things like being corporeal and, you know, alive. There are gutters outside that haven’t been cleaned since Dean’s 21st birthday. Bobby is thinking of maybe doing them today because he’s not dead. Hallelujah.
This indomitable sense of joie de vivre, however, comes to an abrupt and complete standstill when Bobby walks past the kitchen. This sudden stop, like all of the unexpected turns in Bobby’s life, involves a Winchester. Only a Winchester has the power to halt the world in its tracks like that.
This time, it involves Sam Winchester being creepy as all hell.
Bobby frowns as he stares into the kitchen, where Sam is, while Sam stares out into the living room, to where Dean and Cas are. Dean and Cas are too busy staring at the TV to notice the serial killer face Sam is currently making at them. From what Bobby can see, there is just a lot of pointless staring going on in general right now. Which is not uncommon, especially for Dean and Cas. Sam, though, Sam’s staring makes Bobby want to grab holy water and mutter exorcisms.
But Bobby gives Sam the benefit of the doubt and turns to look at Dean and Cas again, more intently this time, in case maybe he missed something on first glance and Sam isn’t just being a creepy stalker after all.
From what he can see, Dean and Cas are sitting side by side on the couch watching the game. Dean flings his arms up in the air in frustration as a whistle blows on the screen and a ref jogs out to the middle of the field. “False start!” Dean shouts at the TV, and makes a rolling motion with his hands that look like he’s playing a rousing game of The Wheels On The Bus Go Round and Round.
Castiel tilts his head in confusion and asks, “What’s a false…”
“He crossed the line of scrimmage before he was supposed to,” Dean answers absently around grin. “Five yard penalty. First down.” Dean leans back against the couch and makes a grabbing motion with his hand in the former angel’s general direction.
Castiel’s brow furrows but he stops asking questions and obligingly passes Dean the popcorn. “Chiefs versus Titans seems like very serious business,” he says after a moment, and tilts his head in the other direction as play resumes on the screen. Dean waves him off with his free hand, eyes trained on the players lining up on either side of the line of scrimmage.
In other words, it is, as far as Bobby can tell, nothing out of the ordinary.
Bobby turns back to Sam, who still looks like he should be bundled up and hustled down into the panic room.
After a minute of debate-he supposes the laundry will keep for a bit longer-Bobby heads towards Sam so that he’s standing next to the kitchen table, looking at things from the exact same angle that Sam is looking at things from.
It looks the same as from the other angle.
So Bobby eyes Sam for a long, quiet moment instead. Sam has his big arms crossed around his big chest while his big forehead is lined with wrinkles that mean he’s trying to figure something out. Either that or make his brother’s head explode telekinetically. Which, in all fairness, he probably could have done during at least one point in his life.
“Something wrong, Sam?” Bobby asks, after Sam doesn’t say anything.
Sam shakes his head and his forehead wrinkles get more intense. Eventually, he turns to Bobby with a look of utter befuddlement on his face. “I don’t get it,” he says, like that means something. It doesn’t.
Bobby has all the patience in the world though, because he’s alive now and that’s what matters. “What don’t you get?” he asks. It’s like helping a five year old Sam with his reading homework all over again. He’s pretty sure they did it at this very same table too.
Sam’s gestures helplessly in the general direction of Dean and Cas. “Nothing’s changed.”
Bobby blinks. “Nothing’s changed?”
Sam just nods in lieu of expanding on his comments.
Bobby starts to wonder if Sam is worrying about whether or not some deeply traumatic events in Purgatory are being kept from him by his brother and the not-so-angelic-anymore angel. It’s entirely possible, given that it’s Dean and Cas, but on the other hand, Cas seems to have no qualms about talking about anything and everything these days. Apparently he’s learned his lesson after the Crowley thing and in the interest of redemption and full disclosure, the former angel is telling everyone everything now, regardless of whether or not they want to hear those things in the first place. Proof lies in the fact that Bobby has learned way more than he’s ever wanted to about Cas’s bedroom preferences in the last few months.
To be perfectly honest, it’s way too much sharing for Bobby’s tastes.
Sam doesn’t look like he feels the same.
Bobby starts to feel old again, despite being newly alive in a technical sense. “Son,” he begins, around a sigh, “we’ve been over this already. If something that bad happened they’ll tell us in their own time.”
Sam makes a face that clearly means Bobby misunderstands him. “No,” he says, “it’s not about Purgatory. We’ve all been to Hell. How can Purgatory be worse than Hell?”
Fair enough.
Bobby’s eyes flicker toward the living room again. “So then…”
Sam gestures in that general direction too. “It’s about them.”
Still vague. “Them?” Bobby asks.
Sam looks like a helpless kid all over again. “I mean, they’re a thing now, right?”
‘Thing’ had been Dean’s term, not Sam’s. Dean gets uncomfortable whenever anyone calls boffing the angel anything other than a ‘thing.’
Which is fine, because everyone else gets uncomfortable when Castiel calls it ‘a relationship involving penetrative intercourse.’ Of their limited options, Bobby much prefers ‘thing.’
Bobby nods slowly at Sam, mostly because he doesn’t get what Sam is getting at still. “Yeah. Like they said. A…thing.”
Sam gestures at them again, more insistently. “But nothing’s changed,” he says, like it’s driving him crazy. Bobby turns to watch the two idjits on the couch as Dean throws his hands up over his head again, except this time in victory, when the Chiefs cross into the end zone on a 26-yard touchdown pass. “Suck it, Tennessee!” he shouts, while Castiel holds onto the popcorn because Bobby will kill them if they spill the damn bowl all over the living room again. Dean turns to Cas for a high five. Cas obligingly smacks his hand to Dean’s but pauses and says, “Kansas is still losing, Dean.”
Dean scowls at the reminder. “Dude. We still have an entire quarter to go. Miracles happen.”
Castiel nods like that makes perfect sense and then spends the next few minutes absorbed in the commentator’s stats on the Chiefs’ offensive line, probably crunching numbers and probabilities in his own nerdy little brain while Dean waits for the game to resume for real. Their shoulders are touching on the couch and Dean’s got one hand curled around a cold bottle of Corona and the other digging around in the popcorn bowl on Cas’s lap.
Bobby turns back to Sam. “Yeah they’re still idjits,” he admits. Nothing much has changed there for sure.
Sam makes this exasperated sound in the back of his throat and leans back in his chair with a huff, like he used to do when he was a teenager and disappointed in how anticlimactic a movie ending was. “I don’t know, Bobby, after the years and years of watching them be them, I thought that when they finally got to this point, when they finally got together, it would make something different.”
Bobby isn’t sure what Sam thought would happen. He frowns. “What’d you expect, gay fireworks?” he asks.
Sam sighs dramatically. “I dunno. I guess I just thought something would change now that they’re in love.”
Bobby considers this. Considers everything about Dean and the damn angel and their relationship from the moment they knew each other.
Then, after a second, responds to that kind of idjit thinking in the only way he knows how.
Bobby takes off his baseball cap and calmly uses it to smack Sam upside the head.
Sam reels, his massive hands going up to his massive head as he turns to look at Bobby all wounded and shocked like. “What was that for!?”
Bobby is unimpressed with his big Stanford-smart brain. “Why in the hell would you expect something to change,” he says, “when nothing’s changed?” Then he pauses to give Sam a look while that sinks in.
Eventually it does, and Sam’s eyes get big with realization. “Huh.”
Bobby snorts. “Huh,” he echoes sarcastically, and turns to head to the laundry room again. Now that they’re in love? Christ. Sometimes he thinks those boys would be dead without him. Dead.
In the background, the Titans score a 52-yard punt return touchdown and Dean jumps up and screams at the injustice of the world. There’s a crashing sound too, which is probably the popcorn bowl being overturned. This is confirmed by Castiel muttering something about finding the vacuum cleaner before Bobby returns.
Bobby sighs and shakes his head as he crouches in front of the dryer and yanks open the door. It smells springtime fresh. He starts pulling their clean clothes out and piling it into the laundry basket.
A moment later, over the distant whine of the vacuum cleaner and Dean’s impressive stream of cursing, Bobby also hears a series of big, clunking footsteps headed right at him, which probably means Sam is behind him now, hopefully not being intensely creepy anymore.
“Need help?” Sam asks, and runs a rueful hand through his ridiculous hair.
Bobby obligingly tells him he can pair the socks.
END