Fic: better howl at the moon (SPN, Gen, Sam, Dean, PG)
better howl at the moon
Author: Regala Electra
Rating: PG
Word Count: 753
Prompt: Dean and Sam, open window, bottled water, barking dog.
Author's Notes: As prompted by stars91.
*
The dog will be the end of them. The heat’s insufferable and the broken A/C leaves few options for cooling off in the stifling dead air. And they have hours to go.
“Guess this must be what it’s like being stuffed in an oven. Want me to baste you now or you good for another twenty?”
“Funny,” Sam says, wasting precious energy as he lifts up his shirt, wiping the sweat off his face. It might cool him down but getting sweat drops in the books he’s combing through does him no favors, not when the book in his hand is not only old, it’s Bobby’s, and Bobby won’t be thrilled if they wind up ruining one of his precious books.
Dean’s still in the proverbial doghouse for accidentally igniting one of Bobby’s books. There’s no way Sam’s going to piss him off by ruining a book that took Bobby “ten goddamn years to learn wasn’t a myth. You treat this book like it’s a part of your body.”
The implication that Sam might lose a body part if the book is damaged was not lost on Sam. So he treads carefully and moves only when necessary.
Being stuck in this motel room is a killer; if it’s not the heat, it’s the noise. Now a loud knock at some other motel room door. Someone shouting (begging) for the barking to stop.
Sam turns the page of his book having no idea what he just read as Dean cleans their guns, sitting on Sam’s bed, of course, as he does it.
They’re down to t-shirts and boxers now and it’s still miserable.
The dog continues its barking, high yap that Sam decides is some over-bred showdog. He’d seen some posters in town this morning about some big deal showdog competition-the reason why they picked this charming motel as their place to supposedly rest for the night since everything else was booked solid.
“If it starts howling, it’s a werewolf or a shifter, has to be. I’m going after it. Damn it’s one in the morning and we gotta start digging around the courthouse at six.”
“Don’t waste your energy. It’ll stop barking.”
Dean’s eyes are dark in the low light of the few lamps they’ve kept on. “This ain’t a kid, Sammy. It won’t stop until it gets what it wants.”
“You do realize you sound like you’re in a bad B-movie, right? Take a shower and cool off.”
“Yeah,” Dean says, cleaning the barrel of one of the sawed-offs, “I’ll do that when I’m done here.”
A couple of minutes pass, no where close to the twenty he should have waited for, Sam says, “Water?”
Dean wordlessly opens up the cooler they picked up, pushing aside the last two beers attached to the six-pack rings, and hands over a bottle of water.
It’s lukewarm but it’s wet and that’s all he needs as he pours a small amount in the palm of his hand, running his fingers through his hair, to the back of his neck. He wipes his hands off on his boxers, tries not to think how he’s looking forward to a cold shower and maybe he’ll be able to get some sleep. Once the dog stops barking.
“Maybe it’s a demon.”
“A demon puppy?”
“Hell hound.”
“That is embarrassing even for you, Dean.”
“Born shameless.” Dean’s wrapping up, stowing the guns and ammo in the duffel bag. “It’s gonna suck, but we have to close the window to get some shut eye.”
Sam holds his fingers to the very faint whisper of a breeze. They’ll be suffocated. “We can always do sleeping pills. That should knock us out.”
“We killed ‘em off last time we went troll-hunting.” Dean tosses his t-shirt over Sam’s head. “Got another other bright ideas?”
Sam rolls his eyes. “We can sleep in the car.”
Considering this, Dean nods. “Yeah, I think I can do that. See you in the morning.”
As Dean strolls out in just his boxers, Sam calls out after him, “Wait, seriously?”
“No.” Dean turns to Sam, “I’m gonna give that crazy dog-owner a piece of my mind and get ‘em to hightail their little yapper outta here.”
Sam can’t help staring. Dean’s being reasonable. maybe an old dog can learn a new trick. “Um. Good luck.”
“That or I’m taking that dog and dropping it off at some orphanage or something. They’ll know how to treat a dog right.”
Huh. Dean Winchester. Defender of Dogs.
Actually, that makes sense.
end
Author: Regala Electra
Rating: PG
Word Count: 753
Prompt: Dean and Sam, open window, bottled water, barking dog.
Author's Notes: As prompted by stars91.
*
The dog will be the end of them. The heat’s insufferable and the broken A/C leaves few options for cooling off in the stifling dead air. And they have hours to go.
“Guess this must be what it’s like being stuffed in an oven. Want me to baste you now or you good for another twenty?”
“Funny,” Sam says, wasting precious energy as he lifts up his shirt, wiping the sweat off his face. It might cool him down but getting sweat drops in the books he’s combing through does him no favors, not when the book in his hand is not only old, it’s Bobby’s, and Bobby won’t be thrilled if they wind up ruining one of his precious books.
Dean’s still in the proverbial doghouse for accidentally igniting one of Bobby’s books. There’s no way Sam’s going to piss him off by ruining a book that took Bobby “ten goddamn years to learn wasn’t a myth. You treat this book like it’s a part of your body.”
The implication that Sam might lose a body part if the book is damaged was not lost on Sam. So he treads carefully and moves only when necessary.
Being stuck in this motel room is a killer; if it’s not the heat, it’s the noise. Now a loud knock at some other motel room door. Someone shouting (begging) for the barking to stop.
Sam turns the page of his book having no idea what he just read as Dean cleans their guns, sitting on Sam’s bed, of course, as he does it.
They’re down to t-shirts and boxers now and it’s still miserable.
The dog continues its barking, high yap that Sam decides is some over-bred showdog. He’d seen some posters in town this morning about some big deal showdog competition-the reason why they picked this charming motel as their place to supposedly rest for the night since everything else was booked solid.
“If it starts howling, it’s a werewolf or a shifter, has to be. I’m going after it. Damn it’s one in the morning and we gotta start digging around the courthouse at six.”
“Don’t waste your energy. It’ll stop barking.”
Dean’s eyes are dark in the low light of the few lamps they’ve kept on. “This ain’t a kid, Sammy. It won’t stop until it gets what it wants.”
“You do realize you sound like you’re in a bad B-movie, right? Take a shower and cool off.”
“Yeah,” Dean says, cleaning the barrel of one of the sawed-offs, “I’ll do that when I’m done here.”
A couple of minutes pass, no where close to the twenty he should have waited for, Sam says, “Water?”
Dean wordlessly opens up the cooler they picked up, pushing aside the last two beers attached to the six-pack rings, and hands over a bottle of water.
It’s lukewarm but it’s wet and that’s all he needs as he pours a small amount in the palm of his hand, running his fingers through his hair, to the back of his neck. He wipes his hands off on his boxers, tries not to think how he’s looking forward to a cold shower and maybe he’ll be able to get some sleep. Once the dog stops barking.
“Maybe it’s a demon.”
“A demon puppy?”
“Hell hound.”
“That is embarrassing even for you, Dean.”
“Born shameless.” Dean’s wrapping up, stowing the guns and ammo in the duffel bag. “It’s gonna suck, but we have to close the window to get some shut eye.”
Sam holds his fingers to the very faint whisper of a breeze. They’ll be suffocated. “We can always do sleeping pills. That should knock us out.”
“We killed ‘em off last time we went troll-hunting.” Dean tosses his t-shirt over Sam’s head. “Got another other bright ideas?”
Sam rolls his eyes. “We can sleep in the car.”
Considering this, Dean nods. “Yeah, I think I can do that. See you in the morning.”
As Dean strolls out in just his boxers, Sam calls out after him, “Wait, seriously?”
“No.” Dean turns to Sam, “I’m gonna give that crazy dog-owner a piece of my mind and get ‘em to hightail their little yapper outta here.”
Sam can’t help staring. Dean’s being reasonable. maybe an old dog can learn a new trick. “Um. Good luck.”
“That or I’m taking that dog and dropping it off at some orphanage or something. They’ll know how to treat a dog right.”
Huh. Dean Winchester. Defender of Dogs.
Actually, that makes sense.
end