Swim with the Fishes, by katjad
Title: Swim with the Fishes
Author: katjad
Rating: PG
Pairing: gen (Dean/Impala?)
Word Count: 1,186
Summary: Sam's ten years old. It's about time he learned how to drive.
Author's Notes: Thanks to innie_darling for the prompt.
Swim with the Fishes
Dean picks Sam up after school one day in mid-February and drives down to the gravel lot by the lake. Sam isn't really paying attention to where they're going, too busy rambling on about geography class and did Dean know there are two little countries sliced out of the middle of South Africa, so when the Impala crunches over gravel and rolls to a stop, Sam turns to him, surprised.
"Dean? What're we doing?"
Dean leans towards him and grins. "You're gonna learn how to drive, little brother."
Sam's mouth falls open comically and his eyes go wide. "But Dad said--"
"Not until you're twelve, yeah, I know. But dude, I was driving when I was eight. You're two years older than that, and you still can't drive. It's a disgrace."
"I dunno," Sam says. "I mean, you're not really supposed to drive until you're sixteen, are you?"
"That's just the rule for driving on highways and stuff," Dean tells him. Neither of them mentions that Dean's been doing just that for a couple of years now at least. "It doesn't matter if you do it earlier as long as there's nobody around. Plus, it's not like you're really going to be driving anywhere. It's just so you know how."
Dean watches the gears in Sam's brain turning. "I'm not going to be doing it on any big roads or anything?"
"Nope."
Sam worries his bottom lip between his teeth. "And Dad isn't going to find out?"
"Dude!" Dean snorts. "That'd be my neck on the line, too, you know."
"Huh," Sam says, considering. His smile turns wicked. "Yeah, okay."
"Awesome!"
Dean gets out of the car and Sam slides over to the driver's side. After Dean moves the seat forward Sam can reach the pedals, but he's still too short to see over the wheel.
"It's okay," Dean says. "You got any big fat books in your backpack, geekboy?"
Sam scowls, but whatever, because when he sits on top of his geography book and his math book, he can see over the wheel just fine.
"All right, now you're got to adjust your mirrors so you can see out of them . . . "
Sam's a good listener, Dean has to give him that. He nods all the way through Dean's explanation of the gas pedal and the clutch, how he's got to ease the car through first gear because she's testy before she gets into second. Dean's pretty sure that if he asked, Sam would be able to parrot back every word Dean said, but actual driving is a little trickier than listening to a how-to lecture.
This only becomes more apparent once Sam turns the key in the ignition and slams his foot down on the gas. The Impala roars.
"Whoa, there, tiger! You gotta ease up on the clutch while you press down on the gas. Here, turn the car back on, then give it another go."
Sam turns the key. "Like this?" he asks, pulling his left foot up way too fast. The car stalls out instantly. "Oops. I guess not."
"You gotta do it gradually," Dean explains. "Like, do it really slowly until you feel the gas start to kick in, and then you can let your left foot up faster."
"How long before the gas kicks in?"
Dean frowns. "I dunno. You just kind of feel it, I guess."
The Impala keeps stalling out, though, and Sam keeps scowling. "'Just feel it' isn't working for me, Dean."
Thank you, Captain Obvious.
Sam blows the hair up off his forehead. "Isn't there, like, a certain speed you get up to that means you should start easing your foot up?"
Dean forces himself to consider the question before saying, "No, not really. Just listen to the car, Sam. You'll be able to hear her sucking gas."
Sam raises his eyebrows. "It sounds really dirty when you put it that way."
Sam's kind of got a point, but Dean hits him on the arm anyway. "Don't go talking about my girl like that. Now come on, give it another try."
Sam starts to get the hang of it after stalling out another dozen times. Dean's doing his best to ignore the squealing of the Impala's tires on gravel when Sam gives the car too much gas and also to ignore what all this stalling out must be doing to the clutch. It's Sam's first time driving, though, so Dean pushes it all down and keeps telling him, "You're doing good, Sammy, you're doing real good."
"'Well', Dean. It's 'you're doing really well'."
"Whatever, dork."
The thing is, Dean really doesn't remember it being this hard when he learned to drive. Dad taught him on the Impala, too, but it was easy from the start; it had felt like he could just lay his hands on her and she'd do anything he asked--
"I'm not in love with the car like you are, Dean!" Sam snaps.
Dean shoots upright in the passenger seat. "What are you talking about?"
"You're, like, stroking the dashboard," Sam tells him, turning the key in the ignition. "It's a little creepy."
Dean snatches his hand back. "Oh. Sorry."
Sam shrugs. "Whatever."
Dean can feel himself flushing. He tries to save that sort of thing for when it's just him and the Impala. It's just, even though technically she's Dad's car, Dean's the one who's always understood her the best, and what with the abuse Sam's putting her through, he wants to make sure she's still doing okay, that's all.
He's so caught up in thinking all this that he doesn't notice that Sam's managed to get the balance of gas and clutch right until they're already doing fifteen, sixteen miles an hour and the engine is starting to groan for a higher gear.
"Hey, Sammy, you're doing great there!" Dean crows. "Now, just push the clutch down again and shift her into second . . ."
For a first try, the shift is unbelievably smooth. Dean doubts he himself did it better the first time.
"There ya go, Sammy! That's how you do it!"
Sam's grin lights up the whole car and Dean feels like the best big brother ever. At least, until Dean realizes that in his excitement about learning how to shift gears, Sam has forgotten to steer. Dean makes a mad grab for the steering wheel. "Shit, Sam, don't drive us into the lake!"
"You didn't tell me about that part!"
"Dude, I thought it was obvious!" Dean shouts, but then he notices Sam's bottom lip is starting to quiver. "Hey. It's okay. Just keep doing what you're doing, okay? You're doing good. Well."
Sam's wobbly lip curves back into a half-smile. "Eyes on the road. Got it."
Dean smiles at him. "That's right, champ."
And after another half an hour? Sam's got this whole driving thing down just fine.
Author: katjad
Rating: PG
Pairing: gen (Dean/Impala?)
Word Count: 1,186
Summary: Sam's ten years old. It's about time he learned how to drive.
Author's Notes: Thanks to innie_darling for the prompt.
Swim with the Fishes
Dean picks Sam up after school one day in mid-February and drives down to the gravel lot by the lake. Sam isn't really paying attention to where they're going, too busy rambling on about geography class and did Dean know there are two little countries sliced out of the middle of South Africa, so when the Impala crunches over gravel and rolls to a stop, Sam turns to him, surprised.
"Dean? What're we doing?"
Dean leans towards him and grins. "You're gonna learn how to drive, little brother."
Sam's mouth falls open comically and his eyes go wide. "But Dad said--"
"Not until you're twelve, yeah, I know. But dude, I was driving when I was eight. You're two years older than that, and you still can't drive. It's a disgrace."
"I dunno," Sam says. "I mean, you're not really supposed to drive until you're sixteen, are you?"
"That's just the rule for driving on highways and stuff," Dean tells him. Neither of them mentions that Dean's been doing just that for a couple of years now at least. "It doesn't matter if you do it earlier as long as there's nobody around. Plus, it's not like you're really going to be driving anywhere. It's just so you know how."
Dean watches the gears in Sam's brain turning. "I'm not going to be doing it on any big roads or anything?"
"Nope."
Sam worries his bottom lip between his teeth. "And Dad isn't going to find out?"
"Dude!" Dean snorts. "That'd be my neck on the line, too, you know."
"Huh," Sam says, considering. His smile turns wicked. "Yeah, okay."
"Awesome!"
Dean gets out of the car and Sam slides over to the driver's side. After Dean moves the seat forward Sam can reach the pedals, but he's still too short to see over the wheel.
"It's okay," Dean says. "You got any big fat books in your backpack, geekboy?"
Sam scowls, but whatever, because when he sits on top of his geography book and his math book, he can see over the wheel just fine.
"All right, now you're got to adjust your mirrors so you can see out of them . . . "
Sam's a good listener, Dean has to give him that. He nods all the way through Dean's explanation of the gas pedal and the clutch, how he's got to ease the car through first gear because she's testy before she gets into second. Dean's pretty sure that if he asked, Sam would be able to parrot back every word Dean said, but actual driving is a little trickier than listening to a how-to lecture.
This only becomes more apparent once Sam turns the key in the ignition and slams his foot down on the gas. The Impala roars.
"Whoa, there, tiger! You gotta ease up on the clutch while you press down on the gas. Here, turn the car back on, then give it another go."
Sam turns the key. "Like this?" he asks, pulling his left foot up way too fast. The car stalls out instantly. "Oops. I guess not."
"You gotta do it gradually," Dean explains. "Like, do it really slowly until you feel the gas start to kick in, and then you can let your left foot up faster."
"How long before the gas kicks in?"
Dean frowns. "I dunno. You just kind of feel it, I guess."
The Impala keeps stalling out, though, and Sam keeps scowling. "'Just feel it' isn't working for me, Dean."
Thank you, Captain Obvious.
Sam blows the hair up off his forehead. "Isn't there, like, a certain speed you get up to that means you should start easing your foot up?"
Dean forces himself to consider the question before saying, "No, not really. Just listen to the car, Sam. You'll be able to hear her sucking gas."
Sam raises his eyebrows. "It sounds really dirty when you put it that way."
Sam's kind of got a point, but Dean hits him on the arm anyway. "Don't go talking about my girl like that. Now come on, give it another try."
Sam starts to get the hang of it after stalling out another dozen times. Dean's doing his best to ignore the squealing of the Impala's tires on gravel when Sam gives the car too much gas and also to ignore what all this stalling out must be doing to the clutch. It's Sam's first time driving, though, so Dean pushes it all down and keeps telling him, "You're doing good, Sammy, you're doing real good."
"'Well', Dean. It's 'you're doing really well'."
"Whatever, dork."
The thing is, Dean really doesn't remember it being this hard when he learned to drive. Dad taught him on the Impala, too, but it was easy from the start; it had felt like he could just lay his hands on her and she'd do anything he asked--
"I'm not in love with the car like you are, Dean!" Sam snaps.
Dean shoots upright in the passenger seat. "What are you talking about?"
"You're, like, stroking the dashboard," Sam tells him, turning the key in the ignition. "It's a little creepy."
Dean snatches his hand back. "Oh. Sorry."
Sam shrugs. "Whatever."
Dean can feel himself flushing. He tries to save that sort of thing for when it's just him and the Impala. It's just, even though technically she's Dad's car, Dean's the one who's always understood her the best, and what with the abuse Sam's putting her through, he wants to make sure she's still doing okay, that's all.
He's so caught up in thinking all this that he doesn't notice that Sam's managed to get the balance of gas and clutch right until they're already doing fifteen, sixteen miles an hour and the engine is starting to groan for a higher gear.
"Hey, Sammy, you're doing great there!" Dean crows. "Now, just push the clutch down again and shift her into second . . ."
For a first try, the shift is unbelievably smooth. Dean doubts he himself did it better the first time.
"There ya go, Sammy! That's how you do it!"
Sam's grin lights up the whole car and Dean feels like the best big brother ever. At least, until Dean realizes that in his excitement about learning how to shift gears, Sam has forgotten to steer. Dean makes a mad grab for the steering wheel. "Shit, Sam, don't drive us into the lake!"
"You didn't tell me about that part!"
"Dude, I thought it was obvious!" Dean shouts, but then he notices Sam's bottom lip is starting to quiver. "Hey. It's okay. Just keep doing what you're doing, okay? You're doing good. Well."
Sam's wobbly lip curves back into a half-smile. "Eyes on the road. Got it."
Dean smiles at him. "That's right, champ."
And after another half an hour? Sam's got this whole driving thing down just fine.