Re: Low Sodium Freak 2/2superbadgirlAugust 8 2009, 02:32:02 UTC
“Then, pray tell, why?”
God, even this guy thought he was better than Sam. Everyone here did. Everyone here was. Sam had thought once he was out of it he could be normal for a change, but he was as much a freak as ever. Stealing salt, for fuck’s sake. And getting caught. That was the real embarrassment. Dean would laugh his ass off if he were here. Dean wasn’t here. He was on his own and this was so ridiculous. The Twelve Months of Basset calendar moved by some gust Sam didn’t feel. He straightened in alarm, skin prickling. Then he realized the door was ajar, a draft ruffling the hair at the back of his neck.
This was his life now. Normal. There was no poltergeist here, no vengeful spirit. And normal included being able to get himself out of messes, all by himself. He didn’t need Dad to barrel in, shouting. He didn’t Dean to spin some bullshit story. Sam could do it himself.
“Hyponatremia,” he blurted.
“Beg pardon?” Barber asked.
“It’s a condition. My blood, you see, it’s not quite like yours. I have a problem with low sodium. Ever since I was little and had a real bad episode, I’ve had this thing about hoarding salt.” Sam shrugged. It wasn’t that far off from the truth, considering the amount of salt the Impala had always had - still had - in the trunk. “I guess when I saw so much of it in the kitchen, habit kicked in. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
He gave Barber a weak smile.
“Low sodium.”
Barber raised an eyebrow and looked at him as if trying to figure out if Sam was lying like he was or being honest. If he ever needed to look innocent and imploring, now was the time. Sam tipped his head to the side, just a nudge. He watched Barber’s suspicion transform into sympathy.
“Well, you should have just said so.” Barber smiled. “Sounds like your problem is pretty abnormal compared to the rest of us.”
Understatement.
“Yes, sir,” Sam said.
“Tell you what, as long as you promise not to make this a recurring theme, I’ll even let you keep the salt. I’ll just deduct the expense out of your next paycheck.”
To his chagrin, Sam was actually more relieved about getting to keep the salt than his job. He was getting closer to normal, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to let his guard down. He knew too well anything could happen at any time.
“Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it.”
Sam sagged back in the seat. Four hundred basset hound eyes stared at him. He wondered vaguely if Barber had any clue how creepy his little office was.
“Mr. Winchester? You can get back to work now.”
“Oh, right. Right. Of course.”
Pulling on the dreaded hairnet, Sam tucked in errant strands of his hair as he left the office for the hustle and bustle of the kitchen. He walked to the boxes of latex gloves tucked in the far corner and squeezed on a pair of extra larges.
“I see you survived the Hall of Basset Hounds,” a feminine voice said.
Sam looked up, startled. Next to him was the most beautiful girl in the world, even with the hairnet. He wasn’t sure she was for real; he’d never seen her before. But he wished with all his might that she was.
“Between you and me, that guy’s one fry short of a Happy Meal.” She rolled her eyes and gave a small shudder. Then she stuck out a hand. “Hi, I’m Jessica. Jessica Moore.”
Re: Low Sodium Freak 2/2may7ficAugust 8 2009, 14:16:15 UTC
Oh, this was adorable! I love quick-thinking Sam and his awareness of his puppy-eyes is perfect :). The Basset Hound touches were hilarious, too. The ending was oh-so bittersweet... oh Sam!
Re: Low Sodium Freak 2/2roque_clasiqueAugust 8 2009, 18:46:49 UTC
BAHAHAHA. Oh, that's so good. Jess in a hairnet, also, just, YES. Man, Sam -- how'd you get so smart? Huh? How? *pinches his cheeks* (the ones on his face) This was exactly what I wanted, thank you!
God, even this guy thought he was better than Sam. Everyone here did. Everyone here was. Sam had thought once he was out of it he could be normal for a change, but he was as much a freak as ever. Stealing salt, for fuck’s sake. And getting caught. That was the real embarrassment. Dean would laugh his ass off if he were here. Dean wasn’t here. He was on his own and this was so ridiculous. The Twelve Months of Basset calendar moved by some gust Sam didn’t feel. He straightened in alarm, skin prickling. Then he realized the door was ajar, a draft ruffling the hair at the back of his neck.
This was his life now. Normal. There was no poltergeist here, no vengeful spirit. And normal included being able to get himself out of messes, all by himself. He didn’t need Dad to barrel in, shouting. He didn’t Dean to spin some bullshit story. Sam could do it himself.
“Hyponatremia,” he blurted.
“Beg pardon?” Barber asked.
“It’s a condition. My blood, you see, it’s not quite like yours. I have a problem with low sodium. Ever since I was little and had a real bad episode, I’ve had this thing about hoarding salt.” Sam shrugged. It wasn’t that far off from the truth, considering the amount of salt the Impala had always had - still had - in the trunk. “I guess when I saw so much of it in the kitchen, habit kicked in. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
He gave Barber a weak smile.
“Low sodium.”
Barber raised an eyebrow and looked at him as if trying to figure out if Sam was lying like he was or being honest. If he ever needed to look innocent and imploring, now was the time. Sam tipped his head to the side, just a nudge. He watched Barber’s suspicion transform into sympathy.
“Well, you should have just said so.” Barber smiled. “Sounds like your problem is pretty abnormal compared to the rest of us.”
Understatement.
“Yes, sir,” Sam said.
“Tell you what, as long as you promise not to make this a recurring theme, I’ll even let you keep the salt. I’ll just deduct the expense out of your next paycheck.”
To his chagrin, Sam was actually more relieved about getting to keep the salt than his job. He was getting closer to normal, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to let his guard down. He knew too well anything could happen at any time.
“Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it.”
Sam sagged back in the seat. Four hundred basset hound eyes stared at him. He wondered vaguely if Barber had any clue how creepy his little office was.
“Mr. Winchester? You can get back to work now.”
“Oh, right. Right. Of course.”
Pulling on the dreaded hairnet, Sam tucked in errant strands of his hair as he left the office for the hustle and bustle of the kitchen. He walked to the boxes of latex gloves tucked in the far corner and squeezed on a pair of extra larges.
“I see you survived the Hall of Basset Hounds,” a feminine voice said.
Sam looked up, startled. Next to him was the most beautiful girl in the world, even with the hairnet. He wasn’t sure she was for real; he’d never seen her before. But he wished with all his might that she was.
“Between you and me, that guy’s one fry short of a Happy Meal.” She rolled her eyes and gave a small shudder. Then she stuck out a hand. “Hi, I’m Jessica. Jessica Moore.”
(Hope this was even a little to your liking!)
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Poor Sam. Nothing gold can stay.
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Oh, that's so good.
Jess in a hairnet, also, just, YES.
Man, Sam -- how'd you get so smart? Huh? How? *pinches his cheeks* (the ones on his face)
This was exactly what I wanted, thank you!
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