202: Everybody Loves a Clown
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Dad would never let him go.
But Dean, Dean would help him, right?
Then Sam shocked himself a second time by leaning forward and brushing Martha’s lips with his. Feather-light, not touching any other part of her, and now his heart was thrusting so hard against his ribs he thought for a moment of exploding monster innards and how upset Martha would be when his blood splattered her clothes.
And then Martha pushed her mouth back against his just for a moment, and tangled her hand with his and Sam pulled back and returned her smile with his, sure that his eyes looked equally amazed.
The dance was in two days.
Sam was going to take Martha to the dance as his first date.
He felt giddy. Maybe this was what smoking pot felt like.
“I gotta go, see you tomorrow,” he promised.
“Okay, Sam.” And then Martha shifted a tiny bit and extended her arm around Sam’s side and he instinctively knew what she was trying to do, so he quickly wrapped both arms around her shoulders and gave a light squeeze.
Whoa, girls were squishy.
By the time he’d reached the motel - Red Robin Inn, daily, weekly, and monthly rentals - Sam had decided he’d ask Dean if they could go to a thrift store tomorrow after school and Sam could get a nice button-down shirt. And maybe a tie. Dean had to know how to tie one, right?
“Jeez, Sammy, you been making out with the girls after school? You’re nearly an hour late, I was gonna come looking for you.”
Sam started guiltily -- how could Dean have known? -- and then he saw the duffel bags sitting on the faded bedspreads.
No.
“Dean, wha … we’re not …” Sam gestured futilely at the small pile of clothes next to Dean’s bag.
Dean huffed impatiently. “Dad’s picking us up at five. Something going on in Mississippi.”
Sam dropped on his bed and stared at the brown carpet.
“I’m not gonna pack your bag for you. So if you don’t want your favorite copy of whatever-the-heck you’re reading now left behind, you better get your butt moving!”
Sam knew it wouldn’t matter what he said. Dad had spoken, they were as good as gone.
As he divided his belongings between his duffel and his backpack, Sam wished he could re-do this afternoon and have come straight home from school without talking to anyone. Because that sparkle in Martha’s eyes? Just like Sam, it wouldn’t be there tomorrow.
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This: Feather-light, not touching any other part of her, and now his heart was thrusting so hard against his ribs he thought for a moment of exploding monster innards and how upset Martha would be when his blood splattered her clothes.
-- Very evocative. Very Sam.
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Poor Sam -- and poor Martha. At least she'll know he left school and didn't stand her up.
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Thanks for reading!
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Poor Sammy. Poor Martha!
But on the upside: Whoa, girls were squishy.
This line made me lol. :D
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