once more with feeling
untitled spn drabble
supernatural gen
Dean slept with a guitar player once.
Dean slept with a guitar player once.
Well, probably more than once, but this is the one he remembers.
After, while he pulled on his jeans, she sat on the bed, still naked, picking and strumming. Couldn’t sing for shit, but when she hummed along it sounded alright.
Dean would’ve learned to play maybe, if he’d had the luxury of hobbies that weren’t useful-pool, driving, flirting. Maybe Sam would’ve played piano.
If he squints now, Sam hunched over his stupid tiny computer, the desk might be a baby grand. Sam’s playing something classic, a song Dean’s heard a million times but can’t ever name.
Dean taps out a cadence, ceaseless on the arm of his char, onetwothree onetwotwo. He’s got no rhythm, he knows. Makes it hard as hell to keep pace with Sam, with his legs like a freaking ostrich. Probably would’ve made a crappy guitar player anyway.
Sam rises from his seat, anticipationresolvefear written on his face. “I’ve got it. Let’s go.”
Leading out the door, Dean adjusts the three knives and two shotguns he’s got on him and grabs the paper out of Sam’s hands.
Sam grabs it back, impressively quick. His reflexes now are just as good as they were before he left. Maybe better. Maybe his arms are just longer.
“Don’t snatch,” Dean scolds primly and gets a sharp elbow to the ribs on the way to the Impala as a response. Definitely longer arms.
Yeah, Dean decides later, as he fires at the two werewolves in quick succession. His hands were probably better suited for guns than guitars.
But that night, as Sam’s stitching the gash on Dean’s hip and doesn’t shake or slip once, Dean still thinks Sam could’ve played. Thinks Sam could’ve done anything, but- he’s doing this.
So I haven't finished anything in almost a year-- hence the posting of a drabble I wrote in 2006, I believe? The file says it was created in 2008, but I'm fairly sure that was when I transferred it from my PC to my old laptop. I came across it tonight, a file named "idk" and sort of liked it, or at least liked what I was trying to do with it. I can't remember exactly when I wrote it, but it feels like season one SamandDean-- maybe season two, once Sam had decided he wasn't going back to Stanford. I tinkered with it a little bit and I can't help but laugh at the runtogetherwords but I can tell from this how much I loved these characters. Nostalgia!! Now if I could just write something new...
supernatural gen
Dean slept with a guitar player once.
Dean slept with a guitar player once.
Well, probably more than once, but this is the one he remembers.
After, while he pulled on his jeans, she sat on the bed, still naked, picking and strumming. Couldn’t sing for shit, but when she hummed along it sounded alright.
Dean would’ve learned to play maybe, if he’d had the luxury of hobbies that weren’t useful-pool, driving, flirting. Maybe Sam would’ve played piano.
If he squints now, Sam hunched over his stupid tiny computer, the desk might be a baby grand. Sam’s playing something classic, a song Dean’s heard a million times but can’t ever name.
Dean taps out a cadence, ceaseless on the arm of his char, onetwothree onetwotwo. He’s got no rhythm, he knows. Makes it hard as hell to keep pace with Sam, with his legs like a freaking ostrich. Probably would’ve made a crappy guitar player anyway.
Sam rises from his seat, anticipationresolvefear written on his face. “I’ve got it. Let’s go.”
Leading out the door, Dean adjusts the three knives and two shotguns he’s got on him and grabs the paper out of Sam’s hands.
Sam grabs it back, impressively quick. His reflexes now are just as good as they were before he left. Maybe better. Maybe his arms are just longer.
“Don’t snatch,” Dean scolds primly and gets a sharp elbow to the ribs on the way to the Impala as a response. Definitely longer arms.
Yeah, Dean decides later, as he fires at the two werewolves in quick succession. His hands were probably better suited for guns than guitars.
But that night, as Sam’s stitching the gash on Dean’s hip and doesn’t shake or slip once, Dean still thinks Sam could’ve played. Thinks Sam could’ve done anything, but- he’s doing this.
So I haven't finished anything in almost a year-- hence the posting of a drabble I wrote in 2006, I believe? The file says it was created in 2008, but I'm fairly sure that was when I transferred it from my PC to my old laptop. I came across it tonight, a file named "idk" and sort of liked it, or at least liked what I was trying to do with it. I can't remember exactly when I wrote it, but it feels like season one SamandDean-- maybe season two, once Sam had decided he wasn't going back to Stanford. I tinkered with it a little bit and I can't help but laugh at the runtogetherwords but I can tell from this how much I loved these characters. Nostalgia!! Now if I could just write something new...