More fic! WHEEEEEEEEEE!!!
Title: Something to Do
Rating: PG
Pairing/Characters: Dean, Sam
Notes: 805 words. This is the companion piece to ‘Nothing to do’. I highly recommend you read that first; it’ll make a lot more sense.
Disclaimers: Me=Broke. Me + owning the show or anyone in it= Cash Money. Me=Sadness
Summary: Dean has found an entertaining way of spending his down time during the Hiatus.
Sam stared at the screen, his eyes swimming in the outwardly blinding light. He tried to blink his computer blindness away but failed miserably, until the words seemed to swim back to where they were supposed to go. He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, coaxing a few hydrating drops of water from his tear ducts. This was ridiculous.
“What about dragons? Can we put in dragons?”
Dean seemed to have no problem sitting up to three in the morning, ogling the computer screen while Sam typed out what Dean had dubbed ‘The Real Winchester Story’ He kept on changing the villain of the story from a vampire, to a mermaid, to aliens, and each suggestion was more elaborate then the last.
“Dragons, Dean?” Sam rolled his eyes and gave a huff, and Dean immediately snatched the keyboard away from him and typed.
‘Sam exhaled loudly and leaned back, pursing his lips in distaste.’
“I do not do that.” Sam growled. He was grumpy, tired, and seriously regretting telling Dean that reading fanfiction would give him something to do. He had gone from reading, to quoting, and now….
“If I’m going to write a real fiction, then it needs to be as…as…”
“Accurate?”
“Yeah, accurate as possible. None of that ‘Oh Sammy, I love you so much!’ and ‘Dean, you are so strong and determined! Why don’t I listen to you more often?’ Bullcrap. I want it to be as true to life as possible.” His smile was slightly deranged, the product of two pizzas and three cups of coffee. “Destroy all those little writer’s dreams, Winchester style.”
Sam tried to remember why he put up with his brother, and had trouble bringing up the reason in his mind.
“You know technically, that means it’s an autobiography.” Sam muttered cantankerously, blinking slowly to try and clear his vision.
“Yeah, you go ahead and tell them that. Then see how bad you get flamed.” Dean’s eyes were sparkling with happy fantasies, visions of his brother being torched by angry writers dancing around him. His labor of love reflected in his glassy eyes, and he snapped out of it long enough to point to the screen and declare, “I would never say that.”
The younger Winchester read the sentence over. ‘You have no business being here. I suggest you leave.’
He groaned and tapped the backspace button.
“Okay, so our two daring heroes are in the abandoned warehouse, stalking the evil dragon. The handsome and charming Dean has his gun out, pointing straight ahead, and imagining shooting the sucker down. Meanwhile, the slightly less attractive and ‘bookwormish’ Sam, with his puppy-dog eyes and depressing speeches, fallows along behind.”
Sam glared at his brother.
“Bookwormish?”
“Just keep typing.”
The younger Winchester rolled his eyes and typed.
“Dean, barely turning his head, speaks. All is quiet, amazed at his…. Amazing…ness. ‘So you’re sure this is how we kill it?’ He asks. Sam barely nods, but since Dean is turned around he doesn’t see. ‘Hello?! Earth to Sam, come in planet nerd!’ Sam’s head shoots up, smacks into a pipe, and he falls to the ground limply, out like a light.”
Dean sat back in his chair, quite pleased with himself.
“Uh, Dean? You wanted this to be true to life.”
“And it is. Out of the two of us, you’re the only one freakishly large enough to smack your head on a pipe. See, if there was a pipe that was level, and we were both crouching underneath it and stood up, you would hit your head and pass out first. I would see that you were passed out; figure out there was a pipe there, and NOT pass out. In other words,” He smirked smugly, “I win. Though the process of deduction and elementary, my dear Samwise.”
Sam gritted his teeth angrily. “I told you not to call me that.”
“Dude, you really shouldn’t do that. It makes your teeth all flat and square.”
Sam swept his hair from his eyes with one hand and stood, walking into the other room of their two-room motel ‘Suite.’ He ignored Dean’s pleading for help, disregarded his claims that every time he touched the computer it froze, and drifted to sleep on the bed, paying no attention to the color of the walls and the lack of a television.
But he should’ve stayed up with Dean, typing what he told him to. Because without Sam there as a buffer, Dean could do whatever he wanted.
When the usual bloggers were flooded by requests to find out who ‘Made_Of_Awesome’ was, they had no clue. They had never heard of her before. All they knew was she wrote awesome Dean-centric Sam-Bashing fic, and that her ‘Dean voice’ was pretty much perfect.
That, and she totally capitalized when mocking Sam using clowns.