SPN drabble - Vacancy
Vacancy
SPN
300 words
Brother-love. Possibly pre-slash?
Unbetaed, so feel free to correct.
The bed is heart-shaped and there’s a mirror on the ceiling. The box next to the headboard advertises the vibrating feature, then lists all the television channels for adult entertainment. Dean’s on the left, by the door as usual. Sam’s on the right, one foot dangling over the edge. Both lie on their backs, holding staring-contests with their copies on the ceiling in the red light of the ‘no vacancy’ sign outside.
“Why’d you get this room again?”
“Because it was the only vacancy.”
“So… why are we still in the motel with no vacancies?”
“I’m sorry, we should have gone to that other motel this quaint little country town has.” Dean whacks his brother’s stomach hard enough to steal his breath. “Oh, that’s right, this fucking hell-hole doesn’t have another motel. You’re stuck with it, Sammy. Now go to sleep.”
Silence.
“You couldn’t have asked for a cot or anything?”
“You think I want to have to share a bed with you? You always hog the covers and your feet are damn cold.”
“You sound like a housewife.”
Sam’s stomach gets another slap. Dean turns towards the window and curls up as far away from him as he can, screwing his eyes shut. Sam sighs to himself and does the same.
He wakes up a few hours later, lying in the center of the bed with the comforter bunched up around him. His still-sleeping mind takes note of the warm body against his back, the strong arm thrown over him, the rough hand shoved up under his t-shirt and resting against his stomach. He glances up at the mirror and sees the blissful smile on Dean’s face, nose buried in the back of his neck.
Sam smiles himself, rests a hand above his brother’s and drifts back to sleep.
SPN
300 words
Brother-love. Possibly pre-slash?
Unbetaed, so feel free to correct.
The bed is heart-shaped and there’s a mirror on the ceiling. The box next to the headboard advertises the vibrating feature, then lists all the television channels for adult entertainment. Dean’s on the left, by the door as usual. Sam’s on the right, one foot dangling over the edge. Both lie on their backs, holding staring-contests with their copies on the ceiling in the red light of the ‘no vacancy’ sign outside.
“Why’d you get this room again?”
“Because it was the only vacancy.”
“So… why are we still in the motel with no vacancies?”
“I’m sorry, we should have gone to that other motel this quaint little country town has.” Dean whacks his brother’s stomach hard enough to steal his breath. “Oh, that’s right, this fucking hell-hole doesn’t have another motel. You’re stuck with it, Sammy. Now go to sleep.”
Silence.
“You couldn’t have asked for a cot or anything?”
“You think I want to have to share a bed with you? You always hog the covers and your feet are damn cold.”
“You sound like a housewife.”
Sam’s stomach gets another slap. Dean turns towards the window and curls up as far away from him as he can, screwing his eyes shut. Sam sighs to himself and does the same.
He wakes up a few hours later, lying in the center of the bed with the comforter bunched up around him. His still-sleeping mind takes note of the warm body against his back, the strong arm thrown over him, the rough hand shoved up under his t-shirt and resting against his stomach. He glances up at the mirror and sees the blissful smile on Dean’s face, nose buried in the back of his neck.
Sam smiles himself, rests a hand above his brother’s and drifts back to sleep.