Fic - Dean Winchester - Cow Boy
Written for the hoodie_time Dean Focused Schmoopfest!
Rating: PG
Warnings: Fluff
“I know what it is,” Dean says suddenly.
Sam looks up from his bed, staring at Dean’s face illuminated by his laptop screen. Dean’s been doing research on their latest hunt, and from the look on his face, he hit paydirt.
“It’s a -” Dean’s voice cuts off as he struggles with the word. Sam keeps his face perfectly still, focuses on not changing his body posture at all. If he stays calm then Dean stays calm and the word will come.
But Dean’s not staying calm. The problem with someone like Dean having a brain injury is that he can’t remain calm about it. The speech therapist that Dean blew off after two sessions had repeatedly stated that if Dean can just remain calm, keep breathing and not get frustrated, the words will come.
Sam thinks he got more out of Dean’s speech therapy than Dean did.
He watches as Dean’s jaw clenches, as his knuckles whiten, gripping the laptop so hard Sam’s surprised it doesn’t crack the shell. Dean’s lips sometimes stutter slightly, like he’s almost got the word, but no sound comes out.
I know the words, I mean, I can see them, in my head. I can hear them, see the letters, I can hear myself saying them, can see my lips forming the shapes and pushing out the sounds, but when I try to make it happen… it just… it all… gets stuck. Tangled. Like there’s invisible wires pulling my tongue and lips in the wrong directions and I don’t know who’s pulling the strings, man.
The worst thing Sam can do is try to sub words in. Calling out random words, trying to fill in Dean’s sentences makes Dean crazy and even more frustrated and one time earned Sam a solid uppercut to the jaw.
There is one thing Sam can do.
He stumbled on it one night, tv turned down low to the Animal Planet channel and he was so flummoxed by what he saw, he actually sat up and leaned forward toward the screen. He made the mistake of trying to explain it to Dean the next morning and Dean waved him off with jerky hands and a scornful look.
But that night, when Dean had been trying to tell Sam what he wanted for dinner and the simple word cheeseburger wouldn't come out, Dean got so frustrated and enraged, Sam thought he would give himself an embolism. So Sam had just gone for it. No warning, no words, no asking for permission.
And that’s how he’s done it since, and how he does it now; sliding off the bed smoothly, and in one swift movement he’s curling his long arms around Dean and squeezing him in a solid bear hug. He tucks Dean in close, applying strong pressure, pulling Dean in tightly to his chest. Dean’s stiff in his arms for a second and then relaxes into it, one arm coming up to touch Sam’s elbow hesitantly. Sam squeezes a little harder and Dean’s exhale almost sounds like a sigh of contentment.
“Charbydis,” Dean blurts out suddenly. “It’s a charbydis. Like a sea monster.”
Sam loosens his grip on Dean and pulls back slightly. Dean’s pointedly avoiding his gaze, staring at the screen.
“I’m renting you out to a dairy farm,” Dean grouses. “I’m sure you’ll find some nice cow named Matilda and you’ll be very happy.”
A/N: I had just turned out my light to go to sleep and that cow hugging machine popped into my head and I tried to ignore it but then I gave in and chunked this out.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Fluff
“I know what it is,” Dean says suddenly.
Sam looks up from his bed, staring at Dean’s face illuminated by his laptop screen. Dean’s been doing research on their latest hunt, and from the look on his face, he hit paydirt.
“It’s a -” Dean’s voice cuts off as he struggles with the word. Sam keeps his face perfectly still, focuses on not changing his body posture at all. If he stays calm then Dean stays calm and the word will come.
But Dean’s not staying calm. The problem with someone like Dean having a brain injury is that he can’t remain calm about it. The speech therapist that Dean blew off after two sessions had repeatedly stated that if Dean can just remain calm, keep breathing and not get frustrated, the words will come.
Sam thinks he got more out of Dean’s speech therapy than Dean did.
He watches as Dean’s jaw clenches, as his knuckles whiten, gripping the laptop so hard Sam’s surprised it doesn’t crack the shell. Dean’s lips sometimes stutter slightly, like he’s almost got the word, but no sound comes out.
I know the words, I mean, I can see them, in my head. I can hear them, see the letters, I can hear myself saying them, can see my lips forming the shapes and pushing out the sounds, but when I try to make it happen… it just… it all… gets stuck. Tangled. Like there’s invisible wires pulling my tongue and lips in the wrong directions and I don’t know who’s pulling the strings, man.
The worst thing Sam can do is try to sub words in. Calling out random words, trying to fill in Dean’s sentences makes Dean crazy and even more frustrated and one time earned Sam a solid uppercut to the jaw.
There is one thing Sam can do.
He stumbled on it one night, tv turned down low to the Animal Planet channel and he was so flummoxed by what he saw, he actually sat up and leaned forward toward the screen. He made the mistake of trying to explain it to Dean the next morning and Dean waved him off with jerky hands and a scornful look.
But that night, when Dean had been trying to tell Sam what he wanted for dinner and the simple word cheeseburger wouldn't come out, Dean got so frustrated and enraged, Sam thought he would give himself an embolism. So Sam had just gone for it. No warning, no words, no asking for permission.
And that’s how he’s done it since, and how he does it now; sliding off the bed smoothly, and in one swift movement he’s curling his long arms around Dean and squeezing him in a solid bear hug. He tucks Dean in close, applying strong pressure, pulling Dean in tightly to his chest. Dean’s stiff in his arms for a second and then relaxes into it, one arm coming up to touch Sam’s elbow hesitantly. Sam squeezes a little harder and Dean’s exhale almost sounds like a sigh of contentment.
“Charbydis,” Dean blurts out suddenly. “It’s a charbydis. Like a sea monster.”
Sam loosens his grip on Dean and pulls back slightly. Dean’s pointedly avoiding his gaze, staring at the screen.
“I’m renting you out to a dairy farm,” Dean grouses. “I’m sure you’ll find some nice cow named Matilda and you’ll be very happy.”
A/N: I had just turned out my light to go to sleep and that cow hugging machine popped into my head and I tried to ignore it but then I gave in and chunked this out.