Perceptive (4/30, G, Sam, Dean, John)
Title: Perceptive
Author: acerbus_instar
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Prompt: #04: Lie
Word Count: 300
Summary: For spn_30snapshots table, Liars and Thieves, part of a prequel series to my AU fic, Swift Hounds of Lússa. This installment: the tale of the floppy-haired magic eight ball.
1988
Poughkeepsie, that was another revelation, but Dean had figured out a long time before that Sammy was a little more than perceptive. He’s got a catalogue set up in the back of his composition book. Sixteen times to that date, Sammy’d wandered up to total strangers, spouted some random phrase that made no damn sense at all and earned smiles or tears or both. Like a floppy-haired magic eight ball, the freak.
So really, he shouldn’t have freaked so badly when Sammy spouted one to him. He shouldn’tve choked on his cereal when his five-year-old brother perked up and said, “Why’s Dad hunt monsters?” totally out of the blue. But he did anyway, and then stormed out of the room, and then stormed back in and said, “He doesn’t.”
And Sammy’d just said, “Okay,” in that unassuming way that 5-year-olds have.
Of course he’d asked Dad the same thing when he got back - even then the little bitch had to fact-check him on every little thing. And Dad had given Dean this funny look and then settled down onto the too-small bed, Sammy tucked close to his side, and explained in five-year-old terms monsters, monsters hurting people, protecting people from those monsters. And no, they weren’t going to touch him or Dean. Ever.
Dean would’ve said the same thing. But Dean had thought he wasn’t supposed to tell.
He wasn’t, because Dad rounded on him the moment Sammy was asleep. Dean preempted him; he hadn’t even gotten a word out before Dean was blurting, “I didn’t tell him.” Dad trusts him, always has, my second-in-command, but there’s enough distrust there for him to add, “I didn’t! Why would I tell him?”
At that, even Dad had looked stumped.
They didn’t have to qualify it with words. Sammy just knew things.
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Author: acerbus_instar
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Prompt: #04: Lie
Word Count: 300
Summary: For spn_30snapshots table, Liars and Thieves, part of a prequel series to my AU fic, Swift Hounds of Lússa. This installment: the tale of the floppy-haired magic eight ball.
1988
Poughkeepsie, that was another revelation, but Dean had figured out a long time before that Sammy was a little more than perceptive. He’s got a catalogue set up in the back of his composition book. Sixteen times to that date, Sammy’d wandered up to total strangers, spouted some random phrase that made no damn sense at all and earned smiles or tears or both. Like a floppy-haired magic eight ball, the freak.
So really, he shouldn’t have freaked so badly when Sammy spouted one to him. He shouldn’tve choked on his cereal when his five-year-old brother perked up and said, “Why’s Dad hunt monsters?” totally out of the blue. But he did anyway, and then stormed out of the room, and then stormed back in and said, “He doesn’t.”
And Sammy’d just said, “Okay,” in that unassuming way that 5-year-olds have.
Of course he’d asked Dad the same thing when he got back - even then the little bitch had to fact-check him on every little thing. And Dad had given Dean this funny look and then settled down onto the too-small bed, Sammy tucked close to his side, and explained in five-year-old terms monsters, monsters hurting people, protecting people from those monsters. And no, they weren’t going to touch him or Dean. Ever.
Dean would’ve said the same thing. But Dean had thought he wasn’t supposed to tell.
He wasn’t, because Dad rounded on him the moment Sammy was asleep. Dean preempted him; he hadn’t even gotten a word out before Dean was blurting, “I didn’t tell him.” Dad trusts him, always has, my second-in-command, but there’s enough distrust there for him to add, “I didn’t! Why would I tell him?”
At that, even Dad had looked stumped.
They didn’t have to qualify it with words. Sammy just knew things.
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