SPN Fanfic: Sometimes a Room is Just a Room
Title: Sometimes a Room is Just a Room
Characters: John, Sam (3) and Dean (7)
Rating: GEN, PG, kidfic
Word Count: 420-ish
Disclaimer: The room is mine, only concentrated. Everything else belongs to Kripke.
Warnings: Pointless silliness. Happy John.
Summary: The Winchesters have always gotten the weird hotel rooms.
A/N: In honor of my recent move into a larger, more diluted version of the hotel room depicted here. The interior decorating was not my idea, and my reactions were pretty much Dean's.
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Sometimes a Room is Just a Room
by CaffieneKitty
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The first impression John had of the room in Sopchoppy, Florida, was pink. This impression was rapidly followed by the impression of a small chimp running head-first into the backs of John's knees.
"Daddy, I godda goooooo!" howled Sammy. John stepped to the side to let his three-year-old stampede into the room in search of the toilet.
"You need help, you yell, okay?"
"'Kay!"
Dean dragged the duffel he'd insisted on bringing in by himself through the doorway, and stopped, looking horrified. "It's... pink."
Pale fuschia carpet, light bubblegum walls, ruffled dusty-rose bed spreads, bead-fringed peach lampshades, wall art that looked like a cotton candy factory explosion.
John nodded. "Yes. It's definitely pink."
"But Dad," said Dean with an exasperation beyond his seven years. "Pink is for girls. This is a girl's room. Don't they know we're guys?"
John suppressed a smirk. Whatever else the uninterrupted half-year of first grade had taught Dean, it had managed to instill in the boy the unshakeable belief that girls were icky, and anything associated with girls was to be avoided. Dean would eventually outgrow it; all boys did. It was so normal a thing for Dean to pick up, John wanted to go back and distribute candy in the school yard. "It's just a motel room, Dean. You won't see any of it when you're asleep."
"I will if I have nightmares," Dean grumbled quietly while stowing the duffel bag.
"It gots buggerfys!" shrieked Sam, gleefully running out of the bathroom, pulling his pants up.
"What has what?" asked John, the translation from three-year-old-ese failing him momentarily.
Dean peered into the bathroom and came back out looking even more disgusted. "There are butterflies on the bathroom walls, Dad. And they're purple."
"Hey!" John said with an air of bemused triumph. "At least they're not pink, right?"
Dean sighed heavily. "Purple's worse."
"Buggerfys, buggerfys, buggerfys!" Sammy pranced around the room making airy flapping motions with his little arms. "Yay!"
Well, at least one Winchester liked the room. Sammy was going through a bug phase. "They're butterflies, Sammy, not 'buggerfys'."
"Buggerfries?" Sam said, turning towards Dean.
"Butt. Er. Flies." Dean enunciated, each syllable dripping with disdain for the concept of purple flapping insects adorning the Winchester bathroom, even temporarily.
Sammy frowned in concentration. "Budd-er-flies," he said seriously.
John ruffled Sammy's hair. "Yep. Butterflies."
"Girliest bug of all bugs, ever," muttered Dean.
"Priddy bugs! Come see!" Sam charged back into the bathroom.
"I seen 'em already, Sammy," called Dean.
Sam raced back out and grabbed Dean by the elbow, pulling him towards the bathroom. "Come see, Dean! Come see!"
Dean heaved another enormous sigh and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, towed into the bathroom by his little brother. "Stupid girly room."
John just grinned and dug out his journal.
- - -
(that's it)
Characters: John, Sam (3) and Dean (7)
Rating: GEN, PG, kidfic
Word Count: 420-ish
Disclaimer: The room is mine, only concentrated. Everything else belongs to Kripke.
Warnings: Pointless silliness. Happy John.
Summary: The Winchesters have always gotten the weird hotel rooms.
A/N: In honor of my recent move into a larger, more diluted version of the hotel room depicted here. The interior decorating was not my idea, and my reactions were pretty much Dean's.
-
Sometimes a Room is Just a Room
by CaffieneKitty
-
The first impression John had of the room in Sopchoppy, Florida, was pink. This impression was rapidly followed by the impression of a small chimp running head-first into the backs of John's knees.
"Daddy, I godda goooooo!" howled Sammy. John stepped to the side to let his three-year-old stampede into the room in search of the toilet.
"You need help, you yell, okay?"
"'Kay!"
Dean dragged the duffel he'd insisted on bringing in by himself through the doorway, and stopped, looking horrified. "It's... pink."
Pale fuschia carpet, light bubblegum walls, ruffled dusty-rose bed spreads, bead-fringed peach lampshades, wall art that looked like a cotton candy factory explosion.
John nodded. "Yes. It's definitely pink."
"But Dad," said Dean with an exasperation beyond his seven years. "Pink is for girls. This is a girl's room. Don't they know we're guys?"
John suppressed a smirk. Whatever else the uninterrupted half-year of first grade had taught Dean, it had managed to instill in the boy the unshakeable belief that girls were icky, and anything associated with girls was to be avoided. Dean would eventually outgrow it; all boys did. It was so normal a thing for Dean to pick up, John wanted to go back and distribute candy in the school yard. "It's just a motel room, Dean. You won't see any of it when you're asleep."
"I will if I have nightmares," Dean grumbled quietly while stowing the duffel bag.
"It gots buggerfys!" shrieked Sam, gleefully running out of the bathroom, pulling his pants up.
"What has what?" asked John, the translation from three-year-old-ese failing him momentarily.
Dean peered into the bathroom and came back out looking even more disgusted. "There are butterflies on the bathroom walls, Dad. And they're purple."
"Hey!" John said with an air of bemused triumph. "At least they're not pink, right?"
Dean sighed heavily. "Purple's worse."
"Buggerfys, buggerfys, buggerfys!" Sammy pranced around the room making airy flapping motions with his little arms. "Yay!"
Well, at least one Winchester liked the room. Sammy was going through a bug phase. "They're butterflies, Sammy, not 'buggerfys'."
"Buggerfries?" Sam said, turning towards Dean.
"Butt. Er. Flies." Dean enunciated, each syllable dripping with disdain for the concept of purple flapping insects adorning the Winchester bathroom, even temporarily.
Sammy frowned in concentration. "Budd-er-flies," he said seriously.
John ruffled Sammy's hair. "Yep. Butterflies."
"Girliest bug of all bugs, ever," muttered Dean.
"Priddy bugs! Come see!" Sam charged back into the bathroom.
"I seen 'em already, Sammy," called Dean.
Sam raced back out and grabbed Dean by the elbow, pulling him towards the bathroom. "Come see, Dean! Come see!"
Dean heaved another enormous sigh and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, towed into the bathroom by his little brother. "Stupid girly room."
John just grinned and dug out his journal.
- - -
(that's it)