FIC: Little Fish
Um, this is supposed to be what breaks me of my writer's block. I should just blame the writing and posting of this on cold medicine. But really? I'd probably still churn out something like this even if I was healthy.
Title: Little Fish
Author: memphis86
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,503
Disclaimer: If this happened on the show, they'd throw Kripke in rehab. All the names of the fish and the horrible puns are mine.
Summary: Short ficlet wherein Sam fever dreams, and there is a prevalence of fish. Also, Dean's pretty easily manipulated.
Little Fish
First of all, Sam is suffering from a mild case of heat exhaustion, but he doesn't know it yet. We'll get back to that.
They're in a gas station, and Sam has all the windows rolled up because he absolutely hates the way they smell. His own personal hell would be him trapped in a convertible with the top down in a gas station on a really hot day.
Dean's finished filling up the Impala and he's probably busy trying to figure out the best way to carry all his junk food back from the store to the car.
Sam is boiling hot but he's stubborn as hell and won't roll down the window to breathe in that horrible nauseous smell. Instead he focuses on reading the bumper stickers on the car in front of him. They're cliché, and disturbingly right-wing. Confederate flags and an eagle with a rifle, a silver Jesus Fish catches the sun and blinds his eyes.
The car rumbles to life and pulls away, all he can see is the horizon. Dean's walking back to the car with his jacket full of multi-colored little bags. He dumps most of them in the backseat and sits up front with a bag of goldfish in his lap.
Dean actually doesn't slam handfuls of little orange crackers into his mouth like you might think, he likes to eat them one by one. He bites off the tails and then eats the head. You should see what he does to gummy bears.
Dean sits and eats for a few minutes and Sam wants to whine at him to get going so he can crack a window and cool off, but really doesn't have the energy. He barely has enough to keep his eyes open or his head up.
Eventually Dean finishes and they leave the gas station, back onto the road. Sam feels like he's forgotten something but he just slumps as far as he can in his seat and lets his knees push against the glovebox.
Dean speaks to him in-between bites of fish, but it's in one ear and out the other. They eventually stop and Sam opens his door, unlocks his belt, and gets out of the car.
Then the ground rushes up against him and there's a very loud thud in his ears.
***
The next thing that happens is that Sam's in front of the bathroom mirror in a house that may or may not be his. They all start to blend together eventually, when you're actually homeless by definition. There are rooms that are yours and not-yours at the same time.
Sam looks at the cheerful band-aid on his forehead. It has pink polka dots on it. He'll kill Dean. Bastard has the most fucked up sense of humor.
He runs outside and slams the screen door open. The cicadas are buzzing and Dean's sitting on the edge of the porch, carving into an apple with a knife.
"How's the head?"
"The hell is this!" Sam points at his forehead.
"There was a lot of blood." Dean lets the apple go and it rolls on the ground. He turns to Sam and pushes him against the house. His knife cuts down Sam's collar and vivisects his shirt in twain, it falls off in ribbons.
Dean is close enough to breathe in and it's that scent of musk and sweat and Dean softly whispers his name, as if the gentle in his voice could counteract the violence in his movements.
"Dean?"
"It's so hot, Sammy,"
***
Sam wakes up on the side of the road, clothes intact. He looks behind him at the open door of the Impala, and fuck! He fell on his head. Wonderful, he's so damn coordinated.
Water drips on his head. Cold, soapy water.
Dean's washing the car; Sam takes in the full sight when he turns around. He's washing the car with his shirt, which makes no sense. Dean usually steals one of Sam's shirts for that.
Then again, it would explain why Dean is half-naked.
He lifts up a silver bucket of water and pours it down over the window, and little fish swim all over the car hood.
Sam stands and peers in the bucket and watches the fish swim around in circles. There are black ones, and silver ones, and bright orange like the guppy he had when he was a kid. He named it "Finny Swimchester" which made John smile wider then he'd ever seen. He'd called him clever and ruffled his hair. Dean dared him to eat Finny on several occasions and Sam refused. He lived for six months before Dean "accidentally" fed him cheetos.
"You killed my pet fish." Sam declares. But Dean is still scrubbing the roof of the car, he's on his knees on the hood and Sam feels a surge of adrenaline as he watches Dean move his body up and down.
"God damn it Dean, you pushed me against the house and cut my shirt!" Sam flips Dean over and pushes him flat against the car hood, climbs up on him.
Dean gives Sam a pained look and the little fish flop against the car, gasping for water. Dean reaches for the bucket and dumps it over the both of them.
"So hot Sam, so thirsty…" He moans.
Sam tries to kiss him but the water wakes him up again.
***
It's the rain, the cold rain washing over him, soaking him to the bone and he should be cold but it's not enough.
Dean however, is trembling as he pulls Sam out of the mud.
"I hit my head, didn't I?" Sam asks as Dean props him up, both arms under his shoulders holding tight.
Dean nods.
"I was dreaming before."
Dean nods.
"I'm still dreaming, aren't I?"
Dean shrugs. "It all depends on what you can make of this."
The rain is still cold and Dean's lips have turned blue, Sam places a hand on them and they turn to water. Everything is water. Dean melts into a puddle in his arms.
"Okay!" Sam shouts as he falls back down in the mud, "I'd like to wake up now!"
***
When Sam actually wakes up; he's lying on his stomach on a squeaky hotel bed. Dean is holding ice-cubes against the back of his neck, and he keeps moving them from nape, to temples and the sides of his face.
He turns over and Dean asks, "You need a hospital or another cold shower?"
Oh, he's naked and wet and wrapped in an itchy hotel towel. Great.
"I think you've got heat exhaustion."
The reply Sam gives cannot be categorized as any discernible language. Words don't form and the mush that escapes his throat is so incomprehensible it's almost funny.
Of course Dean laughs, and says "What?"
Sam flails his arm around until his hand points to his head and his other hand wiggles his fingers.
"Ohhh, vision? Bad dreams?"
"Bth." Vowels fail him.
"So, hospital, yes or no?"
Sam shakes his head.
Dean walks to the small kitchenette to get more water and ice. He makes Sam drink a whole glass before he lets him up. Sam chews on the ice chips and thinks. He understands that Dean had to cut him out of his clothes, and the rain was the shower, but the car. The car is all his sick little imagination.
***
"You really need me to make your vision happen?"
Sam licks his lips, "Yeah, I think you should do it. It's very important."
"If I don't wash the Impala with my Twisted Sister shirt, the entire world is in peril? Seriously?"
Sam nods. "Also, you owe me a goldfish. You promised me you'd replace the one you killed in third grade."
"I was hoping you'd forget that."
"Well, I didn't. I want a new goldfish."
"Where the hell are you gonna keep it?"
"I'll work out the details later." Sam hands Dean a sponge and soap. "You have a car to wash."
***
Sam pushes Dean against the hood of the Impala and gets his kiss. Dean yells about the chrome but Sam's hand in his pants stops him cold. He makes Sam help him buff every little scratch and stain out.
Dean gives Sam a goldfish the next day. His tells him his name is Sid Fishious and Sam puts Sid in a big empty mayonnaise jar with holes in the lid.
Sid lasts a whole two and half months longer then his predecessor until Dean knocks him off the nightstand in a fit of passion. Sam sees him flop against the floor and rushes him to the sink but he's gone. They say a few quiet goodbyes and down the pipes he goes.
Dean promises him a turtle and a blowjob. But not in that order.
Fin!
Title: Little Fish
Author: memphis86
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,503
Disclaimer: If this happened on the show, they'd throw Kripke in rehab. All the names of the fish and the horrible puns are mine.
Summary: Short ficlet wherein Sam fever dreams, and there is a prevalence of fish. Also, Dean's pretty easily manipulated.
Little Fish
First of all, Sam is suffering from a mild case of heat exhaustion, but he doesn't know it yet. We'll get back to that.
They're in a gas station, and Sam has all the windows rolled up because he absolutely hates the way they smell. His own personal hell would be him trapped in a convertible with the top down in a gas station on a really hot day.
Dean's finished filling up the Impala and he's probably busy trying to figure out the best way to carry all his junk food back from the store to the car.
Sam is boiling hot but he's stubborn as hell and won't roll down the window to breathe in that horrible nauseous smell. Instead he focuses on reading the bumper stickers on the car in front of him. They're cliché, and disturbingly right-wing. Confederate flags and an eagle with a rifle, a silver Jesus Fish catches the sun and blinds his eyes.
The car rumbles to life and pulls away, all he can see is the horizon. Dean's walking back to the car with his jacket full of multi-colored little bags. He dumps most of them in the backseat and sits up front with a bag of goldfish in his lap.
Dean actually doesn't slam handfuls of little orange crackers into his mouth like you might think, he likes to eat them one by one. He bites off the tails and then eats the head. You should see what he does to gummy bears.
Dean sits and eats for a few minutes and Sam wants to whine at him to get going so he can crack a window and cool off, but really doesn't have the energy. He barely has enough to keep his eyes open or his head up.
Eventually Dean finishes and they leave the gas station, back onto the road. Sam feels like he's forgotten something but he just slumps as far as he can in his seat and lets his knees push against the glovebox.
Dean speaks to him in-between bites of fish, but it's in one ear and out the other. They eventually stop and Sam opens his door, unlocks his belt, and gets out of the car.
Then the ground rushes up against him and there's a very loud thud in his ears.
***
The next thing that happens is that Sam's in front of the bathroom mirror in a house that may or may not be his. They all start to blend together eventually, when you're actually homeless by definition. There are rooms that are yours and not-yours at the same time.
Sam looks at the cheerful band-aid on his forehead. It has pink polka dots on it. He'll kill Dean. Bastard has the most fucked up sense of humor.
He runs outside and slams the screen door open. The cicadas are buzzing and Dean's sitting on the edge of the porch, carving into an apple with a knife.
"How's the head?"
"The hell is this!" Sam points at his forehead.
"There was a lot of blood." Dean lets the apple go and it rolls on the ground. He turns to Sam and pushes him against the house. His knife cuts down Sam's collar and vivisects his shirt in twain, it falls off in ribbons.
Dean is close enough to breathe in and it's that scent of musk and sweat and Dean softly whispers his name, as if the gentle in his voice could counteract the violence in his movements.
"Dean?"
"It's so hot, Sammy,"
***
Sam wakes up on the side of the road, clothes intact. He looks behind him at the open door of the Impala, and fuck! He fell on his head. Wonderful, he's so damn coordinated.
Water drips on his head. Cold, soapy water.
Dean's washing the car; Sam takes in the full sight when he turns around. He's washing the car with his shirt, which makes no sense. Dean usually steals one of Sam's shirts for that.
Then again, it would explain why Dean is half-naked.
He lifts up a silver bucket of water and pours it down over the window, and little fish swim all over the car hood.
Sam stands and peers in the bucket and watches the fish swim around in circles. There are black ones, and silver ones, and bright orange like the guppy he had when he was a kid. He named it "Finny Swimchester" which made John smile wider then he'd ever seen. He'd called him clever and ruffled his hair. Dean dared him to eat Finny on several occasions and Sam refused. He lived for six months before Dean "accidentally" fed him cheetos.
"You killed my pet fish." Sam declares. But Dean is still scrubbing the roof of the car, he's on his knees on the hood and Sam feels a surge of adrenaline as he watches Dean move his body up and down.
"God damn it Dean, you pushed me against the house and cut my shirt!" Sam flips Dean over and pushes him flat against the car hood, climbs up on him.
Dean gives Sam a pained look and the little fish flop against the car, gasping for water. Dean reaches for the bucket and dumps it over the both of them.
"So hot Sam, so thirsty…" He moans.
Sam tries to kiss him but the water wakes him up again.
***
It's the rain, the cold rain washing over him, soaking him to the bone and he should be cold but it's not enough.
Dean however, is trembling as he pulls Sam out of the mud.
"I hit my head, didn't I?" Sam asks as Dean props him up, both arms under his shoulders holding tight.
Dean nods.
"I was dreaming before."
Dean nods.
"I'm still dreaming, aren't I?"
Dean shrugs. "It all depends on what you can make of this."
The rain is still cold and Dean's lips have turned blue, Sam places a hand on them and they turn to water. Everything is water. Dean melts into a puddle in his arms.
"Okay!" Sam shouts as he falls back down in the mud, "I'd like to wake up now!"
***
When Sam actually wakes up; he's lying on his stomach on a squeaky hotel bed. Dean is holding ice-cubes against the back of his neck, and he keeps moving them from nape, to temples and the sides of his face.
He turns over and Dean asks, "You need a hospital or another cold shower?"
Oh, he's naked and wet and wrapped in an itchy hotel towel. Great.
"I think you've got heat exhaustion."
The reply Sam gives cannot be categorized as any discernible language. Words don't form and the mush that escapes his throat is so incomprehensible it's almost funny.
Of course Dean laughs, and says "What?"
Sam flails his arm around until his hand points to his head and his other hand wiggles his fingers.
"Ohhh, vision? Bad dreams?"
"Bth." Vowels fail him.
"So, hospital, yes or no?"
Sam shakes his head.
Dean walks to the small kitchenette to get more water and ice. He makes Sam drink a whole glass before he lets him up. Sam chews on the ice chips and thinks. He understands that Dean had to cut him out of his clothes, and the rain was the shower, but the car. The car is all his sick little imagination.
***
"You really need me to make your vision happen?"
Sam licks his lips, "Yeah, I think you should do it. It's very important."
"If I don't wash the Impala with my Twisted Sister shirt, the entire world is in peril? Seriously?"
Sam nods. "Also, you owe me a goldfish. You promised me you'd replace the one you killed in third grade."
"I was hoping you'd forget that."
"Well, I didn't. I want a new goldfish."
"Where the hell are you gonna keep it?"
"I'll work out the details later." Sam hands Dean a sponge and soap. "You have a car to wash."
***
Sam pushes Dean against the hood of the Impala and gets his kiss. Dean yells about the chrome but Sam's hand in his pants stops him cold. He makes Sam help him buff every little scratch and stain out.
Dean gives Sam a goldfish the next day. His tells him his name is Sid Fishious and Sam puts Sid in a big empty mayonnaise jar with holes in the lid.
Sid lasts a whole two and half months longer then his predecessor until Dean knocks him off the nightstand in a fit of passion. Sam sees him flop against the floor and rushes him to the sink but he's gone. They say a few quiet goodbyes and down the pipes he goes.
Dean promises him a turtle and a blowjob. But not in that order.
Fin!