FIC: Stupefy
Whoa, I wrote gen. I'm surprised at myself.
Title: Stupefy
Author: memphis86
Characters: Dean and Sam, gen
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: 693
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.
Summary: Winchesters don't always feel pain right away.
Author's Note: Coda to 2.21, the very mildest speculation on what's next based on the preview. NO spoilers for 2.22 unless Kripke and I are brain twins. (I WISH OMG THERE WOULD BE SO MUCH NUDITY IN S3!)
Stupefy
Here is Dean Winchester, sitting in his car with the windows rolled down. He's got something heavy in his pocket. He touches it, just a light tap to make sure it's still there.
It's just past dawn; in fact, it's that part of the morning when the sky is a pale baby blue. Too early for most folks to have begun their day, so there's this kind of emptiness to the road. The night chill still lingers, the cold wind is welcome on his face. Keeps him awake.
Dean keeps almost starting the car, promises that after each car passes he'll turn the key.
He keeps lying.
Sam opens the side door and flops in, he has a way of flopping about. He's just so tall and gangly and stretched out.
Sam has a plastic fork in his mouth, and a white paper bag in his hand. He sits and pulls the fork out. "They only had blueberry."
Dean hates blueberry pie, it stains his teeth. "Feh..."
Sam smiles, the bastard only brought one fork. He knew it.
Dean shakes his head and pulls out onto the road; Sam is attacking his pie and crumbs are everywhere. Dean cringes, but keeps his eyes on the road.
"You're running late." Sam says in-between bites of berry.
"I'll make it," Dean presses on the accelerator. "Roads are clear."
"Traffic cops?"
"This ain't no speed trap, Sammy."
Sam laughs, "Oh my god, you sounded just like Bobby."
"Ya think so?" Dean smiles back, "How about this: 'Don't you boys be goin' near my shed 'less you want a belly fulla lead.'" Dean says in his best Bobby-voice.
Sam laughs harder, "Shit that one rhymed!"
"I know! Totally didn't intend to-"
"Wait, wait I got one," Sam crumbles the empty bag and turns to Dean. "So you remember that one time he was running that hoodoo deal and he comes at us screaming: 'Which one of you dead little shits has my god damn constrictor?! Tell me right now or your balls are goin' up on my wall!' Because-" Dean's laughing and Sam has to stop himself in order to speak clearly, "Because the damn thing got out and we spent all afternoon looking for it! And then Dad-" Sam starts laughing again.
Dean shakes his head and finishes the story, "Dad walks into the room, and the snake's wrapped around his leg, fuckin' got his fangs into him! Dad just very calmly walks over to Bobby, and asks if he can borrow a knife! A knife! He's got a god damn ten-foot boa constrictor on his leg tryin' to make a meal outta him and the man is just like 'Oh, a snake. Better cut it off.'"
Sam laughs until he's just making gasps of air and Dean is smiling so much it hurts his face.
"Oh god, that was the best." Sam wipes the corners of his eyes.
"Yeah."
"Man," Sam shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Almost there."
"Mmm hmm." Dean agrees. It's weird how his mood can drop like that; go from laughing and happy right back to before.
"You nervous?"
"Nope," Dean pops his word at the end, there's a little sibilant "pah" sound.
"Really?"
"Yup."
"Well, I would be,"
"No you wouldn't."
"Well, you'll never know."
"Don't say things like that."
"It's okay, if you are."
Dean doesn't say anything, he can see it over the horizon.
"Nervous, that is." Sam adds unnecessarily.
"Not nervous."
"Good, don't be. You're going to be fine. And thanks to your reckless speeding, you're not even late." Sam smiles.
"Sam, this whole Pollyanna thing? It isn't like you." Dean parks the car, and turns to look at Sam.
"I know," Sam ducks his head, "But I wouldn't be much help if I was bringing you down today, right?"
Dean takes the key out of the ignition. "Sammy,"
Sam doesn't answer because Sam was never there.
"Oh, right." Dean says to no one. Dean touches the gun in his pocket. He gets out of the car and stands, facing the sun.
Here is Dean Winchester, walking forward. He still can't feel anything.
Title: Stupefy
Author: memphis86
Characters: Dean and Sam, gen
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: 693
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.
Summary: Winchesters don't always feel pain right away.
Author's Note: Coda to 2.21, the very mildest speculation on what's next based on the preview. NO spoilers for 2.22 unless Kripke and I are brain twins. (I WISH OMG THERE WOULD BE SO MUCH NUDITY IN S3!)
Stupefy
Here is Dean Winchester, sitting in his car with the windows rolled down. He's got something heavy in his pocket. He touches it, just a light tap to make sure it's still there.
It's just past dawn; in fact, it's that part of the morning when the sky is a pale baby blue. Too early for most folks to have begun their day, so there's this kind of emptiness to the road. The night chill still lingers, the cold wind is welcome on his face. Keeps him awake.
Dean keeps almost starting the car, promises that after each car passes he'll turn the key.
He keeps lying.
Sam opens the side door and flops in, he has a way of flopping about. He's just so tall and gangly and stretched out.
Sam has a plastic fork in his mouth, and a white paper bag in his hand. He sits and pulls the fork out. "They only had blueberry."
Dean hates blueberry pie, it stains his teeth. "Feh..."
Sam smiles, the bastard only brought one fork. He knew it.
Dean shakes his head and pulls out onto the road; Sam is attacking his pie and crumbs are everywhere. Dean cringes, but keeps his eyes on the road.
"You're running late." Sam says in-between bites of berry.
"I'll make it," Dean presses on the accelerator. "Roads are clear."
"Traffic cops?"
"This ain't no speed trap, Sammy."
Sam laughs, "Oh my god, you sounded just like Bobby."
"Ya think so?" Dean smiles back, "How about this: 'Don't you boys be goin' near my shed 'less you want a belly fulla lead.'" Dean says in his best Bobby-voice.
Sam laughs harder, "Shit that one rhymed!"
"I know! Totally didn't intend to-"
"Wait, wait I got one," Sam crumbles the empty bag and turns to Dean. "So you remember that one time he was running that hoodoo deal and he comes at us screaming: 'Which one of you dead little shits has my god damn constrictor?! Tell me right now or your balls are goin' up on my wall!' Because-" Dean's laughing and Sam has to stop himself in order to speak clearly, "Because the damn thing got out and we spent all afternoon looking for it! And then Dad-" Sam starts laughing again.
Dean shakes his head and finishes the story, "Dad walks into the room, and the snake's wrapped around his leg, fuckin' got his fangs into him! Dad just very calmly walks over to Bobby, and asks if he can borrow a knife! A knife! He's got a god damn ten-foot boa constrictor on his leg tryin' to make a meal outta him and the man is just like 'Oh, a snake. Better cut it off.'"
Sam laughs until he's just making gasps of air and Dean is smiling so much it hurts his face.
"Oh god, that was the best." Sam wipes the corners of his eyes.
"Yeah."
"Man," Sam shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Almost there."
"Mmm hmm." Dean agrees. It's weird how his mood can drop like that; go from laughing and happy right back to before.
"You nervous?"
"Nope," Dean pops his word at the end, there's a little sibilant "pah" sound.
"Really?"
"Yup."
"Well, I would be,"
"No you wouldn't."
"Well, you'll never know."
"Don't say things like that."
"It's okay, if you are."
Dean doesn't say anything, he can see it over the horizon.
"Nervous, that is." Sam adds unnecessarily.
"Not nervous."
"Good, don't be. You're going to be fine. And thanks to your reckless speeding, you're not even late." Sam smiles.
"Sam, this whole Pollyanna thing? It isn't like you." Dean parks the car, and turns to look at Sam.
"I know," Sam ducks his head, "But I wouldn't be much help if I was bringing you down today, right?"
Dean takes the key out of the ignition. "Sammy,"
Sam doesn't answer because Sam was never there.
"Oh, right." Dean says to no one. Dean touches the gun in his pocket. He gets out of the car and stands, facing the sun.
Here is Dean Winchester, walking forward. He still can't feel anything.