Missing (Fun fact? This ended up being 666 words, lol)tahirireJune 14 2010, 22:28:48 UTC
When Sammy was a baby, John was there when he took his first steps. It was harder to leave the boys alone back then; Sam seemed so fragile and tiny in John’s hands, and a pall of evil followed him like a shroud, haunting his innocence wherever they went.
When Sammy took his first steps, John was so proud that he tucked Dean under his right arm and, bending double, he held Sammy’s small hand in his left and guided them straight to the car. From there he drove them to the ice cream shop, and Dean ordered chocolate and Sammy took one bite of his vanilla and then tried to slink out of the booth because he wanted to try it again, and even though it was hardly any kind of a real celebration, John watched Mary’s boys laugh and smile and felt like maybe he could do it after all. Like maybe he could protect them.
Looking back now, he thinks maybe he was wrong.
The whirr of the respirator is the only sound in the room, and John watches Dean’s chest rise and fall, stilted, like it would rather just rest forever
( ... )
Re: Missing (Fun fact? This ended up being 666 words, lol)khakigrrlJune 15 2010, 00:25:48 UTC
*meep*
Oh, John. Sometimes, I could just whack you with a spoon.
Still, I really liked this fic. Great view of John and his rationalizations and his underlying love. I loved the glimpse of very-wee!chesters and how John at least gave 'em a bit of a childhood midst his obsession.
"You know, the whole silence thing? I get it. I'm not gonna argue with you about why you don't wanna talk. But if we're gonna do this thing--"
...
"I need to know what I'm supposed to do."
...
"Like, besides drive."
...
"Or maybe, you know, where we are going, and then you can just, I don't know, sleep this off? You don't look like you've slept in-- yeah. Never mind."
...
"Can I get something besides the smoke signals, here?"
...
"Look, Sam, I'm here. I'm still here. You're here. We're both here. And if I have to take you somewhere to prove it to you, then tell me where we're going. It's just miles of black unless you tell me. Sam."
*shifts his jacket sleeves and tilts his chin forward as another signal for turning right*
"Dammit, Sam, come on!"
"It's Sammy..." Sam finally turns and looks at him, but the eyes, they aren't Sam's. "Isn't it? Dean. Wake up."
Dean gasps and lurches into a pair of warm, ready arms.
No Chick Flick MomentspoestheblackcatJune 17 2010, 08:55:11 UTC
It’s not that Dean doesn’t like chick-flick moments. No, it’s not that at all. He watches Dr. Sexy, doesn’t he? He’s seen The Breakfast Club, When Harry Met Sally, The Notebook (okay, that was only in order to get into Tiffani-with-an-i’s hot, sexy, red satin panties), and Ghost.
It’s not that he can’t handle chick-flick moments.
He just doesn’t like how real-life chick-flick moments make him feel. Especially those with his emo little brother
( ... )
Re: No Chick Flick MomentspoestheblackcatJune 17 2010, 23:10:49 UTC
Oh, but think--if he does, we angst-luvin' fangirls wouldn't have anything to squee about. We MUST keep his life full of trauma every which way he turns, for the sake of our sanity! It is our duty to...
What are you looking at, Dean? Awwww, stop it with the reproachful look in your shining green eyes...Sam's puppy-dog eyes too?
The increasingly girly sounds coming from the bathroom totally made up for his sore ribs. Dean shifted on the bed. He should probably lie down and rest, but no way was he letting Sam know he'd gotten some good blows in. It was bad enough the freak had the gall to grow taller than him sometime in the past few months, no sense in him knowing he was getting better at wrestling too.
The shower, Sam's fifth one, jeez, finally stopped. Dean grinned. Sam knew better than to use a permanent sharpie on him. And really, after the Nair incident, he should have at least smelled the shampoo first. Bastard had it coming.
The door opened suddenly, Sam looking thunderous and close to hysterical wrapped in his white motel towel. “What kind of dye did you even use, Dean? I only had it in my hair for thirty seconds!”
He knew it would cost him, but he couldn't help letting out a snort. As Sam let out a strangled yell and charged him, he started to laugh. God, he loved the smurfs.
I had an idea for this prompt, too, but it was so incredibly angsty and sad I was feeling guilty for even thinking about responding with it. I'm so glad you wrote this! Someone needs to bring the humor around here. ;)
Thanks! This is actually the first fandom thing I've ever written, so I'm glad it doesn't suck too bad. I like angsty stuff too, but everything else so far was on the serious side so I thought I'd try something else. Glad you liked :)
A Million Miles Away (Or Just a Mile Up the Road) 2elliemurasakiJune 15 2010, 06:33:59 UTC
"BACK IN BLACK, I HIT THE SACK, IT'S BEEN TOO LONG, I'M GLAD TO BE BACK-" Sam smacks at the thing in his ear, connects with a cord, fumbles till he finds the buttons on his iPod and gets the damn thing off, and without the music at top volume he can hear someone else breathing. Familiar sound. Home sound. Sam's breath hitches, comes faster, and there are two hands on his shoulders and a reassuring murmur in his ear soothing him through the panic but he still can't open his eyes
( ... )
Re: A Million Miles Away (Or Just a Mile Up the Road) 2tahirireJune 15 2010, 17:42:31 UTC
I like this! My favorite thing is all the little details you threw in, like Dean keeping Smith and Sam testing himself to make sure he was really him. I LOVE Sam climbing into the backseat of the Impala to rest, and the implication that Sam checked the lock with some sort of esp makes me insanely happy. :)
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When Sammy was a baby, John was there when he took his first steps. It was harder to leave the boys alone back then; Sam seemed so fragile and tiny in John’s hands, and a pall of evil followed him like a shroud, haunting his innocence wherever they went.
When Sammy took his first steps, John was so proud that he tucked Dean under his right arm and, bending double, he held Sammy’s small hand in his left and guided them straight to the car. From there he drove them to the ice cream shop, and Dean ordered chocolate and Sammy took one bite of his vanilla and then tried to slink out of the booth because he wanted to try it again, and even though it was hardly any kind of a real celebration, John watched Mary’s boys laugh and smile and felt like maybe he could do it after all. Like maybe he could protect them.
Looking back now, he thinks maybe he was wrong.
The whirr of the respirator is the only sound in the room, and John watches Dean’s chest rise and fall, stilted, like it would rather just rest forever ( ... )
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Oh, John. Sometimes, I could just whack you with a spoon.
Still, I really liked this fic. Great view of John and his rationalizations and his underlying love. I loved the glimpse of very-wee!chesters and how John at least gave 'em a bit of a childhood midst his obsession.
Thanks!
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And to answer your other comment - of course! Prompt all you like!
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...
"You know, the whole silence thing? I get it. I'm not gonna argue with you about why you don't wanna talk. But if we're gonna do this thing--"
...
"I need to know what I'm supposed to do."
...
"Like, besides drive."
...
"Or maybe, you know, where we are going, and then you can just, I don't know, sleep this off? You don't look like you've slept in-- yeah. Never mind."
...
"Can I get something besides the smoke signals, here?"
...
"Look, Sam, I'm here. I'm still here. You're here. We're both here. And if I have to take you somewhere to prove it to you, then tell me where we're going. It's just miles of black unless you tell me. Sam."
*shifts his jacket sleeves and tilts his chin forward as another signal for turning right*
"Dammit, Sam, come on!"
"It's Sammy..." Sam finally turns and looks at him, but the eyes, they aren't Sam's. "Isn't it? Dean. Wake up."
Dean gasps and lurches into a pair of warm, ready arms.
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*scrambles for Sam*
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It’s not that Dean doesn’t like chick-flick moments. No, it’s not that at all. He watches Dr. Sexy, doesn’t he? He’s seen The Breakfast Club, When Harry Met Sally, The Notebook (okay, that was only in order to get into Tiffani-with-an-i’s hot, sexy, red satin panties), and Ghost.
It’s not that he can’t handle chick-flick moments.
He just doesn’t like how real-life chick-flick moments make him feel. Especially those with his emo little brother ( ... )
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*sigh*
I hope one day that boy will recover from all the trauma of his life. *crosses fingers*
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What are you looking at, Dean? Awwww, stop it with the reproachful look in your shining green eyes...Sam's puppy-dog eyes too?
Must. Write. Happy. Fic.
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The increasingly girly sounds coming from the bathroom totally made up for his sore ribs. Dean shifted on the bed. He should probably lie down and rest, but no way was he letting Sam know he'd gotten some good blows in. It was bad enough the freak had the gall to grow taller than him sometime in the past few months, no sense in him knowing he was getting better at wrestling too.
The shower, Sam's fifth one, jeez, finally stopped. Dean grinned. Sam knew better than to use a permanent sharpie on him. And really, after the Nair incident, he should have at least smelled the shampoo first. Bastard had it coming.
The door opened suddenly, Sam looking thunderous and close to hysterical wrapped in his white motel towel. “What kind of dye did you even use, Dean? I only had it in my hair for thirty seconds!”
He knew it would cost him, but he couldn't help letting out a snort. As Sam let out a strangled yell and charged him, he started to laugh. God, he loved the smurfs.
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I had an idea for this prompt, too, but it was so incredibly angsty and sad I was feeling guilty for even thinking about responding with it. I'm so glad you wrote this! Someone needs to bring the humor around here. ;)
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Sam: "You’re scared to go home."
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