Fanfic - SPN: A Normal Day (Sam/Dean)
Title: A Normal Day
Author: eboniorchid
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester
Prompt: undermistletoe Mystery Schmoop Week (due Dec. 22). 002. Amused. For 100moods, challenge table here.
Word Count: ~1400 words.
Rating: R for language and implied sexuality.
Warnings/Spoilers: Slash. Wincest. Schmoop. Humor. Established relationship. Missing scene. Holiday theme. Implied sexuality. No spoilers.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Really. Nothing.
Summary: With their recent reconciliation, his recent death scare, and his brother's birthday fast approaching. Dean figures now is as good a time as any to do something uncharacteristically nice for Sam. And what has Sam always craved? Normal. So Dean gives them both a day off, organizing thirty-six hours of supernatural-free living.
Author's Notes: Sparse-style. These are random glimpses into the happenings of their romp through normality. Mostly brotherly banter and general snark. For a smutty drabble interlude from this story, check out Sammy Sundae. This theoretically takes place the weekend after the end of "Faith" and a few days before "Route 666", based on angelstart's Season 1 Timeline.
"We're taking a day off, Sam. Thirty-six hours, to be exact."
"What?" Sam's forehead crinkled up with confusion.
"You heard me. We're taking a day off."
"I don't understand. Dean, what are you talking about?"
"Listen. We just finished a Hunt with hardly a scratch, right?"
"Right …"
"And that's pretty spectacular, considering our recent luck, right?
"Umm, I guess …"
"And the usual suspects have been kind of quiet lately, right?"
"Well, kind of-"
"And your birthday's coming up, right?"
"Sure, but-"
"So … I figure. Hey, we deserve a little vacation."
Sam looked at him like he'd suddenly sprouted wings.
"Dude, we've done a solid half year of work together. Saved a lot of folks. So … like I said, we're gonna spend a whole thirty-six hours like all those normal people you're always talking about. Thirty-six hours without looking for, driving to, or shooting at supernatural nasties."
"Dean … you don't need to do this for me, man. I know how important this work is-"
"This vacation day? Yeah, it's non-negotiable."
"What?! Dean, that's-"
"Vacation will start at 1800 hours tonight and end at 0600 hours Sunday morning." He looked at the ticking second hand on his watch. "And 4, 3, 2, 1 … vacation!"
"Dean, you can't be serious!"
Dean just gave him a hard look.
"Okay, so maybe you're serious, but … what are we supposed to do? Just sit around here? Watching TV for forty hours? This doesn't make any sense, Dean. We could-"
"No TV. Well … not until later or something. We've got plans tonight, Sammy."
"Plans?"
Dean grinned, reaching into his back pocket, and whipped out two red, white, and blue tickets. "Baseball, Sammy, baseball."
"You got us tickets to a Cubs game? Dude …" Sam eyed Dean warily. "Christo!"
Dean burst into his rare full-on laugh. "Dude, I'm not possessed! I just wanna watch some ball." He checked his watch again. "And we better shag ass, because I swear, if your bitching makes us late, I'm gonna kick your ass."
---
"We're in Wrigley Field, man! Wrigley … fucking … Field!" Sam was like a kid in a candy store … or a kid in a damn amazing sporting arena. "Dean … dude … how'd you score these tickets? These seats are golden!"
He shrugged with a mysterious half-smirk. "I have my ways."
"I'm gonna grab a hot dog before the pitch. A real ballpark frank. Ha! Anyway, you want one?"
"Nah, I'm good." Dean shook his head with a chuckle, noting all the barely restrained excitement on Sam's face as he practically climbed over people to get to the wandering vendor. Dean hadn't really come to watch the game. He'd come to watch Sammy watch the game.
---
"So … you're probably expecting a lot of thank you sex or something, right?"
Dean shrugged, but smirked. "Would 'all night long' be a reasonable answer to that question?"
---
"Fuck, Dean!" Sam puffed out air as his head hit the pillow, exhausted. "Where the hell did you learn how to do that with your tongue?"
"Man, I told you years ago. Once you can unwrap a Starburst with your tongue and tie a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue, then you should be able to outdo even some of the most highly paid hookers."
"Damnit! Now I want Starburst."
"Well, I'm always happy to make a sugar run. And, uh, you could definitely use the practice."
"I think your 'oh fuck yes, oh fuck Sam, oh fuck', from, like … an hour ago … suggests otherwise." Dean knew it did.
---
"Where are we going, Dean?"
"You'll see. We're almost there."
When they pulled into the parking lot, though, Sam was still making puzzled faces. "This is probably not a good place to ask for directions."
"Dude, we're not lost!"
"You were bringing me here?"
"Yeah."
"And no one's threatening you into this, or blackmailing you or something?"
"Nope."
They got out of the car, but then Sam turned, looking over the hood at Dean. "Are you sure it's not, like … haunted?"
"No, Sam! I am not, despite popular belief, allergic to smart stuff, like … ya know … museums or whatever."
"Okay, but …" Sam looked really concerned. "Let me know if the exhibits make your eyes itch or if the information overload starts to make you nauseous or something, okay?"
Dean flipped him the bird. "Shut up, Sammy."
---
"Dude, this Genghis guy was no fucking joke. And he even dabbled in the occult? Man, I bet his army had pro Hunters and everything. The whole of Asia was probably a no-go zone for supernatural beasties. He'd probably scare the magick right out of a witch!"
"Wow, Dean!" Sam seemed astonished and amused at the same time. "Are you really reading the captions on the displays? I definitely thought you were more of a picture book kind of person."
"Very funny, Sam. Really. But uh … I'm at least looking at, ya know … weapons. You've been studying what, like … rusty bowls and plates for half an hour? I mean … would an apron, a vacuum cleaner, and some fuck-me pumps have been more appropriate gifts this year?"
"Oh, I am so not talking to you."
Dean's arms went wide as he pouted his lips, faux-pleading. "Come on, sweetheart. You know I hate it when you give me the cold shoulder."
---
"Dean … is this a … date?"
"Don't ask stupid questions, Sammy. We're just having a nice normal dinner, like nice normal people. That's what you wanted, right?"
Sam laughed a little, smug. "Yeah. A date." He said it enough under his breath for Dean to willfully ignore it with a scowl, before continuing to inhale his nice normal restaurant fries.
---
"Dean, why'd you buy all the fixings for a sundae?"
Dean's eyebrows lifted in a universal expression of duh. "Umm … maybe because I don't like cake."
"You mean for my birthday?"
"Yep."
"But we don't have any bowls. I don't even think we have more than one spoon."
"We don't need bowls … or more than one spoon, Sam."
"Are you seriously saying we should just eat it straight out of the carton?"
"Actually … I was thinking more along the lines of … Sammy A La Mode."
"Oh!" And Sam finally got it.
"Yeah." And Dean smirked … of course.
---
"Fuck, Sam!" Dean groaned, crawling under the tangle of sheets. "I don't think I'm gonna be able to move for, like … a year."
"Hey, you wore me out too."
"Yeah, but, come on! The sun's coming up already. We must have been doing that for hours."
Sam turned to blink at his totally blissed-out brother. "Is that a complaint?"
"Oh hell no." Which was Dean-speak for I'm totally game for another round, just … ya know … after a nap.
---
"See, Dean, normal isn't so bad." Sam tossed the words out triumphantly, as if their vacation had been his idea.
"Of course it's not bad, Sam. That's not the point."
"Well, what's the point then?"
Dean shrugged, as if he didn't really know but he figured it must be obvious. "We had a job on Friday and we'll have another one on Monday, but that doesn't mean we can't just be people sometimes. You don't have to give up Hunting, if all you want to do is check out a show or something, when we're in some town with paved roads. And I don't always need to hustle pool, if all you want to do is knock back a few brews and act a fool. And we don't have to make like heroes all the time, if sometimes you just want to be a regular Joe. The work's important, yeah, but we've got a right to let loose sometimes … and that doesn't always have to be with some bouncy blue-eyed waitress."
Dean took his eyes off the road long enough to see Sam's eyebrow quirk upward in a motion that said huh?.
"All I'm saying is: you can … have some normal … and Hunt evil too."
Sam nodded slowly, brows knit together, then smiled and out-and-out laughed. "Maybe, man. Maybe. Didn't know you were so deep, dude."
Dean's serious-talk face transformed with a wide, bright smile. "Shut up, man. I'm too pretty to be deep. You on the other hand …"
"Jerk."
"Bitch."
Author: eboniorchid
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester
Prompt: undermistletoe Mystery Schmoop Week (due Dec. 22). 002. Amused. For 100moods, challenge table here.
Word Count: ~1400 words.
Rating: R for language and implied sexuality.
Warnings/Spoilers: Slash. Wincest. Schmoop. Humor. Established relationship. Missing scene. Holiday theme. Implied sexuality. No spoilers.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Really. Nothing.
Summary: With their recent reconciliation, his recent death scare, and his brother's birthday fast approaching. Dean figures now is as good a time as any to do something uncharacteristically nice for Sam. And what has Sam always craved? Normal. So Dean gives them both a day off, organizing thirty-six hours of supernatural-free living.
Author's Notes: Sparse-style. These are random glimpses into the happenings of their romp through normality. Mostly brotherly banter and general snark. For a smutty drabble interlude from this story, check out Sammy Sundae. This theoretically takes place the weekend after the end of "Faith" and a few days before "Route 666", based on angelstart's Season 1 Timeline.
"We're taking a day off, Sam. Thirty-six hours, to be exact."
"What?" Sam's forehead crinkled up with confusion.
"You heard me. We're taking a day off."
"I don't understand. Dean, what are you talking about?"
"Listen. We just finished a Hunt with hardly a scratch, right?"
"Right …"
"And that's pretty spectacular, considering our recent luck, right?
"Umm, I guess …"
"And the usual suspects have been kind of quiet lately, right?"
"Well, kind of-"
"And your birthday's coming up, right?"
"Sure, but-"
"So … I figure. Hey, we deserve a little vacation."
Sam looked at him like he'd suddenly sprouted wings.
"Dude, we've done a solid half year of work together. Saved a lot of folks. So … like I said, we're gonna spend a whole thirty-six hours like all those normal people you're always talking about. Thirty-six hours without looking for, driving to, or shooting at supernatural nasties."
"Dean … you don't need to do this for me, man. I know how important this work is-"
"This vacation day? Yeah, it's non-negotiable."
"What?! Dean, that's-"
"Vacation will start at 1800 hours tonight and end at 0600 hours Sunday morning." He looked at the ticking second hand on his watch. "And 4, 3, 2, 1 … vacation!"
"Dean, you can't be serious!"
Dean just gave him a hard look.
"Okay, so maybe you're serious, but … what are we supposed to do? Just sit around here? Watching TV for forty hours? This doesn't make any sense, Dean. We could-"
"No TV. Well … not until later or something. We've got plans tonight, Sammy."
"Plans?"
Dean grinned, reaching into his back pocket, and whipped out two red, white, and blue tickets. "Baseball, Sammy, baseball."
"You got us tickets to a Cubs game? Dude …" Sam eyed Dean warily. "Christo!"
Dean burst into his rare full-on laugh. "Dude, I'm not possessed! I just wanna watch some ball." He checked his watch again. "And we better shag ass, because I swear, if your bitching makes us late, I'm gonna kick your ass."
---
"We're in Wrigley Field, man! Wrigley … fucking … Field!" Sam was like a kid in a candy store … or a kid in a damn amazing sporting arena. "Dean … dude … how'd you score these tickets? These seats are golden!"
He shrugged with a mysterious half-smirk. "I have my ways."
"I'm gonna grab a hot dog before the pitch. A real ballpark frank. Ha! Anyway, you want one?"
"Nah, I'm good." Dean shook his head with a chuckle, noting all the barely restrained excitement on Sam's face as he practically climbed over people to get to the wandering vendor. Dean hadn't really come to watch the game. He'd come to watch Sammy watch the game.
---
"So … you're probably expecting a lot of thank you sex or something, right?"
Dean shrugged, but smirked. "Would 'all night long' be a reasonable answer to that question?"
---
"Fuck, Dean!" Sam puffed out air as his head hit the pillow, exhausted. "Where the hell did you learn how to do that with your tongue?"
"Man, I told you years ago. Once you can unwrap a Starburst with your tongue and tie a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue, then you should be able to outdo even some of the most highly paid hookers."
"Damnit! Now I want Starburst."
"Well, I'm always happy to make a sugar run. And, uh, you could definitely use the practice."
"I think your 'oh fuck yes, oh fuck Sam, oh fuck', from, like … an hour ago … suggests otherwise." Dean knew it did.
---
"Where are we going, Dean?"
"You'll see. We're almost there."
When they pulled into the parking lot, though, Sam was still making puzzled faces. "This is probably not a good place to ask for directions."
"Dude, we're not lost!"
"You were bringing me here?"
"Yeah."
"And no one's threatening you into this, or blackmailing you or something?"
"Nope."
They got out of the car, but then Sam turned, looking over the hood at Dean. "Are you sure it's not, like … haunted?"
"No, Sam! I am not, despite popular belief, allergic to smart stuff, like … ya know … museums or whatever."
"Okay, but …" Sam looked really concerned. "Let me know if the exhibits make your eyes itch or if the information overload starts to make you nauseous or something, okay?"
Dean flipped him the bird. "Shut up, Sammy."
---
"Dude, this Genghis guy was no fucking joke. And he even dabbled in the occult? Man, I bet his army had pro Hunters and everything. The whole of Asia was probably a no-go zone for supernatural beasties. He'd probably scare the magick right out of a witch!"
"Wow, Dean!" Sam seemed astonished and amused at the same time. "Are you really reading the captions on the displays? I definitely thought you were more of a picture book kind of person."
"Very funny, Sam. Really. But uh … I'm at least looking at, ya know … weapons. You've been studying what, like … rusty bowls and plates for half an hour? I mean … would an apron, a vacuum cleaner, and some fuck-me pumps have been more appropriate gifts this year?"
"Oh, I am so not talking to you."
Dean's arms went wide as he pouted his lips, faux-pleading. "Come on, sweetheart. You know I hate it when you give me the cold shoulder."
---
"Dean … is this a … date?"
"Don't ask stupid questions, Sammy. We're just having a nice normal dinner, like nice normal people. That's what you wanted, right?"
Sam laughed a little, smug. "Yeah. A date." He said it enough under his breath for Dean to willfully ignore it with a scowl, before continuing to inhale his nice normal restaurant fries.
---
"Dean, why'd you buy all the fixings for a sundae?"
Dean's eyebrows lifted in a universal expression of duh. "Umm … maybe because I don't like cake."
"You mean for my birthday?"
"Yep."
"But we don't have any bowls. I don't even think we have more than one spoon."
"We don't need bowls … or more than one spoon, Sam."
"Are you seriously saying we should just eat it straight out of the carton?"
"Actually … I was thinking more along the lines of … Sammy A La Mode."
"Oh!" And Sam finally got it.
"Yeah." And Dean smirked … of course.
---
"Fuck, Sam!" Dean groaned, crawling under the tangle of sheets. "I don't think I'm gonna be able to move for, like … a year."
"Hey, you wore me out too."
"Yeah, but, come on! The sun's coming up already. We must have been doing that for hours."
Sam turned to blink at his totally blissed-out brother. "Is that a complaint?"
"Oh hell no." Which was Dean-speak for I'm totally game for another round, just … ya know … after a nap.
---
"See, Dean, normal isn't so bad." Sam tossed the words out triumphantly, as if their vacation had been his idea.
"Of course it's not bad, Sam. That's not the point."
"Well, what's the point then?"
Dean shrugged, as if he didn't really know but he figured it must be obvious. "We had a job on Friday and we'll have another one on Monday, but that doesn't mean we can't just be people sometimes. You don't have to give up Hunting, if all you want to do is check out a show or something, when we're in some town with paved roads. And I don't always need to hustle pool, if all you want to do is knock back a few brews and act a fool. And we don't have to make like heroes all the time, if sometimes you just want to be a regular Joe. The work's important, yeah, but we've got a right to let loose sometimes … and that doesn't always have to be with some bouncy blue-eyed waitress."
Dean took his eyes off the road long enough to see Sam's eyebrow quirk upward in a motion that said huh?.
"All I'm saying is: you can … have some normal … and Hunt evil too."
Sam nodded slowly, brows knit together, then smiled and out-and-out laughed. "Maybe, man. Maybe. Didn't know you were so deep, dude."
Dean's serious-talk face transformed with a wide, bright smile. "Shut up, man. I'm too pretty to be deep. You on the other hand …"
"Jerk."
"Bitch."