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with_a_kay, except for how she said other people should do it, so it's more like doing as I'm told than stealing.
SO THE MEME:
YOU pick a scene from one of my fics that you want to see from another character's perspective. I write it! (*addends* SPN or rps only please)
I won't be doing instant gratification likewith_a_kay though, as I am going to see MBV and have fangirly squee today.
with_a_kay, except for how she said other people should do it, so it's more like doing as I'm told than stealing. SO THE MEME:
YOU pick a scene from one of my fics that you want to see from another character's perspective. I write it! (*addends* SPN or rps only please)
I won't be doing instant gratification like
with_a_kay though, as I am going to see MBV and have fangirly squee today.
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He rubs his eyes; Dean's asleep still, Dad's inside, poking around the coffee machines by the register. Sam has to pee. Bad. Careful not to wake his brother, Sam climbs over the seat and gets out the driver's door which Dad left ajar. Dad's turning toward the register and Sam waves at him as he walks past the station's window.
The bathroom door is stuck; the knob turns fine but it only goes a little way and won't budge. Sam shoves and pushes and is about to go get Dad to help, when he gets it past whatever's holding it and nearly falls inside. For a second, he's afraid it's going to be a body or something worse, but it's just a place where the tiled floor is buckled and broken. He doesn't push the door back over the tiles, afraid it won't open again, just pees real quick, and washes his hands. Maybe he was quick enough there's still time to get Dad to buy him a hot chocolate or something.
When he sees the store is empty except for the boy who works there, he turns toward the car. It's gone.
The car and Dad and Dean are gone.
Sam doesn't know what to do. He's been on his own before--mostly with Dean, but sometimes not--but always at a hotel or a house. Never without Dad saying he was going and at least pretending to know when he might be back. And never without knowing just where Dean was going.
Sam looks again at the guy in the store, but he hardly looks older than Dean, and Sam's learned that Dean knows a lot more about what to do than other people his age, so the guy probably can't help him. Besides, he's not supposed to talk to strangers about his family.
He's pretty sure that Dad didn't mean to leave him here. And he knows that Dean wouldn't let him, even if he did. He thought Dad saw him when he waved, but Dad didn't wave back, or even do that nodding thing he does when he's distracted, so maybe he didn't. They know where Sam is. He just has to wait.
It's smelly and there are about a billion bugs by the pumps, but that's where he knows Dean and Dad will look for him, so Sam sits down. He knows how to wait. You just think about something else, and minutes go by and then it's time for Dean to walk back in with something for dinner, or some ice and sodas, or the laundry. Soon it will be time for the car to come back for him.
Soon.
[tbc]
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cont.
It's not as interesting to thing about as he thought it would be, and when he's done remembering everything that happened, there is still no sign of a car on the road at all. No cars. Not just no Impala with Dad behind the wheel and Dean sleeping in the back seat.
He thinks about how in the last place they stayed, he and Dean shared a room, but each had their own closet. He doesn't need his own closet, because he doesn't have very much stuff, but it was nice to go inside and sit in there with the door shut, just stripes of light shining through the slats of the door. He pretended that the closet was full of toys like the closet where those kids hid ET from their mom. Sometimes he'd invite Dean in, and they would sit in the dark and Dean would tell him stories. That was nice too.
Sam hopes Dean and Dad come back soon. He doesn't need a closet, but he doesn't want to live at a gas station. And he does need Dean.
He's trying not to cry when he sees headlights coming towards him. They look like Dad's headlights, but he tries not to hope too hard. Until the car turns into the gas station with a squeal of tires. He can see Dean leaning over the back seat, pointing and saying something, and then Dean's out of the car, running over to him.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he says, running his hands all over Sam's head and back and arms, like he's worried Sam might have fallen down and gotten hurt somehow.
Sam doesn't cry, even when Dean's hugging him so tight he can't see. But he holds on to Dean the whole way to their next hotel, and doesn't let him out of his sight after that.
Re: cont.
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When Dean wakes up, he wants to roll on his brother and grind against him until Sam's begging to be fucked. But they really do need to get moving on this case, so he kisses him and says, "Good morning," instead. It's not until he's jerking off in the shower that Dean realizes he didn't just act on his impulses.
They walk to breakfast again, and Dean is in a weird uncomfortable place where he's aware that what he wants to do is take Sam's hand, or slip an arm around Sam's waist, but what he actually does is ask Sam if he thinks Mindy will be on duty again. It's like there's a tissue between his desire and his actions now, instead of the thick blanket he's used to.
This half-way point sucks; denial is his friend, but nothing there at all is better than this, so when he wants to nudge Sam's ankle while they're eating, he ignores the tissue and does it. Sam raises an eyebrow, but looks so pleased underneath, that without even thinking, Dean says, "I better go back and talk to the widow again."
"No!" Sam says, and then more quietly, "No. You're not going back in that house." He nudges Dean's ankle with one foot, though, and smiles, and Dean feels warm low in his belly that Sam wants him back the way he was.
Later, back in their room, Dean tries to give his brother everything he wants.
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But no pressure, hon, and of course, you don't have to do it at all if you don't want to. :-)
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She's tired, and she doesn't feel like going over the spelling words she was going to give the kids this morning. They can color instead. She can drink two cokes at lunch instead of one, and they can do spelling this afternoon. Keeping an ear out to make sure no one is fighting over crayons, Yvette massages her forehead where the headache is sitting.
All the kids hand her their drawings when they go out for recess. She sees that Penny Wilson has drawn another pony. No matter what Yvette tells them to draw, Penny draws a pony. This one is purple, and has a pink and black mane. She sighs. They discussed the pony thing at the last teacher conference, and she and Ms. Wilson agreed that since Penny follows directions well in all other things, they won't make a big deal out of it.
Then she gets to Dean Winchester's picture. He's new--only been in her class for a few weeks--and she likes him, so far. But he's drawn a picture of his family with a car when she asked them to draw their houses. He might have a thing about cars the way Penny does with horses, and that's fine, but if one of her kids is living in his car, she needs to know about it. He should be on the school meals program at the very least. The principal has to be told, and maybe a social worker should be involved.
Her headache, which had been starting to fade, comes back with a vengeance. They had a whole in-service day about these things just a few months ago. She has responsibilities. At the least, she needs to talk to Dean's dad. Yvette writes a note for Dean to take home, asking Mr. Winchester to call her.
He calls at three fifteen. Sounds gruff, but like a nice enough man. She explains why she's calling, embarrassed, but determined to do her job. Mr. Winchester explains that they move a lot with his job, but that they've had his Chevy since Dean was born. So he probably thinks of it as home. They've got a real nice place though, nothing for her to worry about.
"Thank you for your concern," he says before he hangs up.
If he doesn't sound completely sincere, she can't say she blames him.
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♥
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Dean wins the game he's playing, easy as sipping good coffee, and looks Sam's way. Lips pursed out, anticipation of the bottle he's lifting towards them, knowledge of what that does to Sam right there on his face, though Sam doubts anyone else in the bar knows what the look means. Let's go home and fuck, Sam thinks, but that's not what he wants, not really. He loves watching Dean like this.
An ugly guy in an expensive shirt lays more money than Dean's made yet tonight on the table, and Dean looks at Sam again. What'd'you think? his look says. It's all or nothing. Sam's got $80 in his pocket, their room's paid for, and the car has a full tank of gas. It's worth the $150, 200 bucks to watch Dean play again. Better than any porn movie he's ever seen, and with Dean around, he's seen more than his share. So he nods, and sits back to enjoy the show.
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First, Sam says maybe, and Martin figures he's just gonna slip out after the game, pretend the invite isn't hanging there. No big deal. But he comes up in the locker room after the game and says, "Yeah. I'm in," and gives Martin one of his shy smiles. Patrick fucking bails, again so it's just him and Sam and Jonsey up on the field behind the school.
Deciding not to be an asshole, Martin doesn't give the newbie first toke, but lights the joint himself, sucking in a lungful and then passing it to Jonsey next so Sam can at least see how it's done if he's as clueless as Martin suspects he is. Just a feeling he has, that Dean Winchester isn't encouraging his baby brother to toke up.
Sam doesn't do too bad. Careful hit, but not like a total pussy. He looks damned pleased with himself when he hands the joint back around, just like he looked when he dove and saved the free kick at the end of the game tonight. It's the kind of smile that makes a guy need to smile back.
By the time he's on his fourth hit, Sam almost looks like a seasoned pro. They're all giggling; it's good shit. Martin's just thinking that he hopes Dean Winchester doesn't kick his ass if he finds out Martin got Sam stoned, when, like he summoned him with his mind, Dean and two of his baseball buddies appear from behind the equipment shed.
"Fuck," he says, or maybe just thinks, it's kind of hard to tell. Dean looks pissed, but so far, it's all directed Sam's way.
"Winchester! Harmon, Lewis," Martin calls. "Pull up a chair." The best defense is a good offense, or so Coach keeps telling them.
Sam totally cracks up at that, flat on his back where Dean's knocked him with a kick to his arm. He's waving the joint around a little helplessly. Perfect timing--no way to convince Dean that Sam isn't smoking.
Dean starts ranting at Sam, ignoring his friend when Lewis tries to calm him down. Sam just takes it, staring at his brother like maybe he's never seen him before. Kinda, now Martin looks closer, like he's never seen him before and Dean is made of pie or chocolate brownies.
MMMMMMM, brownies. Brownies would seriously hit the spot right now.
Martin wonders if the older guys are going to try to take his drugs, or if they're going to leave, or what, when Harmon and Lewis sit down, pulling out a baggie of their own. Cool. Martin can roll with that. Dean decides to chill, and flops down practically on Sam's face.
It ends up being a pretty awesome night. Even though they are all seniors, none of the other guys act like dicks, once Dean's calmed down about Sam smoking, and when they're smoked out, they go get a pizza. Except Sam and Dean, who took off in Dean's kick-ass restored Chevy, never show. Probably had to get home for curfew.
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It also seems to have driven Sam completely insane.
Dean only turns around for a moment to check the kerosene can is full, and when he turns back, Sam is right up at the edge of the cliff, where a strong gust could knock him thirty feet to the jagged rocks below.
It's twenty yards to where Sam's standing, and Dean covers the ground in a single breath, halting his forward momentum so he doesn't knock them both in, and grabbing Sam around the waist, hauling him almost back to the car before he stops, arms still tight around his brother.
You stupid fuck! he wants to yell. What the hell were you doing? but he doesn't. Just holds on to Sam and gets his air back.
"I wasn't really going to jump," Sam says, and Dean lets go in surprise.
It never occurred to him Sam was thinking about jumping. Great. Now he has to worry about that, too.
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