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Title: Funny Bones
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kellifer_fic
Rating: G
Category: SPN Gen (Wee!chesters)
Word Count: 521
Spoilers: None
Notes: Forjoannindiw who requested Other presents John gave Dean.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, no offense, no money.
Dean is always the one that picks out Sammy’s toys.
This is why a blustery Sunday finds John Winchester wandering the aisles, elbowing past other marauding last minute shoppers and at a complete loss. He already has Sam’s present safely tucked under the mattress on his sagging bed but he’d needed to be away from Dean to actually get him something.
Dean is eight going on forty and John is man enough to admit that he has no idea what to get the kid. He follows another frazzled looking father tugging an urchin who looks about the right age but the man goes for the toy guns and John dismisses those with a snort. Dean knows how to handle the lethal kind and confusing Sammy between plastic and the real deal at this tender age would be a bad idea.
The next stop is cars but John knows that while Dean likes to tinker with the Impala, the smaller versions hold no interest for him. Puzzles and colouring books are also summarily dismissed. While the boy has shown an aptitude for putting together cases, sorting through the careful mess of John’s photos and notes and rearranging them until they make sense to Dean, a simple jigsaw would maybe have the outer edge completed before being abandoned.
Stuffed animals? Just… no.
John finally arrives at the games section and spies something that might be of interest. Fun and more importantly educational in the way they need, enough to urge Dean into actually participating. Feeling a sense of accomplishment, John tucks his prize under his arm and makes for the registers.
000
Bzzzzzzzzzzzt!
John is nursing a hangover and cursing the day Christmas was invented.
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt!
He rolls to the edge of the bed and swings his feet out, curling his toes in anticipation of the cold floorboards and wondering just where the socks went that he’d put on the night before.
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt!!
John finally staggers out into the living room and sees Dean hunkered over, tongue poking out the side of his mouth and a pair of tiny, plastic tweezers in hand. He is currently attempting to liberate the funny bone from the elbow of his patient, the red nosed and astonished-looking two dimensional unfortunate that graces the cardboard table of the game, Operation.
Dean finally comes up with the plastic bone, shaped like nothing John has actually seen inside the human body, beaming in triumph. Sammy rolls over and at the top of his lungs decrees, “BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT!”
Dean proved proficient at the game in about half an hour, much to Sammy’s displeasure, who is now helpfully supplying the missing noise.
John heads back to his bedroom, figuring that he has to put this one in the win column because Dean is actually playing. There is a thump and a squeal and John figures Dean has had enough of Sammy's involvement.
John turns around, knowing that if he doesn’t intervene there will more than likely be little Sammy bones scattered from one end of the house to the other before too long.
Author:
kellifer_ficRating: G
Category: SPN Gen (Wee!chesters)
Word Count: 521
Spoilers: None
Notes: For
joannindiw who requested Other presents John gave Dean.Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, no offense, no money.
Dean is always the one that picks out Sammy’s toys.
This is why a blustery Sunday finds John Winchester wandering the aisles, elbowing past other marauding last minute shoppers and at a complete loss. He already has Sam’s present safely tucked under the mattress on his sagging bed but he’d needed to be away from Dean to actually get him something.
Dean is eight going on forty and John is man enough to admit that he has no idea what to get the kid. He follows another frazzled looking father tugging an urchin who looks about the right age but the man goes for the toy guns and John dismisses those with a snort. Dean knows how to handle the lethal kind and confusing Sammy between plastic and the real deal at this tender age would be a bad idea.
The next stop is cars but John knows that while Dean likes to tinker with the Impala, the smaller versions hold no interest for him. Puzzles and colouring books are also summarily dismissed. While the boy has shown an aptitude for putting together cases, sorting through the careful mess of John’s photos and notes and rearranging them until they make sense to Dean, a simple jigsaw would maybe have the outer edge completed before being abandoned.
Stuffed animals? Just… no.
John finally arrives at the games section and spies something that might be of interest. Fun and more importantly educational in the way they need, enough to urge Dean into actually participating. Feeling a sense of accomplishment, John tucks his prize under his arm and makes for the registers.
Bzzzzzzzzzzzt!
John is nursing a hangover and cursing the day Christmas was invented.
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt!
He rolls to the edge of the bed and swings his feet out, curling his toes in anticipation of the cold floorboards and wondering just where the socks went that he’d put on the night before.
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt!!
John finally staggers out into the living room and sees Dean hunkered over, tongue poking out the side of his mouth and a pair of tiny, plastic tweezers in hand. He is currently attempting to liberate the funny bone from the elbow of his patient, the red nosed and astonished-looking two dimensional unfortunate that graces the cardboard table of the game, Operation.
Dean finally comes up with the plastic bone, shaped like nothing John has actually seen inside the human body, beaming in triumph. Sammy rolls over and at the top of his lungs decrees, “BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT!”
Dean proved proficient at the game in about half an hour, much to Sammy’s displeasure, who is now helpfully supplying the missing noise.
John heads back to his bedroom, figuring that he has to put this one in the win column because Dean is actually playing. There is a thump and a squeal and John figures Dean has had enough of Sammy's involvement.
John turns around, knowing that if he doesn’t intervene there will more than likely be little Sammy bones scattered from one end of the house to the other before too long.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
From:
Thank you!
As soon - as SOON as I hit the first "Bzzzzzzzzzzzt!" keeping in mind the stuff he had NOT picked - I knew *exactly* what Dean got. *snickers helplessly*
Oh, this was so much *fun*. Heartbreaking that John hasn't a clue what to get, because *Dean* was the one doing all the Christmas shopping (kinda makes me wonder what Dean got *before* this time) and the reasoning behind why the other toys are dismissed. (Confusing Sammy about guns. That's terrifying and saddening and perfectly fitting. Dean's tinkering with the *Impala* already? wow. Wonder if that was one of his Christmas presents before.. *shakes head* nemmind.) *g* And if this was given before the teddy bear - or is indicative of the sorts of presents Dean generally got from his Da - I can see just why he was shaking the bear to figure out what the heck he was supposed to do with it!
... also. Sammy - adding sound effects! ("little Sammy bones"! Bweee!")
Though - it's a darn good thing Dean mastered it so quickly - I mean, I'm picturing toy-with-small-parts and traveling. *eyes cross* and coming up with *lost parts*. [Except, of course, for the "Bzzzzzzzzzzzt!" - until the batteries ran out. (John, desperately wanting to bang his head against the steering wheel).]
And maybe later, Dean, muttering about Sammy *eating* some of his Christmas pressent... *shakes head*
.. ok, before this comment becomes longer than the ficlet (if it's not already too late) I'm gonna quit. Again - Thank you! *snickers helplessly* So glad I checked my flist one last time...
From:
Re: Thank you!