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Title: I'm Not Touching You
Genre: SPN Gen
Rating: Adult (Language)
Words: 983
Summary: and other brother-related arguments that no one can win.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but these words. No money made, no insult intended.
Notes: This is a tiny token of appreciation for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
girlguidejones
He's breathing my air
John tries to remember exactly why he didn't just leave his two boys in the last truck stop. The fighting has been escalating ever since a little town called Bluff and he can see no end in sight.
John can't even use the age-old I'm turning this car around threat because neither boy would give a crap considering they left nowhere and are on their way to who the hell knows.
"Because it's my side," Dean grates, holding up one imperious hand and then chopping the arm up and down swiftly, indicating an invisible barrier that Sam seems intent on crossing.
"I don't see your name on it!"
"It's right there," Dean says, sounding triumphant and John bites the inside of his cheek because he knows for a fact that Dean purchased one of those label makers in a thrift store and his name has been turning up in all manner of places.
"Dean, don't put stickers on the leather!" John snaps and gets a glimpse of Sammy's triumphant smirk as Dean hunches down in his seat.
My legs go all the way to my hips
Sammy is sixteen and Dean twenty when he's squeezing past Sammy in a doorway and realises -
"Holy fuck! You're taller than me!"
Sammy turns halfway so that they're facing each other and lays a flat palm on top of his head. He then scoots the palm forward until it's hovering about a foot above Dean's head. Dean smacks his hand for his trouble.
"Duh. I've been taller than you for two months."
"You could've told me," Dean gripes, not really sure why he's so angry about this. "I mean, did you do this on purpose?" Dean knows he's being irrational but his little brother is taller than him.
He's allowed to have a minor mental breakdown.
"Yes Dean," Sam answers flatly. "I grew taller than you purely to piss you off."
"That'd be right," Dean grumbles, putting his own hand up to shove Sammy sideways, who stumbles and barks his shin on a chair in the kitchen.
"Ow, fuckin' hell Dean!" Sammy snaps and Dean just snorts.
I'm not touching you
The pillow wall that divided their bed in two exact halves was dismantled sometime in the night, or must have been if Sam drooling on him is anything to go by.
"I swear to god man, if this is some kind of stealth-hug then I'm going to kick your ass."
Sam snorts and then rubs his mouth on Dean's shirt sleeve which, gross. Sam always gets the weird, white flaky dried drool ringing his mouth in the morning.
It's a wonder the guy could keep a girlfriend.
"M'not," Sam grumbles, wriggling so more of him is touching Dean.
"You got your monkey arms all over me," Dean points out, managing to unearth one of his own long enough to pluck at Sam's wrist. "And your monkey legs and... dude, if that is your monkey morning wood touching my hip you are walking to the next town."
Sam lets out a series of unhappy noises and rolls away, taking about ninety-five percent of the blankets and all of his warmth with him. Dean realises belatedly that the room is absolutely freezing and the single heater is one of those electric bar jobs that heats about two inches around itself and no more.
Dean waits impatiently until Sam's breathing evens out again and then sidles very stealthily over to Sam's side of the bed. He digs one of Sam's arms out from the roll of blankets and drops it over his stomach and almost immediately the warmth of his brother starts leeching into his skin, chasing away the chill.
He will never, ever admit to anyone that he did any of this and luckily, when Sam wakes up Dean can blame it all on him.
He's not heaving, he's my brother
"Dude, I haven't been able to carry you since you were twelve. You gotta help me a little here."
Sam doesn't get drunk very often, but when he does it's always spectacular. At any single point in the night, there will be moroseness, crying, hysteria, projectile vomiting and falling down or some combination of all five.
Dean will get drunk and still be capable, charming and able to walk a straight line on demand, or so he tells Sam whenever Sam gets drunk and he doesn't.
Sam has one arm hooked over Dean's shoulders and they're trying to make it back to their motel room in one piece. He's at least trying very valiantly to get his legs under him but considering there's fourteen miles of leg and no motor control to speak of, it's a losing battle. Sam starts sliding before Dean realises it's happening and ends up on his ass in the dust of the parking lot before Dean can stop it.
"I think I'm a little tipsy," Sam says, starting to tilt sideways and looking decidedly green. Dean makes a grab for whatever he can reach and ends up with a fistful of Sam's hair. Sam stops his forward slump, braced shakily on his arms. "Dude, are you holding my hair back?"
Dean snorts and lets go. Sam was obviously not secure in his arm-brace and immediately hits the ground in front of him with an awful sound. Dean grimaces and rolls Sam onto his back and although Sam has blood pouring out of his nose, he's also snoring.
"Little brother," Dean sighs, getting hands under Sam's armpits and dragging him the rest of the way to the motel.
Tomorrow Sam will wake up in bed with a glass of water and a bucket by his side. Dean has never been comfortable with the words I love you but he's never been squeamish about showing Sam exactly how...
Kid's just lucky Dean didn't leave him in the parking lot.
Genre: SPN Gen
Rating: Adult (Language)
Words: 983
Summary: and other brother-related arguments that no one can win.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but these words. No money made, no insult intended.
Notes: This is a tiny token of appreciation for
girlguidejonesJohn tries to remember exactly why he didn't just leave his two boys in the last truck stop. The fighting has been escalating ever since a little town called Bluff and he can see no end in sight.
John can't even use the age-old I'm turning this car around threat because neither boy would give a crap considering they left nowhere and are on their way to who the hell knows.
"Because it's my side," Dean grates, holding up one imperious hand and then chopping the arm up and down swiftly, indicating an invisible barrier that Sam seems intent on crossing.
"I don't see your name on it!"
"It's right there," Dean says, sounding triumphant and John bites the inside of his cheek because he knows for a fact that Dean purchased one of those label makers in a thrift store and his name has been turning up in all manner of places.
"Dean, don't put stickers on the leather!" John snaps and gets a glimpse of Sammy's triumphant smirk as Dean hunches down in his seat.
Sammy is sixteen and Dean twenty when he's squeezing past Sammy in a doorway and realises -
"Holy fuck! You're taller than me!"
Sammy turns halfway so that they're facing each other and lays a flat palm on top of his head. He then scoots the palm forward until it's hovering about a foot above Dean's head. Dean smacks his hand for his trouble.
"Duh. I've been taller than you for two months."
"You could've told me," Dean gripes, not really sure why he's so angry about this. "I mean, did you do this on purpose?" Dean knows he's being irrational but his little brother is taller than him.
He's allowed to have a minor mental breakdown.
"Yes Dean," Sam answers flatly. "I grew taller than you purely to piss you off."
"That'd be right," Dean grumbles, putting his own hand up to shove Sammy sideways, who stumbles and barks his shin on a chair in the kitchen.
"Ow, fuckin' hell Dean!" Sammy snaps and Dean just snorts.
The pillow wall that divided their bed in two exact halves was dismantled sometime in the night, or must have been if Sam drooling on him is anything to go by.
"I swear to god man, if this is some kind of stealth-hug then I'm going to kick your ass."
Sam snorts and then rubs his mouth on Dean's shirt sleeve which, gross. Sam always gets the weird, white flaky dried drool ringing his mouth in the morning.
It's a wonder the guy could keep a girlfriend.
"M'not," Sam grumbles, wriggling so more of him is touching Dean.
"You got your monkey arms all over me," Dean points out, managing to unearth one of his own long enough to pluck at Sam's wrist. "And your monkey legs and... dude, if that is your monkey morning wood touching my hip you are walking to the next town."
Sam lets out a series of unhappy noises and rolls away, taking about ninety-five percent of the blankets and all of his warmth with him. Dean realises belatedly that the room is absolutely freezing and the single heater is one of those electric bar jobs that heats about two inches around itself and no more.
Dean waits impatiently until Sam's breathing evens out again and then sidles very stealthily over to Sam's side of the bed. He digs one of Sam's arms out from the roll of blankets and drops it over his stomach and almost immediately the warmth of his brother starts leeching into his skin, chasing away the chill.
He will never, ever admit to anyone that he did any of this and luckily, when Sam wakes up Dean can blame it all on him.
"Dude, I haven't been able to carry you since you were twelve. You gotta help me a little here."
Sam doesn't get drunk very often, but when he does it's always spectacular. At any single point in the night, there will be moroseness, crying, hysteria, projectile vomiting and falling down or some combination of all five.
Dean will get drunk and still be capable, charming and able to walk a straight line on demand, or so he tells Sam whenever Sam gets drunk and he doesn't.
Sam has one arm hooked over Dean's shoulders and they're trying to make it back to their motel room in one piece. He's at least trying very valiantly to get his legs under him but considering there's fourteen miles of leg and no motor control to speak of, it's a losing battle. Sam starts sliding before Dean realises it's happening and ends up on his ass in the dust of the parking lot before Dean can stop it.
"I think I'm a little tipsy," Sam says, starting to tilt sideways and looking decidedly green. Dean makes a grab for whatever he can reach and ends up with a fistful of Sam's hair. Sam stops his forward slump, braced shakily on his arms. "Dude, are you holding my hair back?"
Dean snorts and lets go. Sam was obviously not secure in his arm-brace and immediately hits the ground in front of him with an awful sound. Dean grimaces and rolls Sam onto his back and although Sam has blood pouring out of his nose, he's also snoring.
"Little brother," Dean sighs, getting hands under Sam's armpits and dragging him the rest of the way to the motel.
Tomorrow Sam will wake up in bed with a glass of water and a bucket by his side. Dean has never been comfortable with the words I love you but he's never been squeamish about showing Sam exactly how...
Kid's just lucky Dean didn't leave him in the parking lot.
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Awesome work, thanks for sharing them.
I'll be grinning for ages now =D
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squabblinghappy sounds coming from the two children in the next room...)From:
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HA!!
I love the moment when Dean realizes Sam is taller. I think it probably happened like that.
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Considering I'm spending the summer working with kids I've heard so many of these arguments. "IT'S MY SIDE AND SHE WON'T STOP STEALING IT!" etc. It's great to see these arguments in a fun setting instead of trying not to pull your hair out as you inform 8 year olds girls to play nice.
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I'm... out-witting myself aren't I? Hahahaaa...
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Oh, i luff. Boys!
I can see them just like puppies, all over each other, snap and snarl and John going *nuts*....
*dies*
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Bwahaha!
Oh, I did so love these little vignettes - so them!
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Dean'll totally cuddle Sam if he can get away with it. *g*
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