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Just a quick little snippet as the boys' time wears down to nothing...
A Headache A Day
SPN. 570 words. This is them.
It's four weeks to go when Dean says, "I want a day."
"I want a million of them," Sam automatically answers, in the position that Dean has gotten used to over the last few months. Body bent almost double over a tiny motel table, hunched shoulders and face almost pressed to the laptop screen or some dusty book depending on Sam's mood and the internet connection.
"No, I mean, I want..." Dean kind of flicks his hand and it might be the fact that Dean is using such an alien word for him that makes Sam pause and look up, he's not sure. "I want a day. A... do-nothing day."
"Yeah, sure," Sam says, face softening. "I'll be here. Just don't drink too much."
Dean makes a huff of impatience. Sam always manages to read Dean's mind at the most inopportune times, but when he actually wants his brother just to get what he's driving at without having to spell it out, Sam goes completely dense.
Dean suspects he does it on purpose.
"I want a do-nothing day with you," Dean finally gets out, thumping his hands against the bedspread that's thankfully clean. He's not really sure where Sam's been getting it lately but they've had enough cash to get motel rooms with air conditioning, clean sheets and sometimes a pool and cable. It's like Sam's trying to splurge a little because he's nearly...
The thought's nice but it's kinda creeping Dean out.
"Oh, right," Sam says, sitting up again and then sneaking a glance back at his laptop. "I'm just kinda in the middle of-"
"Sam," Dean says, a name so simple yet a word that means so much. Sam may have the super-special-puppy-dog-eyes-of-doom but Dean can pull out the level-gaze-of-give-me-what-I-want-bitch and he uses it so infrequently that it works.
Most of the time.
"Okay, sure," Sam says quickly, snapping the laptop closed, but not off Dean notices with a little pang, and stands up. "What do you want to do?"
"Nothing," Dean says, lying back. "I want you to do nothing. I want me to do nothing. I want us to do nothing."
"Yeah, but, I mean, you want to go see a movie or something?" Sam tries and Dean rolls his eyes, dropping an arm over his face.
"No-thing," he repeats. "I will lie here staring at the ceiling and you will, I don't know, maybe sleep for the first time in three days and we'll listen to the wind and the kids in the playground across the street and do nothing."
Sam kind of hovers, drumming his fingers on his jean-clad thighs. "So, nothing?"
"S'what I want, Sammy," Dean agrees because maybe if they pause, if they stop, if they're goddamn bored for once, it won't feel like doom is quite so close.
Dean feels it pressing down on his shoulders and he needs a break.
There's the squeak of springs and Sam's long frame comes to rest on the other bed. He rustles around for a few minutes and then stills. The silence is worse because Dean can feel Sam repressing the urge to fidget.
"Oh my god, fine," Dean says exasperated. "Go get us some beer and the car-wash kit out of the car."
Sam sits up but then frowns. "Why?"
"Because I'm going to drink and you're going to wash," Dean says and Sam grins and bounds out of the room.
Close enough.
A Headache A Day
SPN. 570 words. This is them.
It's four weeks to go when Dean says, "I want a day."
"I want a million of them," Sam automatically answers, in the position that Dean has gotten used to over the last few months. Body bent almost double over a tiny motel table, hunched shoulders and face almost pressed to the laptop screen or some dusty book depending on Sam's mood and the internet connection.
"No, I mean, I want..." Dean kind of flicks his hand and it might be the fact that Dean is using such an alien word for him that makes Sam pause and look up, he's not sure. "I want a day. A... do-nothing day."
"Yeah, sure," Sam says, face softening. "I'll be here. Just don't drink too much."
Dean makes a huff of impatience. Sam always manages to read Dean's mind at the most inopportune times, but when he actually wants his brother just to get what he's driving at without having to spell it out, Sam goes completely dense.
Dean suspects he does it on purpose.
"I want a do-nothing day with you," Dean finally gets out, thumping his hands against the bedspread that's thankfully clean. He's not really sure where Sam's been getting it lately but they've had enough cash to get motel rooms with air conditioning, clean sheets and sometimes a pool and cable. It's like Sam's trying to splurge a little because he's nearly...
The thought's nice but it's kinda creeping Dean out.
"Oh, right," Sam says, sitting up again and then sneaking a glance back at his laptop. "I'm just kinda in the middle of-"
"Sam," Dean says, a name so simple yet a word that means so much. Sam may have the super-special-puppy-dog-eyes-of-doom but Dean can pull out the level-gaze-of-give-me-what-I-want-bitch and he uses it so infrequently that it works.
Most of the time.
"Okay, sure," Sam says quickly, snapping the laptop closed, but not off Dean notices with a little pang, and stands up. "What do you want to do?"
"Nothing," Dean says, lying back. "I want you to do nothing. I want me to do nothing. I want us to do nothing."
"Yeah, but, I mean, you want to go see a movie or something?" Sam tries and Dean rolls his eyes, dropping an arm over his face.
"No-thing," he repeats. "I will lie here staring at the ceiling and you will, I don't know, maybe sleep for the first time in three days and we'll listen to the wind and the kids in the playground across the street and do nothing."
Sam kind of hovers, drumming his fingers on his jean-clad thighs. "So, nothing?"
"S'what I want, Sammy," Dean agrees because maybe if they pause, if they stop, if they're goddamn bored for once, it won't feel like doom is quite so close.
Dean feels it pressing down on his shoulders and he needs a break.
There's the squeak of springs and Sam's long frame comes to rest on the other bed. He rustles around for a few minutes and then stills. The silence is worse because Dean can feel Sam repressing the urge to fidget.
"Oh my god, fine," Dean says exasperated. "Go get us some beer and the car-wash kit out of the car."
Sam sits up but then frowns. "Why?"
"Because I'm going to drink and you're going to wash," Dean says and Sam grins and bounds out of the room.
Close enough.