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"Frozen Peas"
Writing exercise. Story in an hour.
Title: Frozen Peas
Rating: G
Category: Gen, preseries
Fandom: SPN
Wordcount: 786 words.
Summary: Dean just wishes Sammy would fight back.
Keep inside your opponent’s swing if he's got a long reach. Keep your feet between his to overbalance him. If he goes down, kick him to make sure he stays there. There's no second chances.
"You're an idiot. You do realise that, right?"
Sammy is looking down at his laces, the ones on the right are untied and trailing along the ground. Dean looks back at him, pausing in his dig through the freezer. "You're not expecting me to actually agree with you, are you?" Sammy snorts.
"It's a, y'know. Rhetorical question or whatever," Dean says, resuming his hunt.
"Do you even know what rhetorical means?" Sammy asks and Dean actually opens his mouth to answer before he realises what he's just about to do and closes it with a click.
He really needs to defrost this fucking thing.
"I'm fine," Sammy tries and even moves to slip off the kitchen table but Dean raises an arm behind himself, the one not up to the shoulder in grey ice and points a finger at his little brother.
"Don't even think about moving."
"You'll make someone a fine wife and mother some day," Sammy grumbles but Dean ignores the jibe.
"No steak. This'll have to do," Dean says, finally liberating a bag that's dense with frost out of the very back. He brushes it off with a sleeve and he's holding frozen peas in hand.
Huh. Must have been there from the last tenants because certainly a Winchester has never purchased a vegetable that wasn't on top of a pizza.
Sammy makes a small hiss of protest when Dean smacks the frozen bag against the blue-yellow swelling under his left eye.
Keep moving, if you stop moving you're dead. If your opponent is bigger than you, use his size to your advantage. No second chances.
"You gotta tell me who did this. I'm brother-bound to rip off their heads and shit down their necks," Dean says, letting Sammy take the makeshift icepack from him. He puts a tentative hand to Sammy's lip which is still bleeding a little sluggishly and Sammy shies away.
"Just some brainless asshole from school. I can take care of myself."
"Yeah, what's with that? You like getting your ass handed to you or somethin'?" Dean steps back until he can lean against the sink behind him. He'll never understand just why bigger kids have to beat up on smaller ones. Dean himself was never a small guy for his age and yet never felt the compulsion.
Looking at Sammy, fourteen and still barely standing as tall as Dean's shoulder, it feels like something ripping his chest apart to see him so beaten. He needs to fight back.
He's got to fight back.
"Just 'cause I can beat someone up, doesn't mean I should," Sammy insists and Dean sighs. It's such a Sammy thing to say, sitting there with one hell of a shiner and a fat lip. Dean has never subscribed to the whole turn the other cheek philosophy and it irks him to think that Sammy does.
Considering from the way the kid is not growing, he's going to be standing on a box for him senior prom picture so he's the same height as his date.
He's going to have a lot of guys bigger than him during his lifetime.
No second chances
"How's it feel?" Dean asks instead of trying to rehash the same old argument again.
"I told you, it's fine," Sammy says, but he's sounding listless, tired of the fight too. The only reason he's putting up with Dean fussing is in the hopes that he'll look vaguely normal when John's back, Dean knows. Sammy's been talking back to their old man lately and Dean doesn't really want to witness the you should defend yourself yelling match that is bound to erupt as soon as John spies the back and blue son he has in place of his normal one.
They've been running low on cash, down to cereal for dinner but Dean's always got a small emergency fund for just such occasions. "Chinese for dinner at the place down the road?" he proposes.
Sammy perks right up despite himself. An ancient woman by the name of Mae owns the place and loves the crap out of Sammy. She always gives them a giant box of fortune cookies and more prawn crackers than they could possibly eat for free whenever they hit the place.
Sammy seems to remember that he's supposed to be a crabby bitch because his face goes blank again and he mumbles, "Yeah, I guess."
Dean doesn't let it bother him. Instead he relieves Sammy of the peas and then grabs him in a headlock.
Title: Frozen Peas
Rating: G
Category: Gen, preseries
Fandom: SPN
Wordcount: 786 words.
Summary: Dean just wishes Sammy would fight back.
Keep inside your opponent’s swing if he's got a long reach. Keep your feet between his to overbalance him. If he goes down, kick him to make sure he stays there. There's no second chances.
"You're an idiot. You do realise that, right?"
Sammy is looking down at his laces, the ones on the right are untied and trailing along the ground. Dean looks back at him, pausing in his dig through the freezer. "You're not expecting me to actually agree with you, are you?" Sammy snorts.
"It's a, y'know. Rhetorical question or whatever," Dean says, resuming his hunt.
"Do you even know what rhetorical means?" Sammy asks and Dean actually opens his mouth to answer before he realises what he's just about to do and closes it with a click.
He really needs to defrost this fucking thing.
"I'm fine," Sammy tries and even moves to slip off the kitchen table but Dean raises an arm behind himself, the one not up to the shoulder in grey ice and points a finger at his little brother.
"Don't even think about moving."
"You'll make someone a fine wife and mother some day," Sammy grumbles but Dean ignores the jibe.
"No steak. This'll have to do," Dean says, finally liberating a bag that's dense with frost out of the very back. He brushes it off with a sleeve and he's holding frozen peas in hand.
Huh. Must have been there from the last tenants because certainly a Winchester has never purchased a vegetable that wasn't on top of a pizza.
Sammy makes a small hiss of protest when Dean smacks the frozen bag against the blue-yellow swelling under his left eye.
Keep moving, if you stop moving you're dead. If your opponent is bigger than you, use his size to your advantage. No second chances.
"You gotta tell me who did this. I'm brother-bound to rip off their heads and shit down their necks," Dean says, letting Sammy take the makeshift icepack from him. He puts a tentative hand to Sammy's lip which is still bleeding a little sluggishly and Sammy shies away.
"Just some brainless asshole from school. I can take care of myself."
"Yeah, what's with that? You like getting your ass handed to you or somethin'?" Dean steps back until he can lean against the sink behind him. He'll never understand just why bigger kids have to beat up on smaller ones. Dean himself was never a small guy for his age and yet never felt the compulsion.
Looking at Sammy, fourteen and still barely standing as tall as Dean's shoulder, it feels like something ripping his chest apart to see him so beaten. He needs to fight back.
He's got to fight back.
"Just 'cause I can beat someone up, doesn't mean I should," Sammy insists and Dean sighs. It's such a Sammy thing to say, sitting there with one hell of a shiner and a fat lip. Dean has never subscribed to the whole turn the other cheek philosophy and it irks him to think that Sammy does.
Considering from the way the kid is not growing, he's going to be standing on a box for him senior prom picture so he's the same height as his date.
He's going to have a lot of guys bigger than him during his lifetime.
No second chances
"How's it feel?" Dean asks instead of trying to rehash the same old argument again.
"I told you, it's fine," Sammy says, but he's sounding listless, tired of the fight too. The only reason he's putting up with Dean fussing is in the hopes that he'll look vaguely normal when John's back, Dean knows. Sammy's been talking back to their old man lately and Dean doesn't really want to witness the you should defend yourself yelling match that is bound to erupt as soon as John spies the back and blue son he has in place of his normal one.
They've been running low on cash, down to cereal for dinner but Dean's always got a small emergency fund for just such occasions. "Chinese for dinner at the place down the road?" he proposes.
Sammy perks right up despite himself. An ancient woman by the name of Mae owns the place and loves the crap out of Sammy. She always gives them a giant box of fortune cookies and more prawn crackers than they could possibly eat for free whenever they hit the place.
Sammy seems to remember that he's supposed to be a crabby bitch because his face goes blank again and he mumbles, "Yeah, I guess."
Dean doesn't let it bother him. Instead he relieves Sammy of the peas and then grabs him in a headlock.