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Title: Hurl'd Headlong
Category: Gen - coda for episode 4.01
Rating: PG (Language)
Fandom: SPN
By:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kellifer_fic
Spoilers: 4.01
Words: 595
Disclaimer: Written for entertainment purposes only. No money, no sue.
Dean is watching Sam talk to the motel manager, who is eyeing his brother like he's a little freaked out by Sam switching teams mid way through an inning. The motel is hysterical and Dean's not sure what was in Sam's head when he picked it. Actually, he's pretty sure that Sam was thinking with the little head and not the big one when he did, if the girl who'd answered the door was anything to go by.
So, his mind is wandering and he glances down at their shadows for a second, stretched thin because of the dying light of the day. His shadow has a long sword in its right hand and Sam's shadow is holding a sickle. They're two dimensional and pulled out of true by the angle but Dean could almost swear that the two shadows are looking at each other.
He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes for the count of three and when he opens them again the light has failed enough that his shadow is just a blur on the concrete, not holding anything.
*
I know everything about that kid
Dean really wishes that were still true, but he's starting to have doubts.
*
He's in the line at the local supermarket because no way is he washing his hair with Sam's girly shit when the hand-print brand on his shoulder starts itching. He rolls his t-shirt sleeve up without thinking about it but it looks the same. A girl in line behind him with an impressive amount of tatts and enough facial piercings to make Dean wonder vaguely how she eats lets out a breath of appreciation.
"Where'd you get that done?" she asks, eyes round and hungry.
"Dunno," Dean says. "Somewhere between hell and back I guess."
*
Bobby stares at Dean when he thinks Dean isn't paying attention. Dean's perfected the not-notice-the-stare from long years on the road with Sam but something about Bobby doing it itches at him.
"Now you're not really sure about either of us, are you?" Dean asks without acknowledging Bobby's gaze.
Bobby stops staring and it isn't the relief Dean wishes it would be.
*
Sam always, always seems to find pressing things to talk to Dean about when he's in the shower. He'll yell above the pounding spray about the latest case or his new sneakers or some flower he stopped to smell. Usually the more inane the better and the more determined Sam is to interrupt Dean's alone time with it.
The silence makes Dean realise that he's gotten used to a lot of things that he thought bugged him about Sam, and that more importantly, he misses them.
"Sam?" he calls, poking his head out from behind the stained curtain.
"Yeah?" Sam calls back.
"Nothin'. Just checking," Dean sighs.
*
Sam's passing him in the doorway when Dean reaches out and wraps both arms around him. The almost-hug is awkward because of the angle and Sam is side-on but Dean finds it's hard to let go.
"Uh, Dean?" Sam starts but Dean is too busy pressing his forehead into Sam's shoulder and trying not to cry.
He doesn't remember much but he knows for the entire time he was... away he would most certainly have been sure that Sam was dead.
"You're not allowed to ever mention this or use it as fodder in a fight," Dean instructs, face still mashed against Sam's shirtsleeve.
Dean can feel Sam's nose press into the top of his head for the briefest of moments.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Category: Gen - coda for episode 4.01
Rating: PG (Language)
Fandom: SPN
By:
kellifer_ficSpoilers: 4.01
Words: 595
Disclaimer: Written for entertainment purposes only. No money, no sue.
Dean is watching Sam talk to the motel manager, who is eyeing his brother like he's a little freaked out by Sam switching teams mid way through an inning. The motel is hysterical and Dean's not sure what was in Sam's head when he picked it. Actually, he's pretty sure that Sam was thinking with the little head and not the big one when he did, if the girl who'd answered the door was anything to go by.
So, his mind is wandering and he glances down at their shadows for a second, stretched thin because of the dying light of the day. His shadow has a long sword in its right hand and Sam's shadow is holding a sickle. They're two dimensional and pulled out of true by the angle but Dean could almost swear that the two shadows are looking at each other.
He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes for the count of three and when he opens them again the light has failed enough that his shadow is just a blur on the concrete, not holding anything.
I know everything about that kid
Dean really wishes that were still true, but he's starting to have doubts.
He's in the line at the local supermarket because no way is he washing his hair with Sam's girly shit when the hand-print brand on his shoulder starts itching. He rolls his t-shirt sleeve up without thinking about it but it looks the same. A girl in line behind him with an impressive amount of tatts and enough facial piercings to make Dean wonder vaguely how she eats lets out a breath of appreciation.
"Where'd you get that done?" she asks, eyes round and hungry.
"Dunno," Dean says. "Somewhere between hell and back I guess."
Bobby stares at Dean when he thinks Dean isn't paying attention. Dean's perfected the not-notice-the-stare from long years on the road with Sam but something about Bobby doing it itches at him.
"Now you're not really sure about either of us, are you?" Dean asks without acknowledging Bobby's gaze.
Bobby stops staring and it isn't the relief Dean wishes it would be.
Sam always, always seems to find pressing things to talk to Dean about when he's in the shower. He'll yell above the pounding spray about the latest case or his new sneakers or some flower he stopped to smell. Usually the more inane the better and the more determined Sam is to interrupt Dean's alone time with it.
The silence makes Dean realise that he's gotten used to a lot of things that he thought bugged him about Sam, and that more importantly, he misses them.
"Sam?" he calls, poking his head out from behind the stained curtain.
"Yeah?" Sam calls back.
"Nothin'. Just checking," Dean sighs.
Sam's passing him in the doorway when Dean reaches out and wraps both arms around him. The almost-hug is awkward because of the angle and Sam is side-on but Dean finds it's hard to let go.
"Uh, Dean?" Sam starts but Dean is too busy pressing his forehead into Sam's shoulder and trying not to cry.
He doesn't remember much but he knows for the entire time he was... away he would most certainly have been sure that Sam was dead.
"You're not allowed to ever mention this or use it as fodder in a fight," Dean instructs, face still mashed against Sam's shirtsleeve.
Dean can feel Sam's nose press into the top of his head for the briefest of moments.
"Wouldn't dream of it."