SPN Fanfic: Clearing the Line
Title: Clearing the Line
Characters: Dean, Sam (Stanford Era)
Rating/Warnings: GEN, PG.
Word Count: This one, 350-ish.
Beta: The astounding ciaranbochna! \o/
Disclaimer: Not mine, no ownership claimed.
Summary: Text messaging is considered as the fastest and most reliable means of communication. Communication is the key.
A/N: One of likely three otherwise unconnected "Texting with the Winchesters" fics written for pinkfinity who donated to Haiti relief efforts in the lightning round of help_haiti. I am so sorry for being the slowest lightning ever. More to come. [LJ-only]
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Clearing the Line
by CaffieneKitty
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Sam hadn't answered his phone since he left for Stanford. Dean had called a few times, just to make sure he got there okay, didn't get caught in a zombie gerbil migration or something on the way to California. No answer. He'd called and left messages until the politely mocking 'voice mailbox full' voice had started answering. Sam was probably fine. Just busy, or ignoring Dean's messages, but he had to at least be checking them and that would clear them from the voicemail box. Except it wasn't.
Dean tried to be calm, kept trying to tell himself Sammy'd be okay, he could handle himself. Sure. Sam was capable of protecting himself from...
Each time before Dean finished the thought, he was dialing Sam's number again.
Dad was out when Dean's phone made the noise he thought of as 'the last sound a marshmallow chicken makes' indicating someone had sent him a text.
[dtchd old phn. got new.]
The letters burned on the tiny screen and were followed by a number with a San Mateo County area code. Sam. He'd ditched his old phone. Dean had the number half-dialed when his phone *SKWEEP*'d again.
[dont call. emerg ONLY. dont tell dad]
Sam was okay. Sam was okay and had a new phone. That was enough. Dean glanced at the number on the screen. Except... Sam only said 'Don't call'. He didn't say 'don't contact me'. Dean picked up his phone and tapped out a message.
[thx Sammy]
He hesitated, thumb over 'send', then deleted the last two characters and sent the message. Antagonizing Sam wouldn't help anyone.
Dean stared at the phone a few minutes before he put it down on the counter and pulled out the gun-cleaning kit.
It was something. Sam wasn't gone forever. It was enough. It didn't matter if Sam didn't respond. But Dean kept glancing at the phone, laying the brushes and swabs out onto a clean rag on the table.
*SKWEEP*
He dropped the round brush and picked up the phone.
[no prob]
Dean grinned, put away his phone and picked up the brush again. Everything was going to be okay.
- - -
(that's it for this one)
Characters: Dean, Sam (Stanford Era)
Rating/Warnings: GEN, PG.
Word Count: This one, 350-ish.
Beta: The astounding ciaranbochna! \o/
Disclaimer: Not mine, no ownership claimed.
Summary: Text messaging is considered as the fastest and most reliable means of communication. Communication is the key.
A/N: One of likely three otherwise unconnected "Texting with the Winchesters" fics written for pinkfinity who donated to Haiti relief efforts in the lightning round of help_haiti. I am so sorry for being the slowest lightning ever. More to come. [LJ-only]
-
Clearing the Line
by CaffieneKitty
-
Sam hadn't answered his phone since he left for Stanford. Dean had called a few times, just to make sure he got there okay, didn't get caught in a zombie gerbil migration or something on the way to California. No answer. He'd called and left messages until the politely mocking 'voice mailbox full' voice had started answering. Sam was probably fine. Just busy, or ignoring Dean's messages, but he had to at least be checking them and that would clear them from the voicemail box. Except it wasn't.
Dean tried to be calm, kept trying to tell himself Sammy'd be okay, he could handle himself. Sure. Sam was capable of protecting himself from...
Each time before Dean finished the thought, he was dialing Sam's number again.
Dad was out when Dean's phone made the noise he thought of as 'the last sound a marshmallow chicken makes' indicating someone had sent him a text.
[dtchd old phn. got new.]
The letters burned on the tiny screen and were followed by a number with a San Mateo County area code. Sam. He'd ditched his old phone. Dean had the number half-dialed when his phone *SKWEEP*'d again.
[dont call. emerg ONLY. dont tell dad]
Sam was okay. Sam was okay and had a new phone. That was enough. Dean glanced at the number on the screen. Except... Sam only said 'Don't call'. He didn't say 'don't contact me'. Dean picked up his phone and tapped out a message.
[thx Sammy]
He hesitated, thumb over 'send', then deleted the last two characters and sent the message. Antagonizing Sam wouldn't help anyone.
Dean stared at the phone a few minutes before he put it down on the counter and pulled out the gun-cleaning kit.
It was something. Sam wasn't gone forever. It was enough. It didn't matter if Sam didn't respond. But Dean kept glancing at the phone, laying the brushes and swabs out onto a clean rag on the table.
*SKWEEP*
He dropped the round brush and picked up the phone.
[no prob]
Dean grinned, put away his phone and picked up the brush again. Everything was going to be okay.
- - -
(that's it for this one)