SPN Ficlet: Conversations - Anchors
Title:Conversations - Anchors
Characters: Sam, Dean
Classification: Conversation, pre-series, gen, ficlet
Rating: G? K+? Nothing that couldn't have been televised.
Warnings: None. Dialog only.
Word Count: 623 words
Disclaimer: For fun, not for profit.
Originally posted July 28, 2006 at fanfiction.net
Conversations
by CaffieneKitty
Anchors
-
Timeframe:
The wee hours of a morning during Sam's first year at Stanford.
-
"Sam? What's up?"
"Dean, uh, hi."
"It's 4AM where I am, little bro. You forget you're on the West Coast now?"
"Actually, I didn't think you'd answer."
"Well, I did. So what's up?"
"Nothing."
"You called me at 4 AM Eastern, which is 1 AM Pacific because nothing is up and you didn't think I'd answer?"
"This was a mistake."
"No, no, hold on, Sam."
"...Yeah?"
"...How's, you know, things?"
"Heh. Pretty good. I'm keeping up in all my classes, and... yeah. Things are good."
"So, who's the girl?"
"Who said there was a girl?"
"Dude. I'm your brother. I taught you to talk. I know what you're not saying."
"...Jessica."
"Huh. She a bookworm like you?"
"Yeah, sort of. It's Stanford. You're either a bookworm or you're barfing up a lung in the Quad."
"So? Is she hot?"
"Dean-"
"Yeah, yeah. You know I had to ask."
"... She's... indescribable."
"Two heads, flippers, seaweed for hair-"
"Dean."
"All right, all right... You're serious about this girl, hunh Sam?"
"...yeah. We, uh. I'm moving in with her."
"...Really?"
"Yeah. Heh. That's kind of why I called."
"You're calling me to help you move?"
"Ha! No! No. I was actually calling because I bought a... well... a bookshelf."
"... Um. Okay?"
"It's furniture. I own furniture, Dean. It's so weird."
"Weird is definitely one of the words coming to my mind right now. Most of the rest have four letters and you're going to start hearing them if you don't start making some sense, Sam."
"I got it at a garage sale. It's short, and it's heavy. Made out of actual wood under the crappy paint, I think. Jess and I took it to her place in her hatchback."
"Still waiting for sense here, Sam."
"I've never owned anything bigger than I can carry in a duffel-bag, or stick in the trunk of the Impala. It's... it's like living in student res was just another hotel, only louder. I never really totally unpacked, just out of habit. Now I'm moving into a house, and I own furniture. A bookshelf! It's just this big solid thing, and I own it. It's like the world bends around it."
"You sure you aren't one of the 'puking your brains out' students?"
"Ha... No... I guess, I just called because if I tried to describe this to any of the people here, they wouldn't understand."
"I hate to say it Sam, but I don't know If I understand either."
"...It's something solid. Real. Something that I have to make arrangements to move around with. It's something too big to pick up, sling over my shoulder and leave with in under five minutes. And it's all mine."
"..."
"You still there, Dean?"
"... Yeah... I'm here... Sounds like a pain in the ass."
"It is. And I like that. That's why it's so weird."
"Hunh... sorry Sammy, I guess I still don't get it. I don't really get attached to things."
"Bull. I've watched you clean the guns for years."
"Hey, a gun isn't a thing, it's a tool."
"And what about the car?"
"What, have you developed a death wish since you got to Stanford?"
"Jackass."
"Dork."
"Whatever. Uh... You probably want to get back to sleep."
"Naw, I'm good. Me and Dad have been pulling a lot of all-nighters on this gig."
"He's not there, is he?"
"... Naw. His turn to babysit the snollygoster."
"Dean, uh..."
"Yeah, don't worry about it. I won't tell him you called."
"Okay. Thanks. Really though, I should go. I have class and stuff in the morning."
"Yeah, and you better start getting your beauty sleep if you wanna hang onto this girl of yours. Does she know that you snore?"
"I do not snore."
"Do too. Sounds like a snake getting sucked into a water pump."
"Bite me."
"Heh, yeah, whatever. Go. Sleep. But... uh... if that bookshelf of yours starts radiating evil, or freaky symbols show up on it out of the blue, you let me know. I'll come out there and help you torch the sucker."
"Ha. Right. G'night Dean."
Click
"'Night Sammy."
- - -
Conversations Index
Characters: Sam, Dean
Classification: Conversation, pre-series, gen, ficlet
Rating: G? K+? Nothing that couldn't have been televised.
Warnings: None. Dialog only.
Word Count: 623 words
Disclaimer: For fun, not for profit.
Originally posted July 28, 2006 at fanfiction.net
Conversations
by CaffieneKitty
Anchors
-
Timeframe:
The wee hours of a morning during Sam's first year at Stanford.
-
"Sam? What's up?"
"Dean, uh, hi."
"It's 4AM where I am, little bro. You forget you're on the West Coast now?"
"Actually, I didn't think you'd answer."
"Well, I did. So what's up?"
"Nothing."
"You called me at 4 AM Eastern, which is 1 AM Pacific because nothing is up and you didn't think I'd answer?"
"This was a mistake."
"No, no, hold on, Sam."
"...Yeah?"
"...How's, you know, things?"
"Heh. Pretty good. I'm keeping up in all my classes, and... yeah. Things are good."
"So, who's the girl?"
"Who said there was a girl?"
"Dude. I'm your brother. I taught you to talk. I know what you're not saying."
"...Jessica."
"Huh. She a bookworm like you?"
"Yeah, sort of. It's Stanford. You're either a bookworm or you're barfing up a lung in the Quad."
"So? Is she hot?"
"Dean-"
"Yeah, yeah. You know I had to ask."
"... She's... indescribable."
"Two heads, flippers, seaweed for hair-"
"Dean."
"All right, all right... You're serious about this girl, hunh Sam?"
"...yeah. We, uh. I'm moving in with her."
"...Really?"
"Yeah. Heh. That's kind of why I called."
"You're calling me to help you move?"
"Ha! No! No. I was actually calling because I bought a... well... a bookshelf."
"... Um. Okay?"
"It's furniture. I own furniture, Dean. It's so weird."
"Weird is definitely one of the words coming to my mind right now. Most of the rest have four letters and you're going to start hearing them if you don't start making some sense, Sam."
"I got it at a garage sale. It's short, and it's heavy. Made out of actual wood under the crappy paint, I think. Jess and I took it to her place in her hatchback."
"Still waiting for sense here, Sam."
"I've never owned anything bigger than I can carry in a duffel-bag, or stick in the trunk of the Impala. It's... it's like living in student res was just another hotel, only louder. I never really totally unpacked, just out of habit. Now I'm moving into a house, and I own furniture. A bookshelf! It's just this big solid thing, and I own it. It's like the world bends around it."
"You sure you aren't one of the 'puking your brains out' students?"
"Ha... No... I guess, I just called because if I tried to describe this to any of the people here, they wouldn't understand."
"I hate to say it Sam, but I don't know If I understand either."
"...It's something solid. Real. Something that I have to make arrangements to move around with. It's something too big to pick up, sling over my shoulder and leave with in under five minutes. And it's all mine."
"..."
"You still there, Dean?"
"... Yeah... I'm here... Sounds like a pain in the ass."
"It is. And I like that. That's why it's so weird."
"Hunh... sorry Sammy, I guess I still don't get it. I don't really get attached to things."
"Bull. I've watched you clean the guns for years."
"Hey, a gun isn't a thing, it's a tool."
"And what about the car?"
"What, have you developed a death wish since you got to Stanford?"
"Jackass."
"Dork."
"Whatever. Uh... You probably want to get back to sleep."
"Naw, I'm good. Me and Dad have been pulling a lot of all-nighters on this gig."
"He's not there, is he?"
"... Naw. His turn to babysit the snollygoster."
"Dean, uh..."
"Yeah, don't worry about it. I won't tell him you called."
"Okay. Thanks. Really though, I should go. I have class and stuff in the morning."
"Yeah, and you better start getting your beauty sleep if you wanna hang onto this girl of yours. Does she know that you snore?"
"I do not snore."
"Do too. Sounds like a snake getting sucked into a water pump."
"Bite me."
"Heh, yeah, whatever. Go. Sleep. But... uh... if that bookshelf of yours starts radiating evil, or freaky symbols show up on it out of the blue, you let me know. I'll come out there and help you torch the sucker."
"Ha. Right. G'night Dean."
Click
"'Night Sammy."
- - -
Conversations Index