Fic: Snowed In
Title: Snowed In
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: G
Summary: They've never dealt with anything like this before.
“Uh… Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“We might have a slight problem.”
“What?” Dean closed his laptop, looking up at his brother who was standing on the balcony near the front door of the bunker.
Sam motioned with his hand, signaling Dean to join him, and Dean pushed his chair back from the war room table and ambled up the stairs. “What’s wrong?” he asked, following Sam down the short hallway to the front door.
Instead of replying, Sam turned the series of locks on the front door and pushed it open. But instead of the usual creaking of metal as the door swung open to the outer staircase, it moved six inches or so and stopped. A bright stream of sunlight shone through the opening and Dean squinted at the sudden change in brightness. But as Sam stepped back, he realized why the door wasn’t opening.
Outside, instead of concrete steps, all Dean could see was a deep drift of snow, the stairs and the gravel driveway covered in white.
“We, uh… seem to be snowed in,” Sam said.
Dean nodded in open-mouthed amazement. “Uh-huh,” he echoed, stepping towards the door and peering out before trying to move it further. It budged a couple of inches and then stopped, three feet of heavy snow pressing against it. “Well, crap.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed, hissing through his teeth, guilty expression on his face, like he thought the snow was his fault or something.
“You check the garage yet?” Dean asked, heading back down the stairs, thinking of the two wide doors in the underground garage, and the dimly lit tunnel up to the surface.
“Why? The driveway outside is still a quarter of a mile long. We’re kinda stuck, Dean,” Sam answered, following him.
Dean turned back to face his brother at the bottom of the stairs. “Get your snow pants on, Sasquatch. Dig us out,” he ordered, like it was the easiest thing in the world.
“What? No!” Sam scoffed. “If I’m going out there, you’re going, too!”
“Fine. We both dig out the driveway, see how far we can get, loser makes dinner. Deal?”
Which was how both Winchesters found themselves bundled up in several more layers of clothing than usual, grave-digging shovels in hand, at the top of the snow-covered driveway.
“Happy snow day,” Dean grumbled, watching Sam dig out a section of driveway three feet ahead of him. Still, even if he had to make dinner, maybe he could make a pie to go with it.
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: G
Summary: They've never dealt with anything like this before.
“Uh… Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“We might have a slight problem.”
“What?” Dean closed his laptop, looking up at his brother who was standing on the balcony near the front door of the bunker.
Sam motioned with his hand, signaling Dean to join him, and Dean pushed his chair back from the war room table and ambled up the stairs. “What’s wrong?” he asked, following Sam down the short hallway to the front door.
Instead of replying, Sam turned the series of locks on the front door and pushed it open. But instead of the usual creaking of metal as the door swung open to the outer staircase, it moved six inches or so and stopped. A bright stream of sunlight shone through the opening and Dean squinted at the sudden change in brightness. But as Sam stepped back, he realized why the door wasn’t opening.
Outside, instead of concrete steps, all Dean could see was a deep drift of snow, the stairs and the gravel driveway covered in white.
“We, uh… seem to be snowed in,” Sam said.
Dean nodded in open-mouthed amazement. “Uh-huh,” he echoed, stepping towards the door and peering out before trying to move it further. It budged a couple of inches and then stopped, three feet of heavy snow pressing against it. “Well, crap.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed, hissing through his teeth, guilty expression on his face, like he thought the snow was his fault or something.
“You check the garage yet?” Dean asked, heading back down the stairs, thinking of the two wide doors in the underground garage, and the dimly lit tunnel up to the surface.
“Why? The driveway outside is still a quarter of a mile long. We’re kinda stuck, Dean,” Sam answered, following him.
Dean turned back to face his brother at the bottom of the stairs. “Get your snow pants on, Sasquatch. Dig us out,” he ordered, like it was the easiest thing in the world.
“What? No!” Sam scoffed. “If I’m going out there, you’re going, too!”
“Fine. We both dig out the driveway, see how far we can get, loser makes dinner. Deal?”
Which was how both Winchesters found themselves bundled up in several more layers of clothing than usual, grave-digging shovels in hand, at the top of the snow-covered driveway.
“Happy snow day,” Dean grumbled, watching Sam dig out a section of driveway three feet ahead of him. Still, even if he had to make dinner, maybe he could make a pie to go with it.