SPN FIC - Splash
This one's for elliejane in thanks for the icons -- she wanted something sweet with John and the wee!chesters, so there's this: some bright sunshine, melting snow, and lots of puddles.
CHARACTERS: John, Sammy, Dean
GENRE: Gen
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: None
LENGTH: 1705 words
SPLASH
By Carol Davis
"Wanna," Sammy says, and when Dean ignores him, he pushes up close to his brother, so close that Dean slops his cup of soda and says one of the words Pastor Jim says aren't nice. A little of the soda lands on Dean's comic book, but before Dean can say the bad word again, Sammy stretches out a hand and wipes the page clean.
"Stop makin' a mess!" Dean barks.
A little kid might cry. But Sammy's not a little kid any more. He's almost three years old. He can go potty by himself, and get dressed by himself. He's a big kid. "Wanna go out and play inna snow," he says. "You can take me."
"I'm busy."
"No you're not."
Over on the other side of the room, Dad is sleeping with his arm over his face. He doesn't look like it's a good sleep.
"Is he sick?" Sammy asks.
"No."
"If we go play outside, we won't wake him up."
Dad didn't tell them they couldn't go outside. All he said was, don't wake him up unless something catches on fire. But he wakes up easy sometimes, even when Sammy and Dean don't make any noise at all, and when that happens he's mad for a whole long time. Sometimes for the whole rest of the day.
Dean knows that. Because Dean's very smart.
"Put your boots on," he says.
It's the very, very best kind of snow: all wet and melty, and the whole parking lot is full of puddles. Sammy's other pair of boots wasn't good for stomping in puddles because they leaked and his socks would get wet. But the new ones that Pastor Jim gave him are awesome. They don't leak even a little bit. He waits just long enough for Dean to close the door to their motel room, then jumps off the curb into the big, shiny puddle that's close enough to their car that when Sammy lands, he splashes water all the way up the car door. He can't help laughing, and Dean looks at him like he's a dope. Dean does that sometimes, because he's the big brother. He has to pretend like he's a grownup. He stands watching as Sammy clomps around in the puddles, making big waves in the water.
The best thing in the whole parking lot is the little river where the water's running over towards the grating that goes down into the sewer. Sammy follows it across the lot, clomping and stomping in the water, stopping a couple of times to make a dam with his boots. When he does that, the water goes sideways.
Dean's looking at the car.
"Come on!" Sammy calls to him.
The car still has a lot of snow on it, on the roof and on top of the trunk, because it's mostly in the shade. The other cars are all clean, and they look new and shiny, like they all went through the car wash. Their car is the only one that looks messy.
There's a dime in one of the puddles.
And a bottle cap.
The sun is so bright and warm that Sammy feels like he could take his coat off. It's like summertime, with snow. The idea of that makes him laugh as he splashes across the parking lot. They went to a place that was cold in the summertime, where they all had to wear their coats even though the day before, he and Dean wore t-shirts and Sammy wore shorts. So maybe you can have anything, any time.
Dean is over by the car, wiping snow off the hood with his hand. That's kind of fun to watch, the way the snow slides down off the car like it's slippery, and the way it plops down into the puddle and makes a little splash onto Dean's pants.
They clean off the whole car that way.
When they're done, they're both all wet, but the car is wet and shiny. There's some mud on the door, but Dean scoops up some snow and uses it to wipe the door off like it's a rag. Maybe Dean saw Dad do that one time, but it could be that Dean thought it up all by himself. Dean is good that way, coming up with ideas that nobody else thought of.
"Stand in the sun," he tells Sammy.
"Why?"
"So you'll dry off."
That's another good idea. They both stand in the sun, in the middle of a huge giant puddle. It's so bright that Sammy has to close his eyes. He might get a sunburn, he thinks, because the sun is hot hot hot on his cheeks. He feels a little bit melty, underneath his clothes, and wonder if his skin will slide off like the snow slid off the car.
This is the best day in the world, he thinks, and leans against his brother.
Then Dean says, "Uh."
Sammy opens his eyes a little and squints in the direction Dean is looking. It's Dad, standing on the sidewalk outside their motel room. He doesn't have his coat on, just his regular shirt. His hair is all sticking up in funny directions. He's mad, Sammy thinks, because something woke him up. Dean seems to think that too.
And they're wet. All soaking wet.
This is gonna be bad.
Dad starts coming toward them, comes stomping through the puddles, and they're gonna get a spanking, Sammy thinks. He shifts a little, thinking he might stand behind Dean, but that's what Dean calls chickenshit. Coming out here was Sammy's own idea, and if Dean gets in trouble it's Sammy's fault. He'll tell Dad that, he thinks. He'll 'fess up.
They're both surprised - him and Dean - when Dad lifts his arms up like he's a grizzly bear and comes stomping through the puddles roaring and growling. When Dad reaches them he scoops Sammy up into his arms and airplanes him through the air, dipping and swooping like he's a fighter pilot in the war. After they do that Dad tucks Sammy under his arm and scoops up a big handful of snow. He's fast at making snowballs, the fastest Sammy has ever seen. If Sammy's on Dad's team, Dean is gonna go down, but to Sammy's surprise Dad sets him down on his feet, fast, and goes running away, making big waves when his boots land in the puddles. He's almost all the way to the car when he turns around and throws the snowball. For a second Sammy thinks it's going to smack Dean right in his chest, but Dean ducks and weaves and the snowball misses him and hits somebody else's car.
Dean can't throw a snowball as far as Dad can, but Dad is big and easy to hit. Dean and Sammy get him pinned in between two cars and let him have it. One snowball lands in his hair and drips down onto his face.
"Now, that does it!" Dad yells.
He runs toward them, grabs Dean up under one arm and Sammy under the other and runs with them like they're footballs. Runs all the way across the parking lot and smack into the giant pile of snow that the snowplow made last night. It's melty and crunchy and they all land in it face-first.
They look like doofuses, Sammy thinks.
Even Dad.
Especially Dad.
Dad rolls over after a minute and lays on his back in the snow, squinting up at the bright blue sky.
He doesn't look mad.
He looks like one of those dads on TV.
He's smiling when he looks over at Sammy. He's still smiling when he reaches over and ruffles Sammy's hair.
Dean gets up first. He's even more soaking wet than he was before Dad came out. He looks a little upset at first, like he did when Sammy made him spill the soda. Then he brushes some snow off his jacket and makes a face like he knows he looks like a doofus.
"That was a massacre," Dad says.
"Yeah," Dean tells him. "And you lost."
"Say again?"
This time, Sammy is on Dad's team. It's a slaughter.
When they're finally all done and Dad has declared the whole thing a draw, the sun is going down and all three of them have red noses from the cold. They walk back toward the door to their motel room dripping water into the puddles. Dad has to get the key out of his pocket to open the door, but Dean does the actual opening and pushes inside first so he can go to the bathroom. He throws some towels out onto the bed before he shuts the bathroom door, and Dad picks one up so he can scrub Sammy's hair dry. He hums a little while he's doing it, one of those rock songs he likes to listen to on the radio.
It's a good day, Sammy thinks.
But there's one thing. One thing that might spoil it. "Did we wake you up?" Sammy asks Dad in a little small voice that he hopes Dad will understand means he's sorry. "We went out so we wouldn't wake you up."
Dad looks at him for a minute.
Then he smiles again, and scrubs Sammy's head with the towel. "Yeah," he says. "But I'm glad you did."
When Dean comes out of the bathroom, Dad cracks him with the towel, but just a little bit, just enough to make Dean roll his eyes.
"Think we're gonna need some serious chow after all that," Dad says.
"Pizza!" Sammy cheers.
"Hell with that, dude," Dad tells him. "There's a steak out there that's got my name on it."
They splash a little more when they go back out to the car in their clean, dry clothes. Dad smiles at how clean the car is, and smiles some more when he turns the radio on and one of his favorite songs is playing.
They could have just sat in the room, Sammy thinks. Dean might be smart, but Dean wanted to just sit in the room.
"Are you happy, Dad?" Sammy asks him.
"Yeah, Sam," Dad says. "I'm good."
That makes this the best day of all.
* * * * *
CHARACTERS: John, Sammy, Dean
GENRE: Gen
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: None
LENGTH: 1705 words
SPLASH
By Carol Davis
"Wanna," Sammy says, and when Dean ignores him, he pushes up close to his brother, so close that Dean slops his cup of soda and says one of the words Pastor Jim says aren't nice. A little of the soda lands on Dean's comic book, but before Dean can say the bad word again, Sammy stretches out a hand and wipes the page clean.
"Stop makin' a mess!" Dean barks.
A little kid might cry. But Sammy's not a little kid any more. He's almost three years old. He can go potty by himself, and get dressed by himself. He's a big kid. "Wanna go out and play inna snow," he says. "You can take me."
"I'm busy."
"No you're not."
Over on the other side of the room, Dad is sleeping with his arm over his face. He doesn't look like it's a good sleep.
"Is he sick?" Sammy asks.
"No."
"If we go play outside, we won't wake him up."
Dad didn't tell them they couldn't go outside. All he said was, don't wake him up unless something catches on fire. But he wakes up easy sometimes, even when Sammy and Dean don't make any noise at all, and when that happens he's mad for a whole long time. Sometimes for the whole rest of the day.
Dean knows that. Because Dean's very smart.
"Put your boots on," he says.
It's the very, very best kind of snow: all wet and melty, and the whole parking lot is full of puddles. Sammy's other pair of boots wasn't good for stomping in puddles because they leaked and his socks would get wet. But the new ones that Pastor Jim gave him are awesome. They don't leak even a little bit. He waits just long enough for Dean to close the door to their motel room, then jumps off the curb into the big, shiny puddle that's close enough to their car that when Sammy lands, he splashes water all the way up the car door. He can't help laughing, and Dean looks at him like he's a dope. Dean does that sometimes, because he's the big brother. He has to pretend like he's a grownup. He stands watching as Sammy clomps around in the puddles, making big waves in the water.
The best thing in the whole parking lot is the little river where the water's running over towards the grating that goes down into the sewer. Sammy follows it across the lot, clomping and stomping in the water, stopping a couple of times to make a dam with his boots. When he does that, the water goes sideways.
Dean's looking at the car.
"Come on!" Sammy calls to him.
The car still has a lot of snow on it, on the roof and on top of the trunk, because it's mostly in the shade. The other cars are all clean, and they look new and shiny, like they all went through the car wash. Their car is the only one that looks messy.
There's a dime in one of the puddles.
And a bottle cap.
The sun is so bright and warm that Sammy feels like he could take his coat off. It's like summertime, with snow. The idea of that makes him laugh as he splashes across the parking lot. They went to a place that was cold in the summertime, where they all had to wear their coats even though the day before, he and Dean wore t-shirts and Sammy wore shorts. So maybe you can have anything, any time.
Dean is over by the car, wiping snow off the hood with his hand. That's kind of fun to watch, the way the snow slides down off the car like it's slippery, and the way it plops down into the puddle and makes a little splash onto Dean's pants.
They clean off the whole car that way.
When they're done, they're both all wet, but the car is wet and shiny. There's some mud on the door, but Dean scoops up some snow and uses it to wipe the door off like it's a rag. Maybe Dean saw Dad do that one time, but it could be that Dean thought it up all by himself. Dean is good that way, coming up with ideas that nobody else thought of.
"Stand in the sun," he tells Sammy.
"Why?"
"So you'll dry off."
That's another good idea. They both stand in the sun, in the middle of a huge giant puddle. It's so bright that Sammy has to close his eyes. He might get a sunburn, he thinks, because the sun is hot hot hot on his cheeks. He feels a little bit melty, underneath his clothes, and wonder if his skin will slide off like the snow slid off the car.
This is the best day in the world, he thinks, and leans against his brother.
Then Dean says, "Uh."
Sammy opens his eyes a little and squints in the direction Dean is looking. It's Dad, standing on the sidewalk outside their motel room. He doesn't have his coat on, just his regular shirt. His hair is all sticking up in funny directions. He's mad, Sammy thinks, because something woke him up. Dean seems to think that too.
And they're wet. All soaking wet.
This is gonna be bad.
Dad starts coming toward them, comes stomping through the puddles, and they're gonna get a spanking, Sammy thinks. He shifts a little, thinking he might stand behind Dean, but that's what Dean calls chickenshit. Coming out here was Sammy's own idea, and if Dean gets in trouble it's Sammy's fault. He'll tell Dad that, he thinks. He'll 'fess up.
They're both surprised - him and Dean - when Dad lifts his arms up like he's a grizzly bear and comes stomping through the puddles roaring and growling. When Dad reaches them he scoops Sammy up into his arms and airplanes him through the air, dipping and swooping like he's a fighter pilot in the war. After they do that Dad tucks Sammy under his arm and scoops up a big handful of snow. He's fast at making snowballs, the fastest Sammy has ever seen. If Sammy's on Dad's team, Dean is gonna go down, but to Sammy's surprise Dad sets him down on his feet, fast, and goes running away, making big waves when his boots land in the puddles. He's almost all the way to the car when he turns around and throws the snowball. For a second Sammy thinks it's going to smack Dean right in his chest, but Dean ducks and weaves and the snowball misses him and hits somebody else's car.
Dean can't throw a snowball as far as Dad can, but Dad is big and easy to hit. Dean and Sammy get him pinned in between two cars and let him have it. One snowball lands in his hair and drips down onto his face.
"Now, that does it!" Dad yells.
He runs toward them, grabs Dean up under one arm and Sammy under the other and runs with them like they're footballs. Runs all the way across the parking lot and smack into the giant pile of snow that the snowplow made last night. It's melty and crunchy and they all land in it face-first.
They look like doofuses, Sammy thinks.
Even Dad.
Especially Dad.
Dad rolls over after a minute and lays on his back in the snow, squinting up at the bright blue sky.
He doesn't look mad.
He looks like one of those dads on TV.
He's smiling when he looks over at Sammy. He's still smiling when he reaches over and ruffles Sammy's hair.
Dean gets up first. He's even more soaking wet than he was before Dad came out. He looks a little upset at first, like he did when Sammy made him spill the soda. Then he brushes some snow off his jacket and makes a face like he knows he looks like a doofus.
"That was a massacre," Dad says.
"Yeah," Dean tells him. "And you lost."
"Say again?"
This time, Sammy is on Dad's team. It's a slaughter.
When they're finally all done and Dad has declared the whole thing a draw, the sun is going down and all three of them have red noses from the cold. They walk back toward the door to their motel room dripping water into the puddles. Dad has to get the key out of his pocket to open the door, but Dean does the actual opening and pushes inside first so he can go to the bathroom. He throws some towels out onto the bed before he shuts the bathroom door, and Dad picks one up so he can scrub Sammy's hair dry. He hums a little while he's doing it, one of those rock songs he likes to listen to on the radio.
It's a good day, Sammy thinks.
But there's one thing. One thing that might spoil it. "Did we wake you up?" Sammy asks Dad in a little small voice that he hopes Dad will understand means he's sorry. "We went out so we wouldn't wake you up."
Dad looks at him for a minute.
Then he smiles again, and scrubs Sammy's head with the towel. "Yeah," he says. "But I'm glad you did."
When Dean comes out of the bathroom, Dad cracks him with the towel, but just a little bit, just enough to make Dean roll his eyes.
"Think we're gonna need some serious chow after all that," Dad says.
"Pizza!" Sammy cheers.
"Hell with that, dude," Dad tells him. "There's a steak out there that's got my name on it."
They splash a little more when they go back out to the car in their clean, dry clothes. Dad smiles at how clean the car is, and smiles some more when he turns the radio on and one of his favorite songs is playing.
They could have just sat in the room, Sammy thinks. Dean might be smart, but Dean wanted to just sit in the room.
"Are you happy, Dad?" Sammy asks him.
"Yeah, Sam," Dad says. "I'm good."
That makes this the best day of all.
* * * * *