Fic: Quiet Time
Title: Quiet Time
Fandom: Supernatural FPS
Characters: Sam, Dean
Rating: G
Summary: From weesta’s prompt at glovered’s Batcave Fic and Art Comment Fest: Sam researches, takes notes and researches (and takes notes....) Dean gets bored and starts exploring. It's hours before Sam realizes that Dean hasn't been shuffling arond. Sam has to search for missing!Dean (which could turn into hurt!Dean or Dean-fell-asleep-somewhere).
AN: Hugs and kisses to my beloved beta, mews1945. Love you love you love you.
Sam liked the quiet.
When he was still a kid when Dean was busy flirting with a girl staying in the next-door room at the motel and dad was out there somewhere to attend to a business none of them was allowed to talk about, he would be surrounding himself with books and magazines. Though they were always worn out and discolored from old age Sam didn’t mind. There’d always be some pages he missed or hadn’t read for the second or third time. Sometimes dad would bring him more books when he returned from a hunt, but Sam wouldn’t dare say anything when he came back bloody and weary, staggering past the door barely able to walk more than five steps before Dean had to grab him and guide him to the nearest bed.
Sam loved hushed moments but he found it a challenge to have them when he lived with Jess, his always-sunny girlfriend, in Stanford. Library time was limited-which was not Jess’ fault at all, though. Sam liked hanging around more with her than with the dusty, leather-bound reference books. Bubbly, lighthearted Jess was not without brain anyway. Sam loved the heated discussions they had about World-Wide Volkswagen Corp v. Woodson or Cannon v. University of Chicago. Moments alone were few and far between. It was only when he fell asleep he could lose himself in the quiet.
Losing Jessica, Sam got his quiet back, but not really-with a big brother and his non-stop noisy strings of rock tunes playing out of the Impala’s tape player. This was supposed to be the 21st century. Nobody else listened to cassettes but his brother.
But now Dean knew him and his need for quiet. He would sit in silence on his bed or in a chair somewhere in the room, reading a book, or pretending to read, leaving Sam alone with his laptop to do research.
That was in a motel room in a nondescript town and Sam only had his laptop to read from now. Though reading materials were countless in the net, they were nothing like the old books from his dad with their musty smell and sometimes coarse, dusty feel on the tips of his fingers. He loved those, the smell, the feel, and the muted sounds as he flipped their pages.
Somewhere along the way he had lost those books as he lost the warmth of being with his dad. Their fights, his leaving to enter law school, his father’s death that still left a wound in his heart.
Yet who knew. Who knew they were going to meet their grandfather, their dad’s dad, Grandpa Winchester, who left them this downright, way too cool place, their very own bat cave. Sam only had to sweep one glance over shelves upon shelves of books that lined the four walls of the basement to know he had found his quiet again. There were enough rooms his brother could explore, rooms with stuff that appealed more to Dean, like weaponry, cursed objects, or vintage clothes.
It was quiet and Sam loved it. So why was it at after hours of reading, hours of research, did he feel something was wrong? He stood up from the chair that squeaked, stretched his back, and realized.
Dean didn’t do quiet.
Their newly-found bat cave was sizable with all the rooms it contained but it was also protected from the racket and clamor of the town where it was located. Barely paying attention to it or regarding it as just a noise, Sam could still hear Dean shuffling around the house before. There was only silence now.
“Dean?” Sam hated the tremble in his voice. “Dean, where are you?”
From room to room he rushed and was quick to move to another when he didn’t find a trace of his brother in the one before. Sweat slicked his hand as he gripped the banister of the wide, curved stairs.
“Come on, Dean. Not the time to play hide and seek.”
A closed door at the end of the hallway led him to-Dean. Sam didn’t know what the room was for but there was a small cushioned couch and lying curled in there was his brother, fast asleep. Sam exhaled loudly. He knew it wouldn’t wake Dean. He slept like a dead log if he could sleep at all.
Sam slid down and sat leaning half against the couch, half Dean’s legs, rubbing his tired eyes before squeezing them shut. And kept them closed. He didn’t want to leave Dean alone in here. Screw the quiet.
~~~
Fandom: Supernatural FPS
Characters: Sam, Dean
Rating: G
Summary: From weesta’s prompt at glovered’s Batcave Fic and Art Comment Fest: Sam researches, takes notes and researches (and takes notes....) Dean gets bored and starts exploring. It's hours before Sam realizes that Dean hasn't been shuffling arond. Sam has to search for missing!Dean (which could turn into hurt!Dean or Dean-fell-asleep-somewhere).
AN: Hugs and kisses to my beloved beta, mews1945. Love you love you love you.
Sam liked the quiet.
When he was still a kid when Dean was busy flirting with a girl staying in the next-door room at the motel and dad was out there somewhere to attend to a business none of them was allowed to talk about, he would be surrounding himself with books and magazines. Though they were always worn out and discolored from old age Sam didn’t mind. There’d always be some pages he missed or hadn’t read for the second or third time. Sometimes dad would bring him more books when he returned from a hunt, but Sam wouldn’t dare say anything when he came back bloody and weary, staggering past the door barely able to walk more than five steps before Dean had to grab him and guide him to the nearest bed.
Sam loved hushed moments but he found it a challenge to have them when he lived with Jess, his always-sunny girlfriend, in Stanford. Library time was limited-which was not Jess’ fault at all, though. Sam liked hanging around more with her than with the dusty, leather-bound reference books. Bubbly, lighthearted Jess was not without brain anyway. Sam loved the heated discussions they had about World-Wide Volkswagen Corp v. Woodson or Cannon v. University of Chicago. Moments alone were few and far between. It was only when he fell asleep he could lose himself in the quiet.
Losing Jessica, Sam got his quiet back, but not really-with a big brother and his non-stop noisy strings of rock tunes playing out of the Impala’s tape player. This was supposed to be the 21st century. Nobody else listened to cassettes but his brother.
But now Dean knew him and his need for quiet. He would sit in silence on his bed or in a chair somewhere in the room, reading a book, or pretending to read, leaving Sam alone with his laptop to do research.
That was in a motel room in a nondescript town and Sam only had his laptop to read from now. Though reading materials were countless in the net, they were nothing like the old books from his dad with their musty smell and sometimes coarse, dusty feel on the tips of his fingers. He loved those, the smell, the feel, and the muted sounds as he flipped their pages.
Somewhere along the way he had lost those books as he lost the warmth of being with his dad. Their fights, his leaving to enter law school, his father’s death that still left a wound in his heart.
Yet who knew. Who knew they were going to meet their grandfather, their dad’s dad, Grandpa Winchester, who left them this downright, way too cool place, their very own bat cave. Sam only had to sweep one glance over shelves upon shelves of books that lined the four walls of the basement to know he had found his quiet again. There were enough rooms his brother could explore, rooms with stuff that appealed more to Dean, like weaponry, cursed objects, or vintage clothes.
It was quiet and Sam loved it. So why was it at after hours of reading, hours of research, did he feel something was wrong? He stood up from the chair that squeaked, stretched his back, and realized.
Dean didn’t do quiet.
Their newly-found bat cave was sizable with all the rooms it contained but it was also protected from the racket and clamor of the town where it was located. Barely paying attention to it or regarding it as just a noise, Sam could still hear Dean shuffling around the house before. There was only silence now.
“Dean?” Sam hated the tremble in his voice. “Dean, where are you?”
From room to room he rushed and was quick to move to another when he didn’t find a trace of his brother in the one before. Sweat slicked his hand as he gripped the banister of the wide, curved stairs.
“Come on, Dean. Not the time to play hide and seek.”
A closed door at the end of the hallway led him to-Dean. Sam didn’t know what the room was for but there was a small cushioned couch and lying curled in there was his brother, fast asleep. Sam exhaled loudly. He knew it wouldn’t wake Dean. He slept like a dead log if he could sleep at all.
Sam slid down and sat leaning half against the couch, half Dean’s legs, rubbing his tired eyes before squeezing them shut. And kept them closed. He didn’t want to leave Dean alone in here. Screw the quiet.
~~~