Hometown Friday Night
Hometown Friday Night
by Tareena Langford
Wordcount: 527
Rating: umm, PG...I guess
Pairing: none
Feedback: oh hell yea!
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: I do not own Dean or Sam *damnit* or anything else from the Supernatural universe. I am however a Lyman Greyhoond! *howls*
Author's Note: I...don't know where this came from...wait, that's a lie, I went to my high school's Homecoming game this year, and despite us being slaughtered and it just overall being a crappy experience, it did make me miss going to the games (when we were actually good)
***
Dean had busted his shoulder, again, and not that it was anything major, but it was sore as fuck and made driving painful as hell.
Sam hadn’t been able to find anything new worth looking into for their next gig anyways and for once the motel they had was actually pretty nice, as far as motels went, and the town was actually kinda nice and comfortable.
So when Sam happened to drive past the local high school (student body population of a whopping 892) all decked out with balloons and streamers for the Homecoming game, he just glanced over at Dean, hunkered down in the passenger seat with a heating pad wrapped around his shoulder and plugged into the cigarette lighter. He arched his eyebrow and simply asked ‘wanna?’ Dean was quiet a moment, still watching out the window even though they had passed the little brick litter of buildings and then shrugged, with his good shoulder, and came back with ‘sure.’
Sam looped around and stopped at the little local liquor store and bought a six pack before they drove around the back of the school and parked in the worn out practice field turned parking lot. They got right up in front of the fence and climbed out, watching through the chain link as the team burst onto the field through their hand painted sign.
They went and got tickets but by the end of the second quarter Dean was bitching about people jostling into his sore shoulder so they ducked out and went back to the car, pulling out the six pack from the backseat, nice and cool from the night chill.
Dean groaned when the cheerleaders came streaming onto the field for halftime and Sam just chuckled and rolled his eyes, hopping up onto the hood, still warm and welcoming as the engine ticked cool underneath.
When he held out his hand for Dean to help him up he was surprised he was met with no resistance, just Dean’s hand warm in his as he helped him pull himself up next to him.
The night was chilly and although they didn’t have a great view of the game from where the car was parked it was pretty good considering.
The settled down against the windshield just in time for the marching band to start up their routine and they cracked their first beers.
At the end the hometown team, the Greyhounds (mascot courtesy of the dog racing track across the street) burst into howls as they set off a small set of fireworks.
Dean chuckled, taking a swallow of beer and howled low right along with them.
Sam couldn’t help but laugh and joined in.
“Pretty good fireworks,” he said quietly.
Dean was still grinning and Sam felt his shoulder shift against his own.
“We’ve done better,” he smirked, passing a glance over at Sam before sighing and taking another sip of his beer. “But not bad,” he finally mumbled, letting his head tip back to rest against the cool windshield.
Sam just smiled back and did the same, the warmth between them acting better than any heating pad on Dean’s bum shoulder.
by Tareena Langford
Wordcount: 527
Rating: umm, PG...I guess
Pairing: none
Feedback: oh hell yea!
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: I do not own Dean or Sam *damnit* or anything else from the Supernatural universe. I am however a Lyman Greyhoond! *howls*
Author's Note: I...don't know where this came from...wait, that's a lie, I went to my high school's Homecoming game this year, and despite us being slaughtered and it just overall being a crappy experience, it did make me miss going to the games (when we were actually good)
***
Dean had busted his shoulder, again, and not that it was anything major, but it was sore as fuck and made driving painful as hell.
Sam hadn’t been able to find anything new worth looking into for their next gig anyways and for once the motel they had was actually pretty nice, as far as motels went, and the town was actually kinda nice and comfortable.
So when Sam happened to drive past the local high school (student body population of a whopping 892) all decked out with balloons and streamers for the Homecoming game, he just glanced over at Dean, hunkered down in the passenger seat with a heating pad wrapped around his shoulder and plugged into the cigarette lighter. He arched his eyebrow and simply asked ‘wanna?’ Dean was quiet a moment, still watching out the window even though they had passed the little brick litter of buildings and then shrugged, with his good shoulder, and came back with ‘sure.’
Sam looped around and stopped at the little local liquor store and bought a six pack before they drove around the back of the school and parked in the worn out practice field turned parking lot. They got right up in front of the fence and climbed out, watching through the chain link as the team burst onto the field through their hand painted sign.
They went and got tickets but by the end of the second quarter Dean was bitching about people jostling into his sore shoulder so they ducked out and went back to the car, pulling out the six pack from the backseat, nice and cool from the night chill.
Dean groaned when the cheerleaders came streaming onto the field for halftime and Sam just chuckled and rolled his eyes, hopping up onto the hood, still warm and welcoming as the engine ticked cool underneath.
When he held out his hand for Dean to help him up he was surprised he was met with no resistance, just Dean’s hand warm in his as he helped him pull himself up next to him.
The night was chilly and although they didn’t have a great view of the game from where the car was parked it was pretty good considering.
The settled down against the windshield just in time for the marching band to start up their routine and they cracked their first beers.
At the end the hometown team, the Greyhounds (mascot courtesy of the dog racing track across the street) burst into howls as they set off a small set of fireworks.
Dean chuckled, taking a swallow of beer and howled low right along with them.
Sam couldn’t help but laugh and joined in.
“Pretty good fireworks,” he said quietly.
Dean was still grinning and Sam felt his shoulder shift against his own.
“We’ve done better,” he smirked, passing a glance over at Sam before sighing and taking another sip of his beer. “But not bad,” he finally mumbled, letting his head tip back to rest against the cool windshield.
Sam just smiled back and did the same, the warmth between them acting better than any heating pad on Dean’s bum shoulder.