Untitled, Gen
This fic is the result of the
spnwriterlounge picture game comment fic challenge.
The picture I chose as promt was this:
The story is about 750 words, PG rated, featurning Sam and John, and as usual, it's gen.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters do not belong to me.
Summary: Sam and John having a father-son moment.
Sam stood alone on the shore, staring out at the water. He lifted a cool bottle of beer to his lips as he gazed at the azure of the sky kissing the snow covered mountains and melting into the blue of the water, as he listened to the sound of water lapping at the small rocks protruding out the shallow end not far from where he was standing. He could also hear the gentle waves caressing the coarse sand at the shore and the cry of a lone seagull.
Sam took another pull of the beer, making a face at the taste, and just kept staring silently, bare feet squishing into the shell-covered ground.
He raised his bottle to his lips again, only to have it snatched out of his hand.
"Give me that," his father said. "You are so not old enough to be drinking that," John added and brought the beer to his own lips.
"It's nice out here," John commented after a long moment of silence. Sam's only reply was a non-committed sound. John glanced at him. "You okay, kiddo?" The older man asked, bumping shoulders with his son.
"Is Dean going to be okay?" Sam asked in a small voice.
John tore his gaze away from the seagull flying in circles over the water to look at his boy. "Yeah," he said and drew closer to Sam. "Yeah, your brother's going to be just fine."
"He can't even walk," Sam said, a hitch in his voice.
"He's moving around - that's a good start," John said, "And the docs say he's gonna make a full recovery," he added and squeezed Sam's shoulder before taking another sip from the bottle.
"He should be here," Sam said in a small voice. "He should be here," he repeated more forcefully. He waited for his father to say something, but John remained silent.
Bending down, Sam picked up a rock and tossed it over the water. It skipped three times before it sank down with a 'plop'.
"Aw, you can do better," John said teasingly, "What's your record, four?"
"Five," Sam corrected. "Dean can do eight," he added.
"Eight, huh?" John murmured, impressed, and tried to skip his own stone, only he miscalculated and the stone ended up hitting one of the rocks sticking out of the water, bouncing off of it, and sinking with a small splash. John winced and glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye. "That counts as two, right?" He asked.
"No," Sam answered, already searching the sand for another stone. "Dean knows how to pick the best ones," he said a moment later.
"Yeah?" John said, raising a brow. "You should ask him to teach you."
"It's my fault he's hurt," Sam said after another moment of silence.
"No, Sam. It's not," John said softly.
"He did that because of me. He never would have fallen if it weren’t for me," Sam argued, his voice quivering a little at the end.
"He didn’t do it because of you. He did it for you. He did it to protect you," John said.
"I shouldn’t have been there. You told me to stay in the car!" Sam went on as if he didn't even hear his father.
"Yes, I did," John agreed. "I also told your brother to stay away from the attic," he added.
"He was trying to get the ghost to leave me alone," Sam was quick to defend his brother.
"I know," John said calmly and took another drink of beer. "You think he's going to like it here?" John wondered out loud.
"There'll be chicks in bikinis all over this place in a couple'a months," Sam noted, making John laugh.
"That is true," he agreed. "So we just have to make sure he's up and walking by then," John finished.
Sam gave his old man a long look and nodded. John smiled at him.
They both kept looking out at the water for another few minutes, enjoying the wind in their hair, the sound of the gentle waves.
The cries of the seagulls were the only things disturbing the peace around them.
"And Sammy?" John broke the silence at last. His son turned to look at him. "I know your brother is already giving you a world of grief about this, but next time when I tell you to stay in the car, how about you skipping the extra giant soda?"
spnwriterlounge picture game comment fic challenge.
The picture I chose as promt was this:
The story is about 750 words, PG rated, featurning Sam and John, and as usual, it's gen.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters do not belong to me.
Summary: Sam and John having a father-son moment.
Sam stood alone on the shore, staring out at the water. He lifted a cool bottle of beer to his lips as he gazed at the azure of the sky kissing the snow covered mountains and melting into the blue of the water, as he listened to the sound of water lapping at the small rocks protruding out the shallow end not far from where he was standing. He could also hear the gentle waves caressing the coarse sand at the shore and the cry of a lone seagull.
Sam took another pull of the beer, making a face at the taste, and just kept staring silently, bare feet squishing into the shell-covered ground.
He raised his bottle to his lips again, only to have it snatched out of his hand.
"Give me that," his father said. "You are so not old enough to be drinking that," John added and brought the beer to his own lips.
"It's nice out here," John commented after a long moment of silence. Sam's only reply was a non-committed sound. John glanced at him. "You okay, kiddo?" The older man asked, bumping shoulders with his son.
"Is Dean going to be okay?" Sam asked in a small voice.
John tore his gaze away from the seagull flying in circles over the water to look at his boy. "Yeah," he said and drew closer to Sam. "Yeah, your brother's going to be just fine."
"He can't even walk," Sam said, a hitch in his voice.
"He's moving around - that's a good start," John said, "And the docs say he's gonna make a full recovery," he added and squeezed Sam's shoulder before taking another sip from the bottle.
"He should be here," Sam said in a small voice. "He should be here," he repeated more forcefully. He waited for his father to say something, but John remained silent.
Bending down, Sam picked up a rock and tossed it over the water. It skipped three times before it sank down with a 'plop'.
"Aw, you can do better," John said teasingly, "What's your record, four?"
"Five," Sam corrected. "Dean can do eight," he added.
"Eight, huh?" John murmured, impressed, and tried to skip his own stone, only he miscalculated and the stone ended up hitting one of the rocks sticking out of the water, bouncing off of it, and sinking with a small splash. John winced and glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye. "That counts as two, right?" He asked.
"No," Sam answered, already searching the sand for another stone. "Dean knows how to pick the best ones," he said a moment later.
"Yeah?" John said, raising a brow. "You should ask him to teach you."
"It's my fault he's hurt," Sam said after another moment of silence.
"No, Sam. It's not," John said softly.
"He did that because of me. He never would have fallen if it weren’t for me," Sam argued, his voice quivering a little at the end.
"He didn’t do it because of you. He did it for you. He did it to protect you," John said.
"I shouldn’t have been there. You told me to stay in the car!" Sam went on as if he didn't even hear his father.
"Yes, I did," John agreed. "I also told your brother to stay away from the attic," he added.
"He was trying to get the ghost to leave me alone," Sam was quick to defend his brother.
"I know," John said calmly and took another drink of beer. "You think he's going to like it here?" John wondered out loud.
"There'll be chicks in bikinis all over this place in a couple'a months," Sam noted, making John laugh.
"That is true," he agreed. "So we just have to make sure he's up and walking by then," John finished.
Sam gave his old man a long look and nodded. John smiled at him.
They both kept looking out at the water for another few minutes, enjoying the wind in their hair, the sound of the gentle waves.
The cries of the seagulls were the only things disturbing the peace around them.
"And Sammy?" John broke the silence at last. His son turned to look at him. "I know your brother is already giving you a world of grief about this, but next time when I tell you to stay in the car, how about you skipping the extra giant soda?"