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Nov. 30th, 2005 11:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
winterliveFor ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
robanybody, I present crack!fic.
Pouring out of my keyboard, totally unbeta'd and un-a-lot-of-things. Whee!
The first time, Sam didn't know what the hell was going on. They hadn't eaten in two states; they were hungry and almost out of gas besides. That night in the hotel, they argued about Dean running credit card scams - if he was going to steal, Sam argued, he could at least make sure he knew when to steal again. Dean flung back that Sam knew how just as well as he did, unless he never paid attention when Dad was talking - wait, what do I mean, unless? They tussled back and forth over it until finally Dean just threw up his hands and said he was going out. He demanded that Sam stay in the room and they argued some more until Sam finally threw himself on one of the beds, turned on TV and refused to talk anymore. Dean stormed out.
Sam flicked through channels, fuming about how Dean was probably going to go out and beat someone up, or con someone out of their money or rob a liquor store or God only knew what. But when Dean finally got back and dropped the money on the table, throwing his jacket on the foot of the other bed and going straight for the shower, he never said a word. Which, okay, could not possibly be less like Dean, who never shut up. But at least they weren't throwing stuff into bags and running from the cops with a duffel bag full of cash, so that was something. Sam decided to go gas up the car and get them some dinner, kind of an apology, and picked up some of the money, but the bills were all wrong. Five hundred dollars in a rinkadink town like this? Nobody carried around that kind of cash. What kind of scam was Dean running?
So he stomped into the bathroom and pulled aside the curtain, mind filled with newly-impoverished little old ladies with no life savings. And there was Dean, head down, scrubbing and scrubbing reddened skin with a torn look on his face, and it only lasted for a second before he was furious and yelling, Jesus, Sammy, have a little fucking respect!, pulling the plastic between their faces. And it came up on Sam like a train, headlights bearing down on him, how Dean got that money. And he promised himself he'd eat less and pay more attention to the expiry dates on the credit cards and even run the scams himself. The hell with honor, with the law, with anything that meant that his brother had to do anything like that ever again.
And when Dean came out of the shower finally, there was food waiting, and Sam just cracked a joke about how he took longer in there than some girlfriends Sam'd had, brushing past him with a towel and closing the door. And when Sam came out again, feeling at least a little bit less like a very bad person, Dean was watching TV and finishing off Sam's fries, and he called Sam a princess in a glass house who shouldn't throw stones, and everything was at least a little bit okay again.
That was the first time.
Continues here.
robanybody, I present crack!fic.Pouring out of my keyboard, totally unbeta'd and un-a-lot-of-things. Whee!
The first time, Sam didn't know what the hell was going on. They hadn't eaten in two states; they were hungry and almost out of gas besides. That night in the hotel, they argued about Dean running credit card scams - if he was going to steal, Sam argued, he could at least make sure he knew when to steal again. Dean flung back that Sam knew how just as well as he did, unless he never paid attention when Dad was talking - wait, what do I mean, unless? They tussled back and forth over it until finally Dean just threw up his hands and said he was going out. He demanded that Sam stay in the room and they argued some more until Sam finally threw himself on one of the beds, turned on TV and refused to talk anymore. Dean stormed out.
Sam flicked through channels, fuming about how Dean was probably going to go out and beat someone up, or con someone out of their money or rob a liquor store or God only knew what. But when Dean finally got back and dropped the money on the table, throwing his jacket on the foot of the other bed and going straight for the shower, he never said a word. Which, okay, could not possibly be less like Dean, who never shut up. But at least they weren't throwing stuff into bags and running from the cops with a duffel bag full of cash, so that was something. Sam decided to go gas up the car and get them some dinner, kind of an apology, and picked up some of the money, but the bills were all wrong. Five hundred dollars in a rinkadink town like this? Nobody carried around that kind of cash. What kind of scam was Dean running?
So he stomped into the bathroom and pulled aside the curtain, mind filled with newly-impoverished little old ladies with no life savings. And there was Dean, head down, scrubbing and scrubbing reddened skin with a torn look on his face, and it only lasted for a second before he was furious and yelling, Jesus, Sammy, have a little fucking respect!, pulling the plastic between their faces. And it came up on Sam like a train, headlights bearing down on him, how Dean got that money. And he promised himself he'd eat less and pay more attention to the expiry dates on the credit cards and even run the scams himself. The hell with honor, with the law, with anything that meant that his brother had to do anything like that ever again.
And when Dean came out of the shower finally, there was food waiting, and Sam just cracked a joke about how he took longer in there than some girlfriends Sam'd had, brushing past him with a towel and closing the door. And when Sam came out again, feeling at least a little bit less like a very bad person, Dean was watching TV and finishing off Sam's fries, and he called Sam a princess in a glass house who shouldn't throw stones, and everything was at least a little bit okay again.
That was the first time.
Continues here.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-11-30 07:05 pm (UTC)Can the second time be very soon?
no subject
Date: 2005-11-30 07:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-30 07:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-30 07:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-30 07:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-30 07:52 pm (UTC)I'm speechless, except for mmmmmmphguh.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-30 08:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-01 12:15 am (UTC)Awesome.
*pets Dean*
*pets Sammy*
Fan-fucking-tastic.
no subject
Date: 2005-12-01 04:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-01 04:53 am (UTC)*is in love with Rent!Boy!Dean!*
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Date: 2005-12-01 12:59 am (UTC)*smooches* You rock my tiny universe.
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Date: 2005-12-01 04:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-01 02:47 am (UTC)*bounce*
Dude.
Damnit. Love this. I need to collect your Sam/Dean fic. Memory it.
Damnit.
*goes off*
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Date: 2005-12-01 04:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-01 05:47 am (UTC)You're just that good. ♥
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Date: 2005-12-01 05:51 am (UTC)How do you make those wee HEARTS? O.o
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Date: 2005-12-01 05:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-01 07:06 am (UTC)I HEART YOU. (Just in case that doesn't work: translated.)
no subject
Date: 2005-12-01 02:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-08 09:32 pm (UTC)http://www.livejournal.com/users/winterlive/187221.html?view=2588757#t2588757
I'd say that makes *four*
:)
*bounce*
no subject
Date: 2005-12-08 09:37 pm (UTC)*smootchies*
no subject
Date: 2005-12-08 11:40 pm (UTC)Leik whoa.
Heeeeee.
*bookmarks*
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Date: 2005-12-08 11:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-08 11:47 pm (UTC)Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Well, no matter, i *have it now*!!!
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Date: 2005-12-01 04:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-01 05:49 am (UTC)