spn gen ficlet
Dec. 13th, 2007 03:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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starrylizard
Title: "Till You Drop"
Author:jenowago
Rating: G
Spoiler Warnings: Pre-series, so we'll call spoilers for the Pilot and Something Wicked, just to be safe.
Summary: Dean makes a list. John checks it twice.
Prompt: "underwear, shaving cream, and washing machines." They're all there - in spirit, at least.
Author's Notes: All comments, including concrit, are welcome. I've had a heck of a spell of writer's block lately, so I'll gladly listen to whatever you have to say.
Words: 562
October, 1993
John eyes his oldest son over the not-so-expansive expanse of their kitchen table. He shifts his weight, rearranging his heavily bandaged ankle on the seat of the other chair. “You sure you’re ready for this?”
Dean snaps-to with the kind of intensity most fourteen-year-olds reserve for loud music and junk food. “Yes, sir.”
“Run through your plan one more time.”
Dean plucks a small, folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “Stick to the list,” he says, and then pulls the battered leather wallet that once belonged to John from his own back pocket. “Be aware of how much money I’ve got on me.”
Dean shoves the wallet back into his pocket. “Go in, get what we need, and get out.” He looks relaxed. Confident. Maybe even a little bit cocky. "Get home, and bring back the change.”
John nods his approval. “Let me see that list one last time.”
Dean’s face immediately shifts into unease. “Why – I mean, yes sir.” He swallows the insubordination and produces the list, but a good deal slower than he did before.
That, of course, sends every last one of John’s internal parent-alert sensors starts blaring. Dammit. Obviously, the kid is up to something.
And yeah, sure, maybe John should’ve thought about this possibility before, back when he was teaching the boys how to size up an opponent’s weakness in order to exploit it.
Double dammit. Dean’s a good kid, most of the time. He follows orders, takes care of his brother, pretty much does as he’s told. Truth is, John’s not sure he could keep doing what he does without Dean’s help.
And if the kid is poised to rebel, if he’s about ready to go off on some teenage fit of rebellion – well. John isn’t exactly sure what he’ll do.
John twists his mouth, reaches over the table and slides the list towards himself.
Reads it.
Bites his lip. And realizes - once again - that any rebelling Dean does isn’t coming in John’s direction.
But John’s gone and made an issue of it, so now he has to follow through. “You want to explain this?”
Dean shuffles his feet. “Not really. Sir.”
John clears his throat, shorthand for I don’t care what you want, start explaining.
“Gym class, Dad,” Dean says to his feet. “We’re running the mile this week. Every day."
John keeps staring, silent, waiting for Dean to continue.
Dean sighs. "I brought my gym stuff home. And it’s Sammy’s week to – I was just.” He looks up at John, doing his damnedest to pull off that doe-eyed look that his little brother has perfected. “Trying to spare the kid. Sir,” he adds, as an afterthought.
John levels him with an expressionless glare, and Dean pales. But he doesn’t back up or say anything else, which somehow makes it that much harder for John to keep from busting out laughing.
Not that he’ll ever cop to that, of course.
Instead, he growls out, “Pen.”
Dean shoots him a pleading look. John tightens his voice in response. “Pen, Dean.”
“Yes, sir,” Dean mutters, and hands over a pen.
John makes his changes – two cross-outs, one addition – and slides the list back at Dean. The boy takes it, and redeposits it in his pocket. Turns on his heel and walks out of the house.
Once he’s out of earshot, John lets go of the chuckle that’s been building up. “Nice try, Dean.”
shopping list
shaving cream
toothpaste
gym socks – Dean
underwear – Dean
laundry detergent
starrylizardTitle: "Till You Drop"
Author:
jenowagoRating: G
Spoiler Warnings: Pre-series, so we'll call spoilers for the Pilot and Something Wicked, just to be safe.
Summary: Dean makes a list. John checks it twice.
Prompt: "underwear, shaving cream, and washing machines." They're all there - in spirit, at least.
Author's Notes: All comments, including concrit, are welcome. I've had a heck of a spell of writer's block lately, so I'll gladly listen to whatever you have to say.
Words: 562
October, 1993
John eyes his oldest son over the not-so-expansive expanse of their kitchen table. He shifts his weight, rearranging his heavily bandaged ankle on the seat of the other chair. “You sure you’re ready for this?”
Dean snaps-to with the kind of intensity most fourteen-year-olds reserve for loud music and junk food. “Yes, sir.”
“Run through your plan one more time.”
Dean plucks a small, folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “Stick to the list,” he says, and then pulls the battered leather wallet that once belonged to John from his own back pocket. “Be aware of how much money I’ve got on me.”
Dean shoves the wallet back into his pocket. “Go in, get what we need, and get out.” He looks relaxed. Confident. Maybe even a little bit cocky. "Get home, and bring back the change.”
John nods his approval. “Let me see that list one last time.”
Dean’s face immediately shifts into unease. “Why – I mean, yes sir.” He swallows the insubordination and produces the list, but a good deal slower than he did before.
That, of course, sends every last one of John’s internal parent-alert sensors starts blaring. Dammit. Obviously, the kid is up to something.
And yeah, sure, maybe John should’ve thought about this possibility before, back when he was teaching the boys how to size up an opponent’s weakness in order to exploit it.
Double dammit. Dean’s a good kid, most of the time. He follows orders, takes care of his brother, pretty much does as he’s told. Truth is, John’s not sure he could keep doing what he does without Dean’s help.
And if the kid is poised to rebel, if he’s about ready to go off on some teenage fit of rebellion – well. John isn’t exactly sure what he’ll do.
John twists his mouth, reaches over the table and slides the list towards himself.
Reads it.
Bites his lip. And realizes - once again - that any rebelling Dean does isn’t coming in John’s direction.
But John’s gone and made an issue of it, so now he has to follow through. “You want to explain this?”
Dean shuffles his feet. “Not really. Sir.”
John clears his throat, shorthand for I don’t care what you want, start explaining.
“Gym class, Dad,” Dean says to his feet. “We’re running the mile this week. Every day."
John keeps staring, silent, waiting for Dean to continue.
Dean sighs. "I brought my gym stuff home. And it’s Sammy’s week to – I was just.” He looks up at John, doing his damnedest to pull off that doe-eyed look that his little brother has perfected. “Trying to spare the kid. Sir,” he adds, as an afterthought.
John levels him with an expressionless glare, and Dean pales. But he doesn’t back up or say anything else, which somehow makes it that much harder for John to keep from busting out laughing.
Not that he’ll ever cop to that, of course.
Instead, he growls out, “Pen.”
Dean shoots him a pleading look. John tightens his voice in response. “Pen, Dean.”
“Yes, sir,” Dean mutters, and hands over a pen.
John makes his changes – two cross-outs, one addition – and slides the list back at Dean. The boy takes it, and redeposits it in his pocket. Turns on his heel and walks out of the house.
Once he’s out of earshot, John lets go of the chuckle that’s been building up. “Nice try, Dean.”
shaving cream
toothpaste
laundry detergent
