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genetics Feb. 25th, 2007 03:16 pm)
papered.livejournal.com posting in genetics Feb. 25th, 2007 03:16 pm)Title: What's In A Name?
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
papered
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Word Count: 424 words
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, not mine.
Summary: Everyone needs some hint of normalcy to hold on to. Even Dean Winchester.
Notes: Inspired as I was listening to Yiruma's instrumental piece, Passing By, which is a gorgeous mix of piano and violin. A big thank you topotthead for her mad betaing skills. :)
He knows it irritates Sam, which is partly why he does it – the flash of his cocky grin and his amusement-filled voice intoning Sammy, endlessly, until his brother threatens to shut him up with duct tape and stuff his head down the toilet.
But mostly, it slips out naturally when he’s not even trying to be annoying. The nickname rolls off his tongue without his realizing it, as he wakes up in the morning, still groggy, to find Sam researching some topic or another, or calling out a good-night greeting as he rolls into bed with muscles protesting after a particularly vicious hunt. He distantly remembers his mother calling Sam that, and unconsciously, the nickname had slipped into his vocabulary – a small but bittersweet reminder that once, even the Winchesters had been normal, before normal had passed on by. But it’s familiar and comforting, like an old, well-worn favourite pair of jeans that’s been ripped and torn through by hellhounds and werewolves, and covered in blood God knows how many times, but fits him like a glove and somehow smells like leather and smoke and car wax all at once.
He knows it irritates Sam, but there were times when his brother just smiles in response in that way of his, even as their banter leads to flying tackles and wrestling on the floor of the motel – a barely recognizable quirk of the lips. But Dean recognizes it all right. He knows his brother better than anyone, and can identify Sam’s moods and expressions with his eyes glued shut – and Dean knows that his brother understands, and in the same way that it comforts him, it’s a part of their childhood that Sam can hold on to.
It's almost painfully normal in how it contrasts with the rest of his childhood – the metallic cling and cold steel of the gun in his small five-year-old hands; how he could fall asleep more easily to the sound of his father cleaning the weapons than he could a summer breeze. The endless days of night-time hunting, and going to school the next day with a broken arm and bruised ribs, his side protesting as he flashes that dazzling smile at the teacher and explains how he slipped and fell down the stairs. It was anything but conventional.
Sam had always held onto the idea of normal with a determination that had puzzled his father. But everyone needed some hint of normalcy after all – something to cling on to from an almost-forgotten childhood.
For Dean, it was Sammy.
Finis.
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Author:
paperedFandom: Supernatural
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Word Count: 424 words
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, not mine.
Summary: Everyone needs some hint of normalcy to hold on to. Even Dean Winchester.
Notes: Inspired as I was listening to Yiruma's instrumental piece, Passing By, which is a gorgeous mix of piano and violin. A big thank you to
potthead for her mad betaing skills. :)He knows it irritates Sam, which is partly why he does it – the flash of his cocky grin and his amusement-filled voice intoning Sammy, endlessly, until his brother threatens to shut him up with duct tape and stuff his head down the toilet.
But mostly, it slips out naturally when he’s not even trying to be annoying. The nickname rolls off his tongue without his realizing it, as he wakes up in the morning, still groggy, to find Sam researching some topic or another, or calling out a good-night greeting as he rolls into bed with muscles protesting after a particularly vicious hunt. He distantly remembers his mother calling Sam that, and unconsciously, the nickname had slipped into his vocabulary – a small but bittersweet reminder that once, even the Winchesters had been normal, before normal had passed on by. But it’s familiar and comforting, like an old, well-worn favourite pair of jeans that’s been ripped and torn through by hellhounds and werewolves, and covered in blood God knows how many times, but fits him like a glove and somehow smells like leather and smoke and car wax all at once.
He knows it irritates Sam, but there were times when his brother just smiles in response in that way of his, even as their banter leads to flying tackles and wrestling on the floor of the motel – a barely recognizable quirk of the lips. But Dean recognizes it all right. He knows his brother better than anyone, and can identify Sam’s moods and expressions with his eyes glued shut – and Dean knows that his brother understands, and in the same way that it comforts him, it’s a part of their childhood that Sam can hold on to.
It's almost painfully normal in how it contrasts with the rest of his childhood – the metallic cling and cold steel of the gun in his small five-year-old hands; how he could fall asleep more easily to the sound of his father cleaning the weapons than he could a summer breeze. The endless days of night-time hunting, and going to school the next day with a broken arm and bruised ribs, his side protesting as he flashes that dazzling smile at the teacher and explains how he slipped and fell down the stairs. It was anything but conventional.
Sam had always held onto the idea of normal with a determination that had puzzled his father. But everyone needed some hint of normalcy after all – something to cling on to from an almost-forgotten childhood.
For Dean, it was Sammy.
Finis.
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Thank you for reading! :)
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...to shut him up with duct tape and stuff his head down the toilet.
>> That part made me lauuuugh.
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I can somehow imagine Sam threatening that. *g* Even if it sounds more Dean-like at times. ♥
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Great job, I loved this!
The endless days of night-time hunting, and going to school the next day with a broken arm and bruised ribs, his side protesting as he flashes that dazzling smile at the teacher and explains how he slipped and fell down the stairs.
So perfect! Thats just like Dean, he's so in character!
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Your awesome awesome comment just totally made me smile. :D That's actually one of my favourite sentences in this fic too, and if I think about it enough, I can imagine Sam doing the same with Dean, and how Sam probably had problems falling asleep when he's away at Stanford, 'cause there's suddenly no one there cleaning the weapons. *PLOT BUNNNIES*
Aaaaannnyways, I went completely off topic. :) Thanks again for reading, and for all of the capitalized-letters in the lovely comment. ♥
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♥ You leave fabulous comments, y'know that? *grins*
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Yeah, that was lovely ♥
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:D?!
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Period!! I loved it :D
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For Dean, it was Sammy.
Aww. :) So, so true. :)
Nicely done!
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♥
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