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Sam Winchester (_bitch) wrote,

Sam steps away, a couple of paces back from Dean. He hopes his brother isn’t just feigning truce only to come at him when he doesn’t expect it, because Dean’s not exactly one for a clean fight, or playing by the rules (except for when he is, which is what’s got them in this mess in the first place, but that’s completely different) - and if he is, he’s going to be at least a little safer if he’s not in arm’s reach.

His throat is throbbing from where Dean’s elbow hit, probably will hurt worse once the adrenaline wears off and he starts to think about it more. He’s pretty sure it’s going to bruise pretty bad, which... is not going to be easy to explain at school tomorrow. If he gets to go. Which, at this point he almost hopes he can’t (almost, but not quite, not really, because he likes school and he hates the alternative), because his paper isn’t done and he’s a little worse for the wear, and hiding bruises is annoying.

But if he doesn’t go, that’s also like giving in, and Sam’s nothing if not stubborn.

He rubs at his throat, swallows a little, breaks the quiet that’s otherwise only broken by the sound of their breathing while they glare at each other. “You didn’t have to hit me so hard, you know,” he whines (yeah, no use pretending that’s anything but a whine), and his voice sounds all funny. He clears his throat. “Friggin' jerk.”

It’s half an apology and request for a proper truce between them, and half genuine name-calling, because even if he’s still pissed, he doesn’t really want to keep fighting right now, either. Especially not like that.

...He still wants to get out of this stupid room, though. The sooner the better.