InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "But that's a part of it."

Sam Winchester (_bitch) wrote,
@ 2009-11-13 12:53:00

Current location:	Some crappy motel
Current mood:	annoyed
Entry tags:	character:dean, character:sam, time:prestanford, type:scene

Well wait, what's today's date? There's plenty of time left to procrastinate - or plan my escape;

As far as papers go, even Sam thinks this one is stupid. He’s supposed to argue a point he doesn’t even agree with, which is annoying and stupid in the first place, and makes the actual writing of it feel like pulling teeth, or stitching a wound, or some other tedious and painful task. And then he's had Dad bugging him about everything up until he left yesterday, and Dean being Dean and acting like Sam accomplishing good grades is pointless and stupid, or like he just doesn’t get that Sam can’t think while his brother is acting like a bored six year old (how he managed to be the mature one of the two of them is beyond him; you'd think Dean being older would actually mean something other than that he thinks it's his brotherly duty to make Sam miserable). And this is a huge chunk of his grade on top of that, and if his GPA drops much, he won’t be able to keep his scholarships, and he needs those. This paper's been assigned for a week, it's due tomorrow, and he's only just managed to get it started today.

So he's not exactly in the best of moods right now.

But still, he’s gotten a few minutes while Dean went out for food (knowing his brother, he’s going to come back with something grease laden and completely unhealthy, and he’ll have conveniently forgotten that Sam asked for a salad, and Sam will have to end up eating whatever he brings because he’s not going to waste the time to go get something he actually wants to eat, never mind that getting the credit card they’re using this month from Dean would be impossibly hard), and he's going to make the best of it - he’s ready to kick this paper’s ass. Seriously. As soon as he figures out how he’s supposed to give reasons why this stupid opinion is valid when he doesn’t really think it is, anyway.

He’s gotten maybe two hundred of the required thousand words done when the motel room door swings open, loud creak of hinges and then the slam of it hitting the wall, and his brother comes inside, door banged closed after him. Sam sighs and glares in his direction at the interruption.

“Could you maybe try to be a little louder? I don’t think the entire complex knows you’re here yet.”

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_jerk
2009-11-13 08:05 pm UTC (link)

< Dude, I asked for a salad

“There's salad in burgers.” Dean shoots back, yanking one of the boots off forcefully and turning his attention to the burger, apparently forgetting that the other boot's still on because, dude, food. Much more important. It probably looks ridiculous: huge great combat boot on one side, the hilt of a knife sticking out above the top, and sock that probably used to have some stupid design on but is now a dull grey on the other, one of his toes poking through the beginnings of a hole. “Gherkins and onions and shit.”

He regards his own 'breakfast' sceptically, lifting the top half of the bun off and poking at the contents - seriously, what the hell? How many times has he ordered extra onions? That kid's definitely a zombie. Or a retard. Either way, deserves to be put out of his misery – but, being Dean, even seeing how lacklustre an offering the pathetic excuse for a burger is isn't enough to put him off it. Food's food, and eating what you're given comes more naturally to him than it ever did Sam, who's never had a younger brother demand the less burned slice of toast or the bigger half of the Hersheys bar you'd been saving and had to palm it off as not being all that hungry anyway, or had to skip supper so said younger sibling won't know the money's run out.

Doesn't mean he enjoys it, though. Which means (and he steels himself for an argument the way he's found himself having to do more than ever of late: seems both Sam and Dad are pushing for a fight most of the time these days, sometimes with him but more usually with each other) in 3... 2... 1...

< This is gross

… yeah, there it is. And while he wants to ask what Sam expects him to do about it, but with the patience of the long-suffering just grits his teeth, tries to keep the angry edge out of his tone with mixed success - “Fine, if you don't want it...”- and leans over and snatches up the burger almost as soon as Sam's set it down.

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_bitch
2009-11-13 08:47 pm UTC (link)

“It’s not salad just because it happens to have miniscule amounts of vegetables,” he retorts, “Especially when they’re coated in burger grease.” He looks over at his brother, who is apparently contentedly eating with one boot off and the other on, and frowns, “You look stupid like that.”

Probably he’s being a little harsh, but it’s Dean’s fault, anyway. His fault he looks stupid, his fault the food sucks, his fault Sam’s behind on writing this stupid paper - being all distracting and annoying and frustrating. Sometimes Sam wishes he would just go with Dad on his hunts and leave him alone (and sometimes he’s glad Dean doesn’t go, because seeing his brother hurt is something he doesn’t think he’s ever going to get used to, doesn’t want to have to get used to). He’s not a baby, he can take care of himself.

Dean snags up the burger, and Sam doesn’t bother to even try to keep him from it, just makes a show of rolling his eyes and shifting back on the bed, back to the headboard and laptop on his legs, eyes going back to the screen. “Knock yourself out.” He really doesn’t want it, anyway. The one bite he’d taken has now turned to a weird almost-sour aftertaste in his mouth, and he wishes there was at least something to drink that wasn’t crappy tap water that tastes like iron.

He doesn’t get it. If they’re living on stolen credit anyway, why not at least go for something better than a dumpy motel in the bad part of town, and crappy dollar burgers? Even a half decent room and moderately healthy food aren’t that much to ask for, right? Apparently it is if you’re asking John Winchester, though, and Dean’s just following his rules like he always does.

Even when he’s gone, it’s like he’s still here, his presence looming like he used to do before Sam grew, left behind with them in his orders and his rules Dean (mostly) enforces and his stupid music Dean always plays too loudly. Like Dean thinks being Dad is going to help anything.

All it’s going to do is get him killed.

And all this thinking is really not helping with his paper. Focus, Sam.

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_jerk
2009-11-13 09:25 pm UTC (link)

“Eat me.” Dean retorts, around a mouthful of burger, in response to Sam's assessment of his appearance. “Bitch.”

Once he's done with the burgers (it's better to eat them quickly: that way they're just lukewarm and greasy. Giving yourself time to taste the actual ingredients is a mistake) he sloughs the boot off with his free foot, kicking it across the room where it lies on its side looking slightly forlorn given the overall lack of clutter (Sam's obviously tidied up, despite Dean's protests that he likes his side of the room that way) and sprawls back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling in the hope it will prove more interesting than his whiny bitch of a brother. It doesn't, and there's a weird sour taste from the burgers (didn't swallow fast enough, then) and... yeah, this sucks.

Frowning, he sets about making things less sucky. Which means turning on the radio, and fiddling with the knobs until it's bye-bye freaky-ass hallelujah fire-and-brimstone nonsense and hello semi-decent classic rock, and then heading to the bathroom to retrieve one of the beers - fine, two of them. Not that Sam deserves one; they can't afford a room with a refrigerator, of course, so he's using the bath as a makeshift cooler. Things could be worse, and he's a resourceful bastard because he's had to be. He doesn't think about why they spend money on beer rather than supplementing their diets with something other than fast food, or why he's listening to music that's probably older than he is. It's the way they've always done things, and he's a creature of habit. Even if those habits are less his and more John's.

When he returns it's with less of a cacophony because he hooks the door shut with a foot rather than slamming it, hands full of beer, and he drops into a seat on Sam's bed rather than his own, tilting one of the bottles towards his brother. “So. What'cha doing?”

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_bitch
2009-11-13 09:53 pm UTC (link)

Sam just makes a face at Dean’s retort (and does he have to talk with food in his mouth? Seriously? It’s disgusting, and he doesn’t think he did it when he was little, so seriously, come on), doesn’t bother with the usual jerk comeback because he’s not in the mood for games.

There’s about a minute of quiet (if quiet includes Dean chewing and making sick slimy noises while he practically inhales his food and Sam’s, but around here, yeah, that’s relatively quiet), and he’s gotten his mind back on what he’s supposed to be doing, and then there’s the sound of the radio, a burst of noise and voices and static that predictably turns into classic rock in a few moments, and he lets his head fall back against the headboard in frustration.

Dean leaves the room then, and he contemplates turning it off, but he dismisses the idea before it’s really a fully-formed idea at all, because all that’s going to do is make Dean turn it back on louder than it is now, and probably piss him off. Better to try to ignore it, or talk some sense into him if he wants to deal with bickering about it for forever.

Dean comes back then, sits on Sam’s bed, and he shoots his brother a mildly annoyed look that fades slightly when he notices that Dean’s brought out two beers. While Dad’s around, drinking alcohol is reserved for special occasions or if they’re patching up his injuries and he needs to be slightly less aware of his surroundings for a while. When Dad’s gone, though, it’s one of the few rules that gets broken.

>“So. What'cha doing?”

Sam takes the offered bottle and points vaguely in the direction of the laptop screen. “Working on a paper for school that’s due tomorrow.”

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_jerk
2009-11-14 01:20 am UTC (link)

School. As taboo words go, it's just about the most ridiculous he's come across – most families would plump for 'sex', or something, he knows because he's seen 'normal' parents on TV – but it's the one the Winchester have opted for (because really, when have they ever been normal?), and so his lip curls involuntarily in that little half-smirk that means he's really not amused in the slightest even as he's trying to stop himself sounding pissed off, and despite that effort he can't keep the gravelly edge that usually precedes an argument out of his voice.

“Sam, dude, you're not going to be in school tomorrow; dad finishes this job, we'll be moving on somewhere else. You know how it works.”

Of all the parts that make up this job – the one he's been doing without thinking about it, not the one dad's training them both for – it's this bit which grates the most, having to be the one who continually breaks Sam's bubble about things like this. Dad just puts his foot down and that's that, but Dean's the one who has to do the explaining, has to deal with Sam when starts asking awkward questions. He takes a mouthful of the beer – it's not exactly cold, but it's wet and okay-ish tasting as cheap beers go – swallows hard, and tries to move the conversation on. It's only a mixed success.

“Aren't you meant to be researching something, anyway? Jeekey-neekey-somethin' or others?”

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