InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Won't you be my neighbor?"

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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_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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