InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "I love Minas Tirith.."

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
2009-12-04 02:30 am UTC (link)

>“I went to get food because I don't need dad tearing strips off me when he comes home and finds you've starved to death. There's a difference between that and throwing all my toys out of the pram over some stupid piece of homework no one really gives a damn about.”

Sam wants to say several things there, things like that wasn’t even food or maybe my teachers, maybe I, give a damn about it or a million other things, but he can’t figure out how to make his voice work because he’s just that angry. And it’s different when he’s mad at Dean, because when it’s Dad he has so many things to be angry about, and with Dean all there is is the you’re doing what he tells you to and that means really it’s Dad’s fault, not Dean’s, so there’s no real way to express exactly what the problem is when the problem isn’t even here. So he just glares, instead, like he can maybe stare down his brother until he gets his own way (even though that never works, not with the glaring, anyway, not with Dean and not with Dad).

>"Dad said we're to stay here, so we're staying here...

“Then you stay here. I’m sick of this.” Of the stupid, stuffy motel rooms and the moving around so much, of the rules that never make sense, of the ongoing argument about it, of Dean’s insistence on following orders. Of all of it, everything.

>“...what the hell do you need more books for anyway?"

“For reading,” yeah, okay, obvious, “And learning. And maybe I could get more done if I'm somewhere that's quiet, instead of this,” and he waves a hand to encompass the whole room, with it’s buzzing air conditioner and it’s squeaking fan and the music playing and Dean, who’s apparently incapable of leaving him be for a freaking hour or two so he can write his stupid paper that he’ll probably never get to turn in.

He starts for the door, glare still in place and practically daring his brother to do something to prevent his exit.

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_jerk
2009-12-04 02:58 am UTC (link)

Sam's not the only one who can glare; once the words run out, as they inevitably do either due to his lack of eloquence or to neither of them wanting to make the transition from unspoken to direct there comes the staring contest. It's been this way since back in the dim distant days where Dean was the tall as well as the big brother – Sam crossing his arms and pouting, petulant and sulky and stopping just sort of saying something, Dean looking at him sidelong, wry and weary and daring him to go there. As he is now, having slid the gun into his trousers and gotten to his feet. Except back then he'd have ended up laughing and telling Sam to stop being an idiot and promising things would stop being lame, and now he's pretty damn sure grinning and promising his kid brother an ice-cream if he stops acting up isn't going to count for squat. So they'll stick to the glaring and let the argument keep simmering until one or other reaches boiling point.

… except today it's not just Sam who's sick of this, although Dean's 'this' is probably a different manner of beast. Because he's okay with the motel rooms and the moving around, with following orders and running scams and never going to college or holding down a job or anything solid. He's fine with that, because the things that matter stay the same. The bit that's wearing him thin is knowing that's going to change because Sam can't allow himself to be content with that. And so he's the one who backs down first, shaking his head, clearing his throat and gritting his teeth before speaking because he shouldn't have to ask; Dad's given him this one lousy job – hold the fort, keep Sam safe – and he can't even do that without having to ask for help. Pathetic, really. No wonder he's not allowed to go hunting yet.

“... seriously, would it kill you not to act like a whiny bitch for one freakin' day? I'm the one who's going to get it in the neck when this is all over and the old man finds out that you're disobeying orders again. Just... call it a personal favour or whatever. I'd appreciate it.”

He stops short of saying 'please', but doesn't feel any less gay for the ommission.

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_bitch
2009-12-04 03:31 am UTC (link)

Sam’s at the door when Dean speaks, ready to throw it open, storm outside, and slam it closed behind him (slamming doors is a very satisfying feeling, okay? It’s not his fault he’s been trained to be a slightly more violent than average person since even before his teenage years began), but he pauses to hear what his brother’s going to say, because maybe he’s itching for a fight, alright? Maybe he wants this to be something to turn the frustratingly stifled flame of anger into something more closely resembling a blaze so he can actually do something about it.

>“... seriously, would it kill you not to act like a whiny bitch for one freakin' day? I'm the one who's going to get it in the neck when this is all over and the old man finds out that you're disobeying orders again. Just... call it a personal favour or whatever. I'd appreciate it.”

“He won’t ever even know if you don’t say anything, anyway,” he growls automatically, turns to look at his brother, can tell it’s a last ditch effort to get him to stay, but he doesn’t understand why. Why Dean and Dad think he can’t be setting foot outside a motel room without supervision. He’s not a kid anymore, and he’s not helpless, and it’s not like millions of other people do it every day or anything. Very few end up victims of random supernatural attacks, and even the more mundane things out there aren’t that big a risk. Especially when you think about how every other person ever has to deal with these things.

But he’s not allowed to go anywhere, and it just sucks. So, no, he’s not going to calm down and accept Dean’s plea, and he’s not going to feel guilty about it, either (or maybe he will, but he’ll pretend he doesn’t).

“It’s just the library. It’s not like I’m going to get mauled to death between the bookshelves, Dean.” He pauses, shrugs his shoulders, "And I have my gun." And a knife, and knowledge, and he's seriously not helpless.

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_jerk
2009-12-04 05:33 pm UTC (link)

< “He won’t ever even know if you don’t say anything, anyway,”

“Oh, great. So you want me to lie to him now, is that it?”

In the grand scheme of things, sure, it's a tiny little white lie – hell, it shouldn't even be an issue, because what normal family gets this worked up over someone going to the library to study? - but it's still Lying To Dad. More pertinently, it's Playing Piggy-In-The-Middle again, being tugged in both directions at once and having to weigh up loyalties against each other. Which he shouldn't be having to do, right? They shouldn't be making him choose one or the other, his father or his kid brother. They're supposed to be one cohesive unit. That's what family is, after all.

And maybe he never actually expected the plea to work, because it was lame and Sam's got a point, he's old enough and ugly enough to look after himself (well, when it's something simple like this at least; walking to the library is one thing, their sphere of things another). But still. It's another thing that's worming its way under his skin about this whole affair, the fact that Sam's apparently stopped caring about doing things to give anyone other than himself an easy ride.

"Are you listening to yourself, Sam? Because... shit, man, you're being a dick."

Again, it's not exactly the greatest comeback ever, but whatever. Nothing about this situation - the way Sam's acting, the fact that he has to keep having this stupid fight, the stupid crummy motel room they're both stuck in - is anything other than lame anyway.

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_bitch
2009-12-04 06:43 pm UTC (link)

>“Oh, great. So you want me to lie to him now, is that it?”

“It’s not lying. It’s just not telling him everything. Which isn’t going to hurt anything, anyway!” Yes, Sam is well aware that he sounds like a stupid teenager right now, thanks. There’s really just no other way to go with this conversation right now, and maybe if they were more normal they wouldn’t even have to be having it, because it wouldn’t even be an issue.

Brothers are supposed to cover for each other; he’d cover for Dean if Dean would ever get over this whole creepy worship thing he’s got going on for Dad and just do something for once. Something Dad didn’t tell him to do, or, hell, maybe something Dad told him not to do. Just something that isn’t an order he has to follow. Because Sam’s tired of being the only one tired of following orders.

>"Are you listening to yourself, Sam? Because... shit, man, you're being a dick."

“At least I’m not just Dad’s puppet,” is probably the wrong response, there, because he’s not supposed to say things like that. He can think them, and he does, and he’s pretty sure he’s completely right in thinking it, but saying it is different, because he loves his brother, he does, but his words are never going to not be like daggers when he’s this pissed off.

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_jerk
2009-12-04 07:33 pm UTC (link)

“That's not the point!”

If Sam's sounding like a whiny teenager then Dean's not doing much better, because at least Sam's argument has something like logic, however biased, behind it. Dean's just running on loyalty and duty which, fair enough, serve him pretty well as fuel 99% of the time. Here in that other 1%, though, they leave him sounding equally stupid, though in an 'old and dogmatic' sort of way, and while ordinarily he'd be flattered to think he was turning out even a little bit like Dad? Right now, not so much.

< At least I'm not just Dad's puppet

… totally the wrong response, yeah. Because crossing that line flips the switch from just standing and yelling worn-out platitudes at each other; for a moment it's like Dean's just going to laugh it off and turn away, except that anyone who knows him would never be fooled by the hissing smirk and the way he shakes his head and turns away. Then it's a second or two later and he's barrelled across the room and set to giving Sam a hasty and vigorous introduction to the stretch of wall next to the door.

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_bitch
2009-12-04 08:12 pm UTC (link)

>“That's not the point!”

“Then what is the point, Dean?” He’s half just responding with whatever comes out, and half genuinely asking, because for the life of him, he has no idea what the point of this, of any of this, even is. From what he’s seen, none of it makes any sense at all. It’s just stupid.

And, yeah, he wishes he’d kept his mouth shut a few seconds longer, because as soon as the words are out he knows what they’re going to do, he knows coming. He knows his brother, and he’s tensed and waiting for the inevitable snap. It’s sort of rare that they ever come to blows over things (him and Dean, that is - he and Dad get to that point almost every time they’re together; every time Dean doesn’t step between them, that is), but it’s not completely unheard of.

Knowing it’s coming doesn’t mean it doesn’t startle him a little, or send his breath out in a “Hnnph,” sound at the impact with the wall, because he doesn’t dodge out of the way before his brother’s on him. He shoves at Dean with one hand as soon as his instincts kick back in, before he’s even actually caught his breath or thought about it, getting ready to throw a punch with the other hand because he’s still pissed off, sort of itching for a proper fight right now, and just because he said something stupid didn’t mean he didn’t mean it, and all of this is just getting to be too much to deal with.

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_jerk
2009-12-04 08:29 pm UTC (link)

It's true, they don't fight that often (training bouts don't count, because then it's all about technique and not about making your opponent admit they're in the wrong, and even if he can hear dad somewhere in the background yelling out advice on the proper technique, the optimum hold or the best place to connect with to send a man sprawling it's a different matter entirely). Maybe because they're both too damn good at it – it's not a case of flailing at each other for a while before giving up, the way most fights would be. There's tactics, and the fact they actually know what they're doing beyond just hitting each other. He lets the shove send him back a pace or two, almost stumble, before coming back in on a slightly different trajectory – Sam's height gives him too much of an advantage at arm's length, so it's much better to get in close where gangly-ness will make his accuracy suffer and rain in as many blows as possible from there – slamming one elbow upwards to try and pin his brother at the throat while the other hand concentrates on getting a good solid punch in on the ribs or guts.

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