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Fic: Peace, Brother (What Are We Fighting For)
Peace, Brother (What Are We Fighting For)
Gen | PG | 500 words
Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iamtinkerbean's prompt purple, sunsets, a cat.
Gen | PG | 500 words
Written for
iamtinkerbean's prompt purple, sunsets, a cat. The sky is turning a dark purple-pink over the roof of the run down farm, the night’s chill setting in. Sam swats absently at a mosquito, watching the last rays of sunshine fade.
“Do you think Dad would have been happy?” he asks, quietly because Dean can sometimes still be jumpy.
After a pause, “What do you mean?”
“Well,” Sam starts, hesitant, “us being here and everything. He said he wanted you to have a home.”
Dean cuts a sharp look at him, hands gripping the wood fence they’re both sitting on. “He also said he wanted you to go back to school and have a normal life,” he replies, short and clipped. “You never thought about what he wanted when you made that decision.”
Despite himself, Sam digs his nails into his thighs. “I wasn’t trying to start a fight, Dean.”
“You’re never trying to start a fight, are you?” Dean says, facing Sam now. His eyes are dark, lips turned up at the corner in a humorless smirk. “That’s just the problem. You always talk about Dad, about what he would have wanted, but did you really ever know, Sam? You spent years and years hating him, thinking he never wanted to see you again.”
Sam stays quiet, watching his fingers turn bone-white.
“Even five minutes before he died, you didn’t trust his judgment. You were always too busy accusing him of things and riding your high, moral horse,” Dean continues, relentless. “He died for me. Dad died for me.”
“I—” Sam swallows, hard. “He loved you. He did it because he loved you, Dean.”
Dean looks off to the left, stubbing the toe of his boot in the dirt. The muscle in his jaw twitches.
“Dad wanted you to have a good life, Dean,” Sam says, emboldened. “You know—”
He pauses, looking down at his feet, which are very enthusiastically being mauled by a tiny black kitten.
“Dean?”
His brother turns, clearly ready to say something insulting, and stops short. “That’s a cat,” he says.
“Congratulations, you have eyes.” Sam leans down and tries to grab the fur ball without getting his hands cut up. The kitten rears back and hisses at him, and even that is high and cute-sounding. “Dude, you attacked me first,” he mumbles at it, offended.
“You are such a loser,” Dean groans, sweeping the cat effortlessly into his arms. The little monster settles down immediately, purring and butting its head against Dean’s hand.
Sam tries very hard not to look put out. “Why does it like you?”
“Animal magnetism,” Dean says easily, rubbing his finger between the cat’s eyes and smiling. The cat’s purring fit to burst and Dean looks happier than he did five minutes ago.
“I think we should name him J,” Sam says.
Dean looks startled for a minute, all wide green eyes and softened mouth. Then he smiles, bright and sweet. “That sounds good.”
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Dean: Hey, my women are classier than that.
Sam: Oh, that's what you call it when they have more tattoos than a biker and boobs down to their knees?
Dean: That...is so untrue.
Sam: Right, sure.
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Sam: Can I see your watch?
Dean: Can you see my- What are you talking about?
Sam: I want to see your watch. *holds out hand*
Dean: *goes to unclasp watch. Watch remains stuck to his skin.* Son of a bitch.
Sam: Laughs.
Dean: Very funny. And there's a difference between something being painful and something being a pain in the ass. Besides, at least my power wasn't bestowed upon me by the devil.
Sam: ...
Dean: *smirks* I win.
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Dean: Bu-
Sam: No, I won't bring you lunch, jerk.
Dean: An-
Sam: No, not even a muffin.
Dean: *pouts*
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~* Some time later *~
Dean: SAM!! *swears* I need to pee, you bitch.
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Dean: *whimpers* No, really, man. I gotta go.
Sam: Here, use this bottle.
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Sam: You're the one who said you loved your car so much.
Dean: *jiggles impatiently* Right, I get it. This is your sick revenge for that time dad made you pee in a bottle when we were driving to Tulsa and he didn't want to have to pull the car over again for your fricken Nana-bladder? I'm sorry I laughed at you and then proceeded to spread the story around the whole school, but this, here and now, isn't funny Sam.
Sam: That was you!!
Dean: Who else would have a told the entire school? Dad? It's suddenly becoming clear to me while you had to flee to Stanford, pee boy.
Sam: Don't laugh too hard. You might wet yourself.
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Sam: I hope you know you're not even getting the bottle now.
Dean:...W-what?
Sam: I'm just going to go on a walk around the block.
Dean: Sam.
Sam: For a few hours. Maybe there will be an interesting butterfly.
Dean: Saa-am.
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Sam: Hmmm, you're remarkably absent of any embarrassing puddles.
Dean: It went away.
Sam: What?
Dean: It went away. You know when you stop thinking about it, or you distract yourself with something else and it goes away?
Sam: Waterfalls.
Dean: What?
Sam: Rivers. Streams. Puddles. Leaky taps.
Dean: What are you doing?
Sam: Bringing it back. *makes water-like noises*
Dean: Bringing it back? I've been rotting here in the sun while you went for a walk. I think I've dehydrated enough that it's not ever coming back. Besides Sam, I didn't realise you and my urine were so attached to one another.
Sam: Ew, Dean. That is so wrong.
Dean: What? *innocent*
Sam: I know what you were implying.
Dean: I have no idea what you're talking about...
Sam: Urine kink? Golden showers? The implication was there.
Dean: Bwahaha. Urine Kink? Are you serious? You've been watching too much porn. It's rotting your tiny little brain.
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Dean: Hahahaha, hahah, haha, hahahaha.
Sam: What? Shut up, I don't.
Dean: Hahhaa, oh my GOD, that was priceless.
Sam: ...
Dean: You were serious? Sam, I've caught you watching porn.
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Dean: You've never watched porn? What the hell are doing on the internet late every night? I've even bookmarked some good sites, Sam. You just need to check out the favorites menu. It's all there. Only a click away.
Sam: Thanks, Dean, but I think anything you recommend I'll give a miss. Your standards aren't exactly high.
Dean: Standards? SAM IT'S PORN. There is no standard. But you're right, you should def keep away the folder I've marked 'animal'. I mean, unless you want to check out this one video I downloaded about this chick and a horse...
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Dean: Dude, that's gross.
Sam: You watch bestiality porn!
Dean: So? Vomit's still gross.
Sam: How are you my brother?
Dean: Well, see, when a mommy and daddy love each other a whole lot...
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Sam: What do you mean, 'all is cool', you just insinuated that my father was a demon.
Dean: If your daddy was a demon then technically we're only half brothers and you don't need to worry that my porn habits will rub off on you. Cos that sort of thing runs in the gene pool. However, what you do have to worry about is death and destruction and the firey pits of hell and that freaking glowing eye thing you guys do. Hmm, yeah. Sucks to be you.
Sam: And yet, I am still not the one stuck to his car. Hmmm indeed.
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Dean: Nag.
Sam: Jerk.
Dean: Geek.
Sam: Ass.
Dean: Buttface.
Sam: Very creative.
Dean: I try.
Sam: AC/DC sucks.
Dean: ...what?
Sam: Metallica has horrible guitar riffs.
Dean: *pained whimper*
Sam: BOC only had two good songs.
Dean: !!!
Sam: And Led Zeppelin?
Dean: No, don't--
Sam: Zeppelin is worse than Death Cab.
Dean: Oh my god.
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Sam: D-Dean!
Dean: What? *raises fist while his eyes roll crazily in his head*
Sam: *shields his face with his arm* *muffled* I got you un-stuck from the car!!
Dean: *glances at Sam, then at the Impala and then back at Sam* Oh. Thnaks.
Sam: No problem *still hiding*
Dean: *climbs off* Wanna a hand up?
Sam: Thanks. *warily holds out hand*
Dean: Always knew I could count on you, geek boy.