Just a Hole in Arizona: 15 and 19
Dec. 28th, 2007 03:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragojustineJust a Hole in Arizona
Header post | 8 and 12 | 15 and 19 | 18 and 22 | 20 and 24 | 26 and 30
Dad had found the lair of some kind of troll, tucked in a little greenbelt three hours outside of St. Louis. The thing liked to fight with big wooden clubs, judging from the coroner’s reports, and Dad’s sources said what it needed was a good old fashioned stake-and-decapitate.
Except apparently the Missouri History Museum was the best museum for three states around, and it currently had a whole wing of Egyptology on loan from the Smithsonian to boot. Dad was determined to finish the troll up tonight and head West tomorrow morning, and Sam wouldn’t shut up about the unfairness of it all.
Dean finally floated the idea with Dad of maybe, possibly skipping out on just this one hunt to drive Sam up there. Dad gave him a long, level look, and finally said, “That’s your decision.”
He pushed and pushed, trying to get some kind of official permission, but all Dad would say was “I hunted without you for a decade, I can manage one night,” and Dean finally told Sam he would go.
------------------------------------------------------
Sam was tireless, dragging him through the entire museum without skipping a single window or plaque. Even Dean had to admit that dinosaurs are pretty much never not cool, but a whole wing dedicated to geology and types of rock? It’s a bit much.
Dean managed to corner a girl cooing over the antelopes in the Hall of African Mammals. She was maybe 20, redheaded and stacked, and she fiddled with her hair when he smiled at her. They wandered along the displays while Sam read avidly about elephant migration patterns. When they reached the spotted hyenas, she squealed and grabbed his arm.
“They’re so disgusting!”
Dean squeezed her hand reassuringly, leaned down to whisper in her ear and figured he was in for at least a little fondling in the bathroom. That was when Sam chose to show up.
“Actually, spotted hyenas are highly skilled pack predators. Most often, it’s the lions scavenging kills from them, and not the other way around. Plus, they have incredibly powerful jaws and advanced digestive systems capable of handling their entire prey- hide, hooves, everything. It’s pretty cool.”
The girl gave Sam a doubtful look and hurried over to the hippo. Dean whacked him in the back of the head.
By the time they got to the crowning glory, the visiting Egyptology exhibit, Dean figured he’d had enough of museums to last until he was at least 50. But Sam was over the moon, going on nonstop about hieroglyphics and afterlife beliefs. Dean finally gave up and camped out by the “Mummies in popular culture” display until Sam had exhausted every snippet of information on Egyptian archaeology.
On the way back, Sam was fiddling with something, tossing it and bouncing it off the car window. Dean squinted.
“Is that… a mummy beanie-baby?”
Sam grinned like he’d struck gold. “Isn’t it awesome? Museum gift shops are so random.”
“You freak.”
Dean figured yeah, that was actually pretty cool.
“You were totally going to drag that girl off to a back hallway somewhere, weren’t you?”
“Absolutely, until you grossed her out.”
“Why?”
Dean blinked. “If you don’t know that, Sammy, you’re still younger than I thought.”
“I’m not stupid. I mean, you’re never going to see her again. So why?”
“That’s completely not the point.”
Sam’s fidgety hands stilled, and the mummy dropped forgotten to the seat. “Shouldn’t it be?”
Dean’s throat went dry. He kept his eyes fixed on the road.
“Seriously. Shouldn’t there be something more than one-nighters and ugly motel rooms? Don’t you ever want--” Sam abruptly grabbed the mummy again, returned to tossing it. “Yeah, I’m being a total girl. Whatever. Tease me later. Just, I want more. For both of us. Why don’t you?”
-------------------------------------------------------
When they pulled into the motel lot Dad’s truck was already back. Dean was suddenly conscious of the knot of anxiety he’d been ignoring all day. Sam went straight to their room, but Dean rapped on the door beside it.
“Dad?”
No answer.
“Dad, you’ve got ten more seconds and then I’m breaking in.”
Dad was sprawled on the bed, still wearing his boots. His upper arm was bandaged, dark with dried blood. Dean’s heart just about stopped, but he shook awake easily enough, and there wasn’t a lump on his head.
“Dad, Christ, are you okay? What happened?”
“I’m fine, Dean, I got it stitched up. Go to bed.”
Dean’s hands shook as he unrolled the bandage. It was stitched up, awkwardly and obviously one-handed, and around the back where Dad couldn’t see there was still a crusting of grime and a few splinters.
“I’m so sorry. I should have…”
“I’m fine. Finish cleaning it up if I missed anything. It’s not your fault, and I’m fine.”
When Dean made it back to their room, Sam was in the bathroom. Resting on Dean’s pillow was the little mummy, and below it was a Grand Canyon postcard obviously from the same museum shop. Three more years. Leave with me.
Dean carefully wrote Dad needs us below that, and dropped the postcard in the trash by Sam’s bed.
When Sam opened the bathroom door, he was all gangly arms and glistening skin and dripping hair. Dean shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep, even though they hadn’t been able to fool each other like that in years.
Header post | 8 and 12 | 15 and 19 | 18 and 22 | 20 and 24 | 26 and 30
Dad had found the lair of some kind of troll, tucked in a little greenbelt three hours outside of St. Louis. The thing liked to fight with big wooden clubs, judging from the coroner’s reports, and Dad’s sources said what it needed was a good old fashioned stake-and-decapitate.
Except apparently the Missouri History Museum was the best museum for three states around, and it currently had a whole wing of Egyptology on loan from the Smithsonian to boot. Dad was determined to finish the troll up tonight and head West tomorrow morning, and Sam wouldn’t shut up about the unfairness of it all.
Dean finally floated the idea with Dad of maybe, possibly skipping out on just this one hunt to drive Sam up there. Dad gave him a long, level look, and finally said, “That’s your decision.”
He pushed and pushed, trying to get some kind of official permission, but all Dad would say was “I hunted without you for a decade, I can manage one night,” and Dean finally told Sam he would go.
------------------------------------------------------
Sam was tireless, dragging him through the entire museum without skipping a single window or plaque. Even Dean had to admit that dinosaurs are pretty much never not cool, but a whole wing dedicated to geology and types of rock? It’s a bit much.
Dean managed to corner a girl cooing over the antelopes in the Hall of African Mammals. She was maybe 20, redheaded and stacked, and she fiddled with her hair when he smiled at her. They wandered along the displays while Sam read avidly about elephant migration patterns. When they reached the spotted hyenas, she squealed and grabbed his arm.
“They’re so disgusting!”
Dean squeezed her hand reassuringly, leaned down to whisper in her ear and figured he was in for at least a little fondling in the bathroom. That was when Sam chose to show up.
“Actually, spotted hyenas are highly skilled pack predators. Most often, it’s the lions scavenging kills from them, and not the other way around. Plus, they have incredibly powerful jaws and advanced digestive systems capable of handling their entire prey- hide, hooves, everything. It’s pretty cool.”
The girl gave Sam a doubtful look and hurried over to the hippo. Dean whacked him in the back of the head.
By the time they got to the crowning glory, the visiting Egyptology exhibit, Dean figured he’d had enough of museums to last until he was at least 50. But Sam was over the moon, going on nonstop about hieroglyphics and afterlife beliefs. Dean finally gave up and camped out by the “Mummies in popular culture” display until Sam had exhausted every snippet of information on Egyptian archaeology.
On the way back, Sam was fiddling with something, tossing it and bouncing it off the car window. Dean squinted.
“Is that… a mummy beanie-baby?”
Sam grinned like he’d struck gold. “Isn’t it awesome? Museum gift shops are so random.”
“You freak.”
Dean figured yeah, that was actually pretty cool.
“You were totally going to drag that girl off to a back hallway somewhere, weren’t you?”
“Absolutely, until you grossed her out.”
“Why?”
Dean blinked. “If you don’t know that, Sammy, you’re still younger than I thought.”
“I’m not stupid. I mean, you’re never going to see her again. So why?”
“That’s completely not the point.”
Sam’s fidgety hands stilled, and the mummy dropped forgotten to the seat. “Shouldn’t it be?”
Dean’s throat went dry. He kept his eyes fixed on the road.
“Seriously. Shouldn’t there be something more than one-nighters and ugly motel rooms? Don’t you ever want--” Sam abruptly grabbed the mummy again, returned to tossing it. “Yeah, I’m being a total girl. Whatever. Tease me later. Just, I want more. For both of us. Why don’t you?”
-------------------------------------------------------
When they pulled into the motel lot Dad’s truck was already back. Dean was suddenly conscious of the knot of anxiety he’d been ignoring all day. Sam went straight to their room, but Dean rapped on the door beside it.
“Dad?”
No answer.
“Dad, you’ve got ten more seconds and then I’m breaking in.”
Dad was sprawled on the bed, still wearing his boots. His upper arm was bandaged, dark with dried blood. Dean’s heart just about stopped, but he shook awake easily enough, and there wasn’t a lump on his head.
“Dad, Christ, are you okay? What happened?”
“I’m fine, Dean, I got it stitched up. Go to bed.”
Dean’s hands shook as he unrolled the bandage. It was stitched up, awkwardly and obviously one-handed, and around the back where Dad couldn’t see there was still a crusting of grime and a few splinters.
“I’m so sorry. I should have…”
“I’m fine. Finish cleaning it up if I missed anything. It’s not your fault, and I’m fine.”
When Dean made it back to their room, Sam was in the bathroom. Resting on Dean’s pillow was the little mummy, and below it was a Grand Canyon postcard obviously from the same museum shop. Three more years. Leave with me.
Dean carefully wrote Dad needs us below that, and dropped the postcard in the trash by Sam’s bed.
When Sam opened the bathroom door, he was all gangly arms and glistening skin and dripping hair. Dean shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep, even though they hadn’t been able to fool each other like that in years.
no subject
Date: 2008-01-02 12:21 am (UTC)I love how Sam is such a cockblock, and how Dean whacks him on the head for it. Such a canon moment. ♥ But from Sam's pov, he's just protecting Dean from the meaninglessness of such an encounter, which is another thing I like about this fic; every part shows how much Sam cares for Dean.
In short, this was great. Hope to see more fic from you this year! Happy 2008!
no subject
Date: 2008-01-02 12:51 am (UTC)Thanks for the feedback. And happy 2008 to you too!