Categories > TV > Supernatural0 Reviews
Drabble. Dean stared at the small brown box, his face bearing a doubtful expression. Sam wished he'd just open the damn thing.
January 25, 2010
Dean stared at the small brown box, his face bearing a doubtful expression. Sam wished he’d just open the damn thing. He supposed adding the thin white bow had been too much, but for some reason, once the idea of giving Dean a present gripped him, he hadn’t been able to resist going all out.
Well, as all out as he could, given the givens.
Thirty seconds later, and Dean was still immobile, and Sam was just a few more moments away from taking the gift back and opening it himself, just to release the sudden awkward tension that filled the car.
The imaginary sound of a clock ticked for his ears only, and when Sam had enough of the stillness, he opened his mouth—
—then closed it with an audible click as Dean finally, finally pulled at the thin straps of the bow. Letting the light-colored material hang around two of his fingers, Dean uncovered the gift swiftly, the previous hesitation Sam had witnessed moments before now nowhere to be seen. Sam shifted in his seat, angling himself to see Dean’s reaction to the gift he’d chosen.
A deep sense of pleasure welled up in him when his brother’s eyes began to twinkle in humor, and he couldn’t help the slow grin that appeared on his face as Dean barked out a laugh, taking the dented bullet out of its spongy cushion.
The bullet had quite the story, as it was the one bullet both their father and Sam thought had killed Dean. They had been between jobs when they passed by an alley holding five armed men and a petite blonde. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was happening, and all the Winchester men had been quick to help the poor girl out.
While John and Sam busied themselves with one each, Dean took on two while the other kept a hold on the girl. The last man believed Dean to be the biggest threat and pushed the girl to him, distracting Dean enough that the man was able to shoot him in the heart point blank. The only thing that saved Dean was the antique flask he’d just received from Bobby the week before, the bullet embedding itself in the thickly-lined container.
“Where the hell did you find this?” Dean asked him.
A very valid question. The bullet and the flask had gone missing months after Sam left for college, and Dean had always assumed he’d been careless and left it at a previous motel.
Sam shrugged. “Around,” he said vaguely. Of course he wouldn’t admit to taking both items. He hadn’t been accepted into Stanford because he was stupid.
Dean narrowed his eyes at him, but said nothing else.
“So, uh, happy birthday.” Upon hearing this, Dean gave Sam an expectant look. “What?” Sam asked.
“Don’t I get a birthday hug?”
I love Dean. All of him.