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verucasalt123Prompt: Sam doesn't do very well without his big brother there those first few months.
Not that he'd ever admit that.
A week was okay.
Just that one first week, walking around in the grass, wandering aimlessly, enjoying the concept of this thing people referred to as free time.
Another week and Sam had scrounged up enough cash to buy an entire carton of cigarettes from the gas station four blocks from his dorm.
He was still wandering, still aimless, still in the grass, but sitting now.
Sitting and smoking and remembering how his brother smelled like cigarettes sometimes and like smoke almost all the time.
Six weeks. He was learning to be nice to his roommate, this thing about small talk and pleasantries that was expected of him now. Sam avoided it like a fucking witch's curse by throwing himself into his school work.
He didn't want to be distracted. Couldn't afford to be distracted.
But Dean.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, Dean. Dean wiggled his way into the front of Sam's mind at least once an hour.
What would Dean think about this teacher? Dean would have a joke to make about that discussion question from his lit class that mentioned incestuous relationships in Hotel New Hampshire. Where would Dean be while Sam was in class if he'd left their dad and come with him?
Dean would have told him to quit his damn moping.
He'd gotten what he wanted.
Out of their life, out of chasing monsters, off to kids who were normal, like he was.
Like he wanted to be.
Like he knew he never would, no matter how hard he tried.
Some days his hands shook as he tried to write out stupid math problems.
Fucking math.
Dean would have said, "Math is just following instructions, Sammy. If you can read a recipe, you can make math your bitch."
It was almost Thanksgiving and even though everyone else had someplace to go, Sam was alone in his dorm.
He was thankful for it. Didn't want people around making comments to him about how they were sorry he had no place to be, or even worse, whispering behind his back about why he had no place to be.
So then there was no one around when he finally did it.
After months of his finger hesitatingly hovering over that button on his cell, he just sucked it up and did it. Figured he'd leave a voice mail.
But Dean picked up on the second ring.
"Sammy! God damn, how's it going out there? You all right?"
And then Sam did that thing he sucked at more spectacularly than anything else in his life.
He told his brother a lie.
"Yeah, Dean. Great, I'm doing great."
Not that he'd ever admit that.
A week was okay.
Just that one first week, walking around in the grass, wandering aimlessly, enjoying the concept of this thing people referred to as free time.
Another week and Sam had scrounged up enough cash to buy an entire carton of cigarettes from the gas station four blocks from his dorm.
He was still wandering, still aimless, still in the grass, but sitting now.
Sitting and smoking and remembering how his brother smelled like cigarettes sometimes and like smoke almost all the time.
Six weeks. He was learning to be nice to his roommate, this thing about small talk and pleasantries that was expected of him now. Sam avoided it like a fucking witch's curse by throwing himself into his school work.
He didn't want to be distracted. Couldn't afford to be distracted.
But Dean.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, Dean. Dean wiggled his way into the front of Sam's mind at least once an hour.
What would Dean think about this teacher? Dean would have a joke to make about that discussion question from his lit class that mentioned incestuous relationships in Hotel New Hampshire. Where would Dean be while Sam was in class if he'd left their dad and come with him?
Dean would have told him to quit his damn moping.
He'd gotten what he wanted.
Out of their life, out of chasing monsters, off to kids who were normal, like he was.
Like he wanted to be.
Like he knew he never would, no matter how hard he tried.
Some days his hands shook as he tried to write out stupid math problems.
Fucking math.
Dean would have said, "Math is just following instructions, Sammy. If you can read a recipe, you can make math your bitch."
It was almost Thanksgiving and even though everyone else had someplace to go, Sam was alone in his dorm.
He was thankful for it. Didn't want people around making comments to him about how they were sorry he had no place to be, or even worse, whispering behind his back about why he had no place to be.
So then there was no one around when he finally did it.
After months of his finger hesitatingly hovering over that button on his cell, he just sucked it up and did it. Figured he'd leave a voice mail.
But Dean picked up on the second ring.
"Sammy! God damn, how's it going out there? You all right?"
And then Sam did that thing he sucked at more spectacularly than anything else in his life.
He told his brother a lie.
"Yeah, Dean. Great, I'm doing great."
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Date: 2012-08-10 04:13 am (UTC):)
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Date: 2012-08-10 04:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-10 01:58 pm (UTC)Loved the way you had Dean being smart. I agree - he was smarter than he lets on possibly due to the fact that he realized that Dad needed him to hunt instead of dwelling on the learning as much as Sam.
Dean probably could have gotten into college had he tried harder instead of being better at the hunt. Thank you for sharing.
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Date: 2012-08-10 02:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-10 04:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-10 04:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-10 04:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-10 04:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-11 03:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-11 03:48 am (UTC)