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[JP] J. R. R. Tolkein quote
Oct. 2nd, 2008 12:19 am[![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
likely_evil used with permission. Pre-series.]
“Not all who wander are lost.”
“We’re so lost, aren’t we?”
Dean shot a glare over at his scrawny brother sitting in the passenger’s seat. Sam was fourteen, and you would have thought that he would have grown out of his pain in the ass stage. Then again, when you’re eighteen, and handling your first major state border trip, anyone who tries to tell you what you are and are not is a major pain in the ass. Dean turned his head back to the map in front of him, drumming his fingers in time to the music on the radio why he tried to figure out where the hell he was.
“We’re not lost,” he insisted, scanning the map carefully.
A scoff came from Sam’s direction, before his moody brother turned his eyes out the window, looking at the cars passing by for a moment, while Dean continued to study the map. This probably wouldn’t have happened if John hadn't finally caved and bought himself a car all his own, finally handing over the Impala to Dean, but he had been waiting for John to give him the keys to the Impala since he had gotten his permit. And he had spent the time complaining too, begging his father to give him a chance. So the minute the keys had hit his palm, he was ready to drive until he couldn’t drive anymore. And apparently, that involved not paying attention to where exactly he was going, and getting them completely lost. Which he was not—repeat, not—going to admit to Sam. It was bad enough that Sam was starting to call him on it.
“We are so lost.”
“We are not. I know exactly where I am.”
( *** )
577 words
likely_evil used with permission. Pre-series.]“Not all who wander are lost.”
“We’re so lost, aren’t we?”
Dean shot a glare over at his scrawny brother sitting in the passenger’s seat. Sam was fourteen, and you would have thought that he would have grown out of his pain in the ass stage. Then again, when you’re eighteen, and handling your first major state border trip, anyone who tries to tell you what you are and are not is a major pain in the ass. Dean turned his head back to the map in front of him, drumming his fingers in time to the music on the radio why he tried to figure out where the hell he was.
“We’re not lost,” he insisted, scanning the map carefully.
A scoff came from Sam’s direction, before his moody brother turned his eyes out the window, looking at the cars passing by for a moment, while Dean continued to study the map. This probably wouldn’t have happened if John hadn't finally caved and bought himself a car all his own, finally handing over the Impala to Dean, but he had been waiting for John to give him the keys to the Impala since he had gotten his permit. And he had spent the time complaining too, begging his father to give him a chance. So the minute the keys had hit his palm, he was ready to drive until he couldn’t drive anymore. And apparently, that involved not paying attention to where exactly he was going, and getting them completely lost. Which he was not—repeat, not—going to admit to Sam. It was bad enough that Sam was starting to call him on it.
“We are so lost.”
“We are not. I know exactly where I am.”
( *** )
577 words
