Dean Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hasperkynipples) wrote2009-12-11 09:30 pm
hasperkynipples) wrote2009-12-11 09:30 pm
Entry tags:
[CL] Write a drabble about your character's favorite custom associated with the Winter holiday.
“Sammy, get down.”
“Dean, I wanna see.” Sammy had the edge of his glove in his mouth, as he pushed up against the snow fort Dean had built just outside Pastor Jim’s. Some of the neighborhood kids had challenged him to the snowball fight and Dean, being seven and John Winchester’s son wasn’t about to back down from a challenge. Any challenge. But Dean also had to watch Sammy, who was two and a half, and facing down three of the neighborhood boys with a two and a half year-old as your copilot wasn’t exactly the best move. In fact, it sucked. Because Sammy really didn’t seem to get the point.
But Dean did his best. He built the fort and put Sammy behind it and was pummeling at the kids across the way, but Sammy was really doing his best to try and screw with his chances here. He kept poking his head over the top, trying to get a look, and making him a prime target. And Dean wasn’t the kind of guy to lose.
“Sammy, you gotta stay down.”
“Dean, I don’t like this anymore. I wanna go back inside.”
Dean had been mid throw at that point and hadn’t responded to Sammy fast enough. In fact, he wasn’t even really paying attention—seven year-old attention span not being what it should be. The next time he had a track on his brother again, it was when he heard his brother start crying. Pastor Jim’s was on the opposite side of the opposing team’s fort and when Sammy had waddled his way out to the middle of them, aiming to head back towards the house and not quite making it before the snowballs had started flying. When Dean looked over, Sammy was on his back on the ground, crying his eyes out for Dean, or anybody to help him.
Dean just grit his jaw slightly, scooping up whatever snowballs he had and charging out towards his brother, not planning on letting these guys get away with it. Nobody got to him through his brother.
Nobody.
348 words
“Dean, I wanna see.” Sammy had the edge of his glove in his mouth, as he pushed up against the snow fort Dean had built just outside Pastor Jim’s. Some of the neighborhood kids had challenged him to the snowball fight and Dean, being seven and John Winchester’s son wasn’t about to back down from a challenge. Any challenge. But Dean also had to watch Sammy, who was two and a half, and facing down three of the neighborhood boys with a two and a half year-old as your copilot wasn’t exactly the best move. In fact, it sucked. Because Sammy really didn’t seem to get the point.
But Dean did his best. He built the fort and put Sammy behind it and was pummeling at the kids across the way, but Sammy was really doing his best to try and screw with his chances here. He kept poking his head over the top, trying to get a look, and making him a prime target. And Dean wasn’t the kind of guy to lose.
“Sammy, you gotta stay down.”
“Dean, I don’t like this anymore. I wanna go back inside.”
Dean had been mid throw at that point and hadn’t responded to Sammy fast enough. In fact, he wasn’t even really paying attention—seven year-old attention span not being what it should be. The next time he had a track on his brother again, it was when he heard his brother start crying. Pastor Jim’s was on the opposite side of the opposing team’s fort and when Sammy had waddled his way out to the middle of them, aiming to head back towards the house and not quite making it before the snowballs had started flying. When Dean looked over, Sammy was on his back on the ground, crying his eyes out for Dean, or anybody to help him.
Dean just grit his jaw slightly, scooping up whatever snowballs he had and charging out towards his brother, not planning on letting these guys get away with it. Nobody got to him through his brother.
Nobody.
348 words