![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fannishlisstitle: Bringing Home
author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fannishliss
rating: gen, no spoilers, no warnings
words: 584
fordatenshiblue who prompted: "If I cannot bring you comfort / Then at least I bring you home..."
author's note: the sign in my icon was a real sign. It stood near where I grew up since before I was born. It blew down last year in a high wind, so it's not there any more. But it stood within a one hundred mile radius of Winchester, Virginia. :)
===
Dusk was falling and it was early, a gray December day, and Dean was tired, dead tired, and Sam was digging his thumb into the palm of his hand in that way that Dean hated, and there wasn't a soul on earth they could call on, not anymore, and day was fast fading into night.
There was a long, low building that rang Dean's bell. It said, dark, smoky, cheap, and no questions. He guided the not-Impala into the lot, pocketed the key. Sam's eyes glinted red with the neon of motel beer eat, and Dean wasn't sure about the order, but it would do, and he was betting that there were enough gambling men in this neck of the woods who felt pretty damn sure of their aim, that he could at least earn enough at darts to take care of the motel beer eat side of things for one evening.
They ambled in, big men, sizing up a room. They didn't stand out. There were plenty of big men in the room: no ladies, just men. At least none of them had the sick leer of leviathans plastered on their faces. Dean had been hipdeep in this world since he was a kid; he'd never been out of it. It had always rubbed Sam the wrong way. But Sam was just about the biggest heap of trouble most men would ever run across, so he managed. His hands weren't soft. His hair was long, and his eyes were sad, but his shoulders told men to move along, and anyways, Dean went in first, like he always did, with Sammy there behind him, looking over his shoulder, and if Sam's eyes sharpened with alarm at things or people who weren't really there, it was dark enough to pretend like they didn't.
Miller Lite and peanuts, and not long before they had two big bowls of chili con carne and cornbread, and it was good. Dean saw the old woman in the kitchen with her greying hair tucked under a net, frowning at spitting burgers on a filthy grill — but the chili tasted good, despite the layer of grease over everything, or maybe because of it. Food landed in their bellies and beer washed it down.
"Two queens?" Dean said, but the man at the register shook his head.
"Naw, it's all kings. You'll have to double up," he said, like there was no other option than it being a hardship.
Dean frowned, but he couldn't very well take exception to not being thought a couple after so many years of taking exception to being thought a couple. Sam just fished the duffels out of the trunk of the not-Impala. The room smelled of stale smoke and bleach, good enough.
TV got cable so there was plenty on. Dean let Sam choose and they whiled away the darkness.
Bed was firm, plenty of covers, sheets clean and not too scratchy. Sam breathed evenly into the darkness and that was all Dean needed to hear.
Motel beer eat. The menu offered full breakfast even though it was a bar, and Dean was already thinking about ham and eggs and thick fried potatoes as he drifted off, his brother still at his back. Tomato juice for Sam, even.
Dean had never been one for comfort, but he had Sam, and that was all Dean needed to be home.
author:
fannishlissrating: gen, no spoilers, no warnings
words: 584
for
datenshiblue who prompted: "If I cannot bring you comfort / Then at least I bring you home..." author's note: the sign in my icon was a real sign. It stood near where I grew up since before I was born. It blew down last year in a high wind, so it's not there any more. But it stood within a one hundred mile radius of Winchester, Virginia. :)
===
Dusk was falling and it was early, a gray December day, and Dean was tired, dead tired, and Sam was digging his thumb into the palm of his hand in that way that Dean hated, and there wasn't a soul on earth they could call on, not anymore, and day was fast fading into night.
There was a long, low building that rang Dean's bell. It said, dark, smoky, cheap, and no questions. He guided the not-Impala into the lot, pocketed the key. Sam's eyes glinted red with the neon of motel beer eat, and Dean wasn't sure about the order, but it would do, and he was betting that there were enough gambling men in this neck of the woods who felt pretty damn sure of their aim, that he could at least earn enough at darts to take care of the motel beer eat side of things for one evening.
They ambled in, big men, sizing up a room. They didn't stand out. There were plenty of big men in the room: no ladies, just men. At least none of them had the sick leer of leviathans plastered on their faces. Dean had been hipdeep in this world since he was a kid; he'd never been out of it. It had always rubbed Sam the wrong way. But Sam was just about the biggest heap of trouble most men would ever run across, so he managed. His hands weren't soft. His hair was long, and his eyes were sad, but his shoulders told men to move along, and anyways, Dean went in first, like he always did, with Sammy there behind him, looking over his shoulder, and if Sam's eyes sharpened with alarm at things or people who weren't really there, it was dark enough to pretend like they didn't.
Miller Lite and peanuts, and not long before they had two big bowls of chili con carne and cornbread, and it was good. Dean saw the old woman in the kitchen with her greying hair tucked under a net, frowning at spitting burgers on a filthy grill — but the chili tasted good, despite the layer of grease over everything, or maybe because of it. Food landed in their bellies and beer washed it down.
"Two queens?" Dean said, but the man at the register shook his head.
"Naw, it's all kings. You'll have to double up," he said, like there was no other option than it being a hardship.
Dean frowned, but he couldn't very well take exception to not being thought a couple after so many years of taking exception to being thought a couple. Sam just fished the duffels out of the trunk of the not-Impala. The room smelled of stale smoke and bleach, good enough.
TV got cable so there was plenty on. Dean let Sam choose and they whiled away the darkness.
Bed was firm, plenty of covers, sheets clean and not too scratchy. Sam breathed evenly into the darkness and that was all Dean needed to hear.
Motel beer eat. The menu offered full breakfast even though it was a bar, and Dean was already thinking about ham and eggs and thick fried potatoes as he drifted off, his brother still at his back. Tomato juice for Sam, even.
Dean had never been one for comfort, but he had Sam, and that was all Dean needed to be home.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-12-19 12:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-19 12:57 am (UTC)This is one place where Sam and Dean would fit right in, no questions asked. :)
no subject
Date: 2011-12-19 01:32 am (UTC)(love the history behind the icon, that's awesome!)
no subject
Date: 2011-12-19 04:07 am (UTC)yeah, when I was a kid we'd drive by and my language brain would try to fit the words into some sort of parallelism: Motel. Beer. Eat. My mind worked on that one for YEARS, like a mantra of low Americana. Dean would just grin that crooked grin and make a note in his incredibly detailed atlas of low America.
no subject
Date: 2011-12-20 02:41 am (UTC)Hi hi! So sorry to be late with my comment, which is...
I love this! ^____^
I especially love the way you wove your history and perception with the story environment. So many good lines, like "They ambled in, big men, sizing up a room. They didn't stand out. There were plenty of big men in the room: no ladies, just men. "
And of course, "Sam breathed evenly into the darkness and that was all Dean needed to hear."
Thank you darlin. It's a lovely holiday tale.
<3
no subject
Date: 2011-12-20 05:34 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you liked it. I like to imagine Sam and Dean roaming the neck of the woods where I grew up. We don't have many supernatural threats, so maybe they could enjoy the hearty cooking and cheap accommodations for a while! :)
no subject
Date: 2011-12-22 12:01 am (UTC)Peace, love, motel, beer, eat. ;)