“You boys settled in for the night?” Bobby asked, depositing another armload of blankets on the chair.
“Yeah,” Dean replied from his side of the couch. Bobby’s living room was set up with everything they needed. A giant bowl of popcorn for him. A giant box of Kleenex for Sam. A bottle of beer for him. A bottle of cough syrup for Sam. A blanket for him. About a zillion blankets for Sam. And a tall stack of DVDs for both of them. “Thanks, Bobby. Sure you don’t want to sit in on some of these movies with us?”
“Boy, I’ve been bustin' my butt all day getting two trucks running for their owners, not to mention going through a hundred dusty volumes looking for a certain spell for hunters over in New Hampshire. For the first time in months, nothing’s hunting us and I’m gonna count that as a luxury and get some sleep. Try not to keep me up, all right? You know I sleep with a shotgun under my pillow.”
Dean grinned. “G’night, Bobby. Thanks for letting us crash here while Sam fights off this cold.”
Sam was grateful as well, but expressed it with a brief glance with his hurt puppy dog eyes before snapping forward with his nose couched in a handful of Kleenex. His sneeze wasn’t the least bit quiet; Dean was sure Bobby would hear from his bedroom.
But Bobby didn’t have a stern word for him. He just rubbed his hand over Sam’s mop of hair on his way out of the room. He flipped the lamp off, and the glow of the television set took over.
“You sure you’re up for this, Sammy?”
Sam sniffled into his Kleenex and pulled another blanket over his lap. “M’sure. Got a lot of catching up to do, right? If I can’t hunt, sniff, sniff, at least I can do this.”
“All right then.” Dean propped both his heels up on the coffee table, dipped his hand into the popcorn bowl, and gestured with his other hand toward the remote Sam held. “Play it again, Sam.”
One thing was clear: Sam, who didn’t remember Jaws, Jurassic Park, or the Godfather, certainly didn’t remember Casablanca well enough to correct Dean’s misquotation. Instead, he hit the button on the remote to unpause the first movie.
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branchandroot
FILL: Round Up the Usual Suspects 4/4
Date: 2014-09-16 02:48 am (UTC)“You boys settled in for the night?” Bobby asked, depositing another armload of blankets on the chair.
“Yeah,” Dean replied from his side of the couch. Bobby’s living room was set up with everything they needed. A giant bowl of popcorn for him. A giant box of Kleenex for Sam. A bottle of beer for him. A bottle of cough syrup for Sam. A blanket for him. About a zillion blankets for Sam. And a tall stack of DVDs for both of them. “Thanks, Bobby. Sure you don’t want to sit in on some of these movies with us?”
“Boy, I’ve been bustin' my butt all day getting two trucks running for their owners, not to mention going through a hundred dusty volumes looking for a certain spell for hunters over in New Hampshire. For the first time in months, nothing’s hunting us and I’m gonna count that as a luxury and get some sleep. Try not to keep me up, all right? You know I sleep with a shotgun under my pillow.”
Dean grinned. “G’night, Bobby. Thanks for letting us crash here while Sam fights off this cold.”
Sam was grateful as well, but expressed it with a brief glance with his hurt puppy dog eyes before snapping forward with his nose couched in a handful of Kleenex. His sneeze wasn’t the least bit quiet; Dean was sure Bobby would hear from his bedroom.
But Bobby didn’t have a stern word for him. He just rubbed his hand over Sam’s mop of hair on his way out of the room. He flipped the lamp off, and the glow of the television set took over.
“You sure you’re up for this, Sammy?”
Sam sniffled into his Kleenex and pulled another blanket over his lap. “M’sure. Got a lot of catching up to do, right? If I can’t hunt, sniff, sniff, at least I can do this.”
“All right then.” Dean propped both his heels up on the coffee table, dipped his hand into the popcorn bowl, and gestured with his other hand toward the remote Sam held. “Play it again, Sam.”
One thing was clear: Sam, who didn’t remember Jaws, Jurassic Park, or the Godfather, certainly didn’t remember Casablanca well enough to correct Dean’s misquotation. Instead, he hit the button on the remote to unpause the first movie.