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Stuck on You
, sequel to 'Time Flies'
Keeper of Dean's Quarters and Sammy's tears
Member No.: 4,830
Joined: 26-May 06
Hi all, here you go. I hope you all enjoy this one. It is a sequel to my earlier story ‘Time Flies’ that some of you had requested, but you should be able to read this one as a stand alone. Hugs and happy thoughts. JJ. Stuck on You
Sequel to: Time Flies
Set sometime mid-Season 3
What the hell?
Shouldn’t the damn numbers be in order? Only those two young knuckleheads would stay in a place that resembled more of an amusement park fun house than an actual motel.
Muttering under his breath, Bobby walked briskly down the hallway as he searched numbers on the identical brown doors, looking for lucky number thirteen.
It never ceased to amaze him how those two always seemed to get a room that was synonymous with crappy luck. Sure, he wasn’t a superstitious person by nature...but he didn’t believe in tempting fate either.
Where the hell was it? He sighed again, eyes pealed for the right door.
And as he searched, he wondered just what was so important that they couldn’t tell him over the phone. With those two, you never knew what you would find...but, one thing was for certain, it was probably not going to be good.
Now, don’t get him wrong. He really did care for those two.
Hell, he’d come to care for Johnny’s youngins something awful. Somehow they’d wormed their way into his self-proclaimed cold unfeeling heart when Dean’d been only knee high to a grasshopper and Sam’d only been knee high to Dean.
And his ‘fatherly’ affection for them had only increased by leaps and bounds as he’d seen the fine young men that they had become...men that anyone would be proud to call their own. Because for all of Johnny’s screw ups over the years...and as his friend, the grizzled old hunter knew there had been plenty...he must had done something right when he was raising those boys of his.
But lately...well, lately, Bobby knew that they were driving him into an early grave with all the trouble they’d been getting into. They sort of reminded him of a couple of energetic puppies...adorable as all get out, but in serious need of a good old fashioned newspaper whack to the nose from time to time in order to get them back in line.
Where was the bloody thing, anyway? There it was, the room at the far end of the hall. About bloody damn time, if you asked him.
As he stopped outside the right one, he raised his hand to knock, but stopped at the sounds coming from the other side of the door...
“...but, no. You just had to be a pissy little bitch and do things your own way.”
“Screw you,” Sam’s voice growled from inside.“This is all your damn fault.”
“Really,” Dean snapped back. “Cause from where I’m standing, I’m thinking that the blame falls on you, buddy boy. If you hadn’t been...”
“From where you’re standing?” the younger of the pair growled. “The view pretty good there from the cheap seats, Dean?
There was a pause, followed by a thud and a loud, ‘Ow, damn it,’ that had Bobby deciding to forgo knocking altogether and going straight for his trusty lock pick, a rare Christmas gift from their daddy as a matter-of-fact.
And as he deftly made quick work of the crappy lock, the muffled angry words continued.
“I don’t know what the hell your problem is, little brother,” Dean said furiously. “But maybe you should pull the broom stick out of your ass...might be a little bit more fun to be around.”
“Sorry, I’m such a drag,” Sam said, a quiet timbre from his voice. Then his voice turned hard. “Don’t worry...you won’t have to worry about that anymore cause as soon as we fix this, I’m out of here.”
“Sammy, damn it, you know I didn’t mean...”
“It’s Sam,” the younger one said angrily. “And I know damn well what you meant...so as far as I’m concerned...you can just go to hell.
There was dead silence in the room for a long moment and even Bobby froze in his tracks at the hateful words that brother had hurled at brother. Some things were inexcusable...and the littlest Winchester had damn well crossed the line on that one.
He didn’t give a damn what they were fighting about...that was one line that you did not cross...not when you lived this life and knew what those two did. But before he could even move, he heard a roar from inside the room and a large thud.
Knowing that couldn’t be good, he returned to the lock, and, after hearing the telltale three clicks that said it was now unlocked, he silently eased the door open.
As the door opened, he heard Dean’s voice...hearing the hurt in it, despite his best efforts to mask it...say, “Yeah, well. Don’t worry...the clock’s already ticking on that one.”
Contemplating what he was going to do to those two for being able to slip in here unnoticed...they were hunters for God’s sakes and should darn well know better...he entered the room and stopped dead in his tracks.
Bobby knew that Dean was hurt...and not that it excused him any, mind you...but the elder hunter understood. But Sam...well, Sam was about to get himself ripped a new one cause he sure as hell damn well knew better.
“What in the bloody hell has gotten into you two?” he demanded, slamming the door behind him, causing the room’s occupants to freeze in mid stupidity.
Keeper of Dean's Quarters and Sammy's tears
Member No.: 4,830
Joined: 26-May 06
hey adder and Irishgirl, glad that you've liked the first update. Hope you like this one. Hugs and happy thoughts. JJ.
The two, normally inseparable, Winchester’s brothers looked up at Bobby in surprise from their place on the floor where they had been rolling around and scuffling like a couple of feral junkyard dogs...hell, they were putting Rufus to shame with the way they were snarling at each other.
“You had better hope that one of you two is possessed,” the elder hunter growled, shrugging out of his jacket and throwing it over the closest chair...where it promptly slipped on down to the floor. “Or I am going to be kicking some ass in a very short order.”
“Bobby, I...” Sam began, blushing profusely.
“Shut up, Sam,” he snapped.
“Save it, little boy,” the mature hunter growled as he leaned down and hauled him up in his right hand by the back of his collar. “You two are in enough trouble as it is so I’d just keep mouth shut if I were you.”
Dean, at least, was smart enough to do just that, as he too was yanked to his feet in Bobby’s other hand. In fact, he wouldn’t even meet his gaze, a telling sign that, despite his pissy attitude, he was already feeling pretty guilty.
That should make things a little bit simpler.
For once Johnny’s mantra, ‘Take care of Sammy’ would come in handy. If the young hunter was feeling guilty, then he would be more willing to talk...well, maybe not willing...but maybe not completely opposed to it either.
“Christo,” he said firmly, staring them both in the eye looking for the tell-tale black orbs that would confirm his suspicions, believing that could be the only reason that they were acting like such...for lack of a better word...jackasses toward each other.
“We’re not possessed, Bobby,” Sam said indignantly.
“Pity,” the elder hunter said, eyes narrowing in a cold hard fury that he hadn’t felt for these two in a very long time. “Cause you’re about to wish real hard that you were.”
Bobby, yet to realize the blaringly obvious oddity staring him in the face, attempted to sit them down at the table...only for it to not work out quite like he’s planned. And it was then...when the two of them were unable to separate from each other...that his gaze traveled downward, coming to rest on their wrists.
And more importantly, the silver handcuffs that were currently binding them together.
“What the...” he said, voice trailed off as he stared at the for a long moment, actually stunned into silence. And not a lot of things would manage to shock him...but this one actually did.
Their little hissy fit momentarily forgotten, Bobby propelled them toward the closest bed, indicating with a none-too-gentle shove that they should sit their behinds down...the shove to get them moving and the none-too-gentle part telling them that doing so now would be appreciated greatly.
“Tell me that you two didn’t manage to get yourself arrested again,” he said, practically begging that they didn’t have another run in with the damn cops.
Finally Dean met his eye, as he spoke up for the first time. “Nah,” he admitted sheepishly. “Not arrested.” He paused, swallowing hard. “Cursed actually...and we’ve tried everything. Bolt Cutters. Lock pick. Saw. Blowtorch...”
“Blowtorch?” the elder man parroted, censure clear in his voice.
The elder brother shrugged helplessly. “Didn’t know what else to do.” Motioning helplessly to the metal rings binging him to his brother, he said, “Damn things just won’t come off.”
Bobby sighed, sitting down on the bed opposite them as he looked first at one and then the other. “Start talking,” he said, knowing that this should be one hell of a story. “How the hell did you two idjits manage to get yourselves cursed?”
“Course, we’re cursed,” Sam muttered. “Isn’t it obvious...what could be a worse curse than being cuffed to him...you know, as if being stuck in a car with him 24/7 isn’t bad enough.”
The elder brother’s eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, Bobby stood and cracked the youngest hunter sharply in the back of the head. “Cut the smart ass,” he scolded. “If you can’t act civil, then you can just sit there and shut your mouth.”
He much preferred to talk to Dean anyway...always had.
John had been too hard and focused. Sam, the opposite, had always been too emotional and soft for this life. Dean, on the other hand, was just the right blend of the two, both holding his father back and pushing his brother forward when the need should arise.
Then, sitting back down, he focused his attention back on Dean, completely ignoring the wounded puppy-dog pout of his brother. “And you might as well wipe that smirk off your face, Jonathan,” he said firmly. “Cause as far as I’m concerned...you’re in just as much trouble as he is.”
“Yes, sir,” Dean muttered, dropping his gaze.
Sam coughed what sounded suspiciously like ‘kiss up.’ To which Dean shoved him off the bed, momentarily forgetting that they were bound together, and he, too, ended up on the floor on top of his 6'4" little brother.
The elder hunter simply leaned down and cracked them both in the back of the head, stopping their wrestling once more.
At their indignant yelps, he simply glared. “Get up,” he growled. “And grow up.”
And they both would have known it wasn’t a request even if they hadn’t been raised by the king of orders, himself, John Winchester. Being raised by said father meant they damn well knew better than to disobey and clumsily pulled themselves back until they were sitting next to each other on the edge of the bed.
Bobby simply waited, watching slightly bemused, though he’d never admit it, as they struggled to get up without the other’s help...stubborn asses, the both of them...and wasn’t about to assist them either.
They wanted to do things the hard way, then by God, he was going to let them.
When they finally got back upright once more, he leaned in, elbows on his knees, and spoke slowly and deliberately, making sure that he had their entire attention. “Either you two pull your heads out of your asses...” he said, voice more deadly serious than either of them had ever heard it. “...or my boot is going to join them there. And I do not make idle threats. Got it?”
And this time, receiving two identically sheepish, yet still slightly grumpy, ‘yes, sir’s, he sat back satisfied.
“Now, for the last time...what happened?” Bobby asked, voice leaving on room for discussion.
There was a long moment where everyone was silent...and the eldest hunter’s glare increased.
Bobby sighed. He suddenly felt much too old to deal with these two and their childish antics, as he ran a weary hand over his face.
Sure, he cared for them like they were his own pups...and was protective as all get out of them...but that didn’t mean that they didn’t aggravate the hell out of him more often than not.
“And if somebody doesn’t answer my question before my blood pressure skyrockets and I have a stroke and die...I swear that I will come back and haunt the two of you,” he threatened. “So somebody damn well better start talking...and I mean, now.”
Keeper of Dean's Quarters and Sammy's tears
Member No.: 4,830
Joined: 26-May 06
hi all, here you go. Hope you like this update. Enjoy folks and thanks again. Hugs, JJ.
“We were on a hunt, sir,” the elder brother said with a regretful sigh.
It didn’t surprise them in the least that Dean was the one who finally returned his gaze as, of the two of them, the kid was definitely the more grab the bull by the horns kind of guy.
And not that Sam wouldn’t face whatever he had to...he just usually avoided a confrontation if at all possible, especially one where he was bound to get in trouble, until he actually had to accept it. But, such was the way of little brothers, he supposed.
He could remember them getting in trouble with their daddy growing up while staying with him at the junkyard. Dean, a well-intentioned trouble maker from the get-go, would always step right up and accept whatever punishment that John was doling out...even it if meant a trip over his father’s knees...cause he knew then the matter would be settled.
But Sam, on the other hand, was the typical follower...usually following his big brother into hot water, more often than not. And the littlest Winchester, if Bobby remembered correctly, had preferred the ‘might be worse, but also might be later’ scenario, which usually entailed much wheedling and begging, and the occasional hiding from his daddy after acting naughtily...which predictably usually just got him into even more trouble with Johnny.
And the grizzled older hunter was amused to see that their personalities had changed so little over the years. They’d just gotten bigger, never having actually grown up...a fact that was both adorable and pissed him off at the same time.
“Hunting what?” Bobby asked finally, his curiosity piqued, despite how pissed at them he was right then. Besides, if he figured out what the hell happened, they could put their heads together and figure out how the hell to fix whatever ‘it’ was.
“What does it matter?” Sam huffed, still not looking at the elder hunter.
“I swear to God, Sam,” he said, voice taking on a sudden icy quality. He didn’t like playing the hard ass...wasn’t opposed to doing it when needed, mind you...just didn’t especially appreciate being forced to do so. “My boot is going to be up your ass in about two seconds if you don’t shut that trap of yours,” he vowed. “I already said that unless you had something important to add then you could just shut up.”
Dean, put his hand on the elder man’s arm, in attempts to calm him down...and Bobby was pleased to see that at least he had some semblance of concern for his brother’s welfare.
“You wanted to say something to me, kiddo?” the eldest hunter asked, his tone softening when he saw the elder boy’s big brotherly protective streak beginning to shine through his otherwise gruff persona.
Damn, but they were an infuriating lot...and the pups really did mean too much to him to let them keep up being such little jerks to each other...so he was glad to see that at least Dean seemed to being making an effort to smooth things over.
“I think that what Sammy’s so eloquently trying to say is that...”
And Dean bristled, a look of hurt flashing in his eyes for a brief moment...so fast that, had Bobby not know his as well as he did, he would have missed it entirely. “Screw you, Sam,” he said, putting a sarcastic emphasis on the word. “Suddenly I’m hoping that Bobby does kick your ass...might just save me the trouble of doing it myself.”
“Enough,” the elder man commanded.
“You know that you can just kiss my ass,” the younger hunter growled back,“I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but...”
And Bobby wasn’t entirely sure if the response was intended for him or Dean...but either way, he’d had it with the his childish act and was not about to take it for another second.
“ I said, that’s enough,” he growled, in a voice that brooked no arguments. And, having heard quite enough Winchester crap for one day, he simply held up his hand to silence the Sam’s brewing tantrum. “Kid,” he snapped. “Let me remind you that you called me...not the other way around.”
“Shut up,” the elder hunter said firmly. “And let me make this perfectly clear to you, Winchester,” he said. “Because I won’t tell you again. Unless you lose the attitude, then there’s a high probability that I’m going to lose it for you.” He looked the boy straight in the eye. “And I’m thinking that putting you over my knee would be embarrassing enough for you...”
“Screw you, Bobby,” Sam said angrily, attempting to pull himself to his feet, only to bodily be shoved back down once more by the just as angry surrogate father figure. “You’re not my father.”
“Yeah, Sam,” he said lethally, meaning every word. “You’re right about that...I’m not. And you can fight me...you’re younger and stronger and smarter. But we both know that I’ve been at this a hell of a lot longer than you and that eventually I’ll get the upper hand...and I’m betting that you won’t be happy with the consequences. So, yeah,” he said, thoughtfully. “I suppose you could try.”
“Come on man,” the younger hunter tried again. “You can’t be...”
“Serious?” Bobby asked. “Oh you can bet your ass that I’m plenty serious...and believe me, kiddo, that is exactly what you’d be putting on the line if you did. And I’m thinking that that would probably be embarrassing enough for you normally...but being handcuffed to your brother...meaning that Dean would get to see you getting your ass blistered like the little brat that you’re acting like...well, Sam,” he said. “I’m a thinking that would be a real bitch of a blow to your pride.”
There was dead silence in the room for a long moment and for a few seconds no one in the room even bothered to breathe.
“Now,” Bobby said, ignoring the look of shock on Dean’s face, simply looked the younger hunter in the eye. “It’s up to you, kiddo,” he said firmly, yet not unkindly. “So what’s it going to be? You can act like some naughty little brat that either needs to be exorcized or spanked...or the smart, intelligent young man that I know you are inside.” He looked at the boy. “But it is entirely up to you, son.”
And he had a pretty good idea that it was the term ‘son’ more than anything else that put that devastated look on the young hunter’s face.
“Sorry, sir,” he whispered, dropping his gaze to the floor...reminding Bobby once more of a little kid who’d just gotten in trouble.
The elder hunter smiled softly at the shame-faced little boy sitting in front of him. Putting on his best John Winchester impression, he tipped Sam’s chin up with his knuckle. “So what’s it going to be?” he asked firmly, already knowing the boy’s answer and just needing to hear him say it.
“Come on, Bobby,” Dean cried out incredulously, bristling at the elder man’s harsh tone despite his obvious anger at his brother. “Cut him some slack.”
“And you can keep your mouth shut too, Dean,” he replied. “If I wanted sass from you, then I’d a asked for it.”
He saw the fire ignite in the elder brother’s eyes.
Good. He knew that if Dean was pissed at him, then he wouldn’t be angry at his brother. Well, that was a start at least.
“So...” Bobby prodded again, still needing to hear the boy say it.
“It won’t happen again, sir,” Sam said, swallowing hard, looking properly chastised.
“Good boy,” he praised gently, leaning up and giving the boy’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Now,” he said, sitting back, glad to be done with playing the hard ass routine...at least for now. “For the love of God, can one of you two please tell me what happened on that hunt?”
There was another long moment of silence before someone spoke up. Bobby was surprised that, this time, it was the younger man who began to speak...and it gave him hope that maybe he’d actually gotten through that thick skull of his.
“Dean was right,” he said quietly, blushing softly. “When I said that it didn’t matter what we were hunting, I wasn’t trying to sound like a smart ass...”
“Well, good job there, dude,” Dean said, but this time his voice held no malice and the faintest of an affectionate smile played on his lips.
And Sam, bless his heart, actually began to blush. “Anyway,” he said, clearing his throat. “I...uh...just meant that it really didn’t matter what we were hunting because it...uh...wasn’t the hunt that was the problem.”
Bobby nodded, understanding instantly what the boy was saying...not that it changed his stance any, as the kid’d still been skating way to close to ‘smart ass extraordinare’ for his liking. “So what was?”
“Us,” Dean said. “We...uh...
“...kind of...got into...” Sam added.
“...a big fight,” they sheepishly finished together.
The elder hunter didn’t fail to notice that suddenly neither brother would look at the other...probably remembering just what they had done to end up in this mess to begin with. “This ought to be good,” he said, leaning back. “So spill...”
Keeper of Dean's Quarters and Sammy's tears
Member No.: 4,830
Joined: 26-May 06
hi all, here you gals go. Hope you all like this update. And be prepared for some more 'fatherly' Bobby. Hugs, JJ.
“We were hunting,” Dean said, licking his lips nervously. “But there were...uh...some complications.”
“No crap,” the elder man said dryly, vaguely motioning toward their bound together arms.
And the boy did manage a quick grin at that one. “Yeah,” he admitted, his lips twitching upward. “But that’s not what I meant.”
“Tell me about it,” Bobby asked carefully, still unsure of what the unidentifiable look on both boys’ faces was all about. There was something about this hunt...besides the obvious...that they weren’t telling him. “What were you after?”
“Wolf,” the elder brother said. “Real nasty son of a...” He stopped suddenly. “First one, since...uh...since...the last time we hunted one,” he finished inanely, shooting his brother a quick glance out of the corner of his eye.
Thank you, Caption Obvious, he thought to himself...though he was sure there was more to it than the kid was saying. “And did you get it?” he asked, when it was clear that the boy wasn’t going to elaborate any further.
Dean nodded, swallowing hard. “Finally,” he said. “Got scratched up a bit in the process, but...”
Bobby sat up with a start, recalling the complications that the boy had mentioned. “Just scratched?” he asked, a horrible thought occurring to him “Not bitten, right? Tell me you didn’t let the mutt bite you?”
Sam shook his head. “Just scratched,” he confirmed, as he used his left hand to lift up his shirt to reveal the nasty looking gashes it had been concealing.
“You?” the elder man asked, turning his attention his brother.
Dean also shook his head as he used his right arm to tug on the front of his collar, revealing a nearly identical set of gashes on his own left shoulder.
“You get them cleaned out okay,” Bobby asked gently as he surveyed each’s injuries in turn...concerned at the redness around the wounds, clearly infection was setting in.
He briefly fingered the puffy edges on the elder’s shoulder, noting the kid’s wince when he did so. Yep, definitely infection was settin in.
“Dean?” he questioned further. “Sam? Son of a bitch.”
And when he was still met with only silence, his eyes narrowed once more.
“You did clean them out with holy water and then treat them...right?”
And he watched as two identical looks passed over their faces before both young hunter’s dropped their gazes to their sneakers.
“Damn it to bloody hell you two...why the hell not?” he demanded, cause leaving a wound untreated was one thing that he would not stand for...and knew that Johnny would have royally kicked their respective asses for it, too.
“That’s why we called you,” Dean admitted softly, yet with a firm set to his jaw. “Cause we couldn’t manage to take care of our wounds one handed.”
“And the reason that you didn’t work together to do it was...what, again?” Bobby asked lethally when both boys fell silent.
“We...uh...” Sam began, when it was clear that his brother wasn’t going to add anything. “Kind of had a fight and...uh...didn’t trust each other to do it,” he finished softly.
“You didn’t...what?” the elder man said, his eyes neatly popping out of his head. That was the last damn thing that he’d expected.
He couldn’t have been more shocked by anything.
And then, and only then, did Bobby finally realize what he’d been sensing beneath the surface between the two of them...a lack of the brotherly bond that was usually there. They weren’t just pissed off at each other.
They actually didn’t trust each other anymore.
Damn...he never thought he would have seen the day. Their daddy must be spinning in his grave about now...well, metaphorically, as he didn’t actually happen to have one...but he could bet that were Johnny was, that he was beyond ready to kick his sons’ respective asses for it.
“You feel the same way?” he asked, Dean, when he finally gathered his wits about him enough to speak again.
“Yes, sir,” the elder brother said, looking away, at least having the good sense to let shame tint his cheeks as he remembered his own actions over the previous twenty-four hours.
“You don’t freaking trust each other?”
Two quiet ‘yes sir’s were his answer.
And he felt the vein in his forehead begin to throb. “You two idjits...you two stubborn jackasses...didn’t get the medical attention that you needed because you did not trust each other enough to make sure your wounds...which are not paper cuts, by the way...didn’t damn well get infected?”
And the ‘yes, sir’s were even quieter this time, more ashamed.
“Just what the hell is up with you two?” Bobby growled, still not entirely sure what to make of all this. Then he held up his hand angrily. “Never mind,” he said. “I’m gonna take care of your wounds...” He met both their gazes systematically. “And then,” he finished ominously. “I’m gonna take care of the two of you. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” the both parroted once more.
He knew that he wasn’t doing right by Johnny...and the promise to protect his boys that he’d made to him all those months ago when he’d called him from the hospital asking him for the words to that summoning spell that he’d known by heart for twenty years...by not smacking both his sons upside the head.
But there would be time enough for that later.
Yep, he decided. There would be plenty of time for some good-old-fashioned head smacking...like after he was assured that they were okay and then figured out just what the hell was going on between them.
“First aide kit?” he asked, massaging his temple softly. He could feel the Winchester inspired headache coming on already...and he’d only been here for five minutes.
“Table,” Dean said, not able to meet his eye.
Bobby stood, a hand on his aching back, wondering why it only took a short time in a room alone with these two to make him feel twice his age. “Good,” he said. “At least you two had the good sense to get it out and have it ready for me. Take off your shirts,” he ordered.
“We’re handcuffed together,” Sam huffed indignantly.
“Do not test me right now, boy...” The elder hunter grabbed the kit and returned, pressing a pair of scissors into the younger hunter’s hand. “Either figure it out or cut the damn things off...I don’t care which.”
But he had a feeling that they were going to be cutting up the shirts in short order, because in order to take them off, they would have to work together...and right then, as strange as it seemed, he just didn’t think that the two of them would be capable of doing so at the moment.
“All right,” he said as he sat back down. “Let’s get this taken care of.”
The two brothers looked at each other for a long moment, blushed, and then the younger brother picked up the scissors.
Bobby secured the bandage on Dean’s shoulder with one last small piece of adhesive tape. As he gathered up the bloodied scraps preparing to toss them, the elder Winchester passed him the two shirts.
“Might as well toss these too,” he said softly.
The elder hunter nodded, as he silently accepted the useless scraps. “Okay,” he said, after returning to his seat. “Want I want to know is how you two managed to get yourselves cursed. Werewolves aren’t exactly known for their elaborate spells.”
“The wolf didn’t curse us,” Sam admitted sheepishly. “The gypsy did.”
“Gypsy,” Bobby parroted. And then his eyes widened in realization. “Gypsy...Elena.”
They nodded silently, both blushing softly.
He groaned, remembering that time several months ago when the boys had been fighting and Elena, an old gypsy friend of John’s, had cursed Sam back into a little kid to prove to Dean that his relationship to his brother was more important than anything...and he hadn’t changed back into his normal freakishly tall self until big brother had truly learned his lesson.
“So this fight,” Bobby said, massaging his head once more. “Let me guess...happened before the two of you got cursed, not after? Am I right.”
“Yes, sir,” they said.
“Damn it to bloody hell,” the elder hunter growled, smacking his hand down hard on his own leg...the sound like a crack of gunfire in the otherwise quiet room. “So...let me get this straight...you two got into a pissing match and that gypsy bitch put a curse on you. That about right?”
“Yes, sir,” they parroted once more.
Then he stood abruptly. Crossing to their duffles, he grabbed two flannel shirts from the first bag he found. “Put these on,” he said, tossing them at the two, still sitting on the bed.
“Wha...” Dean began.
“We’re leaving,” he said, making an executive decision and giving the young hunters no choice in the matter. “You two are heading back to the junkyard with me,” he said. “And we’ll figure this out there.”
“But...” Sam tried.
“She cursed you for a reason,” the elder of the three said, grabbing his jacket from its place on the floor. Their pissy attitude toward each other, no doubt. “And we all know that you are not getting out of those until you’ve learned whatever lesson that you need to...so get your asses up and grab your stuff...cause we’re leaving.”
But he didn’t even bother to look at them as he headed for the door. “You have five minutes to be dressed, packed, and get your asses in the car.”
“Do not make me tell you two again,” the elder hunter said, voice icily quiet, showing his true deep fury. “Because I guarantee that you won’t like the consequences if I have too...understand?”
Two quiet ‘yes, sir’s were his only response, but Bobby didn’t even bother to look back as he stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him, and leaving a stunned looking pair of Winchesters...still holding their flannel shirts in their arms...in his wake.
Keeper of Dean's Quarters and Sammy's tears
Member No.: 4,830
Joined: 26-May 06
Hi all, here you all go. Hope you enjoy this little update (though btw it certainly pales in comparison to the epic eppy that was yesterday’s kick ass finale LOL) . Happy reading. Hugs and happy hunky Winchester thoughts, JJ.
Bobby was leaning against the truck, exactly four minutes and fifty-three seconds later, when the two of them finally came out the door...both trying to get through said door at the same time and, predictably, both getting stuck.
He surveyed them as they approached, both looking positively surly and only half dressed, their duffles slung half-hazardly over their outward arms. They were looking crankily at each other, still trying to walk at different paces...and still completely pissed at him if the looks they were sending his way was any indication.
But at least, he was happy that they had the good sense to throw a shirt over their bound wrists, just in case someone happened by and thought they were fugitives...which they were, by the way...and called the cops on them.
Dean’s left hand was cuffed to Sam’s right one...meaning that younger brother was going to be the one to have to drive. Yeah, cause he was sure that was gonna work well.
He briefly considered the idea of just letting them deal with it themselves, but figured that he didn’t really want any blood on the leather seats...and anyway, should something happen to the car when Sam was driving, that wouldn’t exactly making repairing their relationship any easier.
“Keys,” he said, instead, holding out his hand expectantly.
“What?” Dean said, stopping in his tracks, startling his brother, who simply kept walking.
“Not a difficult concept,” Bobby said. “I’m sure you can understand...I want your keys.”
The elder hunter crossed the tiny courtyard, stopping inches from the elder brother’s face, and getting in his personal space...but to the young hunter’s credit, though he swallowed hard, he didn’t back up. “Keys...now.”
“Yes, sir,” Dean said softly, reaching into his pocket and then placing the small ring in Bobby’s outstretched fingers.
“Thank you,” he said simply. “Get in the backseat,” he said. “I’m driving the Impala back.”
“But what about your truck?” Sam asked, finally speaking for the first time since exiting the building.
“I’ll pick her up in a few days,” Bobby replied, as they headed for the car. “Cause, from what I’ve heard...right now, I’m not sure that I trust you two to be alone in the car together without killing each other just for spite.”
“Come on, Bobby,” Dean said. “That’s ridiculous...we wouldn’t harm the car.”
Sam snorted. “Thanks, bro,” he said. “Good to know that you care.”
He shot his younger brother a dirty look. “You know what I mean,” he said, before turning to Bobby. “We’ll drive...you take the truck.”
“Fine,” the elder hunter said, opening the driver door, watching bemused as Dean slipped behind the wheel in his usual spot...leaving his little brother standing outside the door. And he watched, knowing the exact moment that the kid realized that the way they were cuffed that Sam would have to drive. “Still want to drive yourselves?” he asked dryly.
“No,” Dean said quietly, refusing to meet either of the sets of eyes still outside the car.
“My point exactly,” Bobby said, not missing the wounded look on Sam’s face at the realization that his brother didn’t want him driving his car. “So get your asses in the back and let’s hit the road...I’ll pick up my truck in a few days.”
It was a very long and painful four and a half hours later that the unmistakable roar of the Impala pulled into the familiar dusty lot.
Bobby had finally had enough of Dean’s sarcastic comments and Sam’s dramatic huffs, and had told them both to cool it...actually resulting to the oldie but goodie: ‘don’t make me pull this car over.’
Crap, he’d sounded so much like his own father that for a minute there, he’d actually scared himself. He could remember swearing that he’d never say that crap to his own kids...but just a couple of hours in a confined space with the two cranky brats in the backseat and he was turning into his old man.
And though he’d been bluffing when he’d said it, there had been a moment there, at the height of the smart ass, that he’d actually seriously contemplated bending them both over the hood of that precious car and blistering their asses with his belt.
“We’re here,” he announced, getting out of the car with a groan, deciding that he was just getting to damn old for this.
“Drop your things in the spare bedroom,” he said, a few minutes later, as they headed inside. It was almost midnight and he was exhausted. “You know where everything is. It’s late...I’ll deal with you two jackasses in the morning.”
Ignoring the ‘But, Bobby’s that were called after him, he simply turned and headed up the stairs, pretending not to notice the glares they were shooting at each other...or him, for that matter.
At the top of the steps, he turned back. “I don’t give a damn what you do about the two beds in there,” he called down to where they were still standing. “Share one, move them together, or sleep on the damn floor. I don’t care...but do it quietly. Because I’ve had a long day...and am in no mood for any more crap from the two of you tonight.”
And with that, he went into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him loudly.
“He sure is in a pissy mood, tonight,” Sam muttered.
Dean gave him a dark glare, before practically pulling him up the steps. “Come on...might as well do as he says.”
“Can’t wait,” the younger of the two added crankily, as he matched his brother’s gait as they headed up the steps together.
Bobby lay awake, simply thinking about things, as he heard two distinct sets of footsteps entering the room adjacent to his.
He’d thought, albeit it briefly, about giving them his room and the larger master bed in it. It was what he normally would have done in such a situation...but then had changed his mind. After all, they were in a mess of their own making. So why should he make things easier on them?
He smiled softly as he heard the sounds of one of the twin beds being moved...knowing that they would have to be doing it together, as they were too heavy for one of them to do one-handed.
Having been though one curse with them, care of the gypsy Elena Jenella Rose, he had a pretty good idea how this whole thing was going to go...they weren’t going to get free of each other until they learned to trust each other again.
And he could feel his headache coming on again...cause getting those two little stubborn sons of a guns to loose some of their stubborn should be about as fun as removing his eyes with a melon ball-er and then eating it for lunch.
And Bobby’s soft smile lasted until about the time that he heard raised voices and a distinctive ‘Ow’ coming from the other side of the wall.
He ran a hand over his head face as he wearily pulled his tired, aching body back out of bed. Crossing the room, he silently opened his door, and entered the door.
He stopped outside their door, preparing to give them both a piece of his mind...when the sounds from inside gave him pause.
“Shh,” Dean’s voice said quickly. “Before he comes in and kicks both our asses,” he said, in an exaggerated whisper.
“Yeah,” Sam agreed, his voice holding as much pout as his brother’s. “Seriously, what’s up with ‘Uncle Bobby’ today?” he asked. “He’s being such a hard ass...I mean, damn it, he actually threatened to...you know,” he added, sounding completely horrified.
“Uncle Bobby?” the elder asked, with a snort.
“Well,” the other replied, pouting. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s slightly less mortifying to have an uncle threaten to...” he paused clearing his throat. “...discipline me...” he added, sounding positively sick at the thought. “...than to, you know, have our father’s friend, who I, you know, thought was our friend too, threaten to... you know...do that.
Bobby had to slap his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud at that one. He knew that he probably shouldn’t be eavesdropping...but the hell with it.
His house...his headache...so screw it, he was listening in. And Damn, if this conversation wasn’t just making his whole day, too.
Uncle Bobby, he thought with a snort. He was going to have to remember that one. After all, he decided, a faint grin on his face, he was sure that he could fine an embarrassingly perfect time to bring that one up sooner or later.
“You don’t really think he was serious do you?” the younger Winchester asked, sounding horrified.
“Well,”Dean said, noncommitally. “You kind of did deserve it, dude,” he said.
“So did you,” Sam said, practically growling at the unfairness of it all.
“Maybe so,” the elder one said. “I might be a kiss up...but at least I know when to shut my trap to save my own ass.” There was a short pause...then... “Come on, Sam,” he said. “Let’s get some sleep and hopefully we can figure this all the hell out in the morning. Bobby might be pissed, but he’ll help.”
Bobby smiled at the two on the other side of the door. “That’s my boys,” he praised, making sure to keep his own voice soft enough to not be overheard.
He was glad to hear that they were having an almost civil conversation...even if it was over their mutual pissiness at him as of late. If it meant they were getting along, he was perfectly fine with that.
“Sleep tight, boys,” he whispered affectionately, as he slipped back in between his sheets, feeling a stirring in his chests as he thought about those two.
Damn infuriating little cusses, the both of them...not that he’d have it any other way, mind you...but infuriating nonetheless.
They were their daddy’s sons, after all.
“We’ll get though this,” he whispered softly, as he closed his eyes. “I promise you, sons, we’ll figure this out somehow.”
Meanwhile, in the other room, a struggle for comfortable sleeping arrangements began...a hushed conversation running underneath the other sounds.
“Shove over, damn it,” Sam growled, tanking a pillow out from under his brother’s head. “And you don’t get two pillows.” He growled as his brother shoved him back. “You’re as damn pissy as he is.”
“You really blame him for bein pissy?” Dean asked.
“Uh...yeah...not our fault we got handcuffed together. I mean...”
“You’re right,” the elder brother said, cutting off his brother’s argument. “It’s yours...now shut the hell up and go to sleep. I’m tired.”