Silent Drives and Zombie PuppiesSummary: Sometimes silence is golden and sometimes it needs a swift kick to the... well, you know what I mean. Humour fic - Dean, being Dean, blurts out something random about M&Ms and zombie puppies playing dead... which intrigues, and annoys, Sam to no end.
Disclaimer: Blah blah, don't own 'em, never will... yadda yadda, you know the rules.
Warnings: Usual language stuff and also, I am not responsible for any bad side effects you may get from reading this fic... seriously, don't blame me. Blame the gremlins... Hunt THEM down, not me.
This... this is a humour/crack fic. After all the angst lately I decided that I wanted to write something to break that up and so we have this little one shot which kinda grew from a one liner...
“If I were a zombie capable of minor thought then I'd want either a boat load of M&Ms or a zombie puppy to 'play dead'...”
“I’m sorry what?” Sam stared blankly at his brother, blinking twice and rubbing his eyes just to make sure he really was awake. The sudden announcement from his brother breaking into the silence that had fallen since getting in the car was more than a little… random. And Sam had to admit, it left him puzzled.
“Sorry, was just thinking out loud.” Dean flashed a grin in Sam’s direction, his eyes twinkling childishly and damn if he wasn’t just the biggest kid Sam knew.
“Err Dean…” He started, but instead he shook his head and turned away, a smile tugging at the edges of his lips, “You know what, never mind. I don’t wanna know.”
The silence fell again for a whole five minutes. Five minutes of nothing but the thrum of the radio - probably Black Sabbath. It sounded like Black Sabbath… but then Sam was no expert so he wasn’t even going to try and guess. Not out loud at least.
“It’d be cool though. The ultimate attack dog… can’t kill it ‘cause it’s already dead.”
And there he was again, breaking into the silence with random commentary. Was he deliberately trying to get to Sam? Or maybe he’d hit his head. That was probably it. His damn brother had a damn concussion and he was driving. Great… It was only a matter of time before he fell into a deep black hole of unconsciousness and took Sam with him.
“Are you feeling okay Dean?” He asked tentatively, eyes scanning for any signs of blood on his brother’s face or clothing. Thankfully there was none. But really, when he thought about it… what did that really prove? It was dark, Sam could only see one side of his brother’s head and even then it was still possible that Dean had hit his head hard enough to get a concussion but not get cut.
Yep, he probably had one big bruise somewhere beneath his sandy brown hair. Hell, the amount of knocks Dean had had throughout his lifetime, his brain probably was
one big bruise…
“I’m fine Sammy?” Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam, his voice rising at the end as if he thought it was Sam
who was being weird for asking.
“You sure? No headaches? Blurred vision? How about your temperature… you feel hot?” Sam questioned, trying for a smile as he remained unconvinced that Dean really was ‘fine’.
“Should I be asking you those things?” Dean shot back playfully, raising an eyebrow incredulously before turning back to focus on the road. “No Sam, no headaches, no blurred vision - I do not have a temperature but I am hot.” He grinned as he said the last part and Sam merely rolled his eyes at the implication behind the words, not even wanting to go there.
“How about hallucinations? You seeing anything that isn’t there? Hearing voices? The usual run of your mill hallucination…?” But still he tried. There had to be a reason for his brother’s random comment and Sam was going to get to the bottom of it.
“Dude… seriously. I’m fine. But I’m really starting to worry about you now. You trying to tell me something? Should I
be worried?” Dean’s tone rose a little, tightening as he stole another glance at Sam. It was barely noticeable but Sam knew his brother too well to miss it. But it wasn’t what he expected; it was the way Dean sounded when he was anxious about Sam.
Great, Dean wasn’t supposed to be the one worrying about Sam! It was supposed to be the other way around. It was Dean, after all, who was talking about zombie puppies being attack dogs and what have you. And this was just getting Sam nowhere…
“Sam?” His brother verbally prodded, brows kitting together into a light frown.
talking about zombie puppies Dean and you’re worrying about me
? What the hell? I mean… that’s just plain weird - even for us.”
“You don’t want me to talk about zombie puppies?”
“No- yes… I mean…” Sam took a breath. A nice deep long breath. That should do it. In and out. Just to calm himself, to gather his scattered thoughts. “What I want
is to know why
you’re talking about freaking zombie puppies.
“And you didn’t ask… because?” Dean quizzed, drawing out the last word as he rolled his hand a fraction to indicate he was waiting for an explanation.
Oh, Dean wanted Sam to explain his
behaviour. This was getting better and better. He was definitely doing this deliberately. He had to be. No matter how clueless his expression may have appeared, he knew exactly what he was doing and he knew exactly what reaction he’d get from Sam.
“I don’t know!” Sam whined, splaying his hands out in front of him as he shrugged and tried once again to return to the topic at hand. “But I’m asking now - why were you talking about zombie puppies?
“I think the more important question is… why not?”
“Okay, you’re messing with me, aren’t you? You’re enjoying this…” He huffed and folded his arms across his chest, sinking in his seat as he turned away. His brother was torturing him. Was there no end to this cruelty?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about Sammy.” Dean chimed innocently, his eyes straight ahead and focused on the road as they gleamed devilishly. The corner of his mouth twitched and Sam shook his head disbelievingly. Just how long was Dean planning on keeping this up?
“You’re a jerk, you know that right?”
“’Love you too Sammy.”
Letting go of a dramatic sigh, Sam sulked… well, maybe not sulked. Sam brooded. Yeah, sulking was for kids who took temper tantrums and stamped their feet on the floor incessantly whilst wailing loudly because they weren’t getting what the wanted. No, that definitely wasn’t Sam. He sat silently, glaring at Dean’s reflection in the passenger window and he brooded.
And Dean, he fell into silence too but just when Sam was sure his brother was finished winding him up, the commentary continued. He just never stopped. He never gave up…
“I’d call him Sparky. Sparky the zombified puppy. Unbeatable, brave through and through… ‘course that’s not thinking about the maggots. Huh, we’d have to find a way around them…”
“Right Dean… of course… Sparky… next town we stop in, I’ll buy you a collar and tag for your little friend.”
“Dude… are you crazy? I’m talking a purely hypothetical situation here… jeesh Sammy, mad much?”
Biting back the retort that settled at the very end of his tongue, Sam smiled tightly instead and turned away. His brother had to be the most undeniably annoying person ever. He had to be. And he got off on it, he actually enjoyed being annoying.
But the truth was… Sam wouldn’t have him any other way. Nope, zombie puppy or no zombie puppy - Dean was Dean and it was just how Sam liked him to be.
Thank you for reading!