“It’s stupid!” Dean yelled out into what Sam was finding comfortable silence. He didn’t jump at the outburst, far too used to Dean interrupting their quiet moments with his random thoughts and reread the sentence Dean had interjected on, an amused expression taking hold.
“What is?” He asked, offhandedly, not really asking but knowing Dean was shooting him an expectant look.
“So you know all those ‘fanfics’ about us out there?” Dean said, and Sam’s interest was almost piqued, but they long ago laughed their asses off about the people unknowingly writing about two very real people, instead of the characters they assumed them.
“Yeah.” Sam replied, flipping to the next page.
Dean paused there, chewing his lower lip and Sam made the heroic effort not to stare and let Dean finish his sentence. “Some of those are just, they’re so - well, bad, but, you have to admit -” Dean stopped again, and he seemed angrier, one hand flinging up in the air and grasping at nothing. Maybe it was searching for the point Dean was trying to make.
“Admit what?” Sam prodded, after a few seconds of nothing but frustrated Dean in his lap, and despite how much he wanted to get to the point in his book, he now also wanted to see where Dean was going with this.
“Some of them have some good freaking ideas, Sam.” Dean finally went with, deflated and sounding almost somber.
This turned Sam’s full attention to Dean, smile full play as he looked down at the top of Dean’s head with a cocked brow, “What?” He asked, humour apparent.
“Fucking hula hoops filled with god damned salt! Why the hell didn’t we think of that?” Dean bit out, and Sam would have laughed except - well. Despite how childish it was, it did surround them with salt.
Sam still wasn’t able to stifle a laugh, however, at the imagery of them - mostly Dean because Sam’s always had a fixation for his brother’s hips - trying to hula hoop and cut down demons and ghosts alike.
Dean turned in Sam’s lap, shoving at the book and Sam’s chest in irritation. “It’s not funny, Sam!” Dean hissed, his face red and Sam began laughing full force now, Dean’s small bats to his head increasing his humour and he let the book fall forgotten to the floor.
“Sam!” Dean hissed, again, and Sam combated his brother’s annoyance with a peck to the lips, effectively shushing him up.
Dean’s eyes narrowed, and before he could say anything else Sam spoke up, “You saying we should buy some hula hoops because some girl, or guy, out there, wrote about us using them?”
“Well, no, it’s just -”
“We always kick so much ass in those weird ass stories - and, it’s always because they think of shit that,” Dean stopped, as if it pained him to admit, “we, with all our experience, could not.” Dean fell into Sam’s chest, face first and groaning out his annoyance and Sam chuckled, papping the top of Dean’s hair and letting his brother mease out his anger.
“We kick plenty ass, Dean.” Sam said, Dean just mumbling something or the other in reply.
“Mpmh mh mphore.” Which Sam guessed directly translated to kicking more ass, and he shrugged.
“Then why don’t we prove them wrong?” Sam said, tone light, and Dean propped his chin on Sam’s chest and glared up at him.
“What do ya’ mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Dean,” Sam looked to the book on the floor, shrugged again, “we haven’t been on a good hunt in a few weeks, why don’t we find some poltergeist and show these fans how’s it done?” Sam asked, looking back at Dean and Dean almost brightened at that.
“They don’t know we’re real, Sam.”
“Chuck’ll know, and maybe he could find some way to include it in the next book.”
“We threatened his life to stop writing those.”
“Eh.” Sam said, uncaring, and Dean paused to think a moment.
“You know what? Yeah, yeah we can so fucking do this -” he sat up, swinging a leg over Sam’s to get more properly seated in Sam’s lap, “and I’m thinking we can get our own crazy ideas going.”
“How crazy you talking?”
Sam could only grin in reply.
drabble doodle combo as i try to make more ~complicated~ angles