Hell's Half Acre (hells_half_acre) wrote,
Hell's Half Acre

drabble: "Lady at the bus stop"

Title: "Lady at the Bus Stop"
Spoilers: None
Characters: Dean and Sam
Genre: Drabble, gen, wee!chesters
Rating: PG
Author's Note: In truth, this is actually something that happened to me, when I was 14 and my little sister was 8. There's a reason I identify so much with Dean...


Summary: An encounter with a not-so-blind old lady at a bus stop.



Dean and Sammy were waiting for the bus outside the mall. They were living in a motel just outside of Dallas, while Dean and Sam went to school for the year. With the school year ending and oppressive heat of a Texas summer already weighing down on their shoulders, Dean know that it was only a short time until they were back on the road. He had brought Sam to the mall to stock up on the essentials of traveling gear, namely underwear.

Dean hated the bus, but Dad was off saving people again, and Dad had told Dean that he wasn't allowed to drive until he was sixteen, which meant that he still had plenty of time to wait. Dean thought that with his new low voice, he could probably pass for sixteen, but he didn't argue with Dad.

"I wanted to buy that shirt. Tim at school has a shirt just like it, it's really cool. Can't we go back and get it?" Sam suddenly spoke up from beside him. There were only a handful of people waiting for the bus: An old woman beside them, someone who looked to be either drunk or crazy sitting on a bench a little further away, a man pacing while smoking a cigarette.

"No. We got what we came for." Dean replied, rolling his eyes at yet another mention of the shirt.

"This trip to the mall was no fun. Underwear is boring. I don't even need underwear." Sam replied pouting, though Dean could tell by his tone that he was just trying to annoy him. It was only partially working. Dean grinned at him, to show that his game wouldn't work.

"Maybe not right now, but you will when -" Dean started.

"Listen to your father, dear" the old lady waiting beside them suddenly said, looking at Sam in what Dean could only assume was a grandmotherly way.

The joke that had been on Dean's lips suddenly disappeared, as his eyes widened. He watched as Sam's brow furrowed in confusion. He seemed about to speak back to the old lady, and Dean didn't know what to make of what she had said, but he knew that he didn't want to have this conversation with a strange old woman.

"Uh...yeah, and your father says that underwear is important." Dean quickly said, voice dry, while he gave Sam a look that he hoped said 'shut your cake-hole.'

Sam seemed to take the hint, and although the look of confusion didn't completely leave his face, he smiled at the lady along with Dean, and fell silent until their bus arrived.

Once they were alone again, Dean told Sam that the lady was probably mostly blind, had mistaken Dean's new manly voice for...well...a man. He joked about having a kid when he was four, about blind old crazy women. Then Dean let the subject drop and that was the end of that.

By the time Dad came back the next day, Dean knew that Sam had completely forgotten about the old lady at the bus stop. Dean hadn't, but he didn't mention it to Dad. It was a stupid blind old lady, and Dean didn't want to think about why the thought of it made him uncomfortable, why he had trouble looking his Dad in the eye. It was just a crazy old blind lady, who couldn't tell that the boy in the work boots and faded leather jacket was only fourteen.

Dean never forgot though, and he didn't know if he resented his Dad for it, or felt guilty for his feelings because he knew they implied something bad about his father - who was only not around because he was saving people, which wasn't fair to get mad at him for, no matter what Sam said.

... but he knew that whenever he saw one of Sam's plays at school, whenever Sam got a goal on his soccer team, whenever Sam's target practice was spot on, whenever Sam did anything that showed how strong, smart, and good he was, Dean always had this feeling of pride that he somehow knew wasn't something a sibling should feel. This feeling of wanting to turn to a stranger and say "That's my Sammy there - look how well he turned out, that's my work...that's my Sam. I did that."
Tags: fic, wee!chesters

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