Bangor or Bust (Supernatural, Sam)

[Always-a-Ginger]

I don't have words for how sweet this is so I am just gonna smile and say thanks.

thanks!

[HPG]

“Ughh, shut it,” Sam growls, nose buried in the tissues.

“I just said ‘jeez.’”

“I just said ‘shut it.’”

Then he inhales shakily and sneezes twice more.

“hhEHXRSHHoo! h-hhEHHXRSHHoo!”

“Is it okay if I say ‘Jeez’ now?” Dean asks lightly.

I laughed pretty gosh darn hard at that :-) Your story continues to be wonderful and I continue to love the fact that Sam sneezes in twos.

[sneezysammy345]

Awww. Poor Sammy. I just want to put him to bed and cuddle with him! This is awesome!

[sierraplaid]

“Is it okay if I say ‘Jeez’ now?” Dean asks lightly.

“Hey, man, you asked for it,” Sam replies easily. ‘“Just be sick,’ you said.” He sniffles thickly.

“Yeah, I did,” Dean says.

Awwwwww, Sam finally gave in Too cute

Love love loving these!!! can't wait ti read more and see what torture you through at these lovely boys!

Aww, thank you! I'm glad you're still liking it.

I don't have words for how sweet this is so I am just gonna smile and say thanks.

thanks!

Right back at you -- thanks!

“Ughh, shut it,” Sam growls, nose buried in the tissues.

“I just said ‘jeez.’”

“I just said ‘shut it.’”

Then he inhales shakily and sneezes twice more.

“hhEHXRSHHoo! h-hhEHHXRSHHoo!”

“Is it okay if I say ‘Jeez’ now?” Dean asks lightly.

I laughed pretty gosh darn hard at that :-) Your story continues to be wonderful and I continue to love the fact that Sam sneezes in twos.

Yay, I'm so glad! Your whole comment makes me very happy. Thanks!!

Awww. Poor Sammy. I just want to put him to bed and cuddle with him! This is awesome!

Thank you so much! I'm glad you're enjoying!

[Poniessneezetoo]

This is awesome, and Sam's so cute. I think it would be quite amusing if Sam did turn out to be that kind of sick, and then throw up on Dean - maybe that's just my weird sense of humour. But anyway, Sammy is adorable

[sierraplaid]

This is awesome, and Sam's so cute. I think it would be quite amusing if Sam did turn out to be that kind of sick, and then throw up on Dean - maybe that's just my weird sense of humour. But anyway, Sammy is adorable

Thanks for reading! I appreciate the kind words and I'm glad you're liking it so far!

[sierraplaid]

Here's the next part! Sorry there's been a bit of a hiatus--I thought this was all ready to go and then it started giving me fits in the final editing stage, grrr.

I should perhaps also mention, this is Part 5 of 7. (If a Mod would be so kind, could you please update the thread title to reflect this? Thanks! )

Part 5.

Day 3. 10:30 a.m. North of Columbus, Ohio

Sam swims back into consciousness out of a murkily-remembered dream that has him convinced, for a minute, that werewolves are definitely made up. There’s no such thing, he thinks, and it seems so stunningly clear and obvious, like a deep, certain truth. He hovers on the threshold of sleep and wakefulness a moment longer and the fog begins to lift a little and he’s not as confident as he was. In another second reality slides fully into focus and, with a pang of realization, Sam remembers the case they’re on.

Through half-opened eyes he can make out the shape of his brother’s silhouette against the window, arms crossed, drumming his fingers, staring out at the gray morning. (Dean has been up for four hours already and has more energy than he knows what to do with.) Sam figures that now would be a good time to start showing signs of life, sitting up, getting dressed… only, he doesn’t seem to be doing any of that because everything aches and his head feels ten pounds heavier than it should and he’s stuffy from his chest on up and his nose is already giving indications of starting up where it left off yesterday. He presses the heel of his hand into his forehead, breathing shallowly through his mouth until he ducks under the blankets and sneezes once, hard, like it hurts his head and like it’s really not the way he wanted to start his day.

“hRRXSHHoo!”

He sniffles and then surfaces to see Dean walking towards him, lets his eyes fall shut, then opens them again when he feels Dean’s palm at his hairline.

“Hey, Sam, I’ll make you a deal,” Dean says with a soft smile, taking his hand away. “I don’t think you’ll win this time.”

“Mmmm,” is Sam’s only comment.

“Sit up for a second,” Dean orders gently and heads for a duffel bag.

Obediently Sam struggles up onto an elbow, pauses, then pushes himself the rest of the way up as Dean returns to his bedside.

“Here, take these, go back to sleep, and we’ll try this again in another couple of hours.”

“Dean, I can sleep in the car,” Sam mumbles, hazily regarding the pills Dean places in the palm of his hand.

“Or you can sleep in a bed.”

Dean hands him a glass of water, watches as Sam swallows the pills, and then takes the empty glass from him. Sam is lying back down again before he can stop himself, eyes screwed shut, head heavy on the pillow, nestled into the bedspread like he doesn’t ever want to move again.

“Take it easy, get some rest,” Dean says, standing over him. “We got plenty of time.”

***

Sam sleeps like a professional straight through lunch and well on towards evening and Dean passes the time with a little bit of worrying and a whole lot of boredom and bad TV. After racking up two consecutive nights of eight or more hours of sleep he’s more well-rested than he remembers being in a long time and it’s a bizarre but not unwelcome sensation. He tries to channel this alertness constructively and ends up getting a respectable amount of research done, chain reading Minneapolis news of the weird, skimming one article while the next one loads in fits and starts over what passes for the motel’s wifi connection. By dinnertime, he’s compiled every remotely wolfy lead he can find and feels like he’s earned a hamburger.

When Dean returns to the motel room he’s greeted by the sight of Sam leaning in the bathroom doorway in fresh sleep clothes, toweling his damp hair.

“Hey,” Dean says, his voice full of pleased surprise.

“Hey.” Sam, on the other hand, sounds like crap.

“You’re vertical, anyway,” Dean remarks, setting a paper bag down on the table. “Feel any better?”

“I’m good,” Sam replies unconvincingly. Then he adds more truthfully, “Headache’s gone.” He’s flushed pink from the shower and the low fever he’s still trying to burn off, and with a glance Dean can tell from the controlled, deliberate way he’s breathing that he’s trying to keep from coughing.

“Hungry?” Dean lifts a styrofoam cup out of the bag and fishes for the spoon. “You should eat something.”

Sam breaks off drying his hair to sneeze into the towel. “hURXSHoo. Mm-mmm.” He shakes his head. “Maybe later.”

“Chicken soup doesn’t exactly improve with age.”

“hUHXRSHHoo! ‘m not hungry, maybe later,” Sam says again.

He’s clearly digging in his heels more out of habit than anything so Dean just says, “Suit yourself,” and retreats into the bathroom. He times the length of his shower to match how long he thinks it will take Sam to finish the soup, allowing for a few minutes of stubborn hesitance at the outset. By the time he emerges from the bathroom, Sam is sitting at the table, the open laptop, Dad’s journal, the tissue box, and the empty styrofoam jumbled in front of him. He’s coughing into the crook of his arm while tabbing through Dean’s research and he looks up and clears his throat as Dean walks over.

“So, werewolf,” Sam says with intention.

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “Werewolf.”

“And?”

“I’m thinking there’s one in Minnesota.”

“No kidding?” Sam is sardonically impressed. “Well, I’m glad you have something to show for these past two days other than, you know, having the 1-800 numbers for assorted infomercials memorized.”

Dean spreads his arms. “Could come in handy,” he says, and rattles off a string of digits. “Never know when we might need a good stainless steel steak knife.” Taking the seat across the table from Sam, he gestures at the laptop and says more seriously, “We’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel, research-wise.”

Sam turns away hastily to aim a sneeze into his elbow.

“EHXSHHoo!”

“I found everything I can for now. We’re just gonna have to wait until w—”

Sam cuts him off with a second sneeze.

“hERRXSHoo!”

“We’ll wait until we can do the legwork in Minneapolis,” Dean carries on and Sam pulls a pair of tissues from the box and folds them over his nose. “’sides, I think you’ve had enough fun for one day.”

“h… hEHXSHHoo.”

“All right, quit milking it,” Dean says, trying to sound callous.

“hhEHXXRSSHoo! Ughh, what time is it?”

“You’re still wearing your watch,” Dean points out, but he answers anyway, “Quarter to seven.”

Sam slumps back in his chair, sniffling and massaging the bridge of his nose. “God, that’s pathetic. I’ve only been awake like two hours all day.”

“Yeah, pathetic,” Dean agrees, straight-faced. “Almost like you’re sick or something.”

“Nah, can’t be,” Sam returns. “Hunters don’t get sick.”

***

Together they tidy up the table, then brush their teeth side by side. Sam crawls back in bed, ready to not be sick anymore, and Dean stretches out on top of his and flips the TV back on. For a while, Sam sits up, bedspread bunched around his waist, muffling bouts of coughing and the odd pair of sneezes into his elbow, until finally he gives up on the appearance of taking an interest in the college football game Dean’s watching (also pretty indifferently) and slides down under the covers.

“Doin’ all right?” Dean asks as Sam settles in.

‘“m fine, Dean, you may as well stop asking me that.”

“You really feel okay? Don’t take this as a compliment, but I’ve definitely seen you look better.”

Sam gives him a small, tired smile, half hidden in the pillow. “I mean, I feel crappy,” he says, “but I’m okay.”

Dean nods in understanding. “Well, you let me know if you start feeling crappy and not okay, all right?”

“Sure,” Sam murmurs. “Night, Dean.”

“Not that you haven’t been doing it all day, but get some rest,” Dean replies. “You gotta get better fast, man. I can’t handle too many more full nights’ sleep. It’s not natural.”

He grimaces and feigns a shudder and Sam gives him another sleepy smile.

***

As it happens, Dean needn’t have worried about getting too much sleep that night. He loses count of how many times he wakes up to Sam coughing. Sam keeps sleeping through it, though, and he always settles down pretty quickly so Dean doesn’t want to disturb him. But when Dean startles awake the fourth time—could be the fifth—he can tell that it’s worse, and Sam’s not stopping. Dean lies motionless, listening, taut, ready if he needs to be, and he makes it all of thirty seconds before he can’t keep himself in bed any longer, and then he’s up and standing over Sam, shaking his arm a little and calling his name.

Sam mumbles, “What,” still half asleep, still coughing.

“You should get off your back,” Dean says, sliding his hand under Sam’s shoulder nearest him. “Here, roll over.”

Dean starts shoving gently and Sam goes along with it. Once he’s settled, the coughing dies down, and Dean sinks back into bed. They’re both asleep almost instantly, as if they’d never been awake.

But it feels like only a matter of seconds later that Dean startles again, disoriented, like he’s time-warped ahead without warning. He looks over to Sam who’s coughing hard and has somehow made it onto his back again. He clambers out of bed, rouses Sam into just enough consciousness to get him to roll over, and then totters back to his bed and faceplants into his pillow.

And then, an hour later, Dean nudges Sam off his back yet again, not sure if Sam’s awake—not even sure if he’s awake—then sags down onto the edge of Sam’s bed, waiting for the coughing to subside. Dean lets his leaden eyes fall shut and rests his hand between Sam’s shoulder blades, so numb with exhaustion he hardly knows what he’s doing, until Sam’s muscles relax and his breaths even out. Dean drifts in and out and loses track of time.

***

(End of Part 5)

[Sass]

So excited to see another post from you! This is really sweet, love sleepy Sam!

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

Yay! You continued!

This is perfection!

[HPG]

Sam slumps back in his chair, sniffling and massaging the bridge of his nose. “God, that’s pathetic. I’ve only been awake like two hours all day.”

“Yeah, pathetic,” Dean agrees, straight-faced. “Almost like you’re sick or something.”

“Nah, can’t be,” Sam returns. “Hunters don’t get sick.”

It's a good thing they are in agreement. I loved it as always.

[sierraplaid]

So excited to see another post from you! This is really sweet, love sleepy Sam!

Aw, shucks. Thanks. I'm a sucker for sleepy Winchesters.

Yay! You continued!

This is perfection!

That's awfully kind of you to say!

Sam slumps back in his chair, sniffling and massaging the bridge of his nose. “God, that’s pathetic. I’ve only been awake like two hours all day.”

“Yeah, pathetic,” Dean agrees, straight-faced. “Almost like you’re sick or something.”

“Nah, can’t be,” Sam returns. “Hunters don’t get sick.”

It's a good thing they are in agreement. I loved it as always.

Thanks so much.

[sierraplaid]

Once again, "last minute" edits turned into "last week(s)" edits, apologies. I'm posting the final two parts in tandem, partly because it's been a while and partly because Part 7 is more like an epilogue kinda sorta. Without further ado or delay....

Part 6.

Day 4. 6:45 a.m. North of Columbus, Ohio

The next morning Sam’s coughing wakes them both at the same time. Dean can’t remember getting up off Sam’s bed and making it back to his own but evidently he did at some point in the night, because here he is, tangled in his own sheets and staring at his own patch of popcorn ceiling. He peers heavy-lidded at his watch and decides that’s enough for one night—may as well give up and get up. He drags himself out of bed, pads across the room, and pulls back the heavy drapes. Watery light swims into the room through the flimsy sheer curtains and washes over Sam who’s curled up, back to his brother’s bed, with his face buried in his pillow, trying to keep quiet. When he hears Dean running the tap in the bathroom he sits up coughing, deep and wet, into his elbow. Dean walks out with a glass of water as Sam catches a break.

“I was trying not to wake you up,” Sam rasps, his voice rough.

“Yeah, however will I function on a mere nine hours of sleep?”

“Thanks,” Sam says, taking the water from Dean. “Sorry I kept you up last night.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sam drives more shuddering coughs into his arm. As soon as he quiets down he says ruefully, “No way you got nine hours.”

“I’m rounding up,” says Dean.

“From what, five?”

“Round up from five, round down from four, right? You feel like going out for breakfast?”

Sam can’t stop coughing long enough to answer him so Dean takes that as a no.

Finally Sam says, “We should hit the road, though.”

“You up for it?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?” Dean double-checks. “You look like a wreck.”

“Thanks. Yeah, I’m sure,” Sam says with finality and a cough.

***

Just as Dean expected, Sam is lights-out before they’ve been on the road an hour, lulled by the familiar rumble of the Impala, the steady patter of soft rain, and the faint wet beat of the windshield wipers. Sam looks like he’s sleeping hard, making up for last night. A few more solid hours like that, he’ll probably wake up feeling pretty good, Dean thinks cautiously—back in shape by the time they get to Minneapolis tomorrow. A hesitant sense of relief begins to seep into him and he feels his shoulders unbunching as he relaxes behind the wheel, humming low under the hum of the engine. Baby drives smooth as new-laid asphalt, hour after rainy hour, until eventually they drive out from under the storm, the clouds pulling apart to reveal a pale, rain-scoured sky.

Dean drives and drives and Sam keeps sleeping and Dean keeps driving until they’re running out of gas. Dean had been hoping Sam would come around on his own, healed, before they had to stop. If he doesn’t fill up at this next town, though, he’ll only get them stranded.

“Damnit,” Dean mutters as he slows for the off ramp.

Sam starts to stir as the speedometer drops.

“Where are we?” he asks, sitting up. Before Dean can say anything Sam’s coughing again, hard. So much for waking up cured.

“Damnit, go back to sleep,” Dean says by way of an answer. Then he tags on, “Bangor, Indiana,” as an afterthought.

The coughing briefly morphs into laughter before relapsing back again, and Dean feels proud and guilty and vicariously exhausted all at once.

***

Wheels turn, hours pass, night falls. Sam’s reading a newspaper with a flashlight. Dean’s tapping absently on the steering wheel, grumbling a little about the snow that’s starting to float down in little flurries. Then he does a double-take at a road sign, dimly lit under the yellow oval of a failing streetlamp, and ten miles later he’s pulling off the highway. When he brakes for a stop sign, Sam raises his head as if waking from a trance and looses a string of wet coughs into his elbow.

“We stopping?”

“Seems like the place for it.”

“Where’s that?”

“Bangor, Iowa.”

Sam doesn’t gratify this with a response other than a tolerant smirk and goes back to his paper. Something half-seen in his periphery makes him look up again, though, and his eye falls disbelieving on a sign in a diner window claiming to sell the “Best Burger in Bangor.”

Sam finds his voice after the initial shock.

“Dean… what the hell did you do? How far out of our way did you drive to get us here?”

“I didn’t.”

“Bull.”

“I’m not kidding, Sam.”

“Bull,” Sam insists. “How far out of our way?”

“Two miles, maybe?” Dean guesses.

Sam gives him a look, then pops open the glove compartment and rifles through it until he finds their road map, folds it around, and takes a minute to pinpoint the town. Then he stares in astonishment.

“It’s a straight shot into Minneapolis.”

“Yes, thank you, shuttle copilot,” says Dean. “See, I know what I’m doing.”

Sam frowns at the map.

Dean’s pretty pleased with himself. “You can get the Bangor out of the boy, but you can’t get the boy out of Bangor.”

Sam’s not sure how to respond to that inanity so he just coughs instead.

“Am I dropping you off first?” Dean asks as he spots a motel a block ahead. Sam keeps coughing and Dean just says, “I’m dropping you off first,” and pulls into the parking lot.

The burgers Dean brings back to their room turn out to be not so much “best” as “only” and are nearly inedible.

“Karmically bad,” is Sam’s ruling. “Serves you right for bringing us here.”

“How would you know? Your taste buds are still probably screwed up,” Dean says as he heroically takes another bite.

“We should have spent the night in Ames.”

“Oh, yeah, greeting card-perfect Ames. At least this place has the name going for it.”

“Or Des Moines,” Sam says and muffles a few lingering coughs into his arm. “How many diners in Des Moines sell burgers, do you think, Dean?”

Dean glares, chewing mechanically.

“Just guessing, but probably more than one.”

“Yeah, all right, all right.”

“Just trying to make light of a tragedy,” Sam says, and then he coughs some more.

“At least when you’re coughing you’re not talking,” says Dean unsympatheticly as he gets up to fetch Sam a glass of water.

They reconcile over the fries, which at least comparatively aren’t so awful, and by the time they’re all brushed and ready for bed they’re both in pretty good spirits, mentally gearing up for the next day. Sam’s almost better, the road trip’s winding down, the moon is waxing, and tomorrow the hunt begins in earnest.

***

(End of Part 6)

[sierraplaid]

And the final part. (Could a Mod reflect "Complete" in the title, please? Thanks!)

Part 7.

Day 5. 7:30 a.m. Bangor, Iowa

Coffee.

Sun.

The whole world is sun and coffee.

Dean is adrift in a jumble of sensation, waking slowly into this tranquil, heady world where sunlight smells like hot black java and a billion coffee photons, in sun-gold liquid streams, flow over his eyelids and warm his face and all he knows is he feels so normal, like the world needs saving and he wants to save it, like he wants to drive his car forever, like his brother is there and he’s fine.

If the world is sun and coffee, then Sam is responsible for one of those—at least.

Dean rubs a hand over his face, opens his eyes, and sits up as Sam rests the carafe back in the coffee maker and turns and catches sight of Dean.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Sam says brightly. “Sun’s up.”

Sunlight is flooding in through their east-facing window, the low slant of the rays reaching up the far wall, bathing the room in early light.

“Not to mention,” Dean says, swinging his legs out of bed, “you’re up.”

Sam sits at the table with his back to the sun, coffee mug clasped between his palms. “Yeah, it’s 7:30, come on, man, we’re burning daylight.” Even as he says it he’s sprawling lazily in the chair, smiling, basking, his dark hair growing warm in the sun.

“So, werewolf,” Dean says.

Sam nods and swallows a mouthful of coffee. “Werewolf.”

“You good?”

“I’m good. Thanks for… putting up with me, by the way.”

Dean can’t have that. “You mean in general, or…?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Please,” Dean dismisses him, getting to his feet and snatching a pair of jeans off the top of a duffel. “As if you’re not a whole lot less trouble when you’re comatose for 22 hours a day. I should be so lucky half the time.”

Sam sets his mug down with an affected look of exasperation, unfolds out of the chair, heads for the coffee maker, and fills a second mug while Dean pulls on the jeans and a shirt. Sam offers the coffee to Dean and says, “So, you want me to take us into Minneapolis?”

“No,” Dean says, wrapping his hands around the mug. “Why’re you asking?”

“’cause I don’t trust you not to land us in Bangor, California.”

Dean pretends to consider it. “Is there a Bangor, California?”

“There’s a Bangor, Everywhere, apparently,” Sam retorts.

“That’s true.” Dean quirks an eyebrow. “How do you feel about a detour into western Wisconsin?”

“Not really in favor,” Sam says.

In an hour’s time they’re on their way, gunning north into snowy Minnesota. The Impala’s on her own on the sunny county road, a sleek black rumble just passing through. They’ll waste a werewolf a few days from now. It’ll be a piece of pie hunt, with any luck.

The End

[HPG]

I'm so excited to read it, but I'm supposed to be prepping for AP exams. I'll let you know how I like it on Friday, but I'm sure it will be wonderful.

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

Marvelous story!!!!

I loved every single masterpiece that you have posted!

Thank you so much for writing.

[HPG]

“Where are we?” he asks, sitting up. Before Dean can say anything Sam’s coughing again, hard. So much for waking up cured.

“Damnit, go back to sleep,” Dean says by way of an answer. Then he tags on, “Bangor, Indiana,” as an afterthought.

The coughing briefly morphs into laughter before relapsing back again, and Dean feels proud and guilty and vicariously exhausted all at once.

Haha!

“We stopping?”

“Seems like the place for it.”

“Where’s that?”

“Bangor, Iowa.”

Sam doesn’t gratify this with a response other than a tolerant smirk and goes back to his paper. Something half-seen in his periphery makes him look up again, though, and his eye falls disbelieving on a sign in a diner window claiming to sell the “Best Burger in Bangor.”

I thought he was joking like Sam did.

Sam sets his mug down with an affected look of exasperation, unfolds out of the chair, heads for the coffee maker, and fills a second mug while Dean pulls on the jeans and a shirt. Sam offers the coffee to Dean and says, “So, you want me to take us into Minneapolis?”

“No,” Dean says, wrapping his hands around the mug. “Why’re you asking?”

“’cause I don’t trust you not to land us in Bangor, California.”

Dean pretends to consider it. “Is there a Bangor, California?”

“There’s a Bangor, Everywhere, apparently,” Sam retorts.

“That’s true.” Dean quirks an eyebrow. “How do you feel about a detour into western Wisconsin?”

“Not really in favor,” Sam says.

That geography though...

Anyhow, bravo on finishing the story. I loved every word and thank you so much for writing it :-)

[sierraplaid]

Marvelous story!!!!

I loved every single masterpiece that you have posted!

Thank you so much for writing.

Thank you so much for reading!! It means a lot to me that you stuck with this all the way through, and I really appreciate the kind words you've shared throughout. I'm so, so happy you enjoyed it!!

“Where are we?” he asks, sitting up. Before Dean can say anything Sam’s coughing again, hard. So much for waking up cured.

“Damnit, go back to sleep,” Dean says by way of an answer. Then he tags on, “Bangor, Indiana,” as an afterthought.

The coughing briefly morphs into laughter before relapsing back again, and Dean feels proud and guilty and vicariously exhausted all at once.

Haha!

“We stopping?”

“Seems like the place for it.”

“Where’s that?”

“Bangor, Iowa.”

Sam doesn’t gratify this with a response other than a tolerant smirk and goes back to his paper. Something half-seen in his periphery makes him look up again, though, and his eye falls disbelieving on a sign in a diner window claiming to sell the “Best Burger in Bangor.”

I thought he was joking like Sam did.

Sam sets his mug down with an affected look of exasperation, unfolds out of the chair, heads for the coffee maker, and fills a second mug while Dean pulls on the jeans and a shirt. Sam offers the coffee to Dean and says, “So, you want me to take us into Minneapolis?”

“No,” Dean says, wrapping his hands around the mug. “Why’re you asking?”

“’cause I don’t trust you not to land us in Bangor, California.”

Dean pretends to consider it. “Is there a Bangor, California?”

“There’s a Bangor, Everywhere, apparently,” Sam retorts.

“That’s true.” Dean quirks an eyebrow. “How do you feel about a detour into western Wisconsin?”

“Not really in favor,” Sam says.

That geography though...

Anyhow, bravo on finishing the story. I loved every word and thank you so much for writing it :-)

Thank you!! It feels good to be done, and I really appreciate all your encouragement along the way. Also, thanks for pointing out specific parts you liked; that's very helpful for me as a writer. I'm so glad you enjoyed--thank you for reading!! (And I hope AP exams went well! )

[HPG]

Sam learned to follow his brother’s example, so he’s conscientious, an inveterate right elbow sneezer (Dean favors his left),

Sorry, but I just happened to be rereading this today and I noticed this line is so hot. I loved it.

[sierraplaid]

Sam learned to follow his brother’s example, so he’s conscientious, an inveterate right elbow sneezer (Dean favors his left),

Sorry, but I just happened to be rereading this today and I noticed this line is so hot. I loved it.

Can't believe I missed your comment earlier. It makes me crazy happy that you were rereading! Thank you! And I'm glad you enjoyed my little headcanon about their elbows of choice.

[lillian]

I adore this story! Sam stories just hit me in all the right places. Beautifully done, as always!

[estrelleta]

I'm verrrryyyyy late to the party here but ohmygod, this is amazing! Your writing style is just so tight and your characterisation is spot on...it's so so enjoyable to read :)

[Anilkex]

I feel like an ass for not commenting on this. Never-you-mind that I was story-hunting (ha). I chose a page, clicked, and this one was there. 

Without a comment from me.

So here is my official comment. Comments. Words. Late though they are.

 

First off, it's smooth. The tone is casual, it flows, it reads beautifully. Your words are pretty, and I like how they roll off the page. Screen. Whatever.

There's backstory, and while important, it's not the point of the fic, so it serves its purpose to frame Sam's stubbornness, and moves on. It also establishes their connection, sneaking in clips from their past for us to share.

Sam's cold, and Dean's response, aren't over the top or exaggerated. They're not understated, either. It's just perfectly balanced. Sam doesn't need an ice bath or massive hovering - he just needs space to be. Dean just wants Sam to be, so he can also just be. And that's the point - establishing their own rhythm and relationship, without Dad in the picture. What does that look like? It's Dean guiding Sam to just be. I like that a lot.

 

Maybe you're reading this thinking, "Sheesh, it was just a silly sickfic...how'd all that get in there?" Naturally, that's how. And that's why I really love this story.

 

 

[PeaceLoveHappiness]

This is absolutely brilliant!  I second just about everything everyone has said about tone, characterization, etc.  I'll definitely be adding this one to my list of favorites   

[estrelleta]

This has to be one of the best pieces of writing I've ever read on this forum.

[sneezy_frnk]

I loved this so much! the amount of detail is perfect and your descriptions of everything are lovely <3