Mink (minkmix) wrote,
Mink
minkmix

SPN Fic: Dalliance

Title: Dalliance
Author: Mink
Rating: PG - wee!chesters - Gen
Spoilers: None
Disclaimers: SPN & characters are owned by their various creators.
for olga...
Summary: Dean takes Sam to a playground on a bright and sunny day.



It was a bright and sunny day.

Too bright.

Dean let his hand search through the over sized army green jacket he was wearing until he found his father’s shades. They abruptly turned the clear shocking expanse of sky over his head into a soothing dull gray. Sprawled lazily on his back, he stared up at the wisps of white contrails left over by long gone passenger jets. Watching them slowly spread and fade away, his hands idly ripped up handfuls of grass, the fresh green smell sharp as the sunlight.

A sudden shrill shriek made him sit up and check the colorful network of metal bars, swings and shiny silver slides.

There were about a billion little kids swarming over the thing. It didn’t take him long to spot Sammy, standing on top of the monkey bars and looking around like he was considering jumping the good one hundred miles it was down on the wood chipped ground.

But the source of the noise wasn’t his brother. The shrieker was another little boy who was taunting his other squeaky peers. By the looks of it he was threatening to take a full face first header off his swing. He was up there too. The kid was swinging so high it was about to wrap over the top of the frame.

Dean had always wondered if it was possible to swing right over the top of one of those things. He observed the doomed kid a moment longer hoping that it might happen while he watched. Instead the kid did as he dared and let go of the chains at the swing’s highest arc.

Slumping back down into the grass, Dean rolled his eyes at the tragic thud and deep sorrowful wailing that inevitably ensued.

Kids.

Letting out a deep breath of boredom he let his hand search the other side of the borrowed jacket. About three pounds of spare change. A book of matches. The heavy weight of a Swiss Army knife. Some receipts. A half a roll of lifesavers. Dean picked off the lint covered top one and shoved the remainder of the uncontaminated candy into his mouth.

Some crazy high pitched shouting pulled his attention away from trying to unstick the fused candy apart with his tongue.

A little girl got her long hair caught in the tire swing chain. Dean watched the frantic mom attempt to untangle the tightly wound long curly blond locks by hand. A glance around found his little brother digging like a dog down in the oversized sandbox. The way he was at it, it looked like he was hoping to reach China. The small girl’s squeals as her mom worked to yank her to freedom quickly shifted to sobs. Dean shook his head and fell back onto the soft bed of grass, crossing his knee over the other. Good thing his dad had left his knife in his jacket. That lady might be needing it.

He unzipped the inner pocket in the jacket lining and let his hand feel around for anything else he might have missed. Some cash. Some paper. Dean pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper and examined it before opening it up. It was full of his dad’s chicken scratch in a dull silvery pencil. He turned it upside to get a better look at the bizarre symbol sketched in the center. It reminded Dean of a picture in his science text books of what a cell was supposed to look like. He turned it in another direction. It also kind of looked like the windshield after the wipers smeared bird shit across it.

Dean folded it again down the middle and did a few more times on the sides at various degrees of various sharpening angles. Holding up his work against the sun, he admired the possible aerodynamics of his creation.

Another shrill cry made him sit up on his elbows to survey the playground once again.

It was an adult this time.

Some lady was freaking out and yelling at Sammy to get down off the top of the lame little fake tree fort thing at the end of a wooden swaying bridge. It wasn’t even close to being a real tree fort because you could climb right into it by some stairs. It was enclosed over the top by some canvas frame that Dean was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to be climbing all over.

Sammy of course was right on top of the freaking thing and half sliding down the steep sides a few feet for every foot he gained.

Dean fell backwards again and turned his paper airplane around in his hands. He never had much luck with these things. He always wanted them to look cooler than functional which always messed up the range. Experience had taught him that the simplest designs always went the furthest.

He aimed his right for the sun and carefully redirected it a few times before letting it fly.

It didn’t go very far. Not really made for a trip to outer space anyway, it promptly flipped its course and came right back at him. It was a good thing he was wearing sunglasses because its sharp nose went right for his eye.

More screaming.

Dean sighed and sat all the way up this time, the over sized glasses slipping off one of his ears and falling lopsided across his face. Sammy was down on terra firma again and that lady had gotten a hold of him. She had him by the elbow and was looking around furiously for any sign of who might be responsible for his continued well being. Dean had noticed mothers did that every now and then. Usually if there was a good crowd of kids they just paid attention to their own, never noticing that one out of the herd was unspoken for by one of the women that sat around chatting, eating, reading or whatever.

But now and again you ran into one of these types. Dean was sure they meant well but he really wished that all the super moms would just mind their own damn business and keep their own kids from running into traffic. His little brother was stupid but he wasn’t that stupid.

He slipped two fingers in his mouth and gave out a loud shrill whistle.

Sam, almost hanging by her grasp, swung in his direction and waved happily.

“Don’t wave you retard.” Dean mumbled to himself as he got up regretfully from his comfortable lounge in the grass and brushed himself off.

Sam broke free from her grip easily as soon as he spotted his brother. Smiling like some weirdo, he ran over to him, sneaker laces untied and as coordinated as some goofy dog that hadn’t figured out quite yet how its legs worked in conjunction to everything else. To his credit, he didn’t fall flat on his face until he got right up to his brother and realized it was too late to slow down.

Dean pocketed the sunglasses, the sleeves of the old military coat covering his hands, the waist of it almost down to his knees.

Sam rolled around in the grass for a few moments until he suddenly stopped, panting with his exertions and momentarily mesmerized by the sky Dean had been contemplating for the past hour.

That super mom woman was walking determinedly in their direction.

“Time to go Sammy.” Dean said, hauling his little brother up by the arm.

“It’s cold.”

The sun was out but it wasn’t quite summer just yet. Dean had said the same thing to himself before they left for the park, grabbing the jacket on his way out the door. It looked even more ridiculous on Sammy that it probably had on him, and the late afternoon air was brisk and cool, spreading goose bumps up Dean’s bare arms.

By the time they were half way across the empty baseball diamond Dean turned and saw the lady had given up the chase. No more park for them for a while. She was the ‘call the cops’ type. For sure.

“Did you- did you see me jump?” Sam asked breathlessly as he tried to match pace with his taller sibling.

“Nope.”

“Did you see me? I jumped off the thing and then I went higher! Then I jumped off it even higher!” Sam stumbled over some cracked pavement but managed to right himself before wiping out completely. “Didja see?”

“Nope.”

“Was gonna jump again but that lady said I had to get down offa there.” Sam laughed a little at his own bold defiant gestures towards another adult. “Did you see? She said, you up there! You get down! I jumped down and she said, oh my god!”

Dean held up his aerodynamically flawed craft. Sammy’s eyes rounded predictably. The stupidest stuff got him excited. Sammy’s true state of exhilaration didn’t send him bouncing off the walls and blathering like most kids. Instead the real deal did the polar opposite, it always quickly and effectively subdued him. It was a trick Dean had learned way early on and exploited constantly.

“Want it?”

Sam nodded solemnly as he grabbed for it, the long sleeves of the coat in his way of getting a hold of it properly. The possession of it unsurprisingly quieted his post-play babbling which Dean was more than a little grateful for.

“Hungry?” Dean already knew the answer to that one. If he was starving that meant Sammy would be about ready to eat dirt by now.

Sam nodded, distracted by carefully unfolding what his brother had done and trying to walk at the same time. Dean felt in his jean pocket for the cash he’d snagged from the jacket earlier. Nice. It was a whole ten and change.

Dean smiled a little bit. It was what his father told people when they asked his oldest son’s age. Ten and change. For no particular reason, Dean felt the sudden need to celebrate the find of the small misplaced fortune.

“Let’s get fried chicken.”

“I want cereal.” Sam hopefully demanded.

“Shut up, we’re getting chicken.”

As they crossed the street, Dean thought about eating their dinner outside on those picnic tables he saw by the motel instead inside in front of the television. Maybe watch that clear blue sky darken and cool off to that tinged gold that shone flat and dull, stark through the black bare branches of the spring trees.

It would be a little cold, but Dean thought that for tonight he wouldn’t much mind.

Tags: dean pov, gen, spn one shot, wee!chesters
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