WIP meme

Mar. 6th, 2009 08:37 am
sams1ra: (solitair muse)
[personal profile] sams1ra
stolen shamelessly from  [livejournal.com profile] bellatemple :

Post a single sentence from each WIP you have (or as many as you want to pick). No context, no explanations. No more than one sentence.

Wow. Talk about rubbing it in... Well, one sentence isn't going to cut it, so it's gonna be more. Also, most of these are pretty old... *sniffle* My muse must have been bored with me, cuz she's gone. *sniffles some more*

"You'll see. One day when you're thirty or something, you'll have children. Then we'll talk," John said, and Dean snorted.

"Right," he said, "Like I'm gonna live to thirty. And there's a reason they invented rubbers, you know."


She taught Dean to change Sammy's diaper and how to give him a bath. She taught him how to care for his brother, and wished John would take care of them both. 


"Dean and Hanna, sittin' on a tree. K-I-S-S - OW!"

"Shut up Sammy!" Dean snapped.

"Dean has a girlfriend, Dean has a girlfriend," Sam sang over and over, ducking his brother and running around the small kitchen.

"Sam, shut up!"

John smiled into his coffee, mostly ignoring the boys and the teasing until the words sank in. Dean has a girlfriend? Huh? When did that happen? Wasn't he the one that kept saying girls are yucky?

"First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Hanna with an OW, that hurt jerk!"

"So shut it, fart breath!"

But John was so caught up reminiscing about Dean in pre-school, how he came home crying because Sue-Anne threw her pudding at him and Mary-Beth kept pulling his hair, and how he hated girls, that by the time he said, Hey! Watch your mouth!, neither boy was in the kitchen with him.


"Well, leave it to you to piss off even the most pacifistic spirit," he muttered, grinning at the hateful glare the older hunter shot his way. "But seriously, I think you're just doing this for the free popcorn."



"Dean. What's wrong? Is Sammy okay?"

"Dad, come back."

"What is it? Something wrong with your brother?"

"No, but,"

"You ran out of money already? I left you more than enough..."

"No, Dad, it's not that. Just... Come back. Please?"

"Dean, you know better than to call me on a hunt. I'll be home in a couple of days. We'll talk then."


"You're not stupid, Sammy," Dean said patiently. Who knew the kids around here started learning their letters in kindergarten? Who knew this stupid town had an excellence program and now both he and Sammy were way behind? Although, physics was so much cooler when you got to watch stuff blow up. Dean snickered to himself.

"Shut up! You can't make fun of me, I'll tell!" Sam cried and pushed Dean away.


"Dean, honey, I'm serious. Turn that music down and open the door right now! I mean it, Dean, if you don't open the door right this minute, I'm getting the master key!" Mary cried, pounding on the door again, but the only sound from the other side was the loud music. Mary covered her mouth with her hand, trying to fight the gagging. She was really not in the mood to argue, and a headache was the last thing she needed right now.

She let out an exasperated sigh. "As you wish," she said and went to her bedroom to get the master key John hid in their closet. She stopped at the bathroom and dry heaved. God, she hated throwing up.

Getting up and flushing the toilet, Mary washed her face and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She'd never used the master key before. That was always John's forte. She was the one always preaching about privacy. But the music was just too damn loud, and drinking was something she couldn't accept. It was better if she handled it herself, anyway. John would tear the boy a new one.

She made it back to Dean's room and unlocked the door. She rolled her eyes at the clothes lying on the floor and turned the music off. "Dean?"

That's when she noticed the empty bottle of Jack on the floor, noticed her son on his bed. "Oh, dear God, Dean!"  And that's when she threw up all over the carpet.


"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I work here."

"The hell you do. You should be at school!"


"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to wait with the other parents behind the police tape."

"Like hell! That's my boys in there!"

"I understand, sir, but it's also all these people's kids, and they're all behind the police tape."

"I have to get to my boys!"

"I assure you, we're doing the best we can. People running around panicking is just making our job harder. It means we have to worry about you, and not the children. Is that what you want?"

And then another shot was fired.



Sam smiled and rolled his eyes. "Tammy and I are not that serious, Mom. No need to look for embarrassing baby pictures," he joked, trying to lighten the mood. Mary laughed, though it sounded more like a sob, and handed him the baby album.

Sam sad down next to her with the album in his lap, and opened it. The name on the first page wasn't his. It said Dean - in big block letters, with teddy bears and balloons around each letter.

The first page had the baby bracelet from the hospital and a copy of the birth certificate. Next came the pictures from the hospital, and after. Pictures of a baby who was neither him nor Collin nor Diana.
There was another album, in which the kid is bigger. Blond kid, happy, with a smile that brightened a room. He looked cute and full of life.

"Mom?" Sam asked uncertainly.

Mary smiled at him, her eyes shining with tears. Her voice shook as she spoke. "That's Dean," she said, running a loving finger over the photographed chubby cheek. "You big brother Dean," she added, and then started sobbing again.


Brought him back whole his ass. His eyes stung more than half the time, he was so goddamned tired all the time, but he couldn't sleep. And frankly, drinking was not fun anymore, which sucked.

Sam and Bobby kept giving him these looks. Admittedly, it wasn't as bad as it was when he first came back, but he still caught them every now and then. These looks. Like he was some fragile puppy or something.
He wasn't fragile. And if anyone was a puppy, it was Sam.


"Of course I'm okay," Dean said, "What are you doing up, squirt?" He asked, trying to control his breathing and the rapid pace of his heart. "Ow! What did you do that for?" He cried indignantly.

"Stop calling me squirt, moron!"

"Awww, Lilly, you know you love it when I call you a squirt."

"Sure, Dean Bean, I just love it when you're being a jerk."

So you see? I'm not just lazy, I'm really and truly stuck.

Hey, I tell you what. Give me prompts, and I'll do my best to write them.
Anything goes, as long as it's gen.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-03-06 12:13 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pippii.livejournal.com
Oh hon, theese looks really amazing I wish that your get youe inspiration back and finish them.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-03-06 03:22 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sams1ra.livejournal.com
Thank you! I'm glad you like these. And I do hope my muse comes back. I'm really starting to miss her.


sams1ra: (Default)

May 2009


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