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Pah. Am having ficcing trauma. Have been trying to write the cunning 5 times Sam realised that Dean is, of course, a total star, and I keep getting stuck. It does not flow out of me like... well, whatever. Grrrr. *whinge*
This is what I've got so far...
Five Times Sam Thought About Dean At Stanford
[1]
Sam Winchester arrives in Stanford on a wave of resentment and hurt, cushioned by a rather smug sense of superiority. So the great and mighty John Winchester has basically told him to never come back – so fucking what? What did he want to go back for? Nights spent in motels and crappy apartments, hunting the kind of monsters you usually only found in bad movies, never staying put, never settling, never normal - why would anyone want that? Well, fuck that. And fuck Dad, and fuck Dean, who just stood there and did as he was told. They were both losers. Sam isn’t going to waste another thought on them. He’s at Stanford. This is his life. This is his future.
[2]
Sam decides within a week that he has won the dorm room allocation lottery. Adam is level-headed, chilled-out and about as normal as possible. He doesn’t listen to cock rock at as loud a volume as he could manage. He doesn’t have poorly-concealed porn under his bed. He doesn’t steal Sam’s clothes and then bitch that they are too large. He doesn’t wake Sam up in the middle of the night with random questions about clouds or corsets or pigs and expect him to answer. He doesn’t talk with his mouth full, or laugh until he almost pukes at old cartoons, or show a disturbing affinity for weaponry.
He isn’t Dean.
Sam is almost 100% sure this is a good thing in a roommate.
This is what I've got so far...
Five Times Sam Thought About Dean At Stanford
[1]
Sam Winchester arrives in Stanford on a wave of resentment and hurt, cushioned by a rather smug sense of superiority. So the great and mighty John Winchester has basically told him to never come back – so fucking what? What did he want to go back for? Nights spent in motels and crappy apartments, hunting the kind of monsters you usually only found in bad movies, never staying put, never settling, never normal - why would anyone want that? Well, fuck that. And fuck Dad, and fuck Dean, who just stood there and did as he was told. They were both losers. Sam isn’t going to waste another thought on them. He’s at Stanford. This is his life. This is his future.
[2]
Sam decides within a week that he has won the dorm room allocation lottery. Adam is level-headed, chilled-out and about as normal as possible. He doesn’t listen to cock rock at as loud a volume as he could manage. He doesn’t have poorly-concealed porn under his bed. He doesn’t steal Sam’s clothes and then bitch that they are too large. He doesn’t wake Sam up in the middle of the night with random questions about clouds or corsets or pigs and expect him to answer. He doesn’t talk with his mouth full, or laugh until he almost pukes at old cartoons, or show a disturbing affinity for weaponry.
He isn’t Dean.
Sam is almost 100% sure this is a good thing in a roommate.
