Title: Gonna Make Me Fly
Characters: Sam, Dean (gen)
Word Count: 1,414
Disclaimer: None of the Winchesters belong to me, alas.
Summary: Dean always comes up with something crazy for Sam's birthday.
Notes: Beta'd by grrli and arwensouth. Thank you both! This story was inspired by a request made by fates3 a little while ago. It's also for batoutofkansas prompt #29. And the melody's gonna make me fly/Without pain/Without fear. Aaaaaaand, this fulfills the "first driving" prompt for the spnchallenges Firsts Chart Challenge, which completes that challenge for me! Triple-dipping, wheeeee.
Sam heard a metallic jingle and looked up to see the car keys dangling in front of his face. He'd drifted off into space while waiting for Dean to finish checking out of the motel.
"You wanna drive?"
"Uh, is this some special occasion I've forgotten about?"
Sam cocked his head to the side, looking more closely at Dean. "Your knee bothering you?"
"No, Jesus, just thought you looked bored. I don't know." Dean shrugged, his faced twisted up into a clear what-the-hell expression.
Sam narrowed his eyes. "Who are you and what have you done with Dean?"
"Look, you don't want to drive, just say so."
"No." Sam snatched the keys out of Dean's hand and let himself into the Impala. "I'll drive."
Sam sat down, sliding into the well-worn drivers seat, and when he wrapped his hands around the wheel and felt it warm up under his skin he suddenly remembered another day, almost ten years ago now.
"Sammy, wake up."
Puffs of air Dean's whispered words blew into Sam's ear, and he twitched his head away from the irritation. "Shuddup."
"Come on, we gotta get out of here now if we're going."
Sam looked at the clock--6 am. He sighed heavily and sat up in bed, glaring at Dean. "If you're waking me up to give me a birthday spanking again I'm going to bite you."
"Even better, kid. Birthday donuts." Dean picked up Sam's jeans and tossed them at the bed. "Come on, two minutes and I'm out of here."
Dean walked out of the room, and Sam rolled his eyes at his back. They didn't usually have money on hand for much in the way of birthday presents, but every year Dean came up with something ridiculous to mark the occasion. Birthday noogies, birthday Jolt Cola marathon, birthday trash-bag slip-n-slide. Now, for his fourteenth birthday, Sam was getting donuts? Great.
Still, there was no resisting Dean this early in the morning. Sam pulled on his jeans, jammed his feet into his sneakers and grabbed a shirt on the way out the door.
Dean's call startled him out of his contemplation of his sneakers, and Sam looked up just in time to see something sailing through the air, on an apparent collision course with his head. He reached up and grabbed the key ring in time to keep it from smacking him in the face. The car keys felt cold and strange in Sam's hand, and the wide grin on Dean's face didn't make any sense.
"You wanna drive?"
"But, I'm not 16." Sam stepped up to the driver's side door of the Impala and touched it, not sure if he should get in.
Dean pulled a card out of his wallet and held it out to Sam. "This learner's permit says you're 15 and three quarters, so you're good to go, dude. Get in."
Sam examined the ID--his face with July 8th, 1981 for the birth date. Holy shit, he could get into a lot of trouble for this, but driving… He felt like he'd spent his whole life in the back seat, and Dean had been driving for years already, so yeah. It was time. Totally time.
Time to go a hell of a lot faster, according to Dean.
"Sammy, what the hell? You can't go 35 in a 45 zone in a car like this. It's embarrassing!"
Sam just clung to the wheel, not daring to turn his head far enough to look at Dean for fear of immediately running the car into a ditch or a car or a person or a dog or a mountain or something. He couldn't understand how he could possibly drive faster, when he already felt like he was barreling toward death--or, at the very least, destruction--with only the slightest control over the movement of the car. Even the car itself wanted to go faster, picking up speed every time he pulled his foot away from the brake pedal.
"Sam, goddamnit!" Dean sounded like he was about to have a stroke or something, sounded like Dad did when he was about thirty seconds away from pulling the car over. Sam wished he could pull over, but there wasn't enough of a shoulder to pull over on.
"I can't! I'm going too fast already!" Trees and brush whipped by in Sam's peripheral vision, and he imagined deer at the side of the road, tensed to spring in front of him. And, and hitchhikers and people on wobbly bikes, and he knew he was going to kill anyone stupid enough to be on this road so early in the morning. His arms and hands ached from the tension, and he wished Dean had never offered him the stupid car keys.
"I'm going too fast," he repeated, too flat-out scared to be embarrassed at the tone of his voice.
"You're not." Dean's hand suddenly loomed beside Sam and landed on Sam's hand on the steering wheel.
"Geez, you've got to stop clutching the wheel like that, man. It's not trying to get away."
Sam wasn't so sure about that.
"Look, relax. You're way too tense, and this is not hard, okay?"
"I can't," Sam replied again, hating the fear that he could hear in his voice.
"Okay." Sam was sure Dean would tell him to stop--stop right in the middle of the road, since there was no traffic so early in the morning on a Saturday. "Let's try this."
Sam kept his eyes plastered on the way-too-quickly-moving road in front of him, but he could hear Dean rummaging around in the box of tapes at his feet. He heard the snick of a tape being pushed into the player and jumped, sending the car into a small but utterly terrifying swerve, when the music came on at a blasting level. "Dean!"
"Sorry!" Dean quickly turned the music down, quieter than they usually listened to it.
Pink Floyd, The Wall, right at the beginning of "Is Anybody Out There." Yeah, this was a good one. This was okay. Sam kept his attention on the road, but the music crept into his body, and he felt his arms loosen up, his hands gripping the steering wheel not quite so tightly. The car started to feel like it was rolling to the rhythm of the song, and as the road seemed to slow down Sam felt his heart beat slow, his breath become smoother in his chest. The car wasn't fighting him anymore, wasn't trying to take control.
"Watch your speed, Sammy," Dean murmured from beside him, and Sam opened his mouth, ready to tell Dean he was doing his best, when he glanced down at the speedometer. The needle hovered just over 50.
Sam felt a spike of fear again, but he let up on the gas pedal, and the needle went back down to just over 45. It didn't feel too fast, didn't feel out of control. Man, driving felt great!
By the time the speed limit went down to 35 as they hit the strip of stores at the center of town, Sam had the window down, tapping his left hand on the door frame in time to the music. He saw the sign for the donut shop on the side of the road and looked over at Dean. "Do we have to stop?"
"Dude, I'm seriously in need of some sprinkles. Let's go."
"Okay." Sam pulled into the lot and then stopped, staring at the row of parallel lines. "But Dean?"
"How do I park?"
Sam jerked back to the present at the sight of Dean's rough fingers waving an inch in front of his face.
"Hey, Major Tom, please come in."
"Sorry." Sam looked over at his brother sitting in the passenger seat, annoyed and impatient, and he couldn't help smiling at how much some things never change.
"What? Why're you looking at me like that?"
Sam just grinned again, noticing that the parking lot was empty, wide open. He pulled the car out of its spot then turned the steering wheel hard to the left and pressed the gas pedal, sending the car into a circular path.
"Hey!" Dean braced himself with one tense arm on the dashboard, his other hand splayed flat on the window. "Dude, what the fuck?"
Sam just laughed, glancing over at the look of indignant horror on Dean's face. "Birthday donuts."