A/N: The Live Journal group SPN_BigPretzel held a Drabble Challenge over the weekend. It was tons of fun, and the writers were divided into two groups, Team Sam and Team Dean, and asked to write as many sweet, "aww" inspiring, or funny drabbles as they could for their chosen brother. I was on Team Sam. Below are five 100 word drabbles written about Sam's Stanford Era. I hope you enjoy.
He was in California before he ever noticed the tiny lump in the jacket he'd slung over his duffel. Dean had been the one to hand him his things when he'd dropped him off at the bus station. Sam knew Dean had also been the one to leave this little reminder behind.
Sam pulled the plastic soldier free, holding it between two fingers. "Where did Dean find you?"
The soldier didn't answer; he heard his brother's words instead. "I don't care what you think of me, Sammy. I'll always be there for you."
Sam smiled at the toy. "Thanks, Dean."
"Salt and Pepper, Minus the Pepper"
When Jess had first visited his room and knocked a stack of salt boxes out of his cabinet, the simplest lie had seemed like the best: "I like my food salty." Then he'd rambled on about the dangers of low-sodium diets being equivalent to the dangers of high-sodium diets. He hadn't shut up until she'd kissed him.
The conversation was forgotten until a month later, when Jess cooked him breakfast.
Sam pressed his lips together, trying to hide multiple attempts to swallow by nodding in approval. Finally, the eggs made it down. "Just the way I like them… Thanks, Jess."
It was a prime example of why he loved her so much: Jess didn't questioned him when he bought the leather jacket from the thrift store, but never wore it.
Brown, beaten, and worn bare at the wrists and buttons, it wasn't much to look at and a size too small, but Sam hung it in his closet, nevertheless. He realized it wasn't the same one. And, it didn't really smell the same, either, but occasionally, he'd lean close and take in a whiff of leather.
Then he'd be home.
Feeling homesick, he'd been told, was part of being normal.
"July 16th, 2005"
When Jess heard him sneaking into the apartment after 2a.m, she knew she should worry.
Part of the appeal of dating Sam was his mysterious nature—it was also one of the most aggravating things about him, too. Though Jess trusted Sam not to hurt her, a nagging voice in her head made her question the late hour.
"Sam, baby, we need to talk…"
Surprised that she was awake, he'd dropped the item in his hands. She switched on a lamp.
"Is that the new Harry Potter book?"
Okay, maybe Sam wasn't so mysterious after all. Jess snorted. "Dork."
"About a Sam"
"What can I say about Sam?"
It was rude to listen, but Sam couldn't help himself. He perched behind the open bedroom door while Jess leaned an elbow onto the kitchen counter, phone at her ear.
"Mom! I can't believe you asked that!" Jess chuckled. "Pre-law… Kansas… One brother, older… Hmm, what else?"
Sam winced, hoping Mrs. Moore wouldn't ask anything detailed about his family.
"He's not boring!" Jess grinned, shaking her head. Sam mimicked her. Boring was the goal. "Sam is—Sam's just Sam…"
Not Sam the hunter. Not Sam the son. Just Sam.
"Yeah, Mom... I really do."