E/O Drabble Challenge
Challenge Word: SNOW
Word Count: 400 words on the nose.
Other players in the challenge are now too many to list here! There're lots of people raking up these Supernatural leaves. You can find the list of names at Enkidu07's profile page and/or OnyxMoonbeam's profile page. Also, to find all of the lovely drabbles, there's a sweet little C2 community out there to subscribe to and enjoy. You can find the link on their profile pages mentioned above.
Disclaimer: Neither the boys nor anything related to Supernatural belongs to me. I'm just having some fun with the boys, playing around with Eric Kripke's sandbox.
By: Vanessa Sgroi
Sam startled when Dean suddenly levered himself off the bed, stuffed his feet into his boots, and headed for the door. Pushing himself up against the headboard, he ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.
"Dean? What's up?"
Dean didn't answer which brought a frown to Sam's face. Now he stood, followed in Dean's footsteps, stopping in the doorway in deference to his shoeless state. Peering through the gloom, Sam was surprised to see Dean standing next the Impala, scooping up handfuls of snow—tossing it, packing it, even sniffing it. It was when Dean stuck out his tongue and tasted it that Sam spoke again.
"Uh, Dean? What's goin' on, man?"
When Dean again remained silent, Sam's worry ratcheted up a notch. He hurried back inside to grab his shoes.
*SN* *SN* *SN* *SN*
Dean opened the door, staring outside in wonder. He wandered toward the Impala where he began to scoop up handfuls of snow. It was cold yet it felt good—at least for the moment—and it was wet and clean and fresh. He stuck out his tongue and licked the snow, relishing the feel of the flakes rapidly melting. It was strangely refreshing and rejuvenating, even though an hour or two from now, Dean knew he'd be cursing the inclement weather six ways from Sunday. He raised his face to the heavens, let the snowflakes tickle his face. Dean sensed Sam's presence next to him.
The elder Winchester held out a handful of white stuff. "Snow," he announced, a beatific smile on his face.
"Uhh, yeah, I see. What's goin' on with you, man? I'm a little worried."
Dean sucked in another mouthful, finally meeting Sam's gaze. "There wasn't any snow in Purgatory."
"Wasn't much of anything in the way of seasons. There was heat and sweat. Dirt and blood. And these thunderstorms that were so crazy intense…" Dean shuddered. "But no snow. I was just—I dunno—it looked so…inviting." He shrugged, embarrassed.
"No, no, I get it," Sam replied. "Hey, why don't we…uhh…if you want to, we could build a snowman or something."
Sam bit back a groan, remembering epic wars from childhood. "Sure. Snowball fight—after we dress warmer." He headed for the room. His hand was on the knob when a snowball hit him in the back of the head.
"Score!" crowed Dean.
"Keep it up, big brother. Payback's a bitch!"