rating: s for schmoop + c for competition, 14a for short.
notes: 780 words, written very quickly. :)
summary: Sam and Dean come across a carnival.
The tilt-a-whirl was going to give him a massive headache, but fuck if he cared, 'cause he had Sam plastered against his side and the lights made everything so amusing. Everything sped by so fast and he didn't have to worry about a damned thing.
"Ten bucks says you'll miss." Dean said, and he shot again, doing surprisingly well considering he was shooting one-handed, bracing the butt of the toy rifle against his hip.
Sam leaned in, let his lips brush Dean's ear.
"I say I'll make it."
"Fair enough." Dean murmured.
"Best part, dude!" Dean exclaimed. Sam shrugged and dug some change out of Dean's back pocket.
The concession stand girl - this seventeen year old kid with pink hair and a lip ring - nodded slowly, and started up the machine.
Dean buried his face in the cotton candy, and when he came up for air there were bits of pink stuck to his nose and his eyebrows and the corner of his mouth. Sam bent and licked them all off.
"I dare you to eat all of these and then go on the tilt-a-whirl." Sam looked over all the pizza appraisingly, as if measuring to see how much they could collectively handle.
"What? What kind of dare is that?" Dean waved his good arm around, encompassing the whole stand and it's environs. "I've fought in all kinds of conditions - sick! puking! bleeding from the head! right after that dinner in Louisiana, remember that? Could barely stand, so fucking full... - what makes you that would slow me down?"
Sam pushed the pizza box over. "Double dare you."
"Fine!" Dean grinned. He picked up two slices, squished them together and took a huge bite.
Sam made an eww! face.
Dean shrugged, said "whaa?" around a mouthful.
The girl running the shooting range winked at them and handed over all together way too many stuffed animals.
"We don't have room for all of these!" Dean whined. He was carrying two teddy bears under each arm, and Sam had a stuffed dog the size of a small pony slung over his shoulders.
"Where are we supposed to put them?" Sam asked, "We can't just throw them out."
"Sure we can." Dean moved toward a conveniently placed can, but Sam caught his elbow.
"Hold on, you owe me. And I've got a better idea."
There was one of those Salvation Army things set up, even though Christmas was months away. A tired-looking woman in a red pantsuit was perched on a stool beside the collection bowl.
"I can't see why we can't just give these to her like normal people." Dean complained, and Sam rolled his eyes.
"Normal people? Besides, this way's hilarious."
Dean nodded. "Yeah, guess so."
They crouched behind the tilt-a-whirl operator's stand, grinning like little kids. Sam counted down wordlessly, two one...
They sprinted towards the woman, cutting through people and packs of little kids, getting close enough to throw all the toys at the base of the woman's stool, she shrieked and then she giggled.
Sam and Dean ran past her and ducked behind a cotton candy stand. "That was so much more fun than it should have been." Dean wheezed.
"Yeah," Sam said, "and you still owe me."
"Wanna get some pizza?" Sam asked casually, and Dean grinned.
"Two tickets." The carousel operator said lazily, and Dean shoved his good hand into his back pockets, digging out the crumped tickets he'd found on the floor.
It was one of those pseudo-antique deals, spinning around slowly. "You don't actually expect me to ride that?" Sam joked, and Dean shook his head; laughed.
"Nah," he shot Sam a sideways look, "c'mon."
They moved to the centre. Safety mirrors lined the middle and Dean leaned against it instead of hanging on to one of the horses or in a carriage or whatever. He planted his feet shoulder-width apart, and Sam stepped in easily, bumping his hips against Dean's, tugging on one of his beltloops lightly. Popcorn crunched beneath them, leaving little smears on the iron flooring.
Dean wiggled his arm in its sling. "How much longer?" Dean asked quietly, and Sam shrugged.
"What does it feel like to you?"
Dean flexed his fingers. "Maybe another week?"
"Yeah, okay, one more week."
Dean smiled and Sam could barely see it - the lights strung around the carousel were dimmed and it was so dark already - but he could feel it.
Dean shifted on the bed, moving enough to shrug Sam's arm off from over his belly. The cast was itchy; Dean wordlessly draped it over towards Sam, and Sam scratched underneath, as far as he could go.
"We should go somewhere." Sam said easily. Dean stretched out as far as he could, elbowed Sam in the ribs. Sam laughed, ruffled Dean's hair.
"I saw a carnival off the interstate," Dean yawned, "haven't done that in ages."
"Okay," Sam said, "let's go."