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krislaughsI swear I'm working on those prompts from last week. See?
Title: Costuming
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
krisomniac
Rating, Warnings, Pairings: PG, none, Sam/Jess
Word Count: ~1000
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Never have. Never will. No copyright infringement intended.
Author's Note, Summary: Written for the delightful and amazingtvm from last week's prompt-a-thon. Based on her inspiring suggestion: Sam at college, in the week leading up to when Dean breaks in on him in the pilot. Mention of Sam's dreams (visions) about Jess, pleasepleaseplease.
Costuming
The bell over the door jingled as Sam and Jess entered the shop. Inside the long, low building, rows of elaborate clothing were layered three and four thick, floor to ceiling, some outfits new and freshly laundered, others old and musty as though they hadn't been worn in years. Rack after vibrantly colored rack waited in line, with minimal walking space between them, disappearing into the dimly-lit rear of the shop. Groups of students lifted promising garments on wooden hangers, pressed them against their chests, turned and spun, strutted and giggled. Several sets of parents held smaller costumes up to the shoulders of their red-cheeked children, and a harried shopkeeper milled around them all, quoting prices and searching the storage area for missing sizes.
Jess took Sam's hand and pulled him farther into the press of fabric--passing by brocade gowns and fire fighters' jackets, black Bela Lugosi cloaks and plastic masks in every grotesque form imaginable.
They stopped in a quieter section of the store.
"What do you want to be?" she asked.
Sam shrugged. "I told you--"
"I know, you're not into the whole costume thing. But that doesn't mean you can't dress up for Jack's party." She looked up at him with overly concerned blue eyes, a strand of hair falling across her face. "Why don't you like Halloween, anyway?"
The store suddenly felt claustrophobic and close, and Sam had to fight the urge to head for the door, out into the cool, bright afternoon. He took a deep breath and pressed his fingers to his face, pulling them away just as quickly. "It's nothing," he said.
Jess just gave him that look, the one that meant she wasn't going to give up, the one that wouldn't go away until he told her--What?--that his mom had died in his nursery twenty-two years less two days ago, that his father began his yearly bender when the orange and black decorations and fake, cotton spider webs were hung thick in store windows, only to disappear with a bag of liter bottles and a gun for the Day of Saints and the Day of the Dead. Sam couldn't explain the cold knot of dread that formed in his stomach when he saw children wearing sheets with holes cut out for their eyes, stockpiles of candy in drug store aisles and fake spider webbing in local windows, didn't have words for the resentment he used to brew, spending the days and nights locked in some old motel room or cheap apartment, sprawled on the couch next to Dean, watching ghostly specials on T.V. and not even bothering to correct the inaccuracies. He couldn't tell her that Halloween meant keeping one eye on the telephone, pretending he wasn't waiting for a call from the hospital, police, or morgue, silently praying that Dad would stumble home and collapse on the floor, fully dressed, reeking of liquor…and quietly breathing.
It was the worst day of the year.
"My brother used to play these… pranks, I guess. Never knew when I'd find spiders in my cereal or frogs in my bed." He shook his head, remembering Dean's stupid attempts to distract him over the years. "I think he thought they were funny." Sam spoke quickly and reached for the nearest costume, a doctor's coat complete with stethoscope and knee-tapping tool. "How about this one?"
"A nod to your pre-med days?" she asked, mercifully letting the subject of the holiday slide.
Sam forced a smile. "And probably the only thing in this shop that'll fit me." He lifted up a tiny Cirque du Soleil lycra jumpsuit that was no longer than his arm, then slipped it back onto the rack.
Jess laughed and lifted his hands to her face, covering it completely, then peeked out between his fingers. "You big, tall freak," she said, smiling, and Sam felt the tension in his stomach begin to release. "They have to have some costumes for the basketball team, but--" She winked and let his arms fall to his sides. "We could always play Doctor with this one. I'll have to find a costume to match."
She turned down the narrow aisle, running her hands over each piece in turn. Sam gazed after her and wondered what on earth he had done to get so lucky.
~
Sam swiped at his forehead, half asleep. Beside him, Jess exhaled.
Something warm and sticky coats his fingers. He rubs it between them, trying to place the familiar feel before opening his eyes. Then he sees her, pale and blue and pinned like a butterfly in a box above him. She opens her mouth to scream, and the fire takes her.
He sat bolt upright in bed, heart pounding.
"What is 't?" Jess asked sleepily.
Sam took a deep breath, staring around the room, wrapping himself in its cool familiarity: the jacket he wore to the soccer game yesterday, the Ansel Adams print he'd picked up the first day of school, the books and textbooks, and laptop at his desk. Everything was in its place. Jess was beside him, eyes closed, breathing quietly. "Nothing," he said, "I-- thirsty. Just thirsty. Go back to sleep."
She already was.
Sam took another shaking breath and let it out slowly. He released the sheets from his white-knuckled grip, swung his legs off the side of the bed and rested his head in his hands until the throbbing in his temples began to fade.
Just a dream, he told himself on the way to the bathroom. Just a really, singularly, fucked up nightmare.
Jess' Halloween costume lay over the back of a chair, white, thigh-high stockings that fit her like a glove and a skirt that would probably cause heart attacks in intensive care, if she ever wore it there. She had tried it on the moment they got back from the store, and afterwards, she showed Sam exactly what she meant by "playing doctor."
He ran his fingers along it and smiled despite the lingering pain in his head.
Blue-white streetlights shone in through the windows, and Sam poured a glass of water in their twilit glow. He set the glass on the side of the sink and let the cold, fresh water run over his fingers, until goose bumps rose on his bare arms. Then he splashed some over his face and exhaled into one of the soft hand towels that Jess had gotten from Bed, Bath, and Beyond.
Hanging the towel back on its hook, he stared at his reflection in the mirror; hollow eyes and shadowy features stared back, but there was no trace of soot or smoke…no smeared blood on his forehead.
He gulped the water down quickly and walked back to the bedroom.
On the way, something caught his eye--a picture, the old photograph of Mom and Dad. She was holding his shoulder, wearing a blue shirt. He was in his fatigues, smiling. Sam clenched his teeth and wondered, not for the first time, what had happened, what he could have possibly remembered from that night, what about it woke him every night for the last week.
It was probably just the season. Sam hated Halloween.
He turned the picture facedown on the bureau, set the empty glass beside it, and climbed back into bed with Jess, one arm resting lightly over her back, her even breaths lulling him back to sleep.
Title: Costuming
Author:
krisomniacRating, Warnings, Pairings: PG, none, Sam/Jess
Word Count: ~1000
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Never have. Never will. No copyright infringement intended.
Author's Note, Summary: Written for the delightful and amazing
tvm from last week's prompt-a-thon. Based on her inspiring suggestion: Sam at college, in the week leading up to when Dean breaks in on him in the pilot. Mention of Sam's dreams (visions) about Jess, pleasepleaseplease.The bell over the door jingled as Sam and Jess entered the shop. Inside the long, low building, rows of elaborate clothing were layered three and four thick, floor to ceiling, some outfits new and freshly laundered, others old and musty as though they hadn't been worn in years. Rack after vibrantly colored rack waited in line, with minimal walking space between them, disappearing into the dimly-lit rear of the shop. Groups of students lifted promising garments on wooden hangers, pressed them against their chests, turned and spun, strutted and giggled. Several sets of parents held smaller costumes up to the shoulders of their red-cheeked children, and a harried shopkeeper milled around them all, quoting prices and searching the storage area for missing sizes.
Jess took Sam's hand and pulled him farther into the press of fabric--passing by brocade gowns and fire fighters' jackets, black Bela Lugosi cloaks and plastic masks in every grotesque form imaginable.
They stopped in a quieter section of the store.
"What do you want to be?" she asked.
Sam shrugged. "I told you--"
"I know, you're not into the whole costume thing. But that doesn't mean you can't dress up for Jack's party." She looked up at him with overly concerned blue eyes, a strand of hair falling across her face. "Why don't you like Halloween, anyway?"
The store suddenly felt claustrophobic and close, and Sam had to fight the urge to head for the door, out into the cool, bright afternoon. He took a deep breath and pressed his fingers to his face, pulling them away just as quickly. "It's nothing," he said.
Jess just gave him that look, the one that meant she wasn't going to give up, the one that wouldn't go away until he told her--What?--that his mom had died in his nursery twenty-two years less two days ago, that his father began his yearly bender when the orange and black decorations and fake, cotton spider webs were hung thick in store windows, only to disappear with a bag of liter bottles and a gun for the Day of Saints and the Day of the Dead. Sam couldn't explain the cold knot of dread that formed in his stomach when he saw children wearing sheets with holes cut out for their eyes, stockpiles of candy in drug store aisles and fake spider webbing in local windows, didn't have words for the resentment he used to brew, spending the days and nights locked in some old motel room or cheap apartment, sprawled on the couch next to Dean, watching ghostly specials on T.V. and not even bothering to correct the inaccuracies. He couldn't tell her that Halloween meant keeping one eye on the telephone, pretending he wasn't waiting for a call from the hospital, police, or morgue, silently praying that Dad would stumble home and collapse on the floor, fully dressed, reeking of liquor…and quietly breathing.
It was the worst day of the year.
"My brother used to play these… pranks, I guess. Never knew when I'd find spiders in my cereal or frogs in my bed." He shook his head, remembering Dean's stupid attempts to distract him over the years. "I think he thought they were funny." Sam spoke quickly and reached for the nearest costume, a doctor's coat complete with stethoscope and knee-tapping tool. "How about this one?"
"A nod to your pre-med days?" she asked, mercifully letting the subject of the holiday slide.
Sam forced a smile. "And probably the only thing in this shop that'll fit me." He lifted up a tiny Cirque du Soleil lycra jumpsuit that was no longer than his arm, then slipped it back onto the rack.
Jess laughed and lifted his hands to her face, covering it completely, then peeked out between his fingers. "You big, tall freak," she said, smiling, and Sam felt the tension in his stomach begin to release. "They have to have some costumes for the basketball team, but--" She winked and let his arms fall to his sides. "We could always play Doctor with this one. I'll have to find a costume to match."
She turned down the narrow aisle, running her hands over each piece in turn. Sam gazed after her and wondered what on earth he had done to get so lucky.
~
Sam swiped at his forehead, half asleep. Beside him, Jess exhaled.
Something warm and sticky coats his fingers. He rubs it between them, trying to place the familiar feel before opening his eyes. Then he sees her, pale and blue and pinned like a butterfly in a box above him. She opens her mouth to scream, and the fire takes her.
He sat bolt upright in bed, heart pounding.
"What is 't?" Jess asked sleepily.
Sam took a deep breath, staring around the room, wrapping himself in its cool familiarity: the jacket he wore to the soccer game yesterday, the Ansel Adams print he'd picked up the first day of school, the books and textbooks, and laptop at his desk. Everything was in its place. Jess was beside him, eyes closed, breathing quietly. "Nothing," he said, "I-- thirsty. Just thirsty. Go back to sleep."
She already was.
Sam took another shaking breath and let it out slowly. He released the sheets from his white-knuckled grip, swung his legs off the side of the bed and rested his head in his hands until the throbbing in his temples began to fade.
Just a dream, he told himself on the way to the bathroom. Just a really, singularly, fucked up nightmare.
Jess' Halloween costume lay over the back of a chair, white, thigh-high stockings that fit her like a glove and a skirt that would probably cause heart attacks in intensive care, if she ever wore it there. She had tried it on the moment they got back from the store, and afterwards, she showed Sam exactly what she meant by "playing doctor."
He ran his fingers along it and smiled despite the lingering pain in his head.
Blue-white streetlights shone in through the windows, and Sam poured a glass of water in their twilit glow. He set the glass on the side of the sink and let the cold, fresh water run over his fingers, until goose bumps rose on his bare arms. Then he splashed some over his face and exhaled into one of the soft hand towels that Jess had gotten from Bed, Bath, and Beyond.
Hanging the towel back on its hook, he stared at his reflection in the mirror; hollow eyes and shadowy features stared back, but there was no trace of soot or smoke…no smeared blood on his forehead.
He gulped the water down quickly and walked back to the bedroom.
On the way, something caught his eye--a picture, the old photograph of Mom and Dad. She was holding his shoulder, wearing a blue shirt. He was in his fatigues, smiling. Sam clenched his teeth and wondered, not for the first time, what had happened, what he could have possibly remembered from that night, what about it woke him every night for the last week.
It was probably just the season. Sam hated Halloween.
He turned the picture facedown on the bureau, set the empty glass beside it, and climbed back into bed with Jess, one arm resting lightly over her back, her even breaths lulling him back to sleep.
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no subject
Date: 2006-06-25 03:06 am (UTC)I love this piece. It's so plainly written (in a good way) and so true to both Sam and what we know about his life with Jess, and the mentioning of the photograph worked wonderfully. Thanks for sharing. <3<3
no subject
Date: 2006-06-25 01:41 pm (UTC)Anyway, thank you for reading, I'm so glad you enjoyed!
no subject
Date: 2006-06-25 04:55 am (UTC)He couldn't tell her that Halloween meant keeping one eye on the telephone, pretending he wasn't waiting for a call from the hospital, police, or morgue, silently praying that Dad would stumble home and collapse on the floor, fully dressed, reeking of liquor…and quietly breathing.
Thank you so so much for this. ♥
no subject
Date: 2006-06-25 01:42 pm (UTC)(I never know what to think about John re: alcohol. I mean, from what Sam says at first, he comes off pretty badly, but I really don't think he was a crazy drunk, just maybe went on occasional benders... especially around that time of year.)
no subject
Date: 2006-06-25 10:56 pm (UTC)I'm not saying Sam's in the wrong, necessarily. I think all the Winchester men have misconceptions about each other, particularly seeing as how each of them are influenced by fairly volatile emotions and somewhat selfish agendas.
I'm actually enjoying this time between seasons because it gives me the opportunity (now that I have more time on my plate) to *think* about these things, to work out what I believe, based on what we know from canon and taking into account the (fanon) thoughts and ideas flitting around inside my head!
I just want to say again how much I enjoyed reading this; as 'Pert said, it's plainly written (in a good way); I love the small details. I also like the creepy undertone I get reading it that hindsight brings.
*squishyhugs*
no subject
Date: 2006-06-26 12:21 am (UTC)Yeah, I totally concur.
I mean, I am willing to bet that John drinks a fair bit more alcohol than, say, I do. (But the same could be said for *everyone* in that city of yours. Man, I was so outclassed. heheee) Hardly makes him a rip roaring drunk. Hell, have we even actually seen him hit a bottle in any episode? I certainly don't recall.
And it's funny, because there is so much fanfiction around (and now I guess I'm guilty of it, too) that shows him drowning his sorrows 24/7--when I think the truth is that he channeled all of that rage and grief into his hunt rather than his bottle.
Yeah, I guess that's one positive way to look at the summer hiatus.
Me? I figure that the season starting up again will make September--hardcore class schedule more bearable. :D
no subject
Date: 2006-06-25 05:24 pm (UTC)That broke my heart more than anything. *sobs quietly*
Such a wonderful little story, so well written and bittersweet. Poor, poor Sam.
no subject
Date: 2006-06-25 07:51 pm (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2006-06-25 07:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-25 07:52 pm (UTC)*dances*
Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2006-06-25 08:44 pm (UTC)Plus I'm enjoying getting to know Sam and Dean and now this Jess person who, I have a horrible feeling, came to a bad end.
It's like the early days of a fandom - where most of it is still a mystery - and I'm really enjoying that sensation.
no subject
Date: 2006-06-26 12:14 am (UTC)Yes. rather (http://supernatural.tv/gallery2/pilot/wmplayer%202005-09-26%2019-07-59-17.jpg) :(
no subject
Date: 2006-06-26 07:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-26 07:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-26 09:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-29 10:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-29 11:09 am (UTC)