#Sam:Jack

[thestanfordmoose]

« five more minutes… » jack and sam !

SIX The Musical Sentence Starters | Not Accepting

Jack didn’t eat much. Not by basic human standards, and by Dean Winchester measurement, he starved. Typically, it was a bowl of cereal in the morning, maybe chicken fingers and fries at night when they all sat for dinner. Though, Sam was never sure if Jack was hungry again or he just wanted be a part of the communal act of family dinner. Often, when he watched Jack mechanically place a fry into ketchup (or honey mustard after Sam told him it was his favorite, and his heart swelled and he swallowed the lump in his throat because little brothers never had someone mimic them. This was foreign and flattering and he loved this kid so much), he sort of gathered that it was definitely more about joining in than satiation. Jack ate like it was autopilot; like he was copying the action based of what he saw Sam and Dean do, or people on TV, and not on any sort of instinctual need to feed. So, as it was, Jack didn’t eat much. Because he was half angel.

Jack also didn’t sleep much. He’d go to his room when they all separated to their own corners for the night, sensing that soft lull of an evening winding down. He’d been living with them for years now, he was picking up on the social ques of daily happenings. Sam knew he didn’t fall asleep then, though, could hear him making noise in the other room or occasionally reading a book aloud. Jack was noisy, because Jack was a child, Sam often found he had to keep reminding himself of that. (He was also quiet and sullen and introspective and unanswered and unheard. And Sam was sorry he hadn’t listened more for every noise. Responded to every muffled call.) The kid only slept a few hours, maybe two or three, and that seemed to be more than enough - and Sam envied him - before he was wide awake and asking questions and absorbing information and learning, learning, always learning. Because he was half angel.

In the recesses of his mind, Sam longed for the clichés of fatherhood. For a son to be preoccupied with a book, or game, or something else so mundane but all-consuming, that when Sam called him for dinner he would chirp back with “five more minutes?” And Sam would feign annoyance, but oblige, because nothing made him happier than when his kid’s eyes danced with fully engrossed passion.

For a Wednesday morning to find him inside his boy’s room, nothing discernible but a lump covered by blankets (maybe a wayward foot peeking out the edge, a tuft of hair somehow on the bottom of the bed. Like the teen had flipped in the night). Sam would wake him up the same way he had woken his big brother for decades before in crappy motels across the country, and his son would reply in the same drawn out whine as Dean, “five more minuuuuutes.”

But Jack didn’t eat much anyway.Jack didn’t sleep much. He never had to request another five minutes.

But he was Sam’s son.And he was half human, too.

He remembers the first time Jack died. Blood pouring from his mouth, staining the bunker’s sheets in a macabre mosaic. Somehow grotesque enough to make Sam gag, but beautiful enough that for a fleeting moment he wanted to hang the stain glass in a church. To revere and pray for and idolize his fallen son; because Jack was half angel. He was half human.

He held Jack’s hand when he died. There was no one else in the room and selfishly he treasured it. He was the first one Jack ever saw on Earth, and the last. Sam might just be blessed. Tears clogged his throat and constricted his airway, he couldn’t speak until his kid had already passed, missing the opportunity to tell him how he was proud and he had never doubted him. It wasn’t until Jack’s lips took a grey twinge that Sam managed to stutter out, “five more minutes…”

“Five more minutes…”“Huh?”

Sam shook his head, blinking at the burning stinging wetness he was going to ignore that was building in his eyes.

Jack didn’t remember him here. Just when Sam thought the universe had run out of ways to flip him the bird they had handed him Jack 2.0: DC Edition. He faltered, forgetting what had triggered that memory in the first place. Right. He’d asked when the next bus was coming. It was so plaintive. So formal and distant and dissociative. He smiled, hand aching to cup Jack’s shoulder, but he took pause and knew had to take it slow; rebuild their relationship from the ground up. “Yeah, right, sorry. Thanks, appreciate it.”

It didn’t matter how long it took for Jack to see him as a mentor, or father, or friend again.

Because on the bright side of it all, at least Sam got another five minutes.

[charliesshitposts]

[Sam and Dean aguing]

Sam:Dean don’t do this. You know Jack can’t stand the sight of blood. *following him*

Dean:*holding his bleeding finger in a napkin* Oh come on Sammy. It’ll be funny.

Sam:*rolls eyes*

Dean:*spots Jack,whispers to his brother* Watch.. hey Jack! Come here.

Jack:*coming up the hallway towards them* What’s up?

Dean:*sticks his index finger directly in front of Jacks face*

Jack:*gasps,eyes roll back,slowly gets dizzy,drops sideways onto the floor with a loud thud*

Sam:Jack! *crouches to check on him*

Dean:*laughs* Wow,he really stand seeing blood.

[silksyre]

Family

Sam:Jack, please

Castiel:Go back home with your parents

Jack:But-

Dean:NOW!

Jack:Yes dad...

[thestanfordmoose]

| Closed Starter for @graveycrds (Jack Kline) |

Eggs? Check. Milk? Check. Six pack of Budweiser? Check. Those really weird shrimp flavored puffed doodle snacks that Dean pretends he doesn’t like but he ate the entire bag in an hour? Check, and also, ew. Sam glanced back down at the crumpled list in his hand, written on a hastily torn legal pad page; the yellow paper stained with something Sam didn’t want to even try to identify, but it smelled, for the record. Dean’s fingerprints splattered the edges haphazardly in what resembled burger grease, covering up the last half of “microwavable burritos”, so it read “microwavable burr.” Sam figured Dean didn’t want a ready-to-eat version of the third vice president of the US, so he filled in the blanks and headed to the frozen food aisle.

The brother’s personalities showed through nearly every aspect of their lives; each little, trivial thing they did punctuating their differences and nuances. Sam’s own handwriting sitting perfectly on each page line, sprawling and wide loops, but orderly like soldiers. Dean’s scrawl jumping between gaps as if doing it just to be defiant, somehow managing to be sloppy and neat at the same time. Lines thicker in some places than others. His requests for artery clogging junk, Sam’s for the basics every kitchen needs, as well as some protein powder for the shakes he makes in the morning when he’s too nauseous to eat (which, hey, keep that between us, yeah? He doesn’t need Dean mother-henning him every morning and forcing fatty bacon down his throat.)

Shoving the list back into his front pocket, he scanned the wall of freezers for Dean’s preferred brand of burrito. He’d tried a generic brand once, when they were laying low somewhere in Montana and the mom & pop general store only carried six things, and had to live with that mistake or the rest of the night. Never again. Stupid older brothers and their stupid superiority and why doesn’t Dean just do the shopping then?

He wasn’t used to these large shops, navigating aisles with a cart instead of a small basket. Usually they just needed some basics to fill a motel room’s mini fridge, or replenish the usually fairly stocked Bunker shelves. The mundanity of weekly grocery shopping used to be soothing in a ‘so this is normal’ way, but now it just grated on Sam’s nerves. A constant reminder of ‘yup, you’re still stuck here.’

Just as he closed the glass door with a soft suction sound, a familiar voice caught his attention. A year here and reunited with, well, anyone, really, still caught him by surprise. He had yet to get used to the lose your breath, heart stopping combination of awe and panic and thank god. He spun around in the direction of the voice so fast he left a breeze in his wake, his neck aching. Akin to a fish out of water, his mouth opened and closed, gaping. Disbelief clear on his features, but also a relief that left him breathless. “Jack,” He breathed.

He abandoned his cart in favor of walking towards him, smile wide and stretching toward his ears, dimples on full display. “God, Jack, when-how-? How long have you been here? I--jeez, you don’t know how happy I am to see you.”

[thestanfordmoose]

how do you feel knowing that whatever THIS is, that it'll affect jack ?

Then I will fight for him. I’ll do what I always have, show him he has a choice. In the end, Jack isn’t a monster. Whatever is going on, he’s strong enough to fight it. 

And if he isn’t, then we’ll lock him up until we find a cure. 

No one is hurting him. No one. 

@mgnificaents​

[thestanfordmoose]

Since Jack practically IS your son ;) Happy Father's Day, Sammy he's damn lucky to have one like you.

This is weirdly kind and yet I still want to punch you in the face. 

@mgnificaents​

[thestanfordmoose]

Soft Sentence Starters || NOT ACCEPTING || @graveycrds​

Deja vú all over again. His first reaction was to scoff, and he just might have, if not for the sincere curve of Jack’s lip and the vacant blink of his eyes that said ‘no strings.’ 

This. This right here is how Dean Winchester must have felt for 36 years of his life; following a younger brother who wanted nothing more than to see his older brother happy. The disconnect near palpable - each not seeing the other’s side. I just need you to be happy versus I just need you safe.

Realizing sooner or later he was going to echo Dean paternally, considering the ferocious protectiveness and love he felt for Jack, Sam bit the bullet and said, “I’m always going to worry about you. Have you met me?”

[charliesshitposts]

Sam:*comes into the kitchen holding a clear box with folded pieces of paper inside* I don’t think the guys are taking my suggestion box seriously.

Dean:*eating ceral* What makes you say that?

Sam:Listen. Maggie said “The idea for a suggestion box is cool. You’re beard isn’t. Please shave you look like Chewbacca.”

Dean:Valid. Next.

Sam:Bobby said.”What the hell do we need a suggestion box for? It’s not like we can change much around here with it being so crowded. Also please shave your beard you’re one step away from being casted for a role in Jesus Christ Superstar.

Dean:*laughs* I see that. Next.

Sam:Cas said “Why do we need a suggestion box when I can just come up to you and tell you what I suggest to your face?”

Dean:He has a point. Next

Sam:Jack said.’Do you think we can trade in the chairs around the map table for comfier ones with cup holders?’

Dean:*excited* Can we?!

Sam:*smiles* Maybe. Anyways this one is from Gabe. He said “They’re going to bully you for putting in a suggestion box. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. P.s. have you seen my back scratcher?”

Dean:*smiles* I have it. I’ll give it to him later.

Sam:*groans* Nobody is taking it seriously!

Dean:I did. Mine is in there too somewhere.

Sam:Yep here it is *grabs it* You said. “Windows in the bedrooms, maybe a different kitchen table, definatly a new fridge,more gadgets in the dungeon,and a dog.” Dean...*looks at his brother* we barley have enough room in here to walk. And it got even more crowded in here after you got Cas his cat.

Dean:Before you say no just hear me out okay..a golden retriever named Bilbo Waggins. We put a light saddle with pockets on him and we fill the pockets with snacks like gold fish crackers and red licorice. And whenever he casually comes by we can just take a what we want.

Sam:*staring at Dean* You’re idea might be a blessing in disguise.

[charliesshitposts]

[Jack bugging Cas]

Jack:Please?! I promise I’ll take care of it.

Cas:*walking towards the kitchen where Dean is,goes to him*. Would you please talk some sense into Jack.

Dean:*looks up from his newspaper*Why?What’s going on?

Jack:Cas thinks I’m not capable of looking after a pet.

Dean:*laughs* He’s right.You’re not.

Jack:*puts hands on hips* Yes I am!

Dean:Kid..please.What happened to that Venus fly trap we bought you?

Jack:It died because my room has no windows and it needed sunlight.

Dean:*mimicking him,stupid voice*It died because my room has no windows and it needed sunlight. You’re not getting a pet! If you want a moose and a horse then Sam and Gabriel are outside.

Jack:*groans loudly*UGHHHHHHH *stomps out of the room and up the stairs*

[Sam and Gabriel working on the impala,Jack watching from the door,smirks]

Jack:*talking to himself*If I cant get a pet through Dean and Cas..I have uncles who might oblige.*goes to them*Hey guys.

Sam:Hey Jack.What’s up?

Jack:Oh nothing.How long will it take for the impala to be fixed?

Gabe:Actually.*Looks up from the hood*She’s done.Why?Looking to get a lift somewhere?

Jack:Yeah. You guys think you could drop me off at the mall?

Sam:Sure! What are you going to buy?

Jack:Dean and Cas said I could get myself a small pet. Like a goldfish or a lizard. I want to go and see their options.

Gabe:Oh cool! Want us to help you choose?

Jack:That be great!

Sam:Cool. Get in.

[They head over to the mall where there is a pet store inside. After looking at the. lizards, hamsters, iguanas, fishes, birds, spiders etc..Jack’s eyes fall on a black snake sleeping on a pile of hay]

Jack:*looks at it through the glass* This one.

Gabe:Perfect. I’ll tell someone to box him up for us while we look for a habitat.

[They pay for everything and take the snake and it’s things back to the car.Sam drives back]

Jack:*sees they’re almost home* I guess it’s a good time to tell you all that Dean and Cas didn’t actually approve of this.

Sam:*stops car,looks at Jack* What?

Gabe:Are you serious?

Jack:*nodding* Yeah. I am.

Sam:Jack...Dean is going to kill you. Forget about Cas. He’ll probably scold you. But Dean will actually kill you dead.

Jack:Not if he doens’t know. Come on guys,help me out here. Maybe he can stay in your room for the time being.

Sam:But what will I tell Dean?

Jack: Tell him that you found the snake outside and saw it could be domesticated. So you went out to buy it a habitat and your going to keep him.

Sam:*thinks about it,looks at Gabe* Does it seem fool proof?

Gabe:*shrugs* I’d buy it.

Sam:*sighs*Alright Jack.

Jack:THANK YOU!!

[Later that night Sam and Gabriel lay sound asleep.Behind the glass of the habitat,the snake watches them. It hisses,pushes the lid up with his nose,and slithers out slowly until it drops to the floor.The snake begans to grow bigger in size.It shapeshifts,turning into the demon Crowley]

Crowley:*dusts himself off,checks his watch* 8 am in London.I wonder what Aziraphale is doing. He won’t believe me if I told him what I’ve been through for the past three months. *chuckles* Poor chap must think I’m taking another long ass nap.

Gabe:*wakes up,rolls over,sees nothing but Crowleys yellow eyes,screams* OH MY GOD!!

Sam:*wakes up*WHAT?!

Gabe:*points*

Sam:*looks,screams*

Gabe:*screams*

Crowley:*screams*

[charliesshitposts]

Jack:I saw you tonight trying to take the groceries out of the car.

Sam:*looking somewhere else* Yeah?

Jack:And I saw you drop Deans pie upside down on the pavement. Lucky for you it had a lid.

Sam:*pale* Yeah...

Jack:I also saw you freak out and put shaving cream on the pie and wipe the smeared whipped cream off with an old shirt.

Dean:*loudly* WHAT?!

Sam:JACK!

Jack:He should know why he’s been throwing up all day!

Dean:That’s so gross!

Jack:*rolls eyes* What are you complaining about? You ate it either way.

Dean:

Dean:It was a cherry pie.

[charliesshitposts]

[Cas calling Deans name from another room]

Cas:*whining* Deaaaaann! *calls louder*dEANNNN

Dean:*walks in* Whats wrong?

Cas:*pale faced,tissues spread all around the bed,sniffling* I’m sick.

Dean:*walking towards him,concerned* Aww Cas.Did you catch a cold?

Cas:*the tip of his nose red,coughs* Yes.

Dean:*feels his forehead* You’re burning up! Stay here. I’ll bring you some soup and a thermometer to take your temperature.

[As Dean makes chicken noodle soup Sam walks into the kitchen]

Sam:Hey.

Dean:*stirring the soup with a ladle* Your back! How was the trip?

Sam:*takes a seat at the kitchen table* All was well and good until Gabe got frustrated because he hadn’t caught a single fish.

Dean:What did he do?

Sam:He threw a hissy fit thus causing the boat to side to side.We both fell into the water.

Dean:*stirs,chuckles* Classic.

Sam:*notices,scoffs* Since when do you cook?

Dean:*pouring the soup into a bowl* I’ve got a sick angel in the next room.

Sam:Jack?

Dean:Cas. He caught the cold somewhere. Poor things got a stuffy nose and everything.

Sam:Dean...repeat what you just said.

Dean:When?

Sam:Just now.

Dean:*confused* I said when.

Sam:Before that.

Dean:Oh! I said Cas is sick so I’m-

Sam:*interrupts him* That! Find out what’s wrong with that phrase.

[Dean doesn’t get what Sam is saying at first but when he does he gets to thinking about it. When it finally dawns on him he slams the ladle down]

Dean:CAS CANT GET SICK!

Sam:*does finger guns at him* Bingo.

Dean:Why on earth would he lie to me..that son of a *rushes towards Cas’ bedroom*

[Cas sitting over his bedsheets painting his toenails,talking on the phone with Charlie]

Cas:*giggling* I told him I was sick. The plan is working. I even raised my vessels temperature so that it look as though I have a fever.

[Dean kicks the door down,Cas screams]

Dean:YOU’RE NOT SICK.

Sam:*casually walks up behind Dean,eating a bag of chips really loudly* Ooooo you’re in trouble.