Title: Bang Your Head
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, etc, etc...
Summary: John is trying to get from point A to point B and the boys are being difficult. A quick look at the day in the life of John Winchester.
A shriek rent the air of the quiet rest stop causing John Winchester to instantly look up from his newspaper. Alert. Ready. He scanned the few other people that were scattered about before his eyes finally landed on his two sons. Dean was currently on top of his little brother after having rolled on over him once they'd reached the bottom of the hill the rest stop was situated up against. It wasn't a large hill, but the grass was spring soft and the weather warm enough that the boys didn't need there coats only their outer layers. All in all, the perfect conditions for two rambunctious boys to roll down a hill.
The last hour in the car had been a nightmare. John had mistakenly let the boys get whatever they wanted at the last gas station they'd stopped at. Dean had gotten peanut M&M's and a Red Bull. Sam had gotten Skittles and a Red Bull. Red Bull was now banned from the Impala. He'd had to listen to both of them fight over everything. At one point Sam had accidentally kicked the back of Dean's seat but John's oldest had taken it as intentional and had thrown an M&M at his brother and told him to knock it off. This meant Sam had to kick the seat again in retaliation for the M&M which only prompted another M&M.
To stamp out a food fight in the car, John had promptly warned that if another M&M left Dean's hand anywhere other then in his mouth his oldest would be on laundry duty for a month. And if Sam so much as touched the back of Dean's seat his youngest would be on weapons cleaning duty for a month.
Peace rained for all of 15 minutes before Dean thought it would be a good idea to crawl into the back seat so he could get his walkman. Accidentally kicking his brother in the process. With a loud, "What the Hell Dean! You couldn't've just asked for you walkman?!" and punched his older sibling on the arm.
Dean's response was a punch back at Sam's arm and said, "If I'd asked would you have given it to me?"
"Ow," another punch at Dean. "No! But you could've still asked."
Another punch at Sam, "Then why should I bother?"
"Ow," Sam's voice got more of whine to it as he delivered yet another punch. At the rate they had been going John wouldn't be surprised if there arms weren't black and blue. "Stop hitting me!"
Punch. "You stop hitting me."
Punch. "You hit me first."
Punch. "You kicked my seat"
Punch. "You threw M&M's at me."
Punch. "Well you…"
"THAT'S ENOUGH" John finally yelled. "If any one hits anyone else it'll be me with my hand against their backside."
10 more minutes of silence.
"Stop it."
"What?"
5 minutes of silence.
"Stop!"
"What?!"
2 minutes of silence. John had looked in the rear view mirror. Sam was giving Dean the evil eye as only a younger brother can and Dean was having none of it.
"I said STOP Sam!"
"What! I'm not DOING anything!"
"You're looking at me weird! It's creeping me out."
"I'm not looking at you weird."
"Yes you are."
"No I'm not."
"Yes you are."
"No I'm not."
"Are too."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"Am not."
At the last minute John had noticed the turn off for a rest stop and turned the steering wheel hard right to take it. The unexpected maneuver also had the effect of silencing his bickering sons as they were jostled in the back seat.
After pulling the Impala to a stop in front of the bathrooms, John had turned in his seat and glared at his 12 year old and then at his 8 year old. They'd had the gaul to give him, in turn, innocent looks. Before either of them could open their mouths he'd ordered, "Out. Now." Both had scrambled from the back of the car and stood waiting on the curb as John also exited the car. He'd used his tone of voice that booked no argument.
Once he'd joined them he had pointed to a grassy field next to the bathrooms that also had a few picnic tables scattered about. "Go," he had ordered, only to receive blank stares in return. He'd sighed. John never told his sons to just go and play. They would probably think him possessed if he did, so he'd simply said, "You're not allowed back in the car till you burn off some of that energy. So…go." John would take a few grass stains over two hyper kids. Besides, Dean was due for some new clothes. The cuffs of his jeans were already a quarter of an inch above his sneakers and he kept his long sleeves rolled up a least one time because they failed to reach his wrists. Most of Dean's clothes could be salvaged for Sam despite the youngest Winchesters small size in relation to older brother.
The boys had looked at each other for a second and then had bolted for the field without a backwards glance. After chasing each other in what John could only assume was a 2 man version of tag they'd come to their current form of entertainment. Rolling themselves down the hill.
John watched his two children as Dean quickly rolled off of Sam and helped him to his feet so they could once again run up the hill and start the whole process over. It was the rare moments like these that John was reminded that his boy's were still children. Even despite Dean's pre-teen stature and the responsibilities he laid on both of them. He turned back to his paper in an effort to ignore where thoughts like these inevitably led.
John made it through a few more pages before he was once again interrupted. This time by a slight of build man who wore a pale blue polo and khaki pants. "Excuse me," he said. "Are those your sons?"
He quickly sought out the boys again. Finding them once again at the bottom of the hill only this time circling and wrestling with each other. Seeing nothing wrong he gruffly said, "Yes." And went back to his newspaper, ignoring the stranger.
Evidently the man couldn't take a hint because he said, "Shouldn't you stop them? Wont they hurt each other?"
Sighing John looked at his sons then at the stranger. "No, I wont and no, they wont," he answered each question. After all, the boys weren't even landing punches, just wrestling trying to get the other on his back. When Dean and Sam really fought, blood was usually involved.
"But…," the man started to say before John cut him off.
"Do you have any sons?" he asked.
"No, just one girl," the man said indicating a table two down from Johns'. The hunter looked over and saw a girl around Sam's age sitting quietly next to her mother eating a sandwich.
John grunted and said, "Then come back when you have 2 hyperactive boys who need to run off their sugar high." And went back to his paper once again silently dismissing the stranger.
He managed to finish his newspaper cover to cover in peace and figured that was more then enough time for the boys to burn off their excess energy. Looking across the field he found them again in a game of tag but he toted that they had picked up a few more players. No matter where they went, those two could charm just about anyone into liking them. Dean through his cocky witticism and Sam through his quiet earnestness.
As he got up to make his way back to the Impala, John past another father with his hands cupped to his mouth shouting, "Ricky! Time to go. Come on Ricky, let's go! Ricky, we're leaving!" Not one of the commands, John scoffed to himself, more like pleas resulted in the child's obedience.
John stopped not far from him and put his figures to his lips, letting out a piecing whistle that could be heard across the whole rest stop. It took only a moment for Dean and Sam to extract themselves from the game and came racing to their father's side. He pleasantly noted that both were out of breath. Hopefully the last 200 miles to Denver would be quiet.
"Time to go boys" he said as he looked at the other man who looked back in disbelief at John's sons quick obedience. He smirked at the bewildered man and then turned to continue on to the car knowing that Dan and Sam had fallen into step behind him.
When they got back to the car Dean took his customary seat at shotgun after taking his bag and walkman from the back seat. While Sam slide into the back and grabbed a book from his own bag. Just as John was about to slid into the driver's seat he heard a whistle sound from the direction of the picnic area. It was no where near as loud or strong as John's had been. Nor did it achieve in the same result as the same father was still trying to collect his wayward son.
As John Winchester sent his family down the never ending black top, he reflected that even though his sons could be brats sometimes, he knew he could always count on their obedience.
~ The End ~
AN: I know its cliché to say, but this is the first story I've been brave enough to post on this site. Please Read and Review. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.