Title: The Sincerest Form of Flattery
Genre: Gen
Characters: Yes there are.
Rating: G
Words: 273
Spoilers: For 6.1
Summary: It had taken him longest to perfect the smile.
Disclaimer: Everything is - um - Sera's?
A/N: So this was written in five minutes during my lunch break. Obviously 6.1 had more of an effect on me than I'd previously thought...
The Sincerest Form of Flattery
It had taken him longest to perfect the smile.
He'd practiced self-consciously in front of a mirror, not entirely sure how the muscles were supposed to stretch, the lips curl upwards, the eyes crinkle at the corners.
The walk had been easy, the rounding of the shoulders, the habitual shrug. Hands in pockets. Make yourself small.
He'd mastered the voice quickly. The lilt of the accent. Pitch, idiom, command and entreaty, and which to use with whom.
Friend, enemy, family: altering his words with circumstance.
Driving had proved more challenging. Foot here, hand here, twist, turn, start, stop. Easy after a couple of tries. All a matter of coordination.
Next came the heft of the weapons. The feel of metal in large hands.
Ammo here, pull back there, aim and squeeze.
It had all been easy, compared to the smile; the laugh; the emotion.
The brother.
He'd had a year to practice, watching others, learning from their interaction.
How they spoke, how they laughed, how they loved.
He'd taken vessels before, but never for this long.
So he'd watched. Considered. Built up slowly until he felt he was ready.
It wasn't like he didn't know him. They'd spoken before.
And he'd watched.
He always watched.
But it was different now. Having to be someone else. Having to fool the one person hardest to fool.
Acquaintances were easy.
But never a brother.
So when he'd saved him from the Djinn, brought him home, shown him who he was and he'd believed?
When he'd believed that he was Sam?
Michael had hugged Dean tight and the smile had come easy.
The End
