Okay, fine! I have totally been bitten by the E/O Challenge bug. .
Now, as my summary says, I was taught that a drabble is 500 words. However, the E/O Challenge appears to be 100 words. So I'm doing both. The stories filed under "Spooks and Shotguns, Expanded" will be the drabbles of 500-word length. To see the shortened version of each challenge, see my other collection: "Spooks and Shotguns". They will be the same 'scene', just pared down to the 100 word limit. I think I'm done now. ^_^
Word: Ridiculous.
Word Count: 500 on the dot.
Spoilers: None.
Timeframe: Pre-Series.
The place was packed, bodies crushed together in stifling heat, the cheers and whistles piercing in the small space. Dean fit himself along the back wall, just against the door, eyes dark and hooded as he watched the proceedings.
Spotting Sam was easy, his tall and lanky form obvious in the garish colored robe, and he smirked as hazel eyes met brown across the gym, warmth spreading through his chest as Sam smiled softly, ducking his head. Dean saw John frown at Sam, glancing over his shoulder in curiosity, only to glower at the elder brother.
If their dad thought he was going to miss this, just because of a hunt gone rather wrong last night, he was nine kinds of crazy. To even imply that Dean wouldn't be there was ridiculous. This was the moment Sam had been gunning for the last thirteen years; nothing would keep him out of it. He even knew what each of the colored corded tassels hanging off his brother's neck meant, what the medallion that sparkled under the gym's lights represented.
"Samuel Winchester." Dean swallowed hard, blinking furiously as Sam's form wavered and blurred as he strode across the stage, accepting his diploma with charisma. He had to brush away the wetness that tickled his cheeks, proud of his little brother. His own graduation was nothing special, he had just been glad to get out of there, be able to fully dedicate his time to the family business, but he knew just how badly Sammy wanted out of there.
Even though the future held a dark and bitter path, leading the family apart, he was still so proud of the pain in the ass. Their dad was too...even though they lived on the go, and the truck wasn't that big, there was a shoebox that held all of Sam's grade cards, the class photos, the assignments that had made Sammy burst through the door, proud and excited.
Dean knew those cords, that tassel, and the lily that Sam had shyly accepted at the end of the stage would all make their way into the box. Even as angry as Dad had been about Stanford, even though both the older Winchesters were talking themselves blue in the face trying to dissuade Sam, there was a copy of that damned acceptance letter in the box too.
He glanced at the ceiling, idly noting the tennis ball lodged in the rafters, and tried to rein in his emotions. A heavy snuffle, and he tried hard not to think about how proud their Mom would have been to see this, to see her baby graduating in the top 5 of his class.
Dean turned and limped back to the Impala, who growled comfortingly as he edged her out of the tangle of cars, heading back to the motel. He'd make his way into the bed, and be totally nonchalant when Sam got back, tie already discarded and shirt unbuttoned as he tried to downplay the whole thing.