A/N: Just a short scene to try and reboot my brain so I can maybe make progress on bigger stuff. Yeah, that bigger stuff. Arg.
Fundamental Studies in Samcology
by CaffieneKitty
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Sam heaved his Calculus textbook at the wall of his bedroom and let out a mighty groan.
Dean poked his head into his brother's room. "What's the matter, Sammy, studying to be the class valetudinarian?"
Sam rolled his eyes, "Of course I'm not, since we're moving right after exams are done and I'm not even going to be able to go to grad. And it's valedictorian, Dean. Valetudinarian means a sick person."
"I know that." Dean grinned. "You're gonna make yourself sick, stuck in your room all day and night with your head jammed in a book."
"God, dad's not on me for not doing PT, is he?"
"Nope. Dad's not back from that thing with Caleb yet, so he doesn't know you've been a total hermit."
Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean. "But he will when you tell him."
"Dude, I'm not gonna narc on you!"
"Good," said Sam, returning to his written notes.
"...Not if you come outside with me right now."
"Dean..." Sam groaned.
"Come on! Twenty minutes, half hour tops."
"I have to study, Dean. I've got final exams starting first thing Monday. Tomorrow."
Dean picked up the book by the door and waggled it at Sam. "And your first test is on the aerodynamic properties of textbooks?"
"No, it's calculus." Sam reached out to snag the book from Dean, who held it out of reach. "Dean, I need that!"
Dean smirked. "Get off your ass and take it from me then, Sammy."
Sam folded his arms. "I'm not sparring with you over a textbook, Dean."
"Whatever," Dean tossed the book back onto the bed next to Sam's nest of notebooks. "You've been cooped up in here all weekend. What you need is a break, and some fresh air."
"No, I don't," said Sam, picking up the text and repositioning his disturbed notes with a scowl.
"Come on. It'll help. Half an hour won't kill your nauseatingly high GPA, Einstein."
"No! Go away."
"Okay then... but you won't see what I found." Dean grinned and ducked out Sam's door.
"That stopped working on me when I was eight, Dean," Sam called after him, opening his textbook.
No answer.
"Dean, I'm not a kid anymore. I'm not gonna fall for it."
No answer.
"Dean?"
The hall was silent.
Sam sank back down onto his bed with a rustle of loose-leaf paper. He flipped the pages of the textbook trying to find the section he'd left off at, but kept listening and glancing up at the doorway. Less than a minute later he slapped the book shut and got off the bed.
"Jerk," he muttered as he padded down the hallway after his brother.
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(that's it)