Betaed by the wonderful JenF. ^^
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First Time for Everything
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-I don' feel good…-
Four words. John and Dean stopped in their tracks and looked back towards the younger hunter, wincing in sympathy.
-What about you, Dean?- John asked.
-I'm fine. But I didn't eat as much as Sam.-
-Think it's the burger…- Sam moaned. –Guess it was too good to be true…-
-What did you expect?- John asked. –It was in the garbage for a reason.-
-Ugh…-
Dean couldn't help but smirk at his sibling's dilemma. So, he had fleas, Sam had nausea—they both suffered. And their dad? Well…he was small in all proportions.
-What're you grinning at?- John eyed his oldest suspiciously.
-Ahh, nothing.- Dean's head swiveled. -Hey, look! Mailman!-
Sam sat down, panting. -…What?-
Dean's ears pricked forward in excitement at the sight of the mailman not twenty feet away headed up the front steps of a house. –I always wanted to do this!-
A knot of anxiety formed in John's gut. –Do what?-
But, canine instinct taking over, Dean was already off and around the bend, set on scaring the living daylights out of the poor mailman.
-Dean!-
Too late.
But perhaps the mailman wasn't just a helpless guy in a blue uniform. He whipped out a small silver canister. "Take that!"
A stream of water hit Dean square in the face. –Ahh! I can't…see!-
The mailman tucked the can away and strode out of the yard, whistling a merry tune.
John rolled his eyes. –Dammit, Dean! This is no time to fool around. Now get your ass back here…-
Dean shook his head a final time to clear his vision and trotted back. –Yes, sir. C'mon, Sammy!-
-Ugh…- Sam cautiously stood back up, not trusting his stomach. -Do I have to?-
-Yes,- John said tartly.
Sam reluctantly followed behind, Dean falling back to walk alongside him.
-You're such a girl,- he muttered.
-And you're a jerk,- Sam replied. –I can't believe you wanted to chase a mailman.-
-Bitch. If you haven't noticed, I'm a dog now. Chasing mailmen comes with the territory.-
-So does chasing cars. Going to be suicidal next?-
-Oh, shove it, geek boy. And I swear if you throw up on me, I'm gonna kill you…-
-Uh-huh. …Fleabag.- Sam willed his swaying paws to pick up the pace, and the three Winchesters headed on down the street.
Unbeknownst to them, parked on the corner they had just left behind, was a white truck, bold black lettering on the side spelling out two words that all canines dread:
City Pound.
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