This will most likely become a series of one-shots posted individually; just something I can dabble in every now and then really so enjoy. Yes, I will post the last seven chapters of "The Burden We Shared" I have just been away and unable to write or post but I'm back and so are my stories! Love you guys and pls review.
Dean 12, Sam 7
Stillness and Quietness. Two things Sam would never achieve. Sam was diagnosed with ADHD when he was seven. Sam could never stay still even when he was seemingly distracted. Sam also wasn't good at being quiet, no, Sam always had to make a noise; clicking his tongue, popping his fingers, patting his lap, etc and this irritated his father to no end.
John, a hard-core marine, had a hard time being around his overactive son. He knew that Sam couldn't control it but it still annoyed him to no end and it showed.
Sam came home from school skipping with his brother behind him, they were both laughing, and his father audibly sighed. "Sam, do you have to jump in the house?" John asked, making Sam pause and frown. "I didn't even realize that I was" he shrugged before saying a half-hearted apology and walking to his room that he shared with his brother.
"Dean-" John said and began rubbing his forehead.
"I know dad but you have to remember he doesn't do these things on purpose. It's just Sam being Sam" Dean said before walking off to join his brother.
Two hours later and the Winchesters were seated at the table eating dinner.
Sam kept popping his fingers beside his plate as he shoveled food into his mouth. John stared at Sam's hand and Dean bit his lip.
"Sam?" John began.
Sam looked up but the popping didn't stop, "Yeah?"
"Can you please stop?" John asked.
"Stop what?" Sam's face was scrunched up in confusion.
"You keep popping your fingers, Sam, you're really going to sit there and tell me you don't know!"
Sam just stared with his mouth hanging open until Dean kicked him under the table.
"Well?!" his dad asked.
"I didn't," Sam said in a quiet voice, eyes cast down. The popping seized.
"Whatever, Sam," his father said before choking down the rest of his meal and leaving the table.
Dean looked over at Sam who's eyes were glistening as he stared at his lap.
"Hey, Sam?" Dean asked.
Sam looked up looking absolutely miserable.
"I saw something on TV that might help," Dean said with a smile.
"What?" Sam responded.
"It's called quiet hands. Basically, you put your hands flat on a table or your lap, it just depends where you are, and you try your best to keep them there. Most people say it doesn't feel good but maybe it will help keep dad off your back" Dean said with a shrug and a smile.
Dean didn't realize what he had just done and he wouldn't for a very long time.
"Ok…. I can try that" Sam said with a nod, wiping his eyes, he went back to his food.
A week later.
Sam sat in the back seat of the impala where he was tapping his fingers against the leather seat to some random beat while looking out the window.
Dean could see his father growing more agitated as Sam continued to tap his fingers against the seat and he decided now would be a good time to set their little plan in motion. Dean turned around in his seat.
"Hey, Sam?"
Sam looked at him but the tapping didn't stop. "Yeah?"
"Wanna try quiet hands?" Dean suggested with a grin.
Sam grinned back, "Yeah" and finally the tapping ceased.
"You remember how to do it?" Dean asked.
"Uh… like this?" Sam asked as he placed both of his hands flat on his lap.
"Yeah" Dean grinned and ruffled Sam's hair before turning in his seat.
"Just like that" he mumbled to himself, still grinning slightly.
Sam sat like that for two hours before Dean turned to check on him. Sam kept squirming in discomfort, and his face made it look like he was in pain. Sam was oblivious to Dean's observations and kept staring at his hands with a frown.
"Sam are you okay?" Dean asked.
Sam shook his head. "My hands feel weird, tingly, can I move them now?" Sam whined.
Dean shook his head as well. "No, Sam you can hold it for just…. four more hours can't you?"
Sam shook his head and his frown grew deeper.
"Yes you can Sam you have too" and with that Dean turned in his seat. The kid would just have to learn.
Four hours later and the impala parked in yet another parking lot. Dean got out of the car and opened Sam's door. "You did it kiddo" Dean grinned down at his brother.
Sam looked up at Dean looking like misery itself.
"Can I move them?" was all he said.
"Yeah," Dean laughed.
As soon as the words left his mouth however Sam began rapidly punching his legs and the seat only stopping when Dean grabbed them and held them in front of Sam.
"Dude, stop!" Dean said to his brother who was breathing heavily and blowing out hot air.
"I don't like "quiet hands" anymore Dean" Sam whined with tears brimming in his eyes.
"Why not?" Dean didn't understand why the kid had to make everything so difficult; he was helping Sam, couldn't Sam see that? Dean questioned internally.
"It doesn't feel good. It feels tingly and it just makes me want to move more" Sam desperately tried to get his big brother to understand. Dean sighed, "You'll just have to get used to it" Dean shrugged and let go of Sam's arms, "come on" was all he said before he disappeared into the motel room.
Sam honestly didn't think that he would survive another round of "quiet hands" but he would try because if Dean said it would get better then it would.
Five Years Later.
Quiet Hands, a phrase that enraged Sam to no end. Five years later and "quiet hands" was still very much a thing amongst the Winchesters. For Sam, this meant being utterly uncomfortable, constantly squirming, and just generally displeased. For Dean, quiet hands was still very much considered his greatest idea yet, a quick fix to a seemingly complex problem, it made him feel significant like he had solved the world's most troubling question. Dean was oblivious to the fact that he had in fact done the very opposite and that his little brother harbored slight resentment towards him and his "genius" idea. For John, the silence, the stillness, and the calm environment was deeply appreciated; before he could barely focus on putting his hazards on with Sam in the car, now he could do that and read a book if he wanted to. It was lost on both Winchesters how much the things they appreciated and "accomplished" affected Sam.
Twelve-year-old Sam sat in the back seat with his hands under his thighs, eyes closed, and head resting on the back of his seat. He tried to focus on other things to distract him from the constant tingling and numbing in his hands and as always nothing worked; eventually, Sam drifted off.
Dean turned in his seat "Sammy, you there?" he said, nudging his brother's shoulder. Sam shifted in his sleep but otherwise did not wake. "Sam, dude, wake up. I'm bored" Dean drawled out sounding like a whiny toddler. Sam didn't respond. "Whatever" Dean huffed and turned back around in his seat.
"He sleep?" his father asked, Dean, nodded in response.
Sam was unaware of their interaction as he continued to doze.
Flashback?/Dream
Sam sat in the back seat as he feigned sleep and listened to his father and brother's conversation.
"So, Sammy…" their father began.
"Yeah, what about him?" Dean inquired lightly.
"The ADHD thing, it's gotten a lot better" John looked to Dean "that you're doing?"
Dean flashed a prideful grin "so you've noticed?" he joked "and yeah it is."
"How?" John chuckled.
"A magician never reveals his secrets" Dean laughed at his own joke before looking out the window.
John just snorted and nodded.
Sam didn't know what to say or how to feel and instead of dwelling on the conversation, he decided an actual nap would be a good idea.
End Flashback/Dream
Sam woke up and immediately felt the confining feeling within his hands making him contort his face in displeasure. Dean turned around "we're here, dude, get out," he said before getting out to join their father in the diner. Sam nodded and once Dean was inside and out of sight he began banging his hands against his chest, legs, and seat. Sam continued smashing his hands against everything in sight for fifteen minutes unbeknownst that he had been in the car so long until the door wrenched open and someone began yelling, over his own yelling which he was also unaware of, and grabbing him however he didn't stop hitting and was sure he clipped whoever multiple times.
Five minutes prior
"Wait, where's Sammy?" Dean said, pausing the conversation between his father and himself.
"I thought maybe he went to the bathroom but it has been a while. Run out to the car and see if he's still there? I got the bathroom" was all John said before standing up; it may have been phrased as a question but Dean knew an order when he heard one and quickly got up as well.
Dean pushed the diner door open and took about two steps before he froze; behind the curb in front of the diner, still in the car, was Sam and seemed as if he was doing everything in his power to destroy it, at least the interior. Coming back to his senses, Dean ran to the car and wrenched the door open as his father came to stand in the doorway of the dinner.
What he saw that day had blossomed something akin to fear within him and it was derived from his own son... who looked like he was possessed. What scared John was the fact that he knew Sam wasn't.
Sam continued to punch and now kick as he was dragged out of the car, he yelled and he screamed, and his nose bled but he didn't care. He didn't care that he was now screaming at Dean or that his dad had now joined in to pin him to the ground, and he certainly didn't care that he could barely breathe.
"SAM, STOP!" Dean yelled at his incredibly distressed little brother.
In response, Sam just continued to yell and scream sounding like a broken record. "I HATE IT. I HATE QUIET HANDS. I HATE IT, I HATE IT!"
John froze for a second thinking over what quiet hands could possibly be before resuming crossing Sam's arms over his chest and holding him to the ground. "Dean, his legs!" John yelled out.
Dean made quick work of holding down Sam's legs and pressing down with the majority of his body weight.
"Sam, you stop this right now!" John yelled right into Sam's face making him pause.
Sam stared at his father, his face bright red and breathing irregular as he puffed out air.
"Sam?" Dean asked but Sam just continued to stare at John.
"Sam?" John tried.
Sam closed his eyes for a moment before opening them to reveal hazel orbs shining with tears.
Dean frowned while John just looked severely confused.
"Yes?" Sam spoke, his bottom lip trembling.
"You okay" Dean took over making John look back at him for a second.
"Fine.. can you please get off me?" Sam asked avoiding eye contact; he was exhausted, out of breath, and the hot concrete coupled with the two people pinning made him feel smothered.
Dean let go immediately but John was a little more reluctant.
"What was all that about?" John inquired, still pinning his youngest down.
Sam looked him straight in the eye and said "I hate quiet hands."
John stared right back and blinked "What?"
Dean put a hand on John's shoulder and nodded signaling that he would handle this.
John stared at Dean before speaking "fine but I want to know everything when you're done" and with that John released his hold and Dean extended a hand out to Sam who got up on his own accord and stood on wobbly legs. When Dean reached out to help steady him he backed up and said "no more quiet hands" and shook his head; a tear fell down his cheek.
"Sam-" Dean once again reached out.
"NO!" Sam yelled so suddenly, as he stepped out of Dean's reach, making Dean flinch. "No more" his lip continued to tremble as he turned and got in the car.
Dean stood stunned. What had he done?
END
Yes, I did end here on purpose. I love to leave you guys on cliffhangers. Please review, leave prompts of things that you would like me to write (open to anything besides male preg, wincest, and non-con). Love you guys I will try to post the second shot of this series as soon as possible.