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27 January 2009 @ 11:48 am
Eight Below (1/1)  
Title: Eight Below
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Dean Winchester (implied Dean/Sam)
Word Count: 300
Rating: R for language
Spoilers: None
Summary: Minnesota is the last place that anyone should want to be in January.
Other: Written for the drabble123 challenge in response to prompt #6, "Out."
Author's Note: Supernatural and its characters have been manipulated here without the knowledge or consent of Eric Kripke and Warner Bros. Entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended.



It's frigid outside.

Dean wakes up alone, shuddering below the covers that he's buried nose-deep in, feels the frosty air penetrating the motel room's two exterior walls and can't help but wonder if they're even insulated. Probably not, for a cool fifty-four bucks a night.

It's fucking subzero, he thinks, clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering clumsily together. Minnesota winters always are. Minnesota is the last place that anyone should want to be in January.

Fuck Minnesota, he amends, turning onto his side to a chorus of stiff joints crackling their protest to the cold.

The curtains draping the windows are flimsy and sheer but they do an adequate job of blotting out the morning light, and Dean is certain it's because the day is shaping up to be a gloomy one. Again. Nothing but a void of grey sky and a thick mantle of snow absorbing sunlight that is too feeble to thaw the deep freeze. The perfect day to stay in bed.

Propping himself up on one elbow, Dean peels his eyelids back open and cocks his head over his shoulder to afford himself a view of the bed beside his own and isn't surprised to find that it's empty. Neatly made, pillows fluffed and stacked; a fine indicator that Sam has already gone out to greet the day. Moron.

Dean groans his disapproval of the mere idea and flops ungracefully back against the unyielding mattress, pulling the sheets up over his head until they cover his ears and he's breathing the warmth of his own body heat.

Sam will be back soon, bearing hot coffee. He'll be smiling, rosy-cheeked, warm and inviting in spite of the flurries melting in his hair and on his clothes. Maybe eight below won't seem quite so bad then.
 
 
Current Mood: coldcold
Current Music: "Makeover," David Cook
 
 
 
a glowing young ruffian: Food - Wafflesunreckless on January 28th, 2009 01:33 am (UTC)
I did exactly that this morning! I mean, less cursing Minnesota, but "fuck this cold" was very prevalent.

Nice, soft little ending line, too. It's warm and fuzzy on its own.
Erin: Lips [Dean]xxsh0tgun on January 28th, 2009 03:33 pm (UTC)
Ah, yes! The whole inspiration for this drabble was waking up to a shit ton of snow and thinking, "Hey, it's fucking subzero out there. I'm staying in bed." Which basically just ended up being adapted to Dean's internal dialogue :) I mean, who doesn't want to stay in bed from time-to-time just because it's too cold to function outside of it?

Thanks for reading! &hearts