fannishliss introduced me to the "interest drabble". She took a half-dozen of her most over-eager flisters and offered to swap an SPN drabble with them, based on the interests in their profiles. Brilliant! But man, do I need more than 100 words. Or ax all the adjectives. I'm an adjective junkie, sad but true. Gotta work on that.
So here's my drabble for her. Also, I tweaked my LJ layout so it's less busy and more springtime-y. Let me know if you find bugs. Thanks, babies!
They sat on the hood of the Impala. Dean, back against the windshield, head tilted to a moonlit Montana sky and Sam, lying flat, hair fanned out, ridiculously long legs dangling over the grill. Since the Wall’s razing, Sam hadn’t cut his hair. Too many sudden, psychotic moments to risk scissors.
Kashmir wailed from the tape deck. Dean took a swallow of liquid sleep…whiskey…and glanced at Sam. Was this peace? Schizophrenia?
“How we doin’, Sammy?”
A distant dog howled.
“Sammy? We good?”
Eyes closed, Sam’s hand rested across his belly, fingers drumming in time.
“We’re good, Dean.” And Sammy smiled.