sadly, these are the only remnants of my uploaded original work. and it sucks. i suck at writing :( i don't wanna suck though, so that's worse.
but, blah. on with the silliness.
The door slammed to the entrance of their roach motel room and Sam panicked. Cursing, he jumped off the bed in an attempt to discard what he held in his hands. It seemed like his brain had shut down because he was unable to figure out what to do with the damn book.
"Freakin' sore losers. I won that money off'a them fair and square! Seriously!" Dean came into view and immediately attacked Sam with these statements, pointing at him menacingly. These very loud and convincing statements.
Sam held up his hands in the act of surrender, raising his eyebrows. "Whoa, um, okay. I believe you, Dean. Chill."
"Shut up." Was Dean's simple reply.
'So it's one of those days… again,' Sam thought to himself. Lately, the only conversation that Sam had with Dean involved Dean rambling and throwing a 'shut up' in Sam's face, while Sam gaped like a fish out of water.
"PMS", muttered Sam quietly. Oh, but Dean had heard.
"What'd you say? PMS? Do you really hate your face that much, Sam? Trust me, I know it's hard to live with, but do you also want to lose hope of procreating? EVER AGAIN?" Dean was yelling now - screeching almost.
"Geez, calm down. I'm sorry, all right?" Sam offered.
"Shut up, Sam." Dean scoffed, cursing his brother under his breath all the way towards the fridge.
'How predictable,' Sam thought, as he hung his head. He wasn't really surprised at Dean's behavior. Besides, the relief of not getting caught overwhelmed him.
"What's that, Sam?" Dean was pointing at something poking out from under Sam's pillow; curiosity softening his tone slightly.
"Uh… n-nothing. It's nothing. Really. It's research." A rush of unconvincing words spilled from Sam's mouth.
Both boys moved towards the object; Dean darting forward and Sam following close behind. Sam's eyes widened in horror as Dean grabbed hold of the book and rushed away from Sam to inspect it.
"NO, Dean, don't!" Sam pleaded, trying to stop his brother from looking at the title. 'Oh, hell no.' Sam screamed inside his head.
And then everything went suddenly still and silent. Except for Sam's heartbeat, which just about quadrupled. Sam waited with bated breath for the explosion of insults and curses that were now a part of his daily routine. Upon getting no reaction from his mine-like brother for a well fifteen minutes, Sam tentatively called out to him.
Dean was blankly staring at the offending article, face hidden from view.
"Who are you? I definitely don't know you anymore." Shaking his head, Dean tossed the book on to Sam's bed. "This is just too much to handle, even for me. You nauseate me. Traitor." Dean all but growled the last word.
"Dean, wait, I can explain. It's for research, I swear! Dean!" Sam called out as his brother headed to the door.
Turning on his heel, Dean asked, "Research on what? Sparkly vamp-lovin' klutzes? Or klutz-loving, sparkly vampires? Which, may I remind you, don't exist!" Sam raised a finger as if to object.
"Oh, save it, Sammy." Making a pained face, Dean spun back around and slammed the door as he exited.
Stunned, Sam dropped himself on his bed and put his face in his hands.
A moment later, Dean stomped back in and asked in incredulity, "Twilight? Really, Sam? Dude, that's way too girly. Even for you." And walked right back out.