Miss Squeenie McPimpalot (chaletian) wrote,
Miss Squeenie McPimpalot
chaletian

Heigh Ho...

Thing the first: article about Alexis Denisof for those who are interested. How much does it cost to get to Liverpool?

Thing the second:

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Winchesters on a Plane :: by Liss
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Dean Winchester, at very nearly 12 (enough to tell people you are without it *really* being lying), is unconvinced by the concept of flying. I mean, it looks cool, and everything, and practically everyone in the world has flown at one time or another, he knows that. And Sammy is so stupidly over-excited about the whole thing that Dean has had to wrestle him to the ground three times today already, just on principle. And everyone knows that you’ve got a better chance of being hit by a car than anything happening on a plane. So he’s not scared, or anything like that. Of *course* he’s not scared.

Still, he wishes Dad was coming. But Dad’s off to find some freaky werewolf family or something, and has decided that Dean and Sammy should stay with Pastor Jim, which would be fine and all, except they’re way across the country, and Dad doesn’t have time to drive them. So it’s a plane. With Dean in charge. Which is something.

It’s a short flight. They have to wear stupid labels round their necks so everyone knows they’re just little kids who can’t do anything for themselves. Dean’s already taken his off four times when the air hostess threatens him a staple gun if he doesn’t leave it on. Puh-leeze, like he’s scared of that! But he keeps it on, just because it’s less hassle. And, once he gets used to it, Dean decides flying isn’t so bad after all.

“Pretty cool, huh?” he says to Sammy, who has his nose pressed so close to the window, Dean wonders if it’ll ever go back into shape. Sammy nods back enthusiastically, and starts to tell Dean how aeroplanes work, which he kinda doesn’t want to know, because notwithstanding that it *feels* okay, he doesn’t want to think about just hanging in the air in a big metal cylinder.

Then the turbulence starts, and Dean begins to rethink his favourable attitude. Sammy is too, by the looks of his green face. It’s getting really rough, and Dean hopes neither of them will throw up, cuz that’s always completely gross. Everyone else is complaining, and the air hostesses, who are still walking around, are lurching from one seat to the next. The staple gun woman comes back, and tells them to pull faces at each other and see who laughs the most, which Dean could have told her was pointless, cuz Sammy always cracks first. Still, anything is better than his kid brother being sick all over him, and he probably won’t be so scared if he’s laughing. So Dean puts all his effort into pulling the most stupid faces, and is rewarded by Sammy practically falling off his seat laughing.

But the turbulence isn’t getting any better and Dean’s getting a funny sort of feeling about the whole thing. The sort of feeling he sometimes gets which, even though he so isn’t a little kid any more, really makes him wish his dad was here. He wonders if they’re a magnet for this sort of thing, as if somehow, somewhere, somebody *knows* about them. Sammy’s stopped laughing and is starting to look freaked by the whole thing, so Dean reaches out and holds his hand. It’s not that either of them are girls, or anything, but heck, Sammy’s just a little kid, and it is kinda scary.

Things get a whole load scarier when the snakes appear, though.

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Thing the third: well, that's about it, je pense.
Tags: fic, supernatural
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