Title: In Perpetuity
Summary: Some things never change.
Note: Happy birthday, uglyduckling_me ! I used this line from the poem Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas as a prompt: “Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight.” Although God alone knows how it translated into the below in my little brain. I sure hope it makes sense. Either way, have an awesome birthday!! *big hug*
“Don't do it.” Sam thrust his hand out and scowled at his brother, who was shaping a handful of snow from the fresh white bank at the edge of the motel parking lot into a very cold, fist-sized missile. “I mean it, Dean. I just put this clean shirt on and I don't want to have to change it.”
Dean crossed his eyes and mimicked in a high-pitched, juvenile voice, “Don't do it, Dean. Don't do it. I'm going to cry like a scared little girl.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, you turn thirty today. Are you ever going to grow up?”
Dean shook his head and sighed. He opened his fist and let the snowball fall to the asphalt, where it broke apart . “Yeah, you're right, Sammy. It's about time I act my age.”
“Good,” Sam said, turning to walk into the diner. “Let's go. I'm hungry enough to eat a horse--”
“Sucker!!” Dean crowed.
Sam halted, back rigid, the remains of a snowball caked in his hair and melting slowly down the collar of his freshly laundered shirt. He pivoted slowly to face his brother, mouth pursed with annoyance.
Upon seeing Sam's face, Dean gave a hoot of triumph, then began an impromptu victory dance. He didn't see Sam's lips curve into a smile. Nor did he heard the softly spoken, “Happy birthday, Dean.”
By the time Dean was finished, Sam's arms were folded and his expression was one of annoyed indulgence. Just like he expected.