Fic: Centrifugal Force (1/1)
Jun. 11th, 2009 14:11![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zubeneschamaliTitle: Centrifugal Force
Author: Zubeneschamali
Rating: PG
Genre: preseries
Spoilers: blink-and-you-miss-it for Metamorphosis (4.04)
Word Count: 982
Summary: Sam felt like part of something here, in this little next-to-nothing Minnesota town. All he wanted was a way to remember that.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, just borrowing them for fun.
A/N: Written for the Wednesday Challenge at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
spnwriterlounge to write something in a genre you've never written before, which in my case means preseries. Thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
savingfaith333 for the encouragement.
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It cost a lot. It cost a lot more than Sam could ever earn working odd jobs in town. If he asked his big brother to lend him the money, Dean would laugh in his face when he told him why he wanted it. Dad would think it was ridiculous that a jacket cost so much, and if he really needed a new one, he should either get to Goodwill or stop growing so damn fast.
Sam hunched his shoulders as he walked, feeling the tight pull of the fabric across his back. He really did need a new coat, but it was more than that. He felt like part of something here, in this little next-to-nothing Minnesota town where half his classmates wanted to get out of town as soon as they graduated, away from their families and the weight of generations anchoring them to the same faded white four-squares and Cape Cods their grandparents had lived in. There was no one to appreciate the irony of Sam the Wandering Winchester feeling kinship with them, but he felt it all the same.
But it wasn't just the centrifugal force of family that bonded him to Kenyon-Wanamingo Senior High School (and yeah, he knew that it was only the centripetal that was technically a force, probably because he'd heard it from two physics teachers before this one, but there sure was a centrifugal power acting on him these days). For once, he was part of a team that appreciated him for who he was, not for his long body parts that should automatically be able to propel a basketball into a hoop, or for his seemingly freakish ability to run for miles cross-country without stopping (and which he could never explain he had developed to stay ahead of things with fangs and claws).
No, they liked him for his brain, and that was something he'd never get at home. Something he rarely got at school, too, always being the new kid who knew the answers because he'd read Lord of the Flies or The Scarlet Letter three schools back or already had this unit in chemistry or U.S. history. For once, being smart was cool, at least among the circle he'd found to hang with. That was worth remembering, commemorating, even once they inevitably moved on.
So he thought of all the counterarguments that he would hear, re-countered them in his head, and went to make his case to Dean for borrowing the money he needed.
Predictably, his brother said that a varsity jacket was too expensive, unnecessary since they'd be leaving sooner rather than later, totally uncool for a junior, and what did Sam have to letter in, anyway? He came home right after school every day with no time to practice any sports. Sam set his jaw and said he'd pay Dean back, they didn't know how long they were staying, the jacket was warm and durable, and yeah, he had something to letter in, but he didn't expect Dean to understand.
His brother's lips pursed at that, but finally he counted out a small pile of twenties from his wallet, fruits of his part-time job at the auto repair shop in town. Sam kept his grin down to beaming instead of blinding, lightly punching Dean's shoulder in thanks. The next day, he went to the sports shop in town and placed his order.
The jacket came in the same day Dad returned to the house where they were squatting and said he and Travis had finally found the spirit's grave, and after a salt-and-burn tonight, they'd be off in the morning. Sam thought of the jacket, still hanging in its plastic in the closet. The only person from his high school who'd ever see him wear it was Caitlyn Hodge, who'd dimpled and smiled at him on the sidewalk until she'd seen the "M" sewn proudly to the front underneath the school logo of a knight. Then her fine blonde eyebrows had furrowed in something like derision, and she'd turned away.
He put the jacket on that night in his room, feeling its warmth and even a little of the camaraderie and belonging it was supposed to symbolize, wondering how long that would linger. He smoothed down the red wool, his rough fingers catching on the edges of the black letter M.
A sound behind him made him whirl around, but it was only Dean standing in the doorway. His eyes flickered over Sam and the jacket. "Did you have to pay more for the extra-tall version?" he grumbled. Before Sam could stop him, he reached out and pulled the lower part of the jacket closer, reading the word embroidered in red across the big black letter. "Mathletes?" he said in disbelief.
Sam's chin jutted out, and he readied himself to prepare for whatever retort Dean shot at him about being a geek or a nerd or a brainiac. But instead, Dean let the jacket go with a soft huff and smoothed its surface much as Sam had. "You, uh, you still owe me ninety bucks for this, you know."
Sam swallowed. "I know."
Dean gave him a nod. Then he tapped Sam's shoulder with a fist. "Dad and I'll be back by two. You should be packed up so we can leave at daylight."
"Got it." Sam lowered his head and watched Dean walk away.
His big brother paused in the door. "Hey, Sam." Dean waited until Sam was looking up and then said with a quirk of his lips, "Sorry you're not gonna get to pick up any hot chicks with that thing."
"Yeah," Sam agreed quietly. "Be careful, okay?"
"Always," Dean replied, flicking a two-fingered salute before disappearing downstairs, pulled by the strange force that kept him close to Dad and simultaneously pushed Sam farther away.
No physics teacher or mathlete would ever be able to explain that one.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
A/N: I picked the name of this high school at random based on their participation in the state math contest. Turns out they have the same mascot and the same colors as where I went to high school and got my own mathlete letter jacket. What are the odds?
Author: Zubeneschamali
Rating: PG
Genre: preseries
Spoilers: blink-and-you-miss-it for Metamorphosis (4.04)
Word Count: 982
Summary: Sam felt like part of something here, in this little next-to-nothing Minnesota town. All he wanted was a way to remember that.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, just borrowing them for fun.
A/N: Written for the Wednesday Challenge at
spnwriterlounge to write something in a genre you've never written before, which in my case means preseries. Thanks to savingfaith333 for the encouragement.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
It cost a lot. It cost a lot more than Sam could ever earn working odd jobs in town. If he asked his big brother to lend him the money, Dean would laugh in his face when he told him why he wanted it. Dad would think it was ridiculous that a jacket cost so much, and if he really needed a new one, he should either get to Goodwill or stop growing so damn fast.
Sam hunched his shoulders as he walked, feeling the tight pull of the fabric across his back. He really did need a new coat, but it was more than that. He felt like part of something here, in this little next-to-nothing Minnesota town where half his classmates wanted to get out of town as soon as they graduated, away from their families and the weight of generations anchoring them to the same faded white four-squares and Cape Cods their grandparents had lived in. There was no one to appreciate the irony of Sam the Wandering Winchester feeling kinship with them, but he felt it all the same.
But it wasn't just the centrifugal force of family that bonded him to Kenyon-Wanamingo Senior High School (and yeah, he knew that it was only the centripetal that was technically a force, probably because he'd heard it from two physics teachers before this one, but there sure was a centrifugal power acting on him these days). For once, he was part of a team that appreciated him for who he was, not for his long body parts that should automatically be able to propel a basketball into a hoop, or for his seemingly freakish ability to run for miles cross-country without stopping (and which he could never explain he had developed to stay ahead of things with fangs and claws).
No, they liked him for his brain, and that was something he'd never get at home. Something he rarely got at school, too, always being the new kid who knew the answers because he'd read Lord of the Flies or The Scarlet Letter three schools back or already had this unit in chemistry or U.S. history. For once, being smart was cool, at least among the circle he'd found to hang with. That was worth remembering, commemorating, even once they inevitably moved on.
So he thought of all the counterarguments that he would hear, re-countered them in his head, and went to make his case to Dean for borrowing the money he needed.
Predictably, his brother said that a varsity jacket was too expensive, unnecessary since they'd be leaving sooner rather than later, totally uncool for a junior, and what did Sam have to letter in, anyway? He came home right after school every day with no time to practice any sports. Sam set his jaw and said he'd pay Dean back, they didn't know how long they were staying, the jacket was warm and durable, and yeah, he had something to letter in, but he didn't expect Dean to understand.
His brother's lips pursed at that, but finally he counted out a small pile of twenties from his wallet, fruits of his part-time job at the auto repair shop in town. Sam kept his grin down to beaming instead of blinding, lightly punching Dean's shoulder in thanks. The next day, he went to the sports shop in town and placed his order.
The jacket came in the same day Dad returned to the house where they were squatting and said he and Travis had finally found the spirit's grave, and after a salt-and-burn tonight, they'd be off in the morning. Sam thought of the jacket, still hanging in its plastic in the closet. The only person from his high school who'd ever see him wear it was Caitlyn Hodge, who'd dimpled and smiled at him on the sidewalk until she'd seen the "M" sewn proudly to the front underneath the school logo of a knight. Then her fine blonde eyebrows had furrowed in something like derision, and she'd turned away.
He put the jacket on that night in his room, feeling its warmth and even a little of the camaraderie and belonging it was supposed to symbolize, wondering how long that would linger. He smoothed down the red wool, his rough fingers catching on the edges of the black letter M.
A sound behind him made him whirl around, but it was only Dean standing in the doorway. His eyes flickered over Sam and the jacket. "Did you have to pay more for the extra-tall version?" he grumbled. Before Sam could stop him, he reached out and pulled the lower part of the jacket closer, reading the word embroidered in red across the big black letter. "Mathletes?" he said in disbelief.
Sam's chin jutted out, and he readied himself to prepare for whatever retort Dean shot at him about being a geek or a nerd or a brainiac. But instead, Dean let the jacket go with a soft huff and smoothed its surface much as Sam had. "You, uh, you still owe me ninety bucks for this, you know."
Sam swallowed. "I know."
Dean gave him a nod. Then he tapped Sam's shoulder with a fist. "Dad and I'll be back by two. You should be packed up so we can leave at daylight."
"Got it." Sam lowered his head and watched Dean walk away.
His big brother paused in the door. "Hey, Sam." Dean waited until Sam was looking up and then said with a quirk of his lips, "Sorry you're not gonna get to pick up any hot chicks with that thing."
"Yeah," Sam agreed quietly. "Be careful, okay?"
"Always," Dean replied, flicking a two-fingered salute before disappearing downstairs, pulled by the strange force that kept him close to Dad and simultaneously pushed Sam farther away.
No physics teacher or mathlete would ever be able to explain that one.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
A/N: I picked the name of this high school at random based on their participation in the state math contest. Turns out they have the same mascot and the same colors as where I went to high school and got my own mathlete letter jacket. What are the odds?
