Entry tags:
SPN: A Certain Value of Normal
Fandom: Supernatural
Main characters: Sam, Dean
Referenced characters: N/a
Pairings: None
Contains: Humour
Rating: PG
Summary: Dean finds a baby dragon, much to Sam's dismay. For my future flatmate,![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iltaru, in honour of much crack to come.
Note: Only seen S1 at this point.
"A dragon," Sam says, voice thick with disbelief.
"A baby dragon," Dean corrects. There's a shifting noise on the other end of the phone and then Dean yelps. "Ow. He has sharp claws."
"I suppose a dragon would."
What the hell else is he supposed to say?
"So you believe me? Man, about time. Look, Norbert here is never going to survive in the wild. I'm going to have to bring him -- I think he's a guy dragon, but honestly I'm not sure how you tell -- back with me. He kind of sneezes fire every so often, so if there's anything we need not charred to a crisp, you'd better pack it away now."
Sam doesn't know where to start with that string of words.
"Sam? Are you even listening to me?"
"I'm listening, I'm just not sure I'm actually hearing right. Dean, you're telling me you've found a baby dragon. And you want to bring it back here? Normally, we're trying to stop supernatural creatures before they hurt people. We don't take them in and take care of them."
"What if the mother comes back?"
"Exactly! What if the mother comes back and the baby is gone?"
"What if the mother comes back and the baby's dead of neglect and she can smell that I've been here?"
Sam bites his lip, hard. He's not sure what the hell to say to this, 'cause he's pretty sure Dean's actually going mad. All this rationalisation... yeah. Just hallucinating. Maybe there is something there, but it sure as hell can't be a baby dragon. He'll just... play it by ear, let Dean bring the thing home, get himself ready for it. Just in case. And if it is a baby dragon, they can decide what to do with it then. Yeah.
Having formulated a plan, Sam feels much, much better about the whole situation. "Okay. Whatever. Bring the damn thing back here."
"Yes!" Dean sounds honestly jubilant. "I'll be back in like twenty minutes. See you."
Sam opens his mouth to see 'see you', and then stops. "Wait. Dean?"
"Yeah?" Dean asks, impatient. "Come on, or we're both going to get colds stuck out here. Jesus."
"Norbert?"
"So?"
"Seriously?"
"It's what they call the baby dragon in Harry Potter," Dean says, defensively. Defensively, oh my god.
"You've read Harry Potter?"
"No, I saw the movie, duh. That girl who plays Hermione, Emma something, she might be pretty hot when she grows up properly."
Sam just puts the phone down.
---
"Huh."
Dean raises an eyebrow. His arms are rather full of baby dragon, and the thing looks up at Sam balefully, smoke curling up from its nostrils. It butts its head against Dean's shoulder, and Dean absentmindedly pets its snout. The noise it makes might have been the equivalent of a purr. If it were bigger, a full-size dragon, that purr might have sounded like an earthquake. It's actually quite an ugly thing, Sam thinks: scales the colour of dirt, eyes a murky brown, scaly and sinuous. Misshapen. "You didn't believe me, did you?"
"Not really," Sam says, shaking his head. "Dean -- "
"What do you think he'll eat?"
"Dean."
"Yeah, it was kind of obvious, now I come to think of it. I bet it'll have no problems with burgers. How about you go and get us some, huh?"
The dragon sneezes. Dean was right: a little jet of fire comes out, too. Not very much. But not bad in terms of his size, Sam thinks, and wonders bleakly how fast the damn thing will grow, and then wonders immediately after just why he's already thinking in terms of keeping it.
"No way," he says, to that prospect more than to the idea of burgers.
Dean's mouth twists. "Fine," he says, and actually unceremoniously dumps the damn dragon in Sam's arms. "You look after him."
By the time Dean gets back, Sam's shirt is scorched and he and Norbert are at a sulky impasse. Sam has minor burns and the indents of teeth in his forearm -- milk teeth, thank god, and apparently not much good for anything -- but Norbert has his mouth strapped shut with Sam's spare belt.
"Sam!" Dean says, taking the scene in at a glance and giving him an honest to god kicked puppy look. "Jesus, you bit people when you were a baby and we didn't muzzle you."
"I did?" Sam asks, blinking.
"Yeah," Dean says, with a baleful glare, loosening the belt and slipping it off, petting Norbert's head. "Here, Norbert, try this."
He tosses a burger into that surprisingly large mouth. Norbert gulps it down without even chewing and lets out a little belch of fire.
"Awesome," Dean says, his eyes alight. "I wish I could do that. Hey, Norbert would totally be a good person to have with us on a hunt."
"Person?" Sam asks, covering his face with both hands. God, he's got to be dreaming. Any minute now, he'll wake up.
---
A week later, he still hasn't woken up.
"We've got to move on, Dean," Sam says, firmly. He's starting to feel like the spoilsport mother in this little family, which is just ridiculous. For a start, it's Dean getting all maternal, not him. "There are jobs we've got to do, and it doesn't look like Norbert's real parents are coming back."
"Ssh, he'll hear you," Dean says, eyebrows scrunching. "Do you really want to piss off a dragon?"
"I'm sure I can handle Norbert."
Dean raises an eyebrow, expressively. Sam glances down at himself and sighs. Yeah, this is -- was -- his favourite shirt, and it, like five others before it, is burnt to a crisp. Norbert apparently observes the Sabbath, because on Sunday he kindly abstained.
He's got to admit, Norbert's got skills. After the first day, he hasn't actually ever burnt Sam's skin. Dean has remained miraculously free of all burns, though, and the creature seems to adore him. It wobbles around after him on ungainly legs, and Sam swears it, he, she, whatever the hell it is, is fluttering its eyelashes at Dean all the time.
"That's not the point," Sam says, firmly. "The point is, we need to be hunting."
"We can't take Norbert in the Impala," Dean says, like it's perfectly obvious. "I mean, I'm sure he'd behave and not scorch the upholstery, but claws, man! And what if he can't control when he shits? He's only a baby, after all. Do you want to clean dragon shit off my back seats?"
Sam, having had the wonderful experience of cleaning dragon shit off his bed, shakes his head. "No, but Dean -- "
"I'm looking for Norbert's mother. Once we find her, we can move on. It'd help if you actually did some work too, y'know."
"I just think if we haven't found something as huge and obvious as a dragon -- not even a single dragon footprint -- we're not going to. Maybe Norbert fledged. Like a bird."
"He obviously can't look after himself," Dean says, defensively.
"Fine," Sam says, throwing his hands in the air. "Fine. Yeah. I'll look for the fucking mother dragon."
"Don't talk about Norbert's mother like that."
Sam eyes the little jet of fire coming from Norbert's mouth and apologises hastily. Damn it, he liked this shirt.
---
One of the singular most impressive things Sam has ever seen has got to be Dean talking down a dragon. The dragon itself comes pretty high on that list -- apparently adult dragons get a lot more beautiful and a lot more graceful, because that thing was breathtaking, and not just because of its size. But seeing Dean, who looked like a matchstick in comparison, raising his arms in the air and trying to talk an adult dragon down -- that's heading the list.
Partly because it's priceless, watching Dean stammer and babble.
Partly because he has to reluctantly admire Dean's guts.
"Good work, man," Sam says, smacking him on the shoulder. He's still staring after the retreating dot that is Mommy Dragon.
"Do you think Norbert'll remember us, when he's grown up?"
"Yeah," Sam says, when he's really thinking god, I hope not. "Maybe he'll even visit."
"Don't mock me."
"I'm not."
"Sure."
"Really."
Dean rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Come on. You're the one that was bitching about having work to do. Let's get back to the car."
Sam can totally get with that plan. He's used to weird, but raising a baby dragon, even for just a fortnight, is not the kind of weird he was expecting when he signed up for this. Not that he actually ever signed up for this, it just kind of happened to him, but that's another thing entirely. Now things will go back to normal: for a certain value of normal, anyway.
Dean has a sulky look about his face, though, and he keeps looking back at the spot where the two little dots finally disappeared. Sam puts up with this for about five minutes, and then he has to say something.
"Dude, tell me you're not getting all pouty about giving Norbert back to his mother," Sam says. Dean gives him a look that's pure death, snatching the car keys from him.
"Fuck you, man, I don't pout. You know that." There's a short silence. "Besides, I have a feeling that was his dad."
Sam doesn't dignify that with an answer. "Get in the fucking car, Dean. We've got a job to do."
Main characters: Sam, Dean
Referenced characters: N/a
Pairings: None
Contains: Humour
Rating: PG
Summary: Dean finds a baby dragon, much to Sam's dismay. For my future flatmate,
iltaru, in honour of much crack to come.Note: Only seen S1 at this point.
"A dragon," Sam says, voice thick with disbelief.
"A baby dragon," Dean corrects. There's a shifting noise on the other end of the phone and then Dean yelps. "Ow. He has sharp claws."
"I suppose a dragon would."
What the hell else is he supposed to say?
"So you believe me? Man, about time. Look, Norbert here is never going to survive in the wild. I'm going to have to bring him -- I think he's a guy dragon, but honestly I'm not sure how you tell -- back with me. He kind of sneezes fire every so often, so if there's anything we need not charred to a crisp, you'd better pack it away now."
Sam doesn't know where to start with that string of words.
"Sam? Are you even listening to me?"
"I'm listening, I'm just not sure I'm actually hearing right. Dean, you're telling me you've found a baby dragon. And you want to bring it back here? Normally, we're trying to stop supernatural creatures before they hurt people. We don't take them in and take care of them."
"What if the mother comes back?"
"Exactly! What if the mother comes back and the baby is gone?"
"What if the mother comes back and the baby's dead of neglect and she can smell that I've been here?"
Sam bites his lip, hard. He's not sure what the hell to say to this, 'cause he's pretty sure Dean's actually going mad. All this rationalisation... yeah. Just hallucinating. Maybe there is something there, but it sure as hell can't be a baby dragon. He'll just... play it by ear, let Dean bring the thing home, get himself ready for it. Just in case. And if it is a baby dragon, they can decide what to do with it then. Yeah.
Having formulated a plan, Sam feels much, much better about the whole situation. "Okay. Whatever. Bring the damn thing back here."
"Yes!" Dean sounds honestly jubilant. "I'll be back in like twenty minutes. See you."
Sam opens his mouth to see 'see you', and then stops. "Wait. Dean?"
"Yeah?" Dean asks, impatient. "Come on, or we're both going to get colds stuck out here. Jesus."
"Norbert?"
"So?"
"Seriously?"
"It's what they call the baby dragon in Harry Potter," Dean says, defensively. Defensively, oh my god.
"You've read Harry Potter?"
"No, I saw the movie, duh. That girl who plays Hermione, Emma something, she might be pretty hot when she grows up properly."
Sam just puts the phone down.
"Huh."
Dean raises an eyebrow. His arms are rather full of baby dragon, and the thing looks up at Sam balefully, smoke curling up from its nostrils. It butts its head against Dean's shoulder, and Dean absentmindedly pets its snout. The noise it makes might have been the equivalent of a purr. If it were bigger, a full-size dragon, that purr might have sounded like an earthquake. It's actually quite an ugly thing, Sam thinks: scales the colour of dirt, eyes a murky brown, scaly and sinuous. Misshapen. "You didn't believe me, did you?"
"Not really," Sam says, shaking his head. "Dean -- "
"What do you think he'll eat?"
"Dean."
"Yeah, it was kind of obvious, now I come to think of it. I bet it'll have no problems with burgers. How about you go and get us some, huh?"
The dragon sneezes. Dean was right: a little jet of fire comes out, too. Not very much. But not bad in terms of his size, Sam thinks, and wonders bleakly how fast the damn thing will grow, and then wonders immediately after just why he's already thinking in terms of keeping it.
"No way," he says, to that prospect more than to the idea of burgers.
Dean's mouth twists. "Fine," he says, and actually unceremoniously dumps the damn dragon in Sam's arms. "You look after him."
By the time Dean gets back, Sam's shirt is scorched and he and Norbert are at a sulky impasse. Sam has minor burns and the indents of teeth in his forearm -- milk teeth, thank god, and apparently not much good for anything -- but Norbert has his mouth strapped shut with Sam's spare belt.
"Sam!" Dean says, taking the scene in at a glance and giving him an honest to god kicked puppy look. "Jesus, you bit people when you were a baby and we didn't muzzle you."
"I did?" Sam asks, blinking.
"Yeah," Dean says, with a baleful glare, loosening the belt and slipping it off, petting Norbert's head. "Here, Norbert, try this."
He tosses a burger into that surprisingly large mouth. Norbert gulps it down without even chewing and lets out a little belch of fire.
"Awesome," Dean says, his eyes alight. "I wish I could do that. Hey, Norbert would totally be a good person to have with us on a hunt."
"Person?" Sam asks, covering his face with both hands. God, he's got to be dreaming. Any minute now, he'll wake up.
A week later, he still hasn't woken up.
"We've got to move on, Dean," Sam says, firmly. He's starting to feel like the spoilsport mother in this little family, which is just ridiculous. For a start, it's Dean getting all maternal, not him. "There are jobs we've got to do, and it doesn't look like Norbert's real parents are coming back."
"Ssh, he'll hear you," Dean says, eyebrows scrunching. "Do you really want to piss off a dragon?"
"I'm sure I can handle Norbert."
Dean raises an eyebrow, expressively. Sam glances down at himself and sighs. Yeah, this is -- was -- his favourite shirt, and it, like five others before it, is burnt to a crisp. Norbert apparently observes the Sabbath, because on Sunday he kindly abstained.
He's got to admit, Norbert's got skills. After the first day, he hasn't actually ever burnt Sam's skin. Dean has remained miraculously free of all burns, though, and the creature seems to adore him. It wobbles around after him on ungainly legs, and Sam swears it, he, she, whatever the hell it is, is fluttering its eyelashes at Dean all the time.
"That's not the point," Sam says, firmly. "The point is, we need to be hunting."
"We can't take Norbert in the Impala," Dean says, like it's perfectly obvious. "I mean, I'm sure he'd behave and not scorch the upholstery, but claws, man! And what if he can't control when he shits? He's only a baby, after all. Do you want to clean dragon shit off my back seats?"
Sam, having had the wonderful experience of cleaning dragon shit off his bed, shakes his head. "No, but Dean -- "
"I'm looking for Norbert's mother. Once we find her, we can move on. It'd help if you actually did some work too, y'know."
"I just think if we haven't found something as huge and obvious as a dragon -- not even a single dragon footprint -- we're not going to. Maybe Norbert fledged. Like a bird."
"He obviously can't look after himself," Dean says, defensively.
"Fine," Sam says, throwing his hands in the air. "Fine. Yeah. I'll look for the fucking mother dragon."
"Don't talk about Norbert's mother like that."
Sam eyes the little jet of fire coming from Norbert's mouth and apologises hastily. Damn it, he liked this shirt.
One of the singular most impressive things Sam has ever seen has got to be Dean talking down a dragon. The dragon itself comes pretty high on that list -- apparently adult dragons get a lot more beautiful and a lot more graceful, because that thing was breathtaking, and not just because of its size. But seeing Dean, who looked like a matchstick in comparison, raising his arms in the air and trying to talk an adult dragon down -- that's heading the list.
Partly because it's priceless, watching Dean stammer and babble.
Partly because he has to reluctantly admire Dean's guts.
"Good work, man," Sam says, smacking him on the shoulder. He's still staring after the retreating dot that is Mommy Dragon.
"Do you think Norbert'll remember us, when he's grown up?"
"Yeah," Sam says, when he's really thinking god, I hope not. "Maybe he'll even visit."
"Don't mock me."
"I'm not."
"Sure."
"Really."
Dean rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Come on. You're the one that was bitching about having work to do. Let's get back to the car."
Sam can totally get with that plan. He's used to weird, but raising a baby dragon, even for just a fortnight, is not the kind of weird he was expecting when he signed up for this. Not that he actually ever signed up for this, it just kind of happened to him, but that's another thing entirely. Now things will go back to normal: for a certain value of normal, anyway.
Dean has a sulky look about his face, though, and he keeps looking back at the spot where the two little dots finally disappeared. Sam puts up with this for about five minutes, and then he has to say something.
"Dude, tell me you're not getting all pouty about giving Norbert back to his mother," Sam says. Dean gives him a look that's pure death, snatching the car keys from him.
"Fuck you, man, I don't pout. You know that." There's a short silence. "Besides, I have a feeling that was his dad."
Sam doesn't dignify that with an answer. "Get in the fucking car, Dean. We've got a job to do."
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We are going to have a fic flat of AWESOME next year! I kind of want to move in NOW NOW NOW...
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...Me too.
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