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blue_bells» Title: Round It Out
» Fandom: Supernatural
» Warnings: AU
» Pairing(s)/Characters: Mary, Sam and Dean Winchester
» Summary: Mary raised her boys to be hunters, but basic training never gets old.
» A/N: Originally written here for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
snarky_kat in ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic.
“Pull!”
The volley released, Sam tracked the disc with his rifle for one, long second before shattering it on its descent.
He loosened the hold against his shoulder and sighed into the morning winter breeze.
“Mom, I’m hungry,” He complained, glancing back at Dean for support.
Dean stood by the loaded volley, face pointed in silence and Sam growled under his breath.
Darn Dean always trying to prove he was the tougher guy. It was almost seven in the morning, the sun had finally come up over the tree tops, but they’d been at this for almost an hour without a scrap to eat. Their mother had dragged them out of bed while the morning was still black to practice their sight by night.
Apparently being sleep-drugged and weary was half the point.
“Just a few more rounds, baby, then you’re done. That last one was slower, c’mon, I want you to catch it before it starts coming down.”
Mary Winchester nodded confidently at her youngest, now fifteen, as he threw his head back with a groan and tucked the rifle once more against his shoulder.
“Pull!” Sam snapped and the volley fired. Another disc exploded as Sam squeezed the trigger, before it had begun its arc of descent, just as his mother had asked. “It’s gotta be Dean’s turn by now.”
Mary pulled her gloved hand from its snug cocoon in her jacket and nudged Dean at the back of his shoulder.
“Dean, take over for your brother, would you?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Mary fought to repress the smile at Dean’s automated response; poor thing must have been starving. Dean was most direct and determined when he had his mind on a goal and Mary knew her boys. The only thing that mattered more to them than mutual competition was getting fed.
“Gimme three, Sammy,” Dean ordered as he reloaded the rifle.
Sam took his station by the volley, face twisted in mockery. “Get real, you can’t shoot three at twilight on two hours of sleep. I know you were reading those comics all night—“
“Sammy,” Dean growled. He glared over his shoulder at his brother and cocked the rifle loudly. “Fire the damn volley.”
Mary cleared her throat loudly and Dean glanced down, muttering an apology for his language when she caught his eye.
He turned back to the forest clearing, rifle loose in his arms.
“Pull!”
Bang, bang, bang.
Sam groaned when the three discs exploded to dust and his brother turned back with a broad smirk, arms spread wide to receive their praise.
“Shut up,” Sam was already saying and Mary stepped up behind him, ruffling both hands in his hair sympathetically.
“Good job, boys, I’m really proud of your improvement,” Mary smiled and dropped her hands to Sam’s shoulders, “Now, who wants pancakes?”
They whooped in unison, competition forgotten.
“Pancakes!”
» Fandom: Supernatural
» Warnings: AU
» Pairing(s)/Characters: Mary, Sam and Dean Winchester
» Summary: Mary raised her boys to be hunters, but basic training never gets old.
» A/N: Originally written here for
snarky_kat in comment_fic. “Pull!”
The volley released, Sam tracked the disc with his rifle for one, long second before shattering it on its descent.
He loosened the hold against his shoulder and sighed into the morning winter breeze.
“Mom, I’m hungry,” He complained, glancing back at Dean for support.
Dean stood by the loaded volley, face pointed in silence and Sam growled under his breath.
Darn Dean always trying to prove he was the tougher guy. It was almost seven in the morning, the sun had finally come up over the tree tops, but they’d been at this for almost an hour without a scrap to eat. Their mother had dragged them out of bed while the morning was still black to practice their sight by night.
Apparently being sleep-drugged and weary was half the point.
“Just a few more rounds, baby, then you’re done. That last one was slower, c’mon, I want you to catch it before it starts coming down.”
Mary Winchester nodded confidently at her youngest, now fifteen, as he threw his head back with a groan and tucked the rifle once more against his shoulder.
“Pull!” Sam snapped and the volley fired. Another disc exploded as Sam squeezed the trigger, before it had begun its arc of descent, just as his mother had asked. “It’s gotta be Dean’s turn by now.”
Mary pulled her gloved hand from its snug cocoon in her jacket and nudged Dean at the back of his shoulder.
“Dean, take over for your brother, would you?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Mary fought to repress the smile at Dean’s automated response; poor thing must have been starving. Dean was most direct and determined when he had his mind on a goal and Mary knew her boys. The only thing that mattered more to them than mutual competition was getting fed.
“Gimme three, Sammy,” Dean ordered as he reloaded the rifle.
Sam took his station by the volley, face twisted in mockery. “Get real, you can’t shoot three at twilight on two hours of sleep. I know you were reading those comics all night—“
“Sammy,” Dean growled. He glared over his shoulder at his brother and cocked the rifle loudly. “Fire the damn volley.”
Mary cleared her throat loudly and Dean glanced down, muttering an apology for his language when she caught his eye.
He turned back to the forest clearing, rifle loose in his arms.
“Pull!”
Bang, bang, bang.
Sam groaned when the three discs exploded to dust and his brother turned back with a broad smirk, arms spread wide to receive their praise.
“Shut up,” Sam was already saying and Mary stepped up behind him, ruffling both hands in his hair sympathetically.
“Good job, boys, I’m really proud of your improvement,” Mary smiled and dropped her hands to Sam’s shoulders, “Now, who wants pancakes?”
They whooped in unison, competition forgotten.
“Pancakes!”
