Zombie 101
May. 17th, 2010 01:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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queerlygenTitle: Zombie 101
Creator:landshark
Universe: Supernatural AU (Sam and Dean are not related but were pretty much raised together.)
Type of work: Fic, approx. 500 words.
Contains: Zombie-related violence, talk of a non-existent het relationship, hints of one-sided Dean/Sam if you squint.
Summary: Saving people, hunting zombies. The family business.
Dean's been sitting in the guard tower, picking off zombies with Sam, for the last three hours. There's more important shit he needs to be doing--replacing a few feet of pipe on the water collection system being the highlight of a day otherwise spent scouting for toilet paper--but Dad's not due back for another three days so he's got plenty of time.
"So," Sam says, and he can tell by the tone of Sam's voice that this isn't a conversation he wants to have. "People are starting to talk, Dean."
"About?" He spots movement in the brush about 100 yards out. It looks like a man, maybe late 40s.
Sam shifts in annoyance. "About you and Jo finally settling down?" The duh, idiot is implied.
The zombie bursts into the clearing and makes a beeline for their tower. It's moving fast--they always do--but it's predictability makes it an easy target. Zombie 101: if given an open space, the undead will run in a straight line toward the nearest food source. Dean lines up his shot and waits. A shot from too far away, even a head shot, is a waste of ammo.
"And by people I assume you mean your mother?" Deep breath, release, squeeze the trigger, absorb the recoil. He keeps the barrel trained on the target until it hits the ground. It lands awkwardly, legs collapsing underneath it, and slides a few feet in the morning-wet grass. It's wearing a suit and tie, and Dean wonders if he used to carry a brief case, and drink overpriced coffee.
Sam flinches, probably not from the shotgun blast.
"You know she loves you like a son," says Sam. "She's always treated us the same."
Yep. Just like brothers. One big happy family. Dean's gaze slips across Sam's shoulder and down his bicep before skittering back to the clearing. "I know, Sam," Dean says quietly.
Sam doesn't say anything, and Dean knows he's waiting for an answer on this thing with Jo that everyone seems so sure is going to happen.
"Jo has told me several times that she has no interest in becoming 'breeding stock'," Dean says with a wry smile. "She's also informed me we aren't sexually compatible and that I need a strong man to put me in my place."
That startles a choked laugh out of Sam.
"Are you serious? She actually said that?" Sam is sliding down the wall, he's laughing so hard. One huge hand covering his face, the other still holding a shotgun. The sight of Sam so happy makes his heart race a little.
"Laugh it up, bitch." Dean says with mock irritation. "She's right though," he adds absently, scanning the treeline with a practiced eye.
"That you need a strong man?" Sam's voice is a mix of curiosity and disbelief.
OK, awkward. He was actually referring to the whole 'breeding stock' thing, but... What the hell.
"Yeah," Dean says with a leer in his voice. He catches movement out of the corner of his eye--a young woman with flaming red hair--and he aims for the face. "You know any?"
Deep breath, release, squeeze the trigger, absorb the recoil.
Creator:
landsharkUniverse: Supernatural AU (Sam and Dean are not related but were pretty much raised together.)
Type of work: Fic, approx. 500 words.
Contains: Zombie-related violence, talk of a non-existent het relationship, hints of one-sided Dean/Sam if you squint.
Summary: Saving people, hunting zombies. The family business.
Dean's been sitting in the guard tower, picking off zombies with Sam, for the last three hours. There's more important shit he needs to be doing--replacing a few feet of pipe on the water collection system being the highlight of a day otherwise spent scouting for toilet paper--but Dad's not due back for another three days so he's got plenty of time.
"So," Sam says, and he can tell by the tone of Sam's voice that this isn't a conversation he wants to have. "People are starting to talk, Dean."
"About?" He spots movement in the brush about 100 yards out. It looks like a man, maybe late 40s.
Sam shifts in annoyance. "About you and Jo finally settling down?" The duh, idiot is implied.
The zombie bursts into the clearing and makes a beeline for their tower. It's moving fast--they always do--but it's predictability makes it an easy target. Zombie 101: if given an open space, the undead will run in a straight line toward the nearest food source. Dean lines up his shot and waits. A shot from too far away, even a head shot, is a waste of ammo.
"And by people I assume you mean your mother?" Deep breath, release, squeeze the trigger, absorb the recoil. He keeps the barrel trained on the target until it hits the ground. It lands awkwardly, legs collapsing underneath it, and slides a few feet in the morning-wet grass. It's wearing a suit and tie, and Dean wonders if he used to carry a brief case, and drink overpriced coffee.
Sam flinches, probably not from the shotgun blast.
"You know she loves you like a son," says Sam. "She's always treated us the same."
Yep. Just like brothers. One big happy family. Dean's gaze slips across Sam's shoulder and down his bicep before skittering back to the clearing. "I know, Sam," Dean says quietly.
Sam doesn't say anything, and Dean knows he's waiting for an answer on this thing with Jo that everyone seems so sure is going to happen.
"Jo has told me several times that she has no interest in becoming 'breeding stock'," Dean says with a wry smile. "She's also informed me we aren't sexually compatible and that I need a strong man to put me in my place."
That startles a choked laugh out of Sam.
"Are you serious? She actually said that?" Sam is sliding down the wall, he's laughing so hard. One huge hand covering his face, the other still holding a shotgun. The sight of Sam so happy makes his heart race a little.
"Laugh it up, bitch." Dean says with mock irritation. "She's right though," he adds absently, scanning the treeline with a practiced eye.
"That you need a strong man?" Sam's voice is a mix of curiosity and disbelief.
OK, awkward. He was actually referring to the whole 'breeding stock' thing, but... What the hell.
"Yeah," Dean says with a leer in his voice. He catches movement out of the corner of his eye--a young woman with flaming red hair--and he aims for the face. "You know any?"
Deep breath, release, squeeze the trigger, absorb the recoil.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-18 03:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-18 11:34 pm (UTC)This was my first attempt at zombies, so I'm it worked for you. :D
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-19 07:28 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-21 07:27 pm (UTC)I'm kind of interested in adding to this verse...no idea when I'll time for it though :(
But I'll post it to the comm if inspiration coincides with some free-time :D