The Journal of Sam Winchester

(not Sammy)


i'm a lego person
Sam Winchester psychic_wonder
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Room 320, Saturday Afternoon
The funny thing was, this wasn't the first time Sam had woken up and found himself in plastic form. He was grateful to not be smaller this time, but last time he'd at least had real hair, sort of. Once he'd managed to get upright, he started checking himself out, to assess the situation, and to try to decide if he was going to miss this sort of thing when he got to New York.

[Open, sure!]

Chuck had woke up perfectly normal, thank you. He had gone down the hall to see if Sam wanted to do something fun, but quickly came to the conclusion that teasing him mercilessly would be just as entertaining.

"Hooooooooooooly shit."

Sam looked over from where he was poking at the spot where his shirt met his pants, as much as he could with the hands that he had. "Oh my God, why are you normal? Is it just me?"

Chuck grinned and shrugged. "You're the first person I've seen today. Hold still for me for a second--"

Why, yes, he was going for his phone. Pictures were needed.

"Hey! Don't you dare take a picture!" Sam said, wondering if he could fit into his closet. Of course, that would require opening the door, and that just wasn't going to happen.

"Oh, I'm daring," Chuck said, holding his phone up. "Like you wouldn't do the same thing to me if I woke up with hair like that."

Sam tried to mess with his hair, like it wasn't a block of plastic, but the best he could do was move his arms up so his hands were next to his head. "You're a terrible person," he said. It was kind of fitting that a smile hadn't been painted on him.

"Yeah, whatever, you love me," Chuck said as he snapped the picture. He looked down at it and grinned. "Looks like I've got a new Christmas card."

"Why aren't you plastic? Why do you have fingers? This so isn't fair," Sam said with a sigh. "I'm going to make you get rid of that when I have fingers again."

"The fact that you think you can make me do anything is adorable," Chuck said with a smirk. "And I'm not plastic because the island inflicted enough horror on me last week with the flannel thing."

"I was a yak! Wasn't that enough?!" Sam said. "And you looked fine in flannel, of what I could see of you."

"You were a yak with your own bitchfacey personality," Chuck pointed out. "I was...different."

"You were sweet. There's nothing wrong with that. I can't bend my arm," Sam said, demonstrating. "There's something very wrong with that."

"Yeah, and I bet if someone pushed you over there'd be a upside down turtle thing going on where you couldn't get up."

"Don't you dare try!" Sam said quickly. "I had a hard enough time getting out of bed."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't do that unprovoked. Besides, it'd be me who would have to get your gigantic self off the floor. That wouldn't be fun."

"Damn right you would. And I think I might be heavier than usual. And I bet plastic feet would hurt when I kicked you while I was down," Sam said.

"If you kicked me I'd leave you on the floor," Chuck said. He smirked. "And then you'd have to call for help like the old lady in those Life Alert commercials."

"Someone else would come and take pity on me," Sam insisted. "Maybe they wouldn't even take pictures."

"Probably. Most people are nicer than I am," Chuck agreed. "I definitely would have taken a picture of you flailing around on the floor."

"Well, consider this practice then if someone else is stuck like this," Sam said. "Maybe you won't feel the need to take a picture of them too."

"I won't need to, but I'll probably do it anyway," he said. "I wouldn't be me without the random acts of cruelty."

He was still bitter from last week, yeah.

"And yet we still put up with you anyway. Funny how that works." If Sam could have smiled, he just might have done so.

"Yeah, well, you won't have to put up with my evil ways directly for much longer," Chuck said. "Figure I should enjoy it while I still can."

"Just send me that picture every once in a while, and I'll remember exactly how evil you are," Sam said. It helped that he was almost bitchfacing.

"Real evil would be me sending it to everyone we know." Chuck held up his hands before Sam could say anything. "But I won't. Just Dean, probably."

Sam sighed. "I'd tell you not to, but I know it won't do any good. I just hope he's like this too, so he won't find it quite as funny."

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