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❛ BOHEMIAN ━━ BOOK ONE ❜ 𑁍ࠬ¸𓍢 ━━ ❪ SUPERNATURAL ❫ ˖ ୧ 。 𓆸 ┊ ⠀𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ⠀┊ ❀ ◟ ✦ IT'S SOCIAL SUICIDE!❞ ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄
THE MORNING SUN SHINES THROUGH THE FADED curtainsinthe motel room that Bowie slept in, beaming down against his soft skin and showing off his warm complexion. His hearing aids laid flat on the wooden nightstand beside his bed, his crossbow discarded somewhere on the ground along with the one sock missing from his foot.
A light snore escaped between his lips, burying his face deeper into his pillow as the door opened with a slight creak, one that Bowie couldn't hear but instantly made Dean shift on the other bed. Sam steps inside.
Slowly, and half unconscious, Dean reaches for the blade under his pillow.
"Morning, sunshine!" Sam greets, juggling three cups of coffee and bags of food in his hands.
Dean groaned, sitting up a little, "What time is it?"
"Uh, it's about 5:45," Sam responds, placing a coffee on Bowie's nightstand and softly shaking his brother's ankle as he passed. Bowie groaned.
"In the morning?" Dean whined, flopping back down.
"Yep."
"Where does the day go?" He asked rhetorically, "You get any sleep last night?"
He shrugged nonchalantly, "Yeah, I grabbed a couple hours━"
"Liar," Dean responds instantly, "Cause Bow and I were up at three in the morning, throwing shit at each other from the beds, and you were in the corner watching a George Foreman infomercial."
"Hey, what can I say? It's riveting TV." Sam grinned, looking toward Bowie, "Bowie! Wake up, man!" He belts slightly.
"You know he can't hear you," Dean grumbled, grabbing his pillow and raising it above his head, "Aye, BJ, get up!" He bellowed, slamming the pillow down against his brother's head.
Bowie's eyes snapped open, gripping the small knife under his pillow and flinging it out with a panicked yelp. Sam screamed out, moving just enough for the knife to dig itself into the wood of the walls instead of his neck.
Slowly, Sam turned back to his brother with wide eyes, "Holy shit!"
"What the fuck!" Bowie seethed with a slight slur in his voice, too early in the morning to focus on his proper pronunciation as he glared heavily at his brother, "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
