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❰❰ ୧ ⋅ ˚ ₊ ·┊ೃ ' 🏹 018

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❰❰ ୧ ⋅ ˚ ₊ ·┊ೃ ' 🏹 018.
ACT ONE ✩ ‧ ₊ ૪
sure this is a good plan?









𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄, 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐀 three brothers slept in after another long hunt in the town over. Sam laid firmly on his own bed, his arm dangling off the side while both Dean and Bowie were forced to share the other — both too stubborn to take the itchy couch and tied with scissors in the hand game that used to settle everything as children.

It was four in the morning and Bowie had the blanket over his head like a child, texting away on his phone to Kit as they talked about everything and anything. He'd text Katherine but— well, she was busy. Not that he minded her sudden absence. However, Kit filled his comfort just fine.

They've been talking nonstop since last week.

Kit: Your birthday is in two days, any plans?

He froze in surprise, popping his head out from the blanket and narrowing his eyes at the digital clock, it was, in fact, April 11th. Two days before his birthday.

Bowie: How'd you know?

Kit: I had to check your ID at the bar.

He hesitates, feeling an ick in his chest at the thought of his birthday rearing its ugly head once again. It was a day of bitter reminders. The first reminder being the fact that he was born.

And in a family like his, apparently, that wasn't a good thing.

Bowie: Let's pretend it's not my birthday

Kit: Not a chance!

Bowie laughed at the little horrible emojis that Kit had sent, a busted-looking cake and balloons.

Kit: So you're doing nothing at all?

Bowie: Like my brothers would remember it

Kit: You can remind them, make them feel bad.

Kit: Who would forget a birthday for someone as cute as you?

His face tints a soft shade of red, mostly out of embarrassment but before he could type out a strongly worded insult, the phone on the dresser buzzed loudly, causing him to jump out of his skin and pop his head out of the blanket like a panicked toddler.

Still, on his back, Sam reaches for the phone.

Bowie slowly grabs his hearing aids off the same table, hooking them into his ears and turning them to the max, "Who calls this early in the morning, anyway?"

Sam idly shrugs, eyes still closed as he flipped it open and held it against his ear. He yawns, tired eyes blinking away sleep, "Hello?"

"Sam, is that you?"

𝐁𝐎𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐀𝐍  (  SUPERNATURAL ¹  )Where stories live. Discover now