fandomhigh | Festivus in July, Fandom High front lawn, Friday afternoon

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!event: friday events

Festivus in July, Fandom High front lawn, Friday afternoon

Sometime during morning workshops, when no one was paying nearly enough attention except those concerned, the Fandom High schoolgrounds had filled with snow.

For the record, "those concerned" meant Rory Gilmore and several dozen snow cone distributors from the mainland. But who wants to ruin the illusion? Students who were curious might assume that it was simply a Festivus in July miracle, or some such.

In the middle of the lawn stood a bare, aluminum pole. Festivus tradition, you know.

[Yes, the schoolgrounds have snow. I'm weathermodding and saying it's cool enough today through this evening for it to stick, and it'll melt overnight. And yes, we're having Festivus in July. For those not in the know, here is a handy Wiki link! ~~Please wait for OCD.~~ Up, yay!]

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Snow. Dean shook his head. This place just never stopped being weird. But least this was a non-lethal weird.

Bending down, he casually scooped up some snow and just as casually began packing it into a ball.

One of John Winchester's first lessons -- never travel unarmed.

Sam was pretty sure that hangovers didn't involve much hallucinating, but snow in July was just weird enough to make him wonder if he'd had a bad batch of beer at Caritas.

He was occupied enough with trying to think that he wouldn't have noticed if anyone nearby was arming themselves.

Once armed, it was only natural to start looking for a target, and there in front of Dean was a lovely, tall brother of a target.

Wearing a huge grin, Dean let the snowball fly at the back of Sammy's head.

Sam whirled around when the snowball hit him, surprised for about a second before realizing that he really shouldn't have been.

"Tell me that was an accident, and I might let you get off light," he said.

Dean smirked. "That," he said, scooping up some more snow, "was 100% planned and deliberate. And aimed -- I mean how could I resist such a tall target?"

"I don't know," Sam replied, leaning down to scoop up snow of his own. "Maybe you should have thought about the fact that a taller target can throw farther and harder than you."

"In your dreams," Dean taunted, already scoping out the nearest cover in case he needed to dive for it. "You know how these things always end."

"We haven't fought with snowballs in a while. And you never know when things might change." Sam faked throwing the snowball before actually throwing it, aiming for Dean's chest.

Dean dodged out of the way but not quite fast enough so that he took the hit on his arm. "Not bad, little brother," Dean admitted, then let his snowball go, aimed directly at Sam's face.

Sam ducked just enough to get snow in his hair, and fixed Dean with a glare. "Hey! You're lucky that missed," he said, quickly gathering more snow and tossing it, not particularly aiming this time.

"If you couldn't dodge that, you deserved to get hit," Dean said, scooping up more ammo as he easily dodged Sam's wild throw. "Besides I didn't pack it hard or anything."

At that, Sam smirked and made sure to start packing his current snowball nice and hard.

It wasn't something that Dean missed. "We lowering the tone of this fight, Sammy?" he asked, moving sideways towards the snow drift he'd pegged for use for cover if needed."

Re: Non-Festivus things

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Re: Non-Festivus things

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Parker grinned, seeing Dean, and decided that apologies should start with ice-breakers.

Or, you know. Snowballs.

*whooooosh!*

Getting up from the snow drift he'd ended up in with Sammy, Dean took the snowball dead in the center of his back.

"What the-?" he said turning around to look for the thrower.

Parker waved, then bit her lip. "Hey, Dean. Happy Festivus."

"Parker," Dean greeted her and couldn't quite resist adding, "Throwing snowballs instead of passes, huh?"

Parker's eyes narrowed, then she smirked back. "I didn't get hit with snow *or* a frying pan, so I'd say I came out ahead. As far as I could," she added in resignation.

"Every relationship has a few frying pans in it," Dean said with a shrug. "Dawn and I got past it." He eyed her carefully. "How 'bout you? Dealing okay with what happened?"

"Mostly." Parker made an ick-face, then said, "By the way, please have my apologies for the in-your-face come-on last weekend, since there's no way I'm following up on it. And if you see any photos of me from then? Burn them. Please."

"As soon as I finish burning the ones of me," Dean promised. "Apology accepted. None of us were exactly ourselves."

Parker shuddered. "Not even close. I dated a prospective priest, but I do *not* mack on those already in orders. Jeez. I have to apologize to Ivanova too, then I'm done, though. Thank God."

"Have you and Anakin talked?" Dean asked, thinking of some of the things Anakin had said when they'd talked that morning.

"Are you kidding?" Parker said incredulously. "He couldn't stand me *before* this. He was going to be a Crazy Jedi Hermit in order to avoid dealing, Rory said. I'm not putting myself anywhere he's likely to be. I don't need that fight or humiliation, thanks ever so."

Okay, yeah, definitely a story here that he didn't know. Curious, he inquired, "If I ask why you two get along, would I get an answer?"

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