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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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."

"Not if you don't want to," Sam replied, watching to see if Dean went for cover. "It's just snow, it won't hurt," he teased.

"Course it won't hurt," Dean agreed. "Because you're not going to hit me." With that, he threw the snowball in his hand at Sam, not aiming at any particular body part this time and dove down behind the drift.

In an effort to get to Dean before he went behind the snow drift, Sam didn't bother moving away from the snowball and got hit in the leg. "Oh, we'll see about that," he said, getting close to the drift to try to pelt Dean with his snowball.

Dean kept moving, keeping the drift between him and his brother and scooping up more snow as he did so, getting into a rhythm and sending snowball after snowball in Sammy's direction. He might have been grinning a bit maniacally.

There was dodging the snowballs, gathering snow for ammunition of his own and following Dean to get a good shot. Sam could really only do two of those at once, so he went for gathering snow and trying to break out of Dean's rhythm, letting himself get hit as he flung snow almost wildly at his brother.

Sammy was flinging so many snowballs at him that it was inevitable that some got through and soon Dean was as snowcovered as his brother. But both of them were reloading and throwing so fast that the balls that were hitting on both sides were hardly more than handfuls of snow now and it was beginning to look like they were caught in their own private blizzard.

Dean couldn't be having more fun.

Sam wasn't even making a vague attempt at being defensive now, and was just throwing snow with both hands. Finally deciding that more drastic measures needed to be taken, he climbed over the snow drift and grabbed Dean, pushing him to the ground. His new position made it very easy to simply grab snow and drop it on top of Dean - if he could stop laughing long enough to do so, of course.

Dean was laughing too hard to make any serious effort of getting Sammy off him. He resorted to throwing handfuls of snow up into his brother's face, which of course then fell back down on him.

Sam was sputtering to keep snow out of his mouth, and trying to get Dean as buried in the stuff as possible. "Do you surrender?" he asked, still laughing.

"Was about to ask you the same thing," Dean said admidst laughter, throwing another handful of snow at him.

Sam's exclamation of "Never!" probably would have sounded a lot more convincing if he wasn't gasping for breath and about to fall over. He finally gave into gravity and slid off of Dean, laying on his back in the snow with a sigh of total contentment.

Still chuckling, Dean looked over at his brother. "Draw?" he offered, smiling at him.

"Sure," Sam replied, snickering as he tossed a few last sprinkles of snow in Dean's general direction.

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Festivus in July, Fandom High front lawn, Friday afternoon

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