![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: That Thing We Never Talk About (And I Mean Ever)
Spoilers: None
Rating: PG (Language)
Fandom: SPN
By:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kellifer_fic
Category: Gen
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Written for entertainment purposes only. No money, no sue.
Notes: Written forrinkle's birthday, who wanted That time that neither Dean nor Sam wants to talk about, ever ever again.
"This happens to us with frightening regularity."
"What?"
Dean blinks at Sam for a moment before he lets out a frustrated huff and then flails his hand between them, making the universal sign for we're naked and I'm a little flummoxed about it. "Are you kidding me?" he demands, for once envious of Sam's massive paws because at least he's able to achieve a modicum of modesty while they jog down the roadside to the unfortunately parked Impala.
Unfortunately parked because it wasn't in their immediate vicinity.
"Well, I didn't know if you were referring to the being cursed part or the being naked part of our current situation," Sam says with a completely deadpan expression.
And no.
Just no.
No way is Dean being cursed into nakedness and also having to put up with Sam messing with him.
000
Sam tries pulling on three pairs of jeans that disintegrate as soon as they touch his skin before he calls it quits. Dean stands with one hand on his hip, surveying the thankfully people-less expanse of fields about them.
"You know the definition of insanity, Sammy?"
"Not killing you?" Sam asks with a raised eyebrow. He's put the car between them like a shy maiden and Dean finds it all too hilarious considering the number of times he's had to stitch Sam up in unfortunate places.
He's seen everything.
Up close.
"So, you think Bobby-?"
"No."
Sam looks at Dean for a beat. "But maybe he can-"
"No, Sam. Just... no."
"Dean, he fixed us the last time-"
"Sam, Bobby is like a father figure to both of us in many ways. The ways that matter. He's less like a dad in the fact that he will never let us live this down."
"I'm willing to put up with a little humiliation," Sam says, blowing out his bangs with a frustrated snort like Dean's being the unreasonable one.
"We're not in any immediate danger are we?"
"Well..."
"Are we?"
"No, alright? No, we're not in any immediate danger."
"Then let us please exhaust all other possibilities before we let Bobby know this happened."
"Okay," Sam relents, putting both hands on the roof of the Impala and studying his nails. "So, what are the other possibilities?"
"I think we do just fine with the research thing ourselves most of the time. We can figure this out," Dean says and then noting Sam's expression, "What?"
"We can't exactly go to the library and it's going to be a little hard to secure a motel room so we can get internet access," Sam points out and Dean bites his lip.
"Okay, so we'll think of something else," Dean says brightly. "Now, I'm freezing my nuts off so let's get out of here."
000
Sam tries making a skirt out of a map of Minnesota but it turns to ash as soon as he gets it halfway around himself. "This curse is annoyingly specific," Sam grumbles, shifting about on a map of the Great Lakes area. Dean had demanded they both sit on something in the car and at least when they weren't trying to actually cover anything the curse left them pretty much alone.
"So, we gotta backtrack," Dean says, whipping his head around fast enough to nearly crack his skull on the driver's side window when Sam leans into the back seat to retrieve the research from their last job. There are just some things you shouldn't see your brother doing naked.
"A Warlock selling other people's souls when he realised he couldn't weasel out of his own deal," Sam says, flipping through their dad's journal and his own crammed notebook. "Like paying off one credit card with another."
"So we blocked his last transaction and he whammies us right before the particular hell beast he was in debt up to his eyeballs with drags him off?" Dean adds. "I would've thought he would try and do something more... fatal."
"I know," Sam agrees. "It's weird, right?"
"Are we sure it was him?" Dean asks, because he's suddenly remembering something. Maybe how he'd picked up something of the Warlock's right after Sam had said, make sure you don't touch anything.
"Dean..." Sam says slowly, his eyes narrowing.
"We're not sure it was me," Dean says, hunching his shoulders up to his ears and looking anywhere but at his brother's glowering face.
"Where is it?"
"What?"
"The thing you just had to pick up that, and yes, we know it was you, cursed us into swinging in the breeze here?"
"I put it in my pocket," Dean admits, drumming on the steering wheel. "As you can see, I'm now lacking pockets." Sam opens his mouth and Dean puts up a hand. "Sam, no. I'm still sticking to the anybody but Bobby unless we have absolutely no choice thing."
Dean watches Sam scrunch down in his seat out of the corner of his eye, the map under Sam's ass and therefore saving his upholstery crackling unpleasantly. Finally, Sam's eyes narrow again a little and Dean knows that look.
Whoever Sam's thought of is going to be worse than Bobby, for Dean at least.
"Maughan," Sam proposes.
"No."
"You said anyone but Bobby."
"Anyone but her," Dean snaps.
"She's the only one I can think of. She got rid of that Dark Leech that had attached itself to Dad."
Dean shudders a little with the memory. "Sam, c'mon. Last time I saw her she shot me in the ass with rock salt." Sam puts a hand to his mouth and Dean just knows he's covering a grin. "With my own gun," Dean clarifies, smacking a hand on the dash to emphasise just how much he is not going to revisit that particular experience anytime soon.
"You have sixty seconds to come up with someone better," Sam says, crossing arms over his chest. Dean bares his teeth at Sam but Sam is just staring at him and under pressure, Dean draws a complete blank.
"She won't help us," Dean tries. "You know she'll think I deserve this."
"Well, we'd better just hope she doesn't think I deserve this," Sam says.
"She's two days away even if I floor it."
"We'll sleep in the car."
"I hate you."
"Feeling's extremely mutual right now," Sam rejoinders cheerfully and then drops his head against the passenger side window and feigns sleep.
000
Sam lets out a squawk of protest when Dean veers off the highway to enter a drive-thru McDonald's. "They'll call the cops!" he practically squeaks.
"They won't," Dean answers tiredly.
"In case you haven't noticed, both the Impala's windows and the drive-thru window are see-through."
"Believe me Sam, two naked guys will not be the oddest thing whatever zombie is sitting in that place will have seen, possibly even tonight."
Sam just watches in fascination as Dean orders and then brings the Impala around to the pickup window and the guy with the headset doesn't even blink. Sam doesn't gather it together enough to object to being ordered a kid's meal until they're ten minutes down the road.
Sam pouts for two hours and Dean isn't sure whether it was ordering him the kid's meal or not getting the toy.
000
The temperature drops like a stone as they fly across the state and Sam and Dean decide that no matter the humiliation, they need to try and find a room before Dean drives them both off the road and sleeping in the car stops being an option.
Sam comes up with the ingenious idea of holding a metal garbage can lid in front and behind himself and telling the motel clerk a tale of a buck's night gone horribly wrong. Dean is frankly amazed to discover that the puppy dog look still works when Sam is au naturel as Sam remerges from the office with a set of room keys clasped in his teeth.
000
Maughan, daughter of a survivalist who used to supply their dad with charms and weapons, does indeed think Dean deserves it.
"You owe me big," she says as she's mixing a foul-smelling paste on her front steps. She's helping them but she's having fun while she's doing it.
She's making them stand in her yard.
"Isn't someone going to complain about this?" Sam asks, indicating himself and Dean with a complicated nod-shake of his head because he can't currently free a hand.
"All my neighbours think I'm some kind of whacky artist. Anyone calls the cops I'll tell them you're an installation."
"How long is this gonna take?" Dean asks, hopping from foot to foot. There was frost on the grass when they pulled up.
"Did I say you could talk yet?" Maughan asks, flicking a spoon at Dean and managing to spatter Sam with the half-finished concoction. "Sorry hon," she says but she's smiling.
"What did he do anyway?" Sam asks, again pointing a chin at Dean.
000
Sam is staring at Dean across the bench seat, which he is allowed to do now since they are both wearing nearly everything they own. Dean can't lower his arms completely to his sides.
"Seriously?" Sam sighs and Dean grimaces.
"How was I supposed to know that was her mom?"
Spoilers: None
Rating: PG (Language)
Fandom: SPN
By:
kellifer_ficCategory: Gen
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Written for entertainment purposes only. No money, no sue.
Notes: Written for
rinkle's birthday, who wanted That time that neither Dean nor Sam wants to talk about, ever ever again."This happens to us with frightening regularity."
"What?"
Dean blinks at Sam for a moment before he lets out a frustrated huff and then flails his hand between them, making the universal sign for we're naked and I'm a little flummoxed about it. "Are you kidding me?" he demands, for once envious of Sam's massive paws because at least he's able to achieve a modicum of modesty while they jog down the roadside to the unfortunately parked Impala.
Unfortunately parked because it wasn't in their immediate vicinity.
"Well, I didn't know if you were referring to the being cursed part or the being naked part of our current situation," Sam says with a completely deadpan expression.
And no.
Just no.
No way is Dean being cursed into nakedness and also having to put up with Sam messing with him.
Sam tries pulling on three pairs of jeans that disintegrate as soon as they touch his skin before he calls it quits. Dean stands with one hand on his hip, surveying the thankfully people-less expanse of fields about them.
"You know the definition of insanity, Sammy?"
"Not killing you?" Sam asks with a raised eyebrow. He's put the car between them like a shy maiden and Dean finds it all too hilarious considering the number of times he's had to stitch Sam up in unfortunate places.
He's seen everything.
Up close.
"So, you think Bobby-?"
"No."
Sam looks at Dean for a beat. "But maybe he can-"
"No, Sam. Just... no."
"Dean, he fixed us the last time-"
"Sam, Bobby is like a father figure to both of us in many ways. The ways that matter. He's less like a dad in the fact that he will never let us live this down."
"I'm willing to put up with a little humiliation," Sam says, blowing out his bangs with a frustrated snort like Dean's being the unreasonable one.
"We're not in any immediate danger are we?"
"Well..."
"Are we?"
"No, alright? No, we're not in any immediate danger."
"Then let us please exhaust all other possibilities before we let Bobby know this happened."
"Okay," Sam relents, putting both hands on the roof of the Impala and studying his nails. "So, what are the other possibilities?"
"I think we do just fine with the research thing ourselves most of the time. We can figure this out," Dean says and then noting Sam's expression, "What?"
"We can't exactly go to the library and it's going to be a little hard to secure a motel room so we can get internet access," Sam points out and Dean bites his lip.
"Okay, so we'll think of something else," Dean says brightly. "Now, I'm freezing my nuts off so let's get out of here."
Sam tries making a skirt out of a map of Minnesota but it turns to ash as soon as he gets it halfway around himself. "This curse is annoyingly specific," Sam grumbles, shifting about on a map of the Great Lakes area. Dean had demanded they both sit on something in the car and at least when they weren't trying to actually cover anything the curse left them pretty much alone.
"So, we gotta backtrack," Dean says, whipping his head around fast enough to nearly crack his skull on the driver's side window when Sam leans into the back seat to retrieve the research from their last job. There are just some things you shouldn't see your brother doing naked.
"A Warlock selling other people's souls when he realised he couldn't weasel out of his own deal," Sam says, flipping through their dad's journal and his own crammed notebook. "Like paying off one credit card with another."
"So we blocked his last transaction and he whammies us right before the particular hell beast he was in debt up to his eyeballs with drags him off?" Dean adds. "I would've thought he would try and do something more... fatal."
"I know," Sam agrees. "It's weird, right?"
"Are we sure it was him?" Dean asks, because he's suddenly remembering something. Maybe how he'd picked up something of the Warlock's right after Sam had said, make sure you don't touch anything.
"Dean..." Sam says slowly, his eyes narrowing.
"We're not sure it was me," Dean says, hunching his shoulders up to his ears and looking anywhere but at his brother's glowering face.
"Where is it?"
"What?"
"The thing you just had to pick up that, and yes, we know it was you, cursed us into swinging in the breeze here?"
"I put it in my pocket," Dean admits, drumming on the steering wheel. "As you can see, I'm now lacking pockets." Sam opens his mouth and Dean puts up a hand. "Sam, no. I'm still sticking to the anybody but Bobby unless we have absolutely no choice thing."
Dean watches Sam scrunch down in his seat out of the corner of his eye, the map under Sam's ass and therefore saving his upholstery crackling unpleasantly. Finally, Sam's eyes narrow again a little and Dean knows that look.
Whoever Sam's thought of is going to be worse than Bobby, for Dean at least.
"Maughan," Sam proposes.
"No."
"You said anyone but Bobby."
"Anyone but her," Dean snaps.
"She's the only one I can think of. She got rid of that Dark Leech that had attached itself to Dad."
Dean shudders a little with the memory. "Sam, c'mon. Last time I saw her she shot me in the ass with rock salt." Sam puts a hand to his mouth and Dean just knows he's covering a grin. "With my own gun," Dean clarifies, smacking a hand on the dash to emphasise just how much he is not going to revisit that particular experience anytime soon.
"You have sixty seconds to come up with someone better," Sam says, crossing arms over his chest. Dean bares his teeth at Sam but Sam is just staring at him and under pressure, Dean draws a complete blank.
"She won't help us," Dean tries. "You know she'll think I deserve this."
"Well, we'd better just hope she doesn't think I deserve this," Sam says.
"She's two days away even if I floor it."
"We'll sleep in the car."
"I hate you."
"Feeling's extremely mutual right now," Sam rejoinders cheerfully and then drops his head against the passenger side window and feigns sleep.
Sam lets out a squawk of protest when Dean veers off the highway to enter a drive-thru McDonald's. "They'll call the cops!" he practically squeaks.
"They won't," Dean answers tiredly.
"In case you haven't noticed, both the Impala's windows and the drive-thru window are see-through."
"Believe me Sam, two naked guys will not be the oddest thing whatever zombie is sitting in that place will have seen, possibly even tonight."
Sam just watches in fascination as Dean orders and then brings the Impala around to the pickup window and the guy with the headset doesn't even blink. Sam doesn't gather it together enough to object to being ordered a kid's meal until they're ten minutes down the road.
Sam pouts for two hours and Dean isn't sure whether it was ordering him the kid's meal or not getting the toy.
The temperature drops like a stone as they fly across the state and Sam and Dean decide that no matter the humiliation, they need to try and find a room before Dean drives them both off the road and sleeping in the car stops being an option.
Sam comes up with the ingenious idea of holding a metal garbage can lid in front and behind himself and telling the motel clerk a tale of a buck's night gone horribly wrong. Dean is frankly amazed to discover that the puppy dog look still works when Sam is au naturel as Sam remerges from the office with a set of room keys clasped in his teeth.
Maughan, daughter of a survivalist who used to supply their dad with charms and weapons, does indeed think Dean deserves it.
"You owe me big," she says as she's mixing a foul-smelling paste on her front steps. She's helping them but she's having fun while she's doing it.
She's making them stand in her yard.
"Isn't someone going to complain about this?" Sam asks, indicating himself and Dean with a complicated nod-shake of his head because he can't currently free a hand.
"All my neighbours think I'm some kind of whacky artist. Anyone calls the cops I'll tell them you're an installation."
"How long is this gonna take?" Dean asks, hopping from foot to foot. There was frost on the grass when they pulled up.
"Did I say you could talk yet?" Maughan asks, flicking a spoon at Dean and managing to spatter Sam with the half-finished concoction. "Sorry hon," she says but she's smiling.
"What did he do anyway?" Sam asks, again pointing a chin at Dean.
Sam is staring at Dean across the bench seat, which he is allowed to do now since they are both wearing nearly everything they own. Dean can't lower his arms completely to his sides.
"Seriously?" Sam sighs and Dean grimaces.
"How was I supposed to know that was her mom?"
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
From:
Re: Cracktastic!