SPN Drabble Challenge
Prompt: Star
Words: 178, 267 ::: Two double drabbles for the price of one :)
Disclaimer: I wouldn't be writing if I owned any part of the boys, or the show.
Author's Note: This week is all about art, among other things, with Sam in school and Dean experiencing night life in a big city firsthand.
• IMPRESSIONS •
...
"Hey, are you stalking me?"
Distracted, Sam glanced up from his studying into pretty blue eyes and nearly leapt out his seat.
"N-no."
"You were in the cafeteria this morning. And I've seen you in my Art History class, right?"
"Uh... uh, yeah. I actually got switched in a couple of days ago."
The girl peered at him curiously, as if she were seeing right through him, before finally breaking into a sunny smile.
"I'm Jessica."
He automatically returned the smile and rose, actively ignoring the blush that crept into his cheeks as he shook her hand.
"Sam."
"Well, Sam – you look like a smart guy. Think you can help me out with last night's assignment?"
"Yeah. Sure."
He pushed aside his poly-sci books and pulled out a chair for her, which she plopped into gratefully. Tucking gold strands behind her ear, she opened her star-covered textbook between them, silently appraising him as he sat beside her.
An hour later, after discussing anything and everything but Impressionism, Sam had a hard time convincing himself that he wasn't in love.
• POSTER BOY •
Meanwhile, that night...
Muttering a curse under his breath, Dean ducked into the darkened alley, fingers finding the weapon tucked under his shirt. Someone had been following him for the last fifteen minutes – since he left the diner – and they were doing a piss poor job of it.
The pursuing shadow stepped into view and he shoved them against the brick wall, gun pressed to their throat.
"Please, wait!"
The bespectacled man writhed under his grasp. With a silver Caesar haircut and eggplant suit, he looked more like an art dealer than a monster. Dean lowered the gun, but didn't let go.
"Why're you following me?"
"I have a proposition for you."
"…Come again?"
"You are exquisite looking," the Warhol replica rushed out a bit too eagerly.
Taking in the dark surroundings, Dean balked and took some steps back.
"Listen, buddy. Sorry to disappoint, but I don't swing that way."
The man continued as if Dean never spoke.
"With your fine features and boyishly handsome face, you'd make a beautiful model."
"A... what?"
"I represent only the best. I could make you a star." His fingers spread in a flamboyant gesture with the last word.
"Nah, I don't think so..."
Feeling inexplicably violated, Dean turned to leave. The man's hand shot out, snatching his arm and the gun was up in an instant.
"Hey, man, I will shoot you!"
Andy gulped and hastily removed his touch.
"My apologies, but you are the beau idéal."
He desperately searched his jacket pocket. "Here's my card."
An empty alleyway greeted him and he sighed with disappointment at the loss.
"They always run."
A/N #2: For anyone wondering, beau idéal means one that is worthy of imitation or duplication. Sounds like Dean to me. I added the French because world-traveling agents in purple suits should always sound sophisticated.