My very first fan fiction. Came to me around 3am one night to cheer up a friend. Be nice? XD
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I do not own supernatural.
The sound of his brother shuffling on the other side of the room awoke Dean from the light sleep he was accustomed to, due to his lifestyle. He couldn't afford to sleep peacefully, when he knew about the things that went bump in the night.
His green eyes opened blearily and he squinted at the clock next to his bed. 10:17AM. Jeez, why did Sam feel the need to be up at the crack of dawn?
He flipped himself over with effort just in time to see Sam stuff a flash of red in his pocket. Dean didn't have the energy for speaking, but he had enough.
"Sam. Pie." He grunted.
Sam made his bitch face and sighed. "Dean, you ate all the pie last night."
Dean flipped over again and mumbled something unintelligible into the pillow.
"Cussing won't help Dean." Sam scolded, rolling his eyes.
"Sam. Pie." Dean repeated.
"Go and get your own damn pie dean, I was just gonna take a shower." And with that he swooped off into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
Dean rolled out of bed, mumbling profanities all the way. He dressed himself best he could in his pie deprived state and left the motel room, hollering "No pie for you, Sam!" on his way out.
Once his cravings had been satisfied, his stomach was happy and so was Dean. He was driving back, and turned the corner to where the tacky motel was, but in its place was a cosy looking two story house, painted custard yellow, complete with picket white fence.
"What the hell?" Dean grumbled, parking the impala up front.
He went round to the trunk and rummaged around, putting something in his pocket then going for a gun, loading it and slipping it into his waistband. Slowly, he stalked towards the front door, stopping to put his ear against the frame.
Not a sound.
Cautiously, he turned the door knob. He opened the door a crack, peeking in.
"Sam?" he whispered. When he heard no reply he pushed the door open wide and strode in. The room was tiny, with a door directly on the other side. It held only a wooden table, and three chairs. But what fascinated Dean was the three silver platters laid across the table, inviting him to them.
"Aw Sammy, ya shouldn't have." Dean smirked to himself, sitting himself at the central chair at the table.
He eagerly lifted the lid off of the first platter. He stared at it for roughly twenty seconds, trying to determine the exact nature of the sight before him.
It was a salad. A salad. He stared some moments longer.
"Do I look like a freaking rabbit!?" he exploded, to no one in particular. "Jeez I'm gonna puke.. Hey Sammy, you really shouldn't have!" He accused loudly, to wherever Sam was hiding.
Still grumbling, he moved on to the middle platter. Curiosity and an everlasting love for food kept him going. He lifted it with less enthusiasm, expecting more rabbit food. But to his major surprise, there was pie. Sweet, scrumptious pie! His mouth watered.
"Now this is what I'm talkin' about! I'll save you for later, baby." He murmured, a little too seductively for a conversation with a food item.
He rubbed his hands together, faith renewed, anticipating the last platter. "Third time lucky, c'mon!" he lifted the lid and peeped. "Hallelujah." A wide grin spreading across his face. "I take it back Sam. I love you, you little whore."
It was a hamburger. He shoved it in his mouth, groaning with pleasure. There was something extra tasty about this one. As he finished he licked his fingers, and wrinkled his nose as he felt something in his mouth. He fished it out. It was a tiny piece of paper with writing on it. He squinted at it. WARNING: ATTRACTS ANGELS.
"What in the hell.." Dean muttered to himself, his brain still slightly slow from the effort of eating. Before he got a chance to think of it any further, he was distracted by a noise from the next room. He pulled out his gun, opening the door suddenly. But again it was empty. He put the gun back in his waistband, inspecting the room.
There was nothing a comfy looking recliner, facing a TV bigger and better then what he was used to. He couldn't help himself. He sat down gingerly on the recliner, and when it didn't vanish from under him, he let himself fully relax into it. There was a remote control on the arm rest, but it had only four buttons, each with a face. One was frowning, one was winking, one was smiling and the last was grinning. He pressed the first, and the TV blared the NCIS theme song into the room.
"I hate procedural cop shows!" he hollered into the noise. This place was making him cranky. He pressed another button. The channel changed, and Gilmore girls came on.
"Jeez, what am I, Sam?" He said disgustedly. He quickly changed it again.
"-now to Seattle Mercy Hospital." Dean perked up. "Dr. Sexy!" he gawped stupidly at his favourite show. He laid back and tried to concentrate. But Dean being Dean was still itching to find out what the fourth button on the remote did. How bad could a grinning face be? So he pressed it. Instantly, the recliner vanished from underneath him and he landed flat on the floor.
"Son of a bitch!" He yelled at the ceiling, flailing his fists for emphasis.
Slowly he got up, rubbing his back. "Ah, my sweet ass." He groaned. He dusted himself off and looked up in front of him, where an archway had appeared in the wall, leading to a staircase going upward. Still cussing to himself, he pulled himself slowly up the stairs, careful not to make a noise. If there was no one downstairs, there was bound to be someone up here.
When he got to the landing stopped at the first door in front of him. It was slightly ajar, so Dean readied himself and pushed it open suddenly, instantly regretting he had. There sprawled across the bed on his stomach, snoring loudly was Sam. The covers were thrown back and he was wearing nothing.. but a red thong. Dean shut the door just as quickly. But it was too late.
"Red, Sam? Really?" He muttered to himself. "Nobody needs to see that, dude."
He shook his head hard, almost falling over in the process of trying to erase the image that had been burned into his brain. He'd have to get some bleach in there later.
"I'll never be clean again." He stated matter-of-factly, and moved on another room. He took a deep breath preparing for the worst. He turned to handle and walked in. but this time it was empty. There was a bed, a chair, and a small table with a lamp.
"Well, this isn't so bad." There was a window on the far side of the room, and he went over to open it. He put his hands on his hips, taking in the fresh air.
Suddenly, someone slipped their arms through his, locking at the front, so they were forcibly hugging him from behind. Dean's hands shot down reflexively to try and release himself from their grip. But it was iron tight.
"Hello, Dean."
"Cas?! Holy shit!" Dean calmed, but only a little. He tensed up again when Cas spoke.
"Dean.. is there something in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" Cas said, aiming at sounding seductive but sounding more drunken.
"Back off Cas, that's a freakin' gun."
Castiel appeared to have ignored him.
"Cas, what the hell is up with you?" Dean shouted, squirming and trying without success to escape his strong grip.
"You know how much hamburgers make me happy Dean. You ate one, and now you make me happy." He laughed drunkenly. "But your squishy bits are much nicer than a hamburger." he said, squeezing Dean's butt. Dean froze in shock, unsure of what to do while he was being molested. By a dude.
His shock quickly turned to anger, and he'd had enough. "TRICKSTER!" he screamed. Suddenly Cas vanished, and Dean quickly stumbled away from that spot, already repressing the memories of the events that had just occurred.
The trickster popped up in front of him.
"Oh, hey!"
"WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING TO ME?! AGAIN?!" he made a lunge forward, but the trickster suddenly caused Dean's pants to unbutton, forcing him to become rooted to the spot trying to hold his jeans in place.
"Jeez, chill dude. Can't a guy have a little post-apocalyptic celebration?"
"Not when it means messing with me, you dick! What did you do to Cas?"
"Oh come on, you know how he likes those burgers, and how he likes you. I may have added a little of my own secret ingredient."
"What is this crap, Goldilocks and the three whores?"
"Well Dean.. your locks are golden."
Dean lunged again, his pants once again securely buttoned. But the trickster vanished and appeared behind him. He spun and around to face him pointing a threating finger at his face.
"I swear get me outta here or I'll-"
"Ooh, whatcha gonna do Dean, shoot me?"
"-light you up."
"Excuse me?"
"That's right." Dean said smugly, suddenly pulling out a bottle from his pocket. He'd had suspicion the trickster might be involved from the upstart.
"Yeah, I pack a little holy oil. Never know when you might run into some smart ass angel. Now take me home or I'll be having me some barbeque."
The Trickster stared at Dean, trying to work out whether he should push it. Then he pouted.
"Fine. Party pooper." He clicked his fingers.
Dean was back in the motel room, in the shabby bed. He turned around propping his head up. The alarm clock read 10am, that morning. He sighed in relief, head falling contentedly back into his pillow. He heard the shower switch off and a minute later Sam came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.
"Hey Sam?"
"Yeah Dean?"
"Red really isn't your colour."