You Can Do Me in the Mornin'
Sam knew that Dean was a jokester, but this was more than a bit odd. Was he high or something? Inspired by one of the many SPN gag reels, oneshot.
"You can do me in the mornin', you can do me in the night…" Those sing-songed lyrical words rang through the night, the full moon shining overhead. The trees looked dark and dreary with no light sources to brighten the atmosphere, but Sam hardly noticed. He was too busy wondering what the fuck his brother was doing. They were on a job, what did Dean think he was doing?!
It wasn't that Dean's singing voice was unpleasant. It wasn't that bad. It was the fact that he was actually singing that had Sam worried. Sam knew that Dean was a jokester, but this was more than a bit odd. Was he high or something? He had to be, normally he'd never do anything like this… hell, he was even dancing. Badly.
Sam tried unsuccessfully to find any trace of madness in his brother's eyes. Such a merry shade of green.
Scattered around them were old, beat-up graves, the names having faded off long ago. Everything around them had a blue tint to it, only adding to the creepiness that the two Winchesters were so used to.
"Dean."
Said hunter didn't stop his ridiculous behavior.
"What the hell are you doing." Sam wasn't sure it was even a question, just something he felt he should say.
Dean didn't answer.
Suddenly, a dark shape flew out from behind a grave, darting straight towards Sam. Sam whirled, eyes going wide as the thing exploded in his face. Green goo splattered on him and he stumbled back a few steps, in shock. What just happened?! Sam stared wide-eyed at the creature. It was a… blob. A big, dark blob. But there was one thing unmistakable about it-- a white music symbol in the center of it, which disappeared as the thing melted. He supposed the only way it could kill a person was to smother them to death or something with it's black tar-like goo.
"Singdance."
Sam blinked, turning to Dean. "What?" He asked almost dumbly.
"The thing I just killed-- I call it a Singdance, since it doesn't have an official name yet. They're that uncommon." Dean explained, looking infuriatingly smug. "They're attracted to music and dancing-- God knows why, but they are. And extremely rare. Which would explain why that only loud, teenage rock parties held at this place are the only ones attacked." He sniffed disdainfully. "Why the hell anyone would want to rock out at an abandoned graveyard I'll never know."
Sam stared at his brother, dumbfounded. "And why didn't I know this? Why didn't you tell me? I thought we were running in here clueless because we couldn't find anything that matched the descriptions…"
"Wrong-o, Sammy," Dean corrected, "you couldn't find anything. I did."
"I repeat: why didn't you tell me?" Sam was getting angry now, his green eyes narrowed at Dean.
A wide grin threatened to split Dean's face from ear to ear, "Because then you'd be the one singing, which would eventually result in the hemorrhaging of ear canals. Couldn't have that, now could we?"
It must have taken you all night to look up those words in the dictionary. Sam wanted to spit, but instead he growled moodily with a glare, "Yeah, yeah, whatever. But, Singdance? That's so original." His words were lathered in sarcasm.
Now it was Dean's turn to glare, "I was short on time, alright? We had to go; I had to call it something."
"Wrong-o, Deanie," Sam mocked, raising his voice an octave, "what you had to do was fucking tell me! What if this had gone wrong, huh? Both of us could have died just because I didn't know what we were dealing with!" Forcing himself to stop there, Sam's jaw set tightly. He had trouble believing it himself sometimes, but his older brother was a sensitive man. There was a limit to how many hurtful words (from Sam, at least) could fly over Dean's head unnoticed.
Finally realizing that his little brother actually was pissed, Dean paused. "Alright, I'm sorry, okay? Won't happen again." The apologetic look in his green eyes was genuine. Sam almost cringed. It both relieved and frightened him every time one of the truths of their relationship hit him: Dean would do anything to make him happy and keep him safe. Sometimes he took advantage of that without even noticing, and he hated himself for it. Sam was pretty much the only person whose opinion Dean gave a damn about… since their father died. But he had a good reason to be mad now, damn it. Someone could have gotten killed.
"Okay. Okay, fine." Sam backed off, letting out a deep breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding. Dean's gaze flickered to the ground while Sam looked at anywhere but his brother. He hated it when they fought. Even over something like this. It just felt wrong when they fought. God, Sam, he thought, mentally smacking himself, Dean's right, you are a girl. You certainly sound like one right now.
There was a short, pregnant silence that neither man broke for almost three minutes. Dean's head lifted again, the mischievous prankster in him glittering in his virescent eyes again. "You still royally suck at singing, Sammy." The face-splitting grin was back. Dean began to make his way out of the cemetery, fully intent on getting back inside his beloved Impala.
Sam half-smiled, following suit. "So do you." Okay, that was half-true.
Even though it lacked it's usual defiance, Dean threw a glare over his shoulder at him. "Pfft. Whatever."
A/N: This is the first time I've ever written anything Supernatural, so I'm so sorry if I didn't keep them quite in character; I'm still practicing. And to those who read my other fics, now you know what's been distracting me from updating. Well… this, and a bunch of others. And yes, I pulled the Singdance out of my ass. I needed a reason for why Dean would be dancing so randomly. Thank God for SPN bloopers and gag reels! I feel like such a nerd.
So here's my poor excuse for a humor oneshot (with a semi-sappy ending). Review?
