Something's A Little Hinky
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I don't really have an explanation for this. No, I just lied. I do. I hate bingo. I took my grandmother to bingo. I was stuck there for three hours. Fic was born. And yes, the scotch incident did happen, and my grandmother is worse than a nun. I hope y'all enjoy!
Summary: Sam and Dean have a stakeout at a Bingo game.
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"Will someone please check my balls?" The elderly bingo called requested, his voice wavering slightly with age, and probably sixty years too many of Marlboros.
Dean snorted in laughter, and glanced over at his brother.
Sam gave him the usual, goody two shoes, Dean, don't you dare, look.
Dean humored his brother, he'd let Sam win this one he supposed.
"Too easy." He remarked in an almost normal tone of voice, rolling his eyes in Sam's direction.
"Young man," The caller set his sights on Dean once he realized he had no volunteers. Bingo just wasn't the same as it used to be, he thought with a sad sigh, no one with a true love and passion for the game anymore. It was disheartening.
"Do an old man a service, and come up here and check out my balls. Make sure that they're good so that we can begin to play."
Dean looked at Sam wide-eyed, barely able to take it; and Sam begged like the elderly women did the rosary pre-game.
Don't let him say anything stupid
Don't let him say anything stupid
Don't let him--
Oh, what the hell was he playing at, Sam came to the conclusion that this was just slightly bigger than needing Dean to be on good behavior, and he was going to need to correct something 'cause needing
Dean to not say something stupid was asking for a bigger miracle than praying for the titanic to not sink.
He amended it.
Don't let Dean be Dean.
There was quiet for a moment, and Sam contemplated whether or not he'd just witnessed a miracle, and then the quiet was shattered with a outburst of giggles to his left, across from Dean, and he knew that it was over.
"Young man, my balls..?" The caller repeated.
Sam closed his eyes. It was inevitable.
He heard the giggle again, and opened his eyes, looking in the direction it came from. Again, it was the girl sitting a seat away from his brother, an older woman seated across from her and not looking especially amused at the girl's outburst.
He figured she was approximately his age, and wondered what someone that young was doing at Bingo.
After all, he and Dean had an excuse, the church was haunted; as much as Dean didn't want to be here, they couldn't keep letting a ghost pick off the old and decrepit.
"I'm sorry…" Dean held back a laugh, at least tried to, looking back apologetically at his brother. "I'm so sorry…right, I'll check your balls."
Dean got up, trying desperately to keep his tone at a snigger and then he heard it.
"Funny," The giggling girl remarked not so quietly, "I really didn't think that would be his type."
Sam had to struggle to hold back a laugh that time. Dean quickly gave the ball situation his okay, and slipped back into his seat.
"OW!" The girl exclaimed as the older woman smacked her on the hand. "What'd I do?"
"Well, you certainly weren't acting like a lady." She commented, turning and looking down at her bingo board, waiting for them to begin calling numbers.
"Fun place, huh?" she remarked, turning to face Dean. "I haven't heard so much sexual innuendo since…tenth grade health, and the condoms and bananas fiasco. So, how were those…balls?"
Deans struggled to hold back a laugh.
Sam shook his head, "Dude, grow up."
"Now where's the fun in that?" The girl asked. She extended her hand, ignoring the older woman's glare. "Torrance Grant. Tori." She amended, shaking Dean's hand, "And I don't believe I've seen you boys around this place."
"Dean."
"Sam." Sam said, also shaking her hand.
"Torrance Catherine can you stay silent for the shortest of moments?" The old woman asked exasperatedly.
She shrugged, "I could die trying, but I don't think its worth the cause. " She gestured to her companion. "My grandmother, she doesn't like jokes."
Dean raised an eyebrow, "So, we're in the same boat? 'Cause my brother can't take one."
"Torrance Catherine I know that's not you talking." Her grandmother stated, giving both Dean and her granddaughter a dirty look, and marking the board as they began to call numbers. "I raised you better than that."
"Of course, you did Gran, its mom's fault, she just instilled so much sarcasm in me I can't help myself."
"Well, as long as it's not my granddaughter saying such things."
"Of course not, it's Rambo the ghost dog." She rolled her eyes. She aimlessly marked something on the board, and turned back to Dean. "So what heinous crime are you being punished for?"
"Huh?" Dean was confused.
"No one under forty comes here for fun." She elaborated, "Unless of course you have a thing for Mr. Magoo." She grinned, and could see Sam crack a smile. "If I'm wrong, maybe we can arrange something after the game…or during intermission."
Dean glared at her, "Funny." He remarked.
"I thought it was," Sam said offhandedly easily keeping up with marking his numbers, even though the numbers were being called rapidly. "And Dean, dude, mark your numbers."
Dean rolled his eyes, "I don't want to."
Tori ignored the quiet bickering, and her grandmother's glare. Even with the arguing this place was much too dull for her taste.
"Scotch, scotch, scotch…" She began to singsong, not especially quietly. "Scotchy, scotch, scotch, down in my belly, yum, yum, yum…"
She could feel the boys glance on her…and she decided that maybe this night wouldn't have to be so boring after all.
"Torrance!" Her grandmother hissed, "People are staring!"
"I know." She whispered back, careful to be loud enough that Dean could hear her. "I think they can't believe that he has a crush on Mr. Magoo, Grams…you better watch out before he jumps your man."
Dean frowned, and turned to Sam, "I don't like her very much."
Sam smirked, "Really? 'Cause I think she'd hilarious, dude."
Dean rolled his eyes, and joined his brother in smirking when Tori got schooled nun style as her grandmother smacked her on the hand again.
"Well," She declared, "That just wasn't very nice at all."
She looked over at Dean, and glanced down at his board which was now spattered with a bit of color, numbers now marked here and there.
"Just so you know, you just binged." She told him.
"I …huh…what?"
"You won. Yell BINGO, and then you receive cash."
"BINGO!" Dean bellowed, as Sam wondered if his brother had a horseshoe up his ass because last time he checked, Dean wasn't even marking his damn numbers.
A middle aged man came over and plucked the paper out of his hands and walked away, and Dean looked perplexed. "My paper!" he objected.
"Your board." Tori corrected, "Don't let 'em know you're new to this." She looked around conspiratorially. "They smell fear." She whispered.
"Bo0o0o0o0o!"
They were surrounded by the chorus of jeers as the man called off his numbers, jeers that quickly turned into attacks as they discovered the numbers were wrong.
"Wrong!" They hollered, "Wrong number! It's a bad bingo!"
His paper was handed back to him and he turned to Tori accusingly. "You said that I won."
She shrugged, "You had most of your board marked, besides…in case you missed it, this place is really boring…you getting chased by old Mrs. McGovern and her gang would be entertaining."
"You are a sick, sick person." Dean told her.
She nodded her head, "Yeah, I know."
Sam smirked as he noticed the number of old women glaring at Dean; this was going to be a fun stakeout. And maybe if they were lucky…Dean would be mauled by old women. That would teach him to throw his own brother to Gertie just for his own personal amusement!