Denizens, Visitors, Lurkers and Casual Droppers-In of the Jimiverse may recognise the setting: this takes place while the Winchesters are undertaking the Hunt described in 'The Consultant', during which Dean does a stint as an Acting Cupid (complete with feathery flying pants), Sam does a stint as an acting Acting Cupid (with no pants at all), and Temeriel the Cupid (no pants) tries to learn about human customs, idioms and dietary practices (no idea)...
Chapter One
Montana
He sat in the cab of his truck, looked down at the small box in his hand, and told himself to fucking grow a pair.
It was ridiculous. It was embarrassing. He'd served overseas, been shot at by people who wanted him dead, survived a werewolf attack, survived being a werewolf, survived meeting the Winchesters, survived being grabbed by assholes who wanted to skin him alive for his pelt, and he'd done it all without flinching, but this...
He was, at heart, a bit of a traditionalist. It had disappointed him that he had been unable to contact Ronnie's family, talk to her father – if he was still alive, Hunters rarely made it to the age he would have to be – and ask for his blessing. But Ronnie hoped her family thought her dead, and there was good reason for that, so he didn't even go looking, even if it broke his heart a little. In the end, he'd compromised by sneaking a peek at her cell then calling Ian, the guy who'd been her Hunt buddy for years after she arrived in the States. Ronnie stayed in contact with him, describing him as the big brother she never had – when Andrew introduced himself and said why he was calling, Ian had let out a huge, booming laugh, and told him to go for it.
He'd taken care with the ring he chose. It was a flat band, white gold – it looked beautifully silver, funnily enough – with the stones set into the band, flush with the surface, not a setting standing proud. It was plain, it was unassuming, it would never get in the way in a fight or catch on a weapon, and if she ever found out how much he'd spent she'd probably cut his throat...
Time to man up, you frigging pussy, Andrew scolded himself, getting out of the truck and marching to the house. Joni greeted him at the door, tail waving and tongue lolling.
"Ronnie!" he called, trying to keep his voice even, "There's something I gotta tell you... Ronnie?"
The only answer he got was a howl of laughter from the living room.
She was actually, literally, on the floor – he'd always thought that was just an internet acronym thing – screaming with hilarity.
"Dee," she wheezed, pointing up at the screen of the computer, "Dee... Dee... Dean Wee... hee hee hee hee hee heeeeeee!"
Bewildered, he checked the monitor.
It held a screen capture of Dean Winchester, wearing a pair of what looked like grey fluffy board shorts, and an expression suggesting that he would be less mortified to be stark naked.
A closer inspection showed that the shorts were not exactly fluffy; they were completely covered in soft, downy feathers.
Andrew found an amused smile breaking out on his own face. "What the hell are they Hunting?" he asked, "That means Dean Winchester, ladies' man and Living Sex God, has to wear a pair of pants covered in feathers?"
"He's, he's, he's," Ronnie gasped and hiccuped, getting to her feet, her voice reduced to a squeak, "He's doing a job as... an Acting Cupiiiiiiid..." she started to laugh again, and managed to hit the button, replaying the Skype conversation she'd had with the Winchesters earlier.
When it was finished, Andrew was also laughing so hard he could barely breathe. Joni barked happily, joining in the moment of shared amusement amongst her pack.
"Oh, oh, God," he wheezed, eventually getting control of himself, "Oh, God, the things Hunters have to do in the name of their work."
"Saving people, Hunting things, wearing feathery duds," Ronnie subsided to a giggle, "It's their family business, don't you know. Poor Jimi, though, he has to go to the vet, and pretend to have travel sickness. He doesn't like the think with the thermometer at all; he's the real hero."
"At least dogs get fed treats after they've been to the doctor," Andrew smiled down at Joni, and stroked her ears, "I haven't been offered a jelly bean for being a brave boy since I was about six."
"Men, such bloody sissies," she humphed in amusement, wiping her eyes then looking up at him. "Did you say you had something to tell me?"
His rallied courage deserted him, as he stared back, lost for words.
"Andrew?" her face and voice grew concerned. "You don't look so hot, mate, is something wrong?"
I should've rehearsed this, he told himself, I should've thought up something to say, or found a poem or something, or, or, or anything, I should've worked out how to do this before I came charging in here...
He opened his mouth, but words failed him.
So he didn't bother with them.
He took the box out of his pocket, opened it, handed it to her, and whuffed quietly.
Den with me.
...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo...
South Dakota, several days later
"How can you still be so cranky?" Dean demanded, shoving a handful of corn chips into his mouth as he drove. "Job's done, demons are thwarted, happy couple are together, their descendants will do wonderful things for humanity, I call that a win, bro."
"I'm not cranky!" snapped Sam peevishly, "I'm just... "
"The biggest prude this side of the Vatican?" suggested Dean helpfully.
"Look, it just... startled me, okay?" Sam shot back. "When we went looking for you, and Cas found your car, I didn't know what sort of a resort it was."
"I woulda thought it would be kinda obvious," shrugged Dean.
"There was no signage outside to indicate what it was!" Sam shot back. "Of course, once we were inside, it became pretty damned obvious..."
"I liked it," commented Dean, "It was relaxed, it was friendly, it was a great place to chill out."
"Dean, it was a naturist resort!"
"Well, yeah," Dean gave his brother a sideways look, "That was the point, really, since I couldn't use my awesome temporary Cupid powers to play poker anywhere else, what with not being able to keep my clothes on whilst, uh, Cupidified."
"When Cas zapped us in there, I wasn't expecting everybody to be naked!"
"They don't like the word 'naked', you know," Dean told him authoritatively, "It has negative connotations of vulnerability and helplessness, apparently. They prefer 'nude', or 'natural', or 'undressed'. They're a bit like Ronnie, that way, you know, how she's says she's never naked, sometimes she just has no clothes on."
"I wasn't expecting me to be naked!"
"Nude, Sam. It's what you do at naturist resorts – you'd have felt left out if you'd been the only one there with clothes on."
"I wasn't expect Cas to be naked!"
Dean looked thoughtful for a moment. "Okay, that I get," he nodded, "It was appropriate, and points to him for workin' that out before he zapped you both in there, but yeah, not entirely expected."
"Is that all you can say?" Sam's voice was incredulous. "That it wasn't 'entirely expected'?"
"Well what do you want me to say?" replied Dean, annoyed, "And what were you doin' looking, anyway?"
"I wasn't looking!" Sam shot back hotly. "But it's kind of difficult not to, you know, just, kind of, see people, generally, even if they've got no clothes on."
"Sam," Dean said firmly, "The whole point of naturism is to demystify and destigmatise the whole series of hang-ups that people have about the human body. It's a beautiful, natural thing, capable, incidentally, of beautiful, natural acts, and it comes in all shapes and sizes and they're all normal and healthy and nothing to get uptight or ashamed about."
"Well, yeah, but..."
"Besides which, shrieking in surprise and screaming 'Jesus Christ Cas, your junk is huge!' would've been considered utterly inappropriate," Dean told him.
"I didn't!" protested Dean.
"You nearly did," Dean reminded him. "Come to think of it, so did I..."
"AAAAAARGH!" yodelled Sam in horror, "Can we stop this conversation five minutes ago?"
"You're the one who was frightened by Cas's..."
"Look I wasn't frightened, okay? It was just... a bit confronting..."
"I bet that's what Amelia Novak said on her wedding night."
"DEAN!" Sam yelped, giving his brother a double-barrelled Bitchface #12™ (I Am Going To Pretend I Didn't Hear What You Just Said You Disgusting Individual). "Shut! Up!"
"Do we need to stop for food?" asked Dean worriedly. "Is your blood sugar low? Because you're really cranky."
"I'm not cranky!"
"You shoulda gone out and joined Temeriel on the volleyball court – who knew that a Cupid could play like that? You'd never expect a guy that size to be so light on his feet."
"And that is a sight I won't forget in a hurry. You know the figure of speech 'he eclipsed the opposition'? Well, I think he actually did."
"Come on, Sam, he had a great time learning about humanity, and he was the star of the court!"
"He was the red giant of the court, I'd say, I think he forgot to put sunscreen on his vessel. Although I'm not sure if you can buy a single bottle that big."
"You are such a killjoy," humphed Dean, "I don't know why you're so cranky, you weren't the one who got spanked by an angry angel in an old lady suit after the job was done."
"I'm not cranky!"
"I should've let you get it on with Sylvia the dog-violating vet," Dean sighed regretfully.
"I didn't want to get it on with Sylvia the vet!"
"But she wanted to get it on with you," Dean's eyebrows waggled suggestively.
"Dean, the whole point of the job, and you being an Acting Cupid, and you making me an acting Acting Cupid, which I have NOT forgotten and will NOT forgive in a hurry, was to get Sylvia the vet together with Phil the mechanic."
"Priorities, Sammy," intoned Dean seriously. "Hang the job, the welfare of my little brother should come first. You need to get laid, Sam."
"You need to get a hobby," growled Sam, "And before you draw breath to tell me that you already have one, I mean a hobby that doesn't involve having sex with as many women as you possibly can."
Dean looked affronted. "That's not a hobby!' he protested vehemently, "To call it a hobby belittles the talents of the Living Sex God. It's a calling, it's a vocation, it's a duty..."
"It's a crock," Sam griped, "Pull over."
"Sam, we're nearly at Bobby's, can't you hold it until then?"
"I don't wanna take a leak, I want to strangle you, and I'd rather do that with the car stationary, because I want to choke the life out of you, but I don't want to smash up the car, or hurt Jimi."
"Gee, I had no idea you cared so much about my Baby," Dean grinned with the irritating cheerfulness he'd been using since Sam was old enough to be cheerfully irritated.
"Jerk."
They made it to Singer Salvage before Sam could make good on this threat to throttle his brother. Jimi barked happily, and leaped out of the car to greet his sister Janis and his mother Rumsfeld, who, as was her habit, immediately seized him by the scruff of his neck, pulled him down with his head between her paws and began to wash his ears.
Bobby met them at the door. "Come on in, idjits," he smiled, "Come on in, and tell me all about your job."
Sam's eyes narrowed. "Who are you, and what have you done with Bobby?"
Bobby gave him a hurt look. "What, I can't be cheerful in my own house?"
"No," replied Dean shortly, "It aint natural."
"Well, don't mind me, Mr Grumpypants," shrugged Bobby, "Or, should I say, Mr Featherpants?"
Sam grinned as Dean scowled. "I'll kill her," he growled, "I'll kill that tattling cow..."
"Now, now," Bobby soothed, "I thought they were real fetching, boy. On you, they looked good."
"They made me crash!" Dean protested, "I had to fly, and my damned pants stalled!"
"Well, you're here and intact enough now," Bobby reminded him, "Years of accumulated brain damage notwithstandin', but," his smile windened, "Ronnie didn't just call to tell me about your aeronautical adventures."
"Yeah?" sneered Dean sourly, "What else did that smartass want?"
"Just to pass on some news," Bobby positively beamed. "Andrew popped the question! And she said yes!"
Sam's eyebrows shot up. "Temeriel – he was the Cupid we were working with – he said something about that," he remembered, "Let slip some stuff he shouldn't have, then clammed up again."
"Are you serious?" Dean's eyebrows bounced almost up to his hairline too. "Ronnie? Crankiest Old North Werewolf In The World, Ronnie? Smartass bitch from Down Under Ronnie? Walks into bikers' clubhouses stark naked, and walks out with their money, that Ronnie?"
Sam's face broke into a goofy grin. "That's... that's fantastic!" he gushed.
"You two have been invited, though God knows why," Bobby told them, "I suspect that Andrew had something to do with that. And I," he beamed proudly, "Have been asked to walk the bride down the aisle!"
"That's really great! " Sam enthused, "When are they doing the deed?"
"Don't sweat it, Sam," Dean waved a hand in an unconcerned fashion, "I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to choose your outfit, and book your facial, get your nails done, organise your make-up trial, maybe update your 'do. Better just check in with her, though, you don't wanna turn up wearing the same thing as the mother of the groom, that would be, like, totally mortifying."
"Jerk."
"You two idjits will behave yourselves," Bobby stipulated, slapping Dean upside the head. "It won't be a big affair – some of Andrew's family, and a few friends. They want to find some place nice, make it a bit of time away from, well, everything." He looked pleased at the idea. "We can turn it into a bit of a vacation from all things occult. A wedding, a reception, we can pretend to be just like normal folks for a few days. Some downtime. It'll be great to relax for a change."
You'd think a Man of Knowledge would know better than to speak Famous Last Words like that.
Feed Bruce the plot bunny reviews – he's just suggested the most eebil thing to do to poor Sam...