crack'd.
title: Dean Winchester's User Guide to a Psychic Brother
rating: NC-17, I guess; for language and sexual...stuffs. gen.
word count: 2330
disclaimer: if they were mine, i'd keep them jollygood happy, hopped up on sugar, forever in prank war mode and there'd damn well be hugs.
a/n: gratitude to
kaleidoscopeday for the encouragement. plotted on October 18th. if you find some similarities with the episode Simon Said, please read this post. finished while consuming large amount of M&Ms; in respect to Dean. And then i read
keepaofthecheez's pregnant!Jensen crack fic and choked on a yellow one. so thanks to her also for making my day. crits and comments are most welcomed. :)
warning: humour, crack, crap; call it what you will.
summary: well, that's what a psychic baby brother is for.
Dean Winchester’s User Guide to a Psychic Brother
“Sam…come on…Sam? Sam. Sammy! Come on!”
“Hey!” Sam snapped, eyes popping open. “If you think it’s so easy, you do it yourself!”
“You don’t think I would if I could?” Dean sighed.
“Exactly,” Sam huffed. “So stop bugging me and let me concentrate.”
Dean shut his mouth and watched as Sam gazed at the yellowish wallpaper of their motel room, eyes heavy-lidded and lips pursed.
“Man,” Dean whined. “You’re just staring into space.”
Sam sent him an annoyed look, looking as if he was about to wring Dean’s neck using just his mind. “Dude, I’m not going to help you if you don’t believe I could do it.”
Then Dean felt it. Five fingers tickling his kneecaps - his weak spots. He started giggling like a little girl, realized it, covered his mouth with his hands, all the while rolling around on the bed. “I believe you!” he blurted, rubbing his knees to stop the sensation.
Sam grinned widely. “I can’t believe you’re still so ticklish.”
The tip of Dean’s ears reddened. “Sammy, this is important.”
“I know, Dean. But I need a little more time.”
“We don’t have more time, Sam. We have to find her fast. I mean, what if they open the trunk and found our stuffs? What if they cut her apart and sell her in pieces? What if…” Dean gasped, his mammoth green eyes wide. “What if they repaint her burgundy?”
Sam watched Dean’s terror stricken face and tried to contain his laughter. When it comes to his car, Dean could be the most sensitive person that walks the planet. And Sam could live without a black eye this week. “The Impala’s gone for an hour, Dean. I doubt they could do so much already.”
Dean looked like he was on the verge of tears. “I don’t care, Sammy. I want my car back!”
“Fine,” Sam sighed. “Just…be quiet for a minute or two.”
“Okay,” Dean squeaked, biting his lip.
Sam took a deep breath, closed his eyes and focused his mind, trying to locate the Impala. A couple of minutes later, Dean leaned in.
“You’re not doing your thing,” he whispered. Sam looked at him through narrowed slits. “Your painful migraine thing.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!”
///
“I see her,” Sam breathed, eyes screwed shut.
Dean was suddenly on his back like he was getting a piggyback ride. “Where is she? Is she okay? Is she fine?”
Sam pushed his brother off with a grunt. “She’s fine!”
Dean looked like he was ready to bow down and kiss the earth. “Oh, thank God.”
“How’d she get stolen anyway?” Sam frowned.
Dean suddenly looked vicious, his eyes glowing green and snarling. “I don’t know but when I find those bastards I’d cut them open, excavate their hearts and feed ‘em to some possessed, rabid wild dogs!”
Sam cocked an eyebrow. “Nice.” And because he knew his brother best, “You left her when you went to pee at the roadside, didn’t you?”
“What? I did not!”
“Oh - you so did.”
“You know what? Whatever. Now tell me where my baby is!”
Sam snorted, shutting his eyes again. “Your baby is in a used car lot, on sale.”
Dean screamed so loud that Sam had to wince. “What?! Where is it?”
“Not too far from here. About half an hour drive,” Sam shrugged.
“We’ll make it in fifteen,” Dean snapped determinedly.
“What? We just…run?” Sam wrinkled his nose.
“Of course not. We’ll…commandeer a car.”
Sam’s look asked Dean you’ve seen Pirates? “Your car’s just been stolen and you’re stealing somebody else’s? You’re a really empathic guy, Dean.”
Dean waved an indifferent hand. “We’ll drop it back when we’re done. Did you get a look at who nicked my car?”
“That’s kind of hard. Give me a minute,” Sam said, closing his eyes.
Dean waited half patiently, tapping his feet on the moldy carpeting. Sam looked up after a while and glared at him so hard Dean knew his initial guess at who the culprit was was spot-on. He put on a well? tell me! face.
Sam was somewhat gritting his teeth. “It’s an old gypsy woman.”
“Really?” Dean widened his eyes to an amazingly-innocent width.
Sam’s own reduced to mere slits. “You slept with her granddaughter, didn’t you?”
“I did not!”
“Dean!”
“Okay,” Dean huffed, shoulders slumping. “A little. Yeah.”
“A little? There’s no such thing as…”
“How’d you know about that anyway? Wow. You really honed your skills.”
“I didn’t know. I took a guess.”
“What?” Dean looked genuinely offended. “I’m not that sleazy, am I?”
“You did screw an underage gypsy girl.”
“She’s nineteen! I think. Anyway,” Dean’s smirk crept up his face, “she has this amazing…”
“I don’t want to know!” Sam snapped.
“You’re so gay,” Dean snorted.
“Do you want to get your car back or not? Because I rather read some books than entertaining you.”
“I want my car!” Dean was back to whining.
“Well,” Sam planted his hands on his hips, gnawing at his lower lip. “It’s going to be kind of hard. The gypsy lady knows how you look like. There’s no way we could get back the car easily. The used car place belongs to the gypsy girl’s brother. He’d probably castrate you before you could,” Sam deepened his voice mockingly, “excavate his heart and feed it to some possessed, rabid wild dogs.”
Dean shrugged. “We could go undercover.”
///
Dean walked out of the bathroom and Sam thought he had seen nothing more ridiculous in his whole freaking life. He had to bite the inside of his cheeks so hard he could almost taste blood.
“Dude.”
“Anything for my baby, Sammy. Anything,” Dean glowered, pushing a long dark blond curl out of his face.
Sam snickered. “I have two questions for you.”
Dean looked up from the mirror where he was applying a coat of lip gloss. “What?”
“One,” Sam paused, watching warily as Dean expertly curled his eyelashes. “Why a pregnant girl?”
Dean appeared peeved. “Have you seen my shoulders lately?”
Sam just had to snort. “Uh. What?”
“They’re fucking huge. I don’t want to be a fat girl. If I’m pregnant, there’s reason I’d be this big.”
“Okay. You’re fucking vain. Secondly, dude, what’s with the short maternity dress?”
“What? I like it,” Dean grinned, twirling around and batting his smoky eyelashes at Sam. His skirt twirled and Sam could clearly see Dean’s smooth, shaved legs. “It’s pretty.”
“You are seriously demented. I think your brain is broken.”
“You stop speaking to me that way. You’re supposed to be my loving husband.”
Sam opened his mouth to say something but stopped short, sniffing the air. “Did you slather aftershave on your legs?!”
“Slather?” Dean snickered. “You’re so poetic. And yeah, I did.”
“You freaking reek of it!”
Dean waved him off, starting towards the door. “Whatever, man. It’s your aftershave that stinks.”
“What?” Sam yelled. “You used my aftershave? How much did you actually use?”
“Some, okay, Sammy? Now let’s go before I get my mood swings!”
///
It goes without saying that nobody noticed Sam crouching down next to the red Saab, picking locks when Dean’s bulging belly was blocking the view. An old couple did sort of stare, though, when they were wrestling over who gets to drive but it was probably because Dean, the apparently six-month pregnant girl growled in his original deep voice.
Sam got to be behind the wheel, finally, because Dean’s unborn baby couldn’t fit behind it. Dean insisted he was going to give birth to twins, hence the size. Sam tried to ignore him completely, like a true husband that he is.
“You know, if you weren’t such a gigantic Godzilla, we could’ve had you dress up as a girl. At least then we don’t have to put a wig on you. Your hair’s shaggy enough that you’d pass for a messy, sexy look.”
“Okay,” Sam said. “One, I’m not the one the gypsy lady would recognize and two, I wouldn’t be caught dead in a maternity dress, let alone one that short.”
“I know you think it’s sexy.”
“Uh. You’re supposed to give birth in three months time, remember?”
“So? There’s no rule saying a mommy couldn’t be sexy as hell.”
“You’re such a slut,” Sam scowled.
Dean’s hands were around Sam’s neck in an instant. Sam, shocked at his brother; his wife; his whatever’s sudden burst of violence, nearly drove the car off the road, the tires screeching.
“Dean!” Sam rasped. “Are you trying to kill us? You almost make me crash the car!”
“Whatever. It’s not my car,” Dean shrugged, smirking as he adjusted his fake breasts underneath the low cut neck of his blood red dress.
“God. It serves you right yours got stolen,” Sam snorted.
The red car swerved dangerously once again as Dean choked Sam with fervor.
“No talking about the Impala like that again!” Dean warned when he finally released Sam.
Sam coughed, sucking in huge gulps of air. “God, Dean. It’s just a car.”
“It’s not just a car. It’s my baby,” Dean stressed, putting a feminine hand over his exposed chest.
Sam grinned widely, eyes twinkling. “So this is not your first pregnancy, then?”
Dean glared at his brother underneath shadowed eyelids. “You tell me we’ve been riding in her all this while and you don’t have even an inkling of feeling towards it?”
“Dude,” Sam blinked at the road. “It’s a fucking car.”
Before Dean could strangle him again, Sam stopped the car by a dusty roadside and peered outside, checking to see if it’s the right place.
Joyous Rider Car Trader.
“We’re here,” Sam announced, avoiding his eyes from seeing Dean strapping his favorite knife dangerously high on his right thigh before smoothing down her dress over his long legs.
“Yes, Sammy. I have delicious-looking legs. Now let’s go,” Dean smirked, hopping out of the car unlike a very pregnant woman should’ve been.
///
It was easy to get girls to fall at his feet when Dean was a guy but it was even easier to get a guy to drool and melt at his feet when he was a girl, it was beyond ridiculous. How could a pregnant woman in her late second trimester with a towering husband built like a bulldozer be so enticing; Sam wondered? Then Dean cocked his hips and the dress flung a little and Sam realized how.
“How’s it going to be, miss?” Jimmy, the supposedly protective older brother asked in a deliberately deepened tone, leaning against the Impala like he was posing for fucking Playgirl.
Miss? Sam thought. Shouldn’t it be ma’am? She’s married, for fuck’s sake! Pfft. Men.
Jimmy had been salivating from the very moment Dean and Sam walked into the compound, Dean swaying his hips excessively, like he had had enough practice. It was a fucking wonder to Sam how Dean could overcome his usual bow-legged gait to come off like a freaking catwalking runway supermodel. It was, like, one look at the skimpy maternity dress and Dean’s hand deliberately placed protectively over his swollen belly and the guy was a goner. Someday Sam would like to ask Dean where he had gotten the dress because the designer should’ve been shot in the face for producing such a monstrosity. Or rather, something that creates drooling, horny monsters.
Dean placed a finger on his chin in a mock thinking gesture before brightening up and clutching Sam’s forearm. “What do you think, honey? Should we get this bad boy?”
Sam alternated between looking at Dean’s carefully made up face and glaring at the dude leering at his brother’s exposed cleavage. “You decide, sweetie.”
Dean was patting his Impala across the hood but Sam knew he was just restraining himself from throwing himself across it and never letting go because despite the short, short red dress and freaking sultry black boots Dean didn’t want to be caught for indecent exposure.
“It’s gorgeous,” Dean breathed, batting his eyelashes at Jimmy.
Jimmy gulped audibly and approached Dean, rubbing his hands together. “If you’re really interested, I could give you some discount.”
“Really, Jimmy?” Dean gasped overdramatically. “You hear that, honey? He’s giving us discounts!”
Sam plastered on a faux grin. “How generous of him.”
Dean leaned over the black hood on his elbows, spilling more fake breasts out of the neckline. “I tell you what, Jimmy…” he purred. “You let my hubby and I drive this for a while for a test drive and we’ll get back to you later. How’s that?” she winked.
Sam had to bury his face in his hand at the obscenity but when Jimmy let out this little whimper and Dean jiggled a set of keys in front of him, Sam opened his eyes and found Dean beaming proudly, the Impala’s keys in his hand.
“Let’s go!” Dean said excitedly in his usual gruff voice.
Sam turned to Jimmy but the dude didn’t even notice. He was busy ogling Dean’s backside. Sam made a sickened face and jumped into the car next to his brother.
///
“Oh…” Dean crooned. “Oh, baby…”
Sam scowled as Dean sprawled across the car, plastering himself on the hood like a fucking house lizard. A red house lizard with legs like-Sam moved his gaze away from the way his brother’s dress hiked dangerously high over the back of his thighs. Dean was moaning pleasurably and chuckling under his breath as if having a secret, nonexistent pillow talk with the damn car and Sam had to clear his throat.
“Oh, baby. I’ve missed you. I’m sorry! I’ll never, ever, ever leave you again, ever!” Dean shrieked, ignoring Sam. The bump he passed off as his baby squeaked against the shiny black metal, sandwiched between Dean’s weight and the car.
Sam sighed, giving up. “Dean?”
Dean continued purring against the car, smiling with shut eyes.
“Um. While you…hump your car, I’d be over there.”
There was a muffled response from Dean. Something like go away! or whatever! or thanks, Sammy.
- end -
rating: NC-17, I guess; for language and sexual...stuffs. gen.
word count: 2330
disclaimer: if they were mine, i'd keep them jollygood happy, hopped up on sugar, forever in prank war mode and there'd damn well be hugs.
a/n: gratitude to
kaleidoscopeday for the encouragement. plotted on October 18th. if you find some similarities with the episode Simon Said, please read this post. finished while consuming large amount of M&Ms; in respect to Dean. And then i read
keepaofthecheez's pregnant!Jensen crack fic and choked on a yellow one. so thanks to her also for making my day. crits and comments are most welcomed. :)
warning: humour, crack, crap; call it what you will.
summary: well, that's what a psychic baby brother is for.
Dean Winchester’s User Guide to a Psychic Brother
“Sam…come on…Sam? Sam. Sammy! Come on!”
“Hey!” Sam snapped, eyes popping open. “If you think it’s so easy, you do it yourself!”
“You don’t think I would if I could?” Dean sighed.
“Exactly,” Sam huffed. “So stop bugging me and let me concentrate.”
Dean shut his mouth and watched as Sam gazed at the yellowish wallpaper of their motel room, eyes heavy-lidded and lips pursed.
“Man,” Dean whined. “You’re just staring into space.”
Sam sent him an annoyed look, looking as if he was about to wring Dean’s neck using just his mind. “Dude, I’m not going to help you if you don’t believe I could do it.”
Then Dean felt it. Five fingers tickling his kneecaps - his weak spots. He started giggling like a little girl, realized it, covered his mouth with his hands, all the while rolling around on the bed. “I believe you!” he blurted, rubbing his knees to stop the sensation.
Sam grinned widely. “I can’t believe you’re still so ticklish.”
The tip of Dean’s ears reddened. “Sammy, this is important.”
“I know, Dean. But I need a little more time.”
“We don’t have more time, Sam. We have to find her fast. I mean, what if they open the trunk and found our stuffs? What if they cut her apart and sell her in pieces? What if…” Dean gasped, his mammoth green eyes wide. “What if they repaint her burgundy?”
Sam watched Dean’s terror stricken face and tried to contain his laughter. When it comes to his car, Dean could be the most sensitive person that walks the planet. And Sam could live without a black eye this week. “The Impala’s gone for an hour, Dean. I doubt they could do so much already.”
Dean looked like he was on the verge of tears. “I don’t care, Sammy. I want my car back!”
“Fine,” Sam sighed. “Just…be quiet for a minute or two.”
“Okay,” Dean squeaked, biting his lip.
Sam took a deep breath, closed his eyes and focused his mind, trying to locate the Impala. A couple of minutes later, Dean leaned in.
“You’re not doing your thing,” he whispered. Sam looked at him through narrowed slits. “Your painful migraine thing.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!”
///
“I see her,” Sam breathed, eyes screwed shut.
Dean was suddenly on his back like he was getting a piggyback ride. “Where is she? Is she okay? Is she fine?”
Sam pushed his brother off with a grunt. “She’s fine!”
Dean looked like he was ready to bow down and kiss the earth. “Oh, thank God.”
“How’d she get stolen anyway?” Sam frowned.
Dean suddenly looked vicious, his eyes glowing green and snarling. “I don’t know but when I find those bastards I’d cut them open, excavate their hearts and feed ‘em to some possessed, rabid wild dogs!”
Sam cocked an eyebrow. “Nice.” And because he knew his brother best, “You left her when you went to pee at the roadside, didn’t you?”
“What? I did not!”
“Oh - you so did.”
“You know what? Whatever. Now tell me where my baby is!”
Sam snorted, shutting his eyes again. “Your baby is in a used car lot, on sale.”
Dean screamed so loud that Sam had to wince. “What?! Where is it?”
“Not too far from here. About half an hour drive,” Sam shrugged.
“We’ll make it in fifteen,” Dean snapped determinedly.
“What? We just…run?” Sam wrinkled his nose.
“Of course not. We’ll…commandeer a car.”
Sam’s look asked Dean you’ve seen Pirates? “Your car’s just been stolen and you’re stealing somebody else’s? You’re a really empathic guy, Dean.”
Dean waved an indifferent hand. “We’ll drop it back when we’re done. Did you get a look at who nicked my car?”
“That’s kind of hard. Give me a minute,” Sam said, closing his eyes.
Dean waited half patiently, tapping his feet on the moldy carpeting. Sam looked up after a while and glared at him so hard Dean knew his initial guess at who the culprit was was spot-on. He put on a well? tell me! face.
Sam was somewhat gritting his teeth. “It’s an old gypsy woman.”
“Really?” Dean widened his eyes to an amazingly-innocent width.
Sam’s own reduced to mere slits. “You slept with her granddaughter, didn’t you?”
“I did not!”
“Dean!”
“Okay,” Dean huffed, shoulders slumping. “A little. Yeah.”
“A little? There’s no such thing as…”
“How’d you know about that anyway? Wow. You really honed your skills.”
“I didn’t know. I took a guess.”
“What?” Dean looked genuinely offended. “I’m not that sleazy, am I?”
“You did screw an underage gypsy girl.”
“She’s nineteen! I think. Anyway,” Dean’s smirk crept up his face, “she has this amazing…”
“I don’t want to know!” Sam snapped.
“You’re so gay,” Dean snorted.
“Do you want to get your car back or not? Because I rather read some books than entertaining you.”
“I want my car!” Dean was back to whining.
“Well,” Sam planted his hands on his hips, gnawing at his lower lip. “It’s going to be kind of hard. The gypsy lady knows how you look like. There’s no way we could get back the car easily. The used car place belongs to the gypsy girl’s brother. He’d probably castrate you before you could,” Sam deepened his voice mockingly, “excavate his heart and feed it to some possessed, rabid wild dogs.”
Dean shrugged. “We could go undercover.”
///
Dean walked out of the bathroom and Sam thought he had seen nothing more ridiculous in his whole freaking life. He had to bite the inside of his cheeks so hard he could almost taste blood.
“Dude.”
“Anything for my baby, Sammy. Anything,” Dean glowered, pushing a long dark blond curl out of his face.
Sam snickered. “I have two questions for you.”
Dean looked up from the mirror where he was applying a coat of lip gloss. “What?”
“One,” Sam paused, watching warily as Dean expertly curled his eyelashes. “Why a pregnant girl?”
Dean appeared peeved. “Have you seen my shoulders lately?”
Sam just had to snort. “Uh. What?”
“They’re fucking huge. I don’t want to be a fat girl. If I’m pregnant, there’s reason I’d be this big.”
“Okay. You’re fucking vain. Secondly, dude, what’s with the short maternity dress?”
“What? I like it,” Dean grinned, twirling around and batting his smoky eyelashes at Sam. His skirt twirled and Sam could clearly see Dean’s smooth, shaved legs. “It’s pretty.”
“You are seriously demented. I think your brain is broken.”
“You stop speaking to me that way. You’re supposed to be my loving husband.”
Sam opened his mouth to say something but stopped short, sniffing the air. “Did you slather aftershave on your legs?!”
“Slather?” Dean snickered. “You’re so poetic. And yeah, I did.”
“You freaking reek of it!”
Dean waved him off, starting towards the door. “Whatever, man. It’s your aftershave that stinks.”
“What?” Sam yelled. “You used my aftershave? How much did you actually use?”
“Some, okay, Sammy? Now let’s go before I get my mood swings!”
///
It goes without saying that nobody noticed Sam crouching down next to the red Saab, picking locks when Dean’s bulging belly was blocking the view. An old couple did sort of stare, though, when they were wrestling over who gets to drive but it was probably because Dean, the apparently six-month pregnant girl growled in his original deep voice.
Sam got to be behind the wheel, finally, because Dean’s unborn baby couldn’t fit behind it. Dean insisted he was going to give birth to twins, hence the size. Sam tried to ignore him completely, like a true husband that he is.
“You know, if you weren’t such a gigantic Godzilla, we could’ve had you dress up as a girl. At least then we don’t have to put a wig on you. Your hair’s shaggy enough that you’d pass for a messy, sexy look.”
“Okay,” Sam said. “One, I’m not the one the gypsy lady would recognize and two, I wouldn’t be caught dead in a maternity dress, let alone one that short.”
“I know you think it’s sexy.”
“Uh. You’re supposed to give birth in three months time, remember?”
“So? There’s no rule saying a mommy couldn’t be sexy as hell.”
“You’re such a slut,” Sam scowled.
Dean’s hands were around Sam’s neck in an instant. Sam, shocked at his brother; his wife; his whatever’s sudden burst of violence, nearly drove the car off the road, the tires screeching.
“Dean!” Sam rasped. “Are you trying to kill us? You almost make me crash the car!”
“Whatever. It’s not my car,” Dean shrugged, smirking as he adjusted his fake breasts underneath the low cut neck of his blood red dress.
“God. It serves you right yours got stolen,” Sam snorted.
The red car swerved dangerously once again as Dean choked Sam with fervor.
“No talking about the Impala like that again!” Dean warned when he finally released Sam.
Sam coughed, sucking in huge gulps of air. “God, Dean. It’s just a car.”
“It’s not just a car. It’s my baby,” Dean stressed, putting a feminine hand over his exposed chest.
Sam grinned widely, eyes twinkling. “So this is not your first pregnancy, then?”
Dean glared at his brother underneath shadowed eyelids. “You tell me we’ve been riding in her all this while and you don’t have even an inkling of feeling towards it?”
“Dude,” Sam blinked at the road. “It’s a fucking car.”
Before Dean could strangle him again, Sam stopped the car by a dusty roadside and peered outside, checking to see if it’s the right place.
Joyous Rider Car Trader.
“We’re here,” Sam announced, avoiding his eyes from seeing Dean strapping his favorite knife dangerously high on his right thigh before smoothing down her dress over his long legs.
“Yes, Sammy. I have delicious-looking legs. Now let’s go,” Dean smirked, hopping out of the car unlike a very pregnant woman should’ve been.
///
It was easy to get girls to fall at his feet when Dean was a guy but it was even easier to get a guy to drool and melt at his feet when he was a girl, it was beyond ridiculous. How could a pregnant woman in her late second trimester with a towering husband built like a bulldozer be so enticing; Sam wondered? Then Dean cocked his hips and the dress flung a little and Sam realized how.
“How’s it going to be, miss?” Jimmy, the supposedly protective older brother asked in a deliberately deepened tone, leaning against the Impala like he was posing for fucking Playgirl.
Miss? Sam thought. Shouldn’t it be ma’am? She’s married, for fuck’s sake! Pfft. Men.
Jimmy had been salivating from the very moment Dean and Sam walked into the compound, Dean swaying his hips excessively, like he had had enough practice. It was a fucking wonder to Sam how Dean could overcome his usual bow-legged gait to come off like a freaking catwalking runway supermodel. It was, like, one look at the skimpy maternity dress and Dean’s hand deliberately placed protectively over his swollen belly and the guy was a goner. Someday Sam would like to ask Dean where he had gotten the dress because the designer should’ve been shot in the face for producing such a monstrosity. Or rather, something that creates drooling, horny monsters.
Dean placed a finger on his chin in a mock thinking gesture before brightening up and clutching Sam’s forearm. “What do you think, honey? Should we get this bad boy?”
Sam alternated between looking at Dean’s carefully made up face and glaring at the dude leering at his brother’s exposed cleavage. “You decide, sweetie.”
Dean was patting his Impala across the hood but Sam knew he was just restraining himself from throwing himself across it and never letting go because despite the short, short red dress and freaking sultry black boots Dean didn’t want to be caught for indecent exposure.
“It’s gorgeous,” Dean breathed, batting his eyelashes at Jimmy.
Jimmy gulped audibly and approached Dean, rubbing his hands together. “If you’re really interested, I could give you some discount.”
“Really, Jimmy?” Dean gasped overdramatically. “You hear that, honey? He’s giving us discounts!”
Sam plastered on a faux grin. “How generous of him.”
Dean leaned over the black hood on his elbows, spilling more fake breasts out of the neckline. “I tell you what, Jimmy…” he purred. “You let my hubby and I drive this for a while for a test drive and we’ll get back to you later. How’s that?” she winked.
Sam had to bury his face in his hand at the obscenity but when Jimmy let out this little whimper and Dean jiggled a set of keys in front of him, Sam opened his eyes and found Dean beaming proudly, the Impala’s keys in his hand.
“Let’s go!” Dean said excitedly in his usual gruff voice.
Sam turned to Jimmy but the dude didn’t even notice. He was busy ogling Dean’s backside. Sam made a sickened face and jumped into the car next to his brother.
///
“Oh…” Dean crooned. “Oh, baby…”
Sam scowled as Dean sprawled across the car, plastering himself on the hood like a fucking house lizard. A red house lizard with legs like-Sam moved his gaze away from the way his brother’s dress hiked dangerously high over the back of his thighs. Dean was moaning pleasurably and chuckling under his breath as if having a secret, nonexistent pillow talk with the damn car and Sam had to clear his throat.
“Oh, baby. I’ve missed you. I’m sorry! I’ll never, ever, ever leave you again, ever!” Dean shrieked, ignoring Sam. The bump he passed off as his baby squeaked against the shiny black metal, sandwiched between Dean’s weight and the car.
Sam sighed, giving up. “Dean?”
Dean continued purring against the car, smiling with shut eyes.
“Um. While you…hump your car, I’d be over there.”
There was a muffled response from Dean. Something like go away! or whatever! or thanks, Sammy.
- end -