Four Dean/Bela Drabbles
Drabble #1 (214 words)
“Dean.”
“I’m fine, Sam.”
Except he’s not fine. Dean hasn’t been this unfine in a while. He doesn’t want to think of what will happen to Sam when he’s gone. He definitely doesn’t want to think of what will happen to him when he’s gone.
I need help.
Dean hadn’t liked Bela. He’d never liked her. She’d been a manipulative, thieving bitch from the start. But now he knows, she’d been in the exact same position he’s in. She did what was necessary. Dean can respect that. Bela hadn’t been ready to die, but Dean’s been ready to die for Sam since the day Sam was born. He doesn’t want to, but he will. Maybe someday Sam will forgive all of his family members for dying for him. Maybe.
“We should bury her,” Dean says. “What’s left of her.”
If there’s anything left. But he doesn’t say that.
“Okay,” Sam agrees.
Except Dean’s now thinking about how Sam’s going to have to do this twice. Pick up the pieces of broken bodies, left by hellhounds, and bury them somewhere deep down in the ground.
He wonders what Bela would have been like without this hanging over her shoulders. Dean wonders if it’s anything like what he feels.
Helpless. Hopeless. Resigned but still searching.
Alone.
Drabble #2 (189 words)
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Dean smirks. “Sorry, sweetheart. It is what it is.”
Bela looks down at the tassels on her shoes and crosses her arms, offering Dean her best glare. “I’m a genie, not some goddamn harem slut. I want real clothes. Now.”
“Those are real clothes,” Dean says with a role of his eyes.
Bela wrinkles her nose and sighs. With a snap of her fingers she’s clothed in a skin-tight black dress and heels. Sans tassels of any kind. “That’s better.”
“Aren’t I supposed to have some kind of say in this. I own you, remember?”
Bela fixes him with a steely gaze. “Let’s get this straight: you do not own me. I am a genie, not a piece of property you can just pass around. I can make your life miserable.” She snaps her fingers. “For example…”
Dean blinks. “What was that?”
“I hope you have room in your life for a little Herpexia.”
“Herpex--you gave me herpes?! I have genital herpes?!” Dean yells, moving his hands in front of his pants.
Bela eyes him and smirks. “Now let’s talk ground rules.”
Drabble #3 (203 words)
She’s wearing white and laying in vividly green grass. That’s what Dean notices first. He hefts his messenger bag up onto his shoulder and waves Chuck away. “I’ll catch up with you later, dude.”
He’s never been one to make the first move. He’s not like Sam--friendly with everyone. Dean needs a few drinks to get going, and some pot never hurt. But she’s here, right now, and Dean doesn’t want to waste this chance.
He slowly walks over, forgetting about the History class he’s already late for. “Is this spot taken?” he asks even though the whole field is empty save for her.
She looks over at him and smiles slowly--lazily--and says, “Not yet.”
So Dean sits down, lotus style. “I’m Dean.”
“Bela,” she says. Her hand moves and she passes him a crown made out of blades of grass. “This is yours.”
Dean holds it in his hands and wonders what he’s supposed to do with it. It’s fragile. And it’s a crown made out of blades of grass. “Uh, thanks. I guess.”
She points up at the sky and says, “I’ve been watching the clouds. That one looks like a teddy bear.”
Dean squints and, yeah, it kind of does.
Drabble #4 (212 words)
There she is. The prettiest unicorn in all the lands. Bela.
Dean neighs softly and tries to work up the courage to stand closer to her. He wants to talk to her but he isn’t sure what to say. There’s a sharp poke in his ass and Dean turns his head to glare. Of course it’s Sam, poking him with his horn, nudging him towards Bela. Dean gives him the stink eye but takes another step closer to her.
Bela is so far out of Dean’s league that he’s not sure he should even be trying for her. She makes the best poop pot brownies there are and everyone wants to get to know her. All Dean does is push around the Impala, his name for the machine that collects all the pot brownie poops.
But she’s so pretty.
There’s another poke in his ass and Dean shoves his hind legs back at Sam, laughing when his foot connects with one of Sam’s knees. He turns and inhales a little bit of the nearby rainbow, for luck, and then trots over to where she’s standing, glistening in the sunlight.
“A unicorn could die waiting for you, Dean Winchester,” Bela says, turning to face him.
Dean grins and swears the world gets brighter.
“Dean.”
“I’m fine, Sam.”
Except he’s not fine. Dean hasn’t been this unfine in a while. He doesn’t want to think of what will happen to Sam when he’s gone. He definitely doesn’t want to think of what will happen to him when he’s gone.
I need help.
Dean hadn’t liked Bela. He’d never liked her. She’d been a manipulative, thieving bitch from the start. But now he knows, she’d been in the exact same position he’s in. She did what was necessary. Dean can respect that. Bela hadn’t been ready to die, but Dean’s been ready to die for Sam since the day Sam was born. He doesn’t want to, but he will. Maybe someday Sam will forgive all of his family members for dying for him. Maybe.
“We should bury her,” Dean says. “What’s left of her.”
If there’s anything left. But he doesn’t say that.
“Okay,” Sam agrees.
Except Dean’s now thinking about how Sam’s going to have to do this twice. Pick up the pieces of broken bodies, left by hellhounds, and bury them somewhere deep down in the ground.
He wonders what Bela would have been like without this hanging over her shoulders. Dean wonders if it’s anything like what he feels.
Helpless. Hopeless. Resigned but still searching.
Alone.
Drabble #2 (189 words)
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Dean smirks. “Sorry, sweetheart. It is what it is.”
Bela looks down at the tassels on her shoes and crosses her arms, offering Dean her best glare. “I’m a genie, not some goddamn harem slut. I want real clothes. Now.”
“Those are real clothes,” Dean says with a role of his eyes.
Bela wrinkles her nose and sighs. With a snap of her fingers she’s clothed in a skin-tight black dress and heels. Sans tassels of any kind. “That’s better.”
“Aren’t I supposed to have some kind of say in this. I own you, remember?”
Bela fixes him with a steely gaze. “Let’s get this straight: you do not own me. I am a genie, not a piece of property you can just pass around. I can make your life miserable.” She snaps her fingers. “For example…”
Dean blinks. “What was that?”
“I hope you have room in your life for a little Herpexia.”
“Herpex--you gave me herpes?! I have genital herpes?!” Dean yells, moving his hands in front of his pants.
Bela eyes him and smirks. “Now let’s talk ground rules.”
Drabble #3 (203 words)
She’s wearing white and laying in vividly green grass. That’s what Dean notices first. He hefts his messenger bag up onto his shoulder and waves Chuck away. “I’ll catch up with you later, dude.”
He’s never been one to make the first move. He’s not like Sam--friendly with everyone. Dean needs a few drinks to get going, and some pot never hurt. But she’s here, right now, and Dean doesn’t want to waste this chance.
He slowly walks over, forgetting about the History class he’s already late for. “Is this spot taken?” he asks even though the whole field is empty save for her.
She looks over at him and smiles slowly--lazily--and says, “Not yet.”
So Dean sits down, lotus style. “I’m Dean.”
“Bela,” she says. Her hand moves and she passes him a crown made out of blades of grass. “This is yours.”
Dean holds it in his hands and wonders what he’s supposed to do with it. It’s fragile. And it’s a crown made out of blades of grass. “Uh, thanks. I guess.”
She points up at the sky and says, “I’ve been watching the clouds. That one looks like a teddy bear.”
Dean squints and, yeah, it kind of does.
Drabble #4 (212 words)
There she is. The prettiest unicorn in all the lands. Bela.
Dean neighs softly and tries to work up the courage to stand closer to her. He wants to talk to her but he isn’t sure what to say. There’s a sharp poke in his ass and Dean turns his head to glare. Of course it’s Sam, poking him with his horn, nudging him towards Bela. Dean gives him the stink eye but takes another step closer to her.
Bela is so far out of Dean’s league that he’s not sure he should even be trying for her. She makes the best poop pot brownies there are and everyone wants to get to know her. All Dean does is push around the Impala, his name for the machine that collects all the pot brownie poops.
But she’s so pretty.
There’s another poke in his ass and Dean shoves his hind legs back at Sam, laughing when his foot connects with one of Sam’s knees. He turns and inhales a little bit of the nearby rainbow, for luck, and then trots over to where she’s standing, glistening in the sunlight.
“A unicorn could die waiting for you, Dean Winchester,” Bela says, turning to face him.
Dean grins and swears the world gets brighter.