Fic: Do Not Adjust Your Sets
I have no excuse. Seriously.
Title: Do Not Adjust Your Sets
Author: me
Rating: This program has been rated R for language and adult content. Viewer discretion is advised.
Word Count: 1,183
Warnings: Ummm, crack. Yeah, be warned about the crack.
Characters, Pairings: Dean, Sam, eventual Bobby, minor character cameos, and one Skinemax actress who is being rewarded for good behavior.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never mine, sandbox blah blah.
Summary: You can’t blame Dean for what happened. Not really, because honestly, how was he supposed to know to ask for one of the rooms without a curse?
Author’s Note: Alternate title of this fic is “Why vorpalblades is no longer allowed all-day Deadliest Catch marathons and extraordinary amounts of sugar-based substances.”
You can’t blame Dean for what happened. Not really, because honestly, how was he supposed to know to ask for one of the rooms without a curse?
So it went like this: they pulled up to the Tumbleweed Inn which proudly displayed its “yes, we have cable” sign, Dean grabbed the key from the front desk, and Sam unloaded the car. Seems simple, right? Normal, everyday event for the Winchester boys?
Since when do Sam and Dean have anything “normal?”
Anyway, still not Dean’s fault. In fact, blame Oprah.
Sam stepped into the room just as Dean had started flipping channels. The stations blurred past, a flurry of voices and music. Only when Sam heard one familiar voice for more than one minute straight did he glance at the television, and he snorted.
Dean shot Sam a look. “What?”
“Nothing.” Yeah, Sam never could pull the innocent act on his brother, and the accompanying smirk didn’t help either. “You want me to get you some bon-bons so you can get the full experience?”
“Shut up, Sam.”
And what kind of younger brother would Sam be if he left it there? “You’re watching Oprah, Dean. Oprah.”
“I said shut up.” And that’s when Dean threw the remote at Sam.
You know what, don’t blame Dean. Or Oprah. Blame Sam for his own disappearance in a hiss of static. Dean could only stare blankly as the remote flopped to the ground at the spot where Sam vanished.
“Sam!” Dean would never do something like panic, because Winchesters do not panic, but damn if he wasn’t close.
“Dean?”
He winced at the sound of his name and slowly turned back to face the TV. And there, sitting on stage with the woman herself, was his baby brother. “Sammy?”
Sam stared at him through the screen. “Dean, what did you do? Get me out of here!”
Dean scrambled over to the remote. Just a run of the mill piece of plastic. Power button, channel switch, volume control. The damned thing looked normal, but there was that word again: normal.
Of course, seeing his brother sucked into the television kind of made reason and logic fly out of Dean’s head, leaving enough room for instinct and habit to take over in a tyrannous reign. So, before he could even think about it, Dean hit the channel button.
*click*
“Oh God, Sammy! Sam, are you there?” Dean threw himself at the TV, nose practically pressed to the screen. Oprah’s set had vanished, switched to a small food market. Sam stood in the middle, now wearing an apron over his clothes.
“Dean?” That wasn’t Sam’s voice, unless being transported into a television program caused reverse puberty. No, that was definitely a girl’s voice. Dean watched as Sam turned toward the market entrance, and they both saw the petite brunette with striking blue eyes stroll in. “Dean, what’s wrong?”
And Sam looked panicked. “Change the channel!”
*click*
Now the screen filled with a jungle scene. Sam batted huge leaves away from his face and somehow managed to glare right in Dean’s direction. “Okay, where am I?”
Dean tried to wrack his brain as to why that particular stretch of jungle looked familiar. Then the dramatic score started and Dean changed the channel just in time. And if Sam ever gave him a hard time about watching the same movie over again, Dean will be able to remind him of the narrowly missed velociraptor attack.
*click*
Sam now stood in the middle of a mid-city park, dressed in a long black coat and dark sunglasses, with his hair slicked back.
Dean settled back a few feet from the television. “Hey, looks like TBS is airing all the Matrix movies. Again.”
On screen, Neo Sam threw his hands up in frustration. “Damn it! Just get me out of here.”
“But it’s the part when fifty million Agent Smiths all attack! Don’t you want to kick all of their asses with your Matrix powers?”
Sam cocked an eyebrow. “You really want to see me with powers, Dean?”
*click*
“Take it off the Disney channel, please!” Huge leathery wings spanned behind Sam’s back, and his skin now had a bluish tint. Claws, fangs, eyes glowing white, and yeah Dean wouldn’t want to meet that without a fully loaded shotgun.
“You used to make me watch this damn show whenever we had the chance, Sam. Hell, we snuck into department stores just so you could take advantage of their electronics department televisions.”
“My feet hurt, and these wings are heavy. The sun is coming up here, and I really don’t want to turn to stone, thank you very much. Change it!”
“Quick, go jump off the roof.”
“Dean!”
*click*
Sam looked all snazzy in a dark leather jacket, hair flying wild around his face. He looked over his shoulder, caught sight of the car behind him, and turned back to Dean while grinning like a fool.
“Hey Dean. Who’d win in a fight - the Impala,” and he gestured over his shoulder. “Or Kitt?”
*click*
Oooo, commercial break. Oh…oh wait. McDonald’s commercial. Sam never could handle -
Yeah, even terrified and screaming like a girl, Sam’s aim was perfect, and Ronald McDonald took a spectacular punch to the face and tumbled ass over teakettle into a crowd of kids.
*click*
For the record, Dean really did think all adult channels needed to be paid for in order to be accessed. So, it still was not his fault when he saw Sam laid out naked on a huge bed with an equally naked and apparently very limber redhead riding him like a mechanical bull.
“Dean! Oh god…oh fuck…Dean, change the…god, Dean!”
*click* *click* *click*
Sam nearly got washed off the deck of a crabbing boat by a thirty foot wave.
*click*
Sam on a motorcycle speeding through post-apocalyptic Seattle.
*click*
Sam the Pokemon. “Dean-o, Dean!”
*click*
Blue screen. “Dean, stop!” Sam stood in the middle of the dead channel, looking as, um, normal as he could when stuck inside a television. “Just, get me out of here. Call Bobby or something.”
And yeah, why that didn’t occur to Dean in the first place, he’ll never know. He blames Oprah.
Bobby picked up after two rings. “So, what’s you problem, Dean?”
He gave a small cough. “Sammy’s stuck in the television.”
“Come again?”
Dean took a deep breath. “Sam is stuck in the TV.”
There was a short pause on Bobby’s end, then “you’re in Oklahoma, aren’t you?”
“How did you- “
“It just sticks a bit. Turn it to channel 3, and then take the batteries out of the remote.”
So Dean did just that, and Sam reappeared right in the same spot as his vanishing act. He grabbed the phone from Dean’s hand. “Bobby, you knew about this thing?”
“Few years back, your dad and I stayed at the Tumbleweed while we were on a hunt.”
“Why didn’t you get rid of the television then?”
“John got sucked into a Hawaii-Five-O episode.”
Dean watched Sam’s eyebrows disappear under the mess of bangs. “Okay. The television gets to live.”
Title: Do Not Adjust Your Sets
Author: me
Rating: This program has been rated R for language and adult content. Viewer discretion is advised.
Word Count: 1,183
Warnings: Ummm, crack. Yeah, be warned about the crack.
Characters, Pairings: Dean, Sam, eventual Bobby, minor character cameos, and one Skinemax actress who is being rewarded for good behavior.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never mine, sandbox blah blah.
Summary: You can’t blame Dean for what happened. Not really, because honestly, how was he supposed to know to ask for one of the rooms without a curse?
Author’s Note: Alternate title of this fic is “Why vorpalblades is no longer allowed all-day Deadliest Catch marathons and extraordinary amounts of sugar-based substances.”
You can’t blame Dean for what happened. Not really, because honestly, how was he supposed to know to ask for one of the rooms without a curse?
So it went like this: they pulled up to the Tumbleweed Inn which proudly displayed its “yes, we have cable” sign, Dean grabbed the key from the front desk, and Sam unloaded the car. Seems simple, right? Normal, everyday event for the Winchester boys?
Since when do Sam and Dean have anything “normal?”
Anyway, still not Dean’s fault. In fact, blame Oprah.
Sam stepped into the room just as Dean had started flipping channels. The stations blurred past, a flurry of voices and music. Only when Sam heard one familiar voice for more than one minute straight did he glance at the television, and he snorted.
Dean shot Sam a look. “What?”
“Nothing.” Yeah, Sam never could pull the innocent act on his brother, and the accompanying smirk didn’t help either. “You want me to get you some bon-bons so you can get the full experience?”
“Shut up, Sam.”
And what kind of younger brother would Sam be if he left it there? “You’re watching Oprah, Dean. Oprah.”
“I said shut up.” And that’s when Dean threw the remote at Sam.
You know what, don’t blame Dean. Or Oprah. Blame Sam for his own disappearance in a hiss of static. Dean could only stare blankly as the remote flopped to the ground at the spot where Sam vanished.
“Sam!” Dean would never do something like panic, because Winchesters do not panic, but damn if he wasn’t close.
“Dean?”
He winced at the sound of his name and slowly turned back to face the TV. And there, sitting on stage with the woman herself, was his baby brother. “Sammy?”
Sam stared at him through the screen. “Dean, what did you do? Get me out of here!”
Dean scrambled over to the remote. Just a run of the mill piece of plastic. Power button, channel switch, volume control. The damned thing looked normal, but there was that word again: normal.
Of course, seeing his brother sucked into the television kind of made reason and logic fly out of Dean’s head, leaving enough room for instinct and habit to take over in a tyrannous reign. So, before he could even think about it, Dean hit the channel button.
*click*
“Oh God, Sammy! Sam, are you there?” Dean threw himself at the TV, nose practically pressed to the screen. Oprah’s set had vanished, switched to a small food market. Sam stood in the middle, now wearing an apron over his clothes.
“Dean?” That wasn’t Sam’s voice, unless being transported into a television program caused reverse puberty. No, that was definitely a girl’s voice. Dean watched as Sam turned toward the market entrance, and they both saw the petite brunette with striking blue eyes stroll in. “Dean, what’s wrong?”
And Sam looked panicked. “Change the channel!”
*click*
Now the screen filled with a jungle scene. Sam batted huge leaves away from his face and somehow managed to glare right in Dean’s direction. “Okay, where am I?”
Dean tried to wrack his brain as to why that particular stretch of jungle looked familiar. Then the dramatic score started and Dean changed the channel just in time. And if Sam ever gave him a hard time about watching the same movie over again, Dean will be able to remind him of the narrowly missed velociraptor attack.
*click*
Sam now stood in the middle of a mid-city park, dressed in a long black coat and dark sunglasses, with his hair slicked back.
Dean settled back a few feet from the television. “Hey, looks like TBS is airing all the Matrix movies. Again.”
On screen, Neo Sam threw his hands up in frustration. “Damn it! Just get me out of here.”
“But it’s the part when fifty million Agent Smiths all attack! Don’t you want to kick all of their asses with your Matrix powers?”
Sam cocked an eyebrow. “You really want to see me with powers, Dean?”
*click*
“Take it off the Disney channel, please!” Huge leathery wings spanned behind Sam’s back, and his skin now had a bluish tint. Claws, fangs, eyes glowing white, and yeah Dean wouldn’t want to meet that without a fully loaded shotgun.
“You used to make me watch this damn show whenever we had the chance, Sam. Hell, we snuck into department stores just so you could take advantage of their electronics department televisions.”
“My feet hurt, and these wings are heavy. The sun is coming up here, and I really don’t want to turn to stone, thank you very much. Change it!”
“Quick, go jump off the roof.”
“Dean!”
*click*
Sam looked all snazzy in a dark leather jacket, hair flying wild around his face. He looked over his shoulder, caught sight of the car behind him, and turned back to Dean while grinning like a fool.
“Hey Dean. Who’d win in a fight - the Impala,” and he gestured over his shoulder. “Or Kitt?”
*click*
Oooo, commercial break. Oh…oh wait. McDonald’s commercial. Sam never could handle -
Yeah, even terrified and screaming like a girl, Sam’s aim was perfect, and Ronald McDonald took a spectacular punch to the face and tumbled ass over teakettle into a crowd of kids.
*click*
For the record, Dean really did think all adult channels needed to be paid for in order to be accessed. So, it still was not his fault when he saw Sam laid out naked on a huge bed with an equally naked and apparently very limber redhead riding him like a mechanical bull.
“Dean! Oh god…oh fuck…Dean, change the…god, Dean!”
*click* *click* *click*
Sam nearly got washed off the deck of a crabbing boat by a thirty foot wave.
*click*
Sam on a motorcycle speeding through post-apocalyptic Seattle.
*click*
Sam the Pokemon. “Dean-o, Dean!”
*click*
Blue screen. “Dean, stop!” Sam stood in the middle of the dead channel, looking as, um, normal as he could when stuck inside a television. “Just, get me out of here. Call Bobby or something.”
And yeah, why that didn’t occur to Dean in the first place, he’ll never know. He blames Oprah.
Bobby picked up after two rings. “So, what’s you problem, Dean?”
He gave a small cough. “Sammy’s stuck in the television.”
“Come again?”
Dean took a deep breath. “Sam is stuck in the TV.”
There was a short pause on Bobby’s end, then “you’re in Oklahoma, aren’t you?”
“How did you- “
“It just sticks a bit. Turn it to channel 3, and then take the batteries out of the remote.”
So Dean did just that, and Sam reappeared right in the same spot as his vanishing act. He grabbed the phone from Dean’s hand. “Bobby, you knew about this thing?”
“Few years back, your dad and I stayed at the Tumbleweed while we were on a hunt.”
“Why didn’t you get rid of the television then?”
“John got sucked into a Hawaii-Five-O episode.”
Dean watched Sam’s eyebrows disappear under the mess of bangs. “Okay. The television gets to live.”