SPN Fic, "Five Times Dean Acted Like A Girl" (Sam/girl!Dean/Andy), 2/6
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Five Times Dean Acted Like A Girl (2/6)
Author: arby_m
Pairing: various combinations of Sam, Andy and girl!Dean
Rating: R (cussing, Wincest)
Spoilers: Through Simon Said.
Warnings: None
Length: ~10k words in total, this chapter clocks in at ~800 words
Disclaimer: Fictional characters used without intent of copyright infringement.
Summary: Dean gets the bright idea to call Andy. Sam thinks this is not a great idea, for a number of reasons, none of which he feels like getting into ATM, thank you very little.
Author's Note: I'm using the "Five Things" concept somewhat loosely (read: probably doing it wrong) - so much so, that instead of Five Times, I somehow ended up with Six. Oh, and here's Chapter 1 in case you missed it. Also, I'm aware that this chapter is weirdly tiny, so it's probably incredibly annoying of me to post each one separately. But I can't help it, my Virgo brain rebels at combining chapters, and the whole thing is too big to post in one go.
2. Dean Rubs One Out
He came out of the bedroom disheveled, sweating, clothes hanging off him and long hair in disarray. His eyes were glassy, his cheeks absurdly flushed, like a Campbell's Soup kid. He pounded an entire bottle of water before taking a breath.
"Dude," he panted. "You...we..you can't even begin to imagine what it feels like for a girl. It's like getting an endless bj on x while stoned and drunk. Times eleventy-billion. And they can do it over and over and over and over - and it still feels almost as good as the first time. The amazing thing to me is how women ever leave the bedroom, if it feels this good for them. I mean, I always thought I was just really good, or they were faking - but it's all real."
Sam regarded him bemusedly with mild alarm and acute discomfiture. Dean's deranged rambling was reminding him of someone, who was it...oh, right - that would be Andy. Jesus, what would happen if Barbie-doll Skipper here met Andy?
As usual Dean plucked the thought right out of his head. "You know who'd be really fun to hang with right about now? Andy! I should give him a call."
"Dean. I really don't think that's the world's greatest idea." For a whole host of reasons, none of which Sam felt like getting into ATM, thank you very little.
Dean ignored him, but couldn't find Andy's number. This led to some footstomping.
"Come on, man! You know I lost all my numbers when my Sidekick broke."
"Yes, but I also know that for a measly $10, Verizon will transfer it to the Sim card on your new phone," Sam countered.
"A, you sound like a commercial and B, I'm far too lazy to do that, as you damn well know. Why can't you just give it to me already?"
Finally after much coercion Sam gave in, only to find that he didn't have it either. He vaguely remembered having deleted it by "mistake", so he wouldn't be tempted to call him.
"Can't you just call him on the Psychic Hotline? Cause if not, what is that shit good for again?"
"Dean, what the... I can't just call him like that. It's not a real phone." But even as he said it he knew it was not true, a fact that Dean glommed on to immediately.
"C'mon, meditate on Andy or something and see what happens."
Sam knew all too well what would happen. He would have very...intense dreams. And Andy would call within a day. He'd actually done it before, more or less by mistake. He hoped to whatever gods looked after him that Andy couldn’t the content of Sam's dreams. Because they were kind of inappropriate.
In Sam's dreams they were just hanging out, boys being boys, and Andy kept smiling at him and flirting in little subtle ways like touching his hand in the awkward scramble for a videogame controller or a bong hit, leaning on him and finally (Dean was always away at first) when he beat Sam at Super Mario Galaxy, Andy leaned over and just kissed the shit out of him, all hot wet tongue and sly little mouth, and the hair rose on the back of Sam's neck because Dean was standing there, he could feel it, Dean was watching him make out with Andy, and it was too good.
And then he woke up with a stiffy the size of Texas. This was inevitably followed within four hours by Andy's call.
This time it was even worse, even though Dean's extreme makeover had resulted in the need for separate rooms, because within minutes of Sam's awakening, in fact just as Sam was sneaking his hand down under the covers to take care of business, Dean came busting into his room with all the delicacy of a charging elephant.
"Hey, let's go get -" He faltered in mid-sentence at seeing Sam's rather sizable boner tentpoling the blankets. He didn't have the tact to just excuse himself and get the fuck out, natch. Dad used to say that Dean was born without the gene for tact.
"Whoa, sorry." An expression crossed his face that made Sam even more uneasy than he already was, managing to combine calculation and… something else.
Sam groaned in frustration. Goddamn it, why didn't Dean have the common human decency to mind his own stinking business for once?
"Yo, Dean!"
Dean appeared to be lost in thought. The possible nature of those thoughts scared the shit out of Sam.
"Do you mind?"
Dean looked obscurely disappointed. "Oh, right, sorry. I'm going to Dunkin Donuts, you want anything?"
"Uh, no. Look, will you get the hell out of here already?!"
"Whoa, excuuuse ME. You big baby."
"Shut up!" Even to himself, that sounded pathetic.
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On to Chapter 3!
Title: Five Times Dean Acted Like A Girl (2/6)
Author: arby_m
Pairing: various combinations of Sam, Andy and girl!Dean
Rating: R (cussing, Wincest)
Spoilers: Through Simon Said.
Warnings: None
Length: ~10k words in total, this chapter clocks in at ~800 words
Disclaimer: Fictional characters used without intent of copyright infringement.
Summary: Dean gets the bright idea to call Andy. Sam thinks this is not a great idea, for a number of reasons, none of which he feels like getting into ATM, thank you very little.
Author's Note: I'm using the "Five Things" concept somewhat loosely (read: probably doing it wrong) - so much so, that instead of Five Times, I somehow ended up with Six. Oh, and here's Chapter 1 in case you missed it. Also, I'm aware that this chapter is weirdly tiny, so it's probably incredibly annoying of me to post each one separately. But I can't help it, my Virgo brain rebels at combining chapters, and the whole thing is too big to post in one go.
2. Dean Rubs One Out
He came out of the bedroom disheveled, sweating, clothes hanging off him and long hair in disarray. His eyes were glassy, his cheeks absurdly flushed, like a Campbell's Soup kid. He pounded an entire bottle of water before taking a breath.
"Dude," he panted. "You...we..you can't even begin to imagine what it feels like for a girl. It's like getting an endless bj on x while stoned and drunk. Times eleventy-billion. And they can do it over and over and over and over - and it still feels almost as good as the first time. The amazing thing to me is how women ever leave the bedroom, if it feels this good for them. I mean, I always thought I was just really good, or they were faking - but it's all real."
Sam regarded him bemusedly with mild alarm and acute discomfiture. Dean's deranged rambling was reminding him of someone, who was it...oh, right - that would be Andy. Jesus, what would happen if Barbie-doll Skipper here met Andy?
As usual Dean plucked the thought right out of his head. "You know who'd be really fun to hang with right about now? Andy! I should give him a call."
"Dean. I really don't think that's the world's greatest idea." For a whole host of reasons, none of which Sam felt like getting into ATM, thank you very little.
Dean ignored him, but couldn't find Andy's number. This led to some footstomping.
"Come on, man! You know I lost all my numbers when my Sidekick broke."
"Yes, but I also know that for a measly $10, Verizon will transfer it to the Sim card on your new phone," Sam countered.
"A, you sound like a commercial and B, I'm far too lazy to do that, as you damn well know. Why can't you just give it to me already?"
Finally after much coercion Sam gave in, only to find that he didn't have it either. He vaguely remembered having deleted it by "mistake", so he wouldn't be tempted to call him.
"Can't you just call him on the Psychic Hotline? Cause if not, what is that shit good for again?"
"Dean, what the... I can't just call him like that. It's not a real phone." But even as he said it he knew it was not true, a fact that Dean glommed on to immediately.
"C'mon, meditate on Andy or something and see what happens."
Sam knew all too well what would happen. He would have very...intense dreams. And Andy would call within a day. He'd actually done it before, more or less by mistake. He hoped to whatever gods looked after him that Andy couldn’t the content of Sam's dreams. Because they were kind of inappropriate.
In Sam's dreams they were just hanging out, boys being boys, and Andy kept smiling at him and flirting in little subtle ways like touching his hand in the awkward scramble for a videogame controller or a bong hit, leaning on him and finally (Dean was always away at first) when he beat Sam at Super Mario Galaxy, Andy leaned over and just kissed the shit out of him, all hot wet tongue and sly little mouth, and the hair rose on the back of Sam's neck because Dean was standing there, he could feel it, Dean was watching him make out with Andy, and it was too good.
And then he woke up with a stiffy the size of Texas. This was inevitably followed within four hours by Andy's call.
This time it was even worse, even though Dean's extreme makeover had resulted in the need for separate rooms, because within minutes of Sam's awakening, in fact just as Sam was sneaking his hand down under the covers to take care of business, Dean came busting into his room with all the delicacy of a charging elephant.
"Hey, let's go get -" He faltered in mid-sentence at seeing Sam's rather sizable boner tentpoling the blankets. He didn't have the tact to just excuse himself and get the fuck out, natch. Dad used to say that Dean was born without the gene for tact.
"Whoa, sorry." An expression crossed his face that made Sam even more uneasy than he already was, managing to combine calculation and… something else.
Sam groaned in frustration. Goddamn it, why didn't Dean have the common human decency to mind his own stinking business for once?
"Yo, Dean!"
Dean appeared to be lost in thought. The possible nature of those thoughts scared the shit out of Sam.
"Do you mind?"
Dean looked obscurely disappointed. "Oh, right, sorry. I'm going to Dunkin Donuts, you want anything?"
"Uh, no. Look, will you get the hell out of here already?!"
"Whoa, excuuuse ME. You big baby."
"Shut up!" Even to himself, that sounded pathetic.
----------------------------------------------------------------
On to Chapter 3!