Crack fic: The Thing With Feathers
Title The Thing With Feathers
Author: Bella Temple
Category: SPN, gen, crack.
Rating: Teen for language
Warnings: Dude. It's crack.
Spoilers: None.
Characters: Sam, Dean
Disclaimer: The characters and basic premise within are property of Warner Bros, Eric Kripke, etc. No money is being made off this work of fiction.
Author's note: Everybody's gotta have a wing!fic, right?
Summary: Five times Dean Winchester had wings. (Well, let's call it four and a half.)
ETA This fic has been translated into Russian by elgav. See the awesomeness here!
I've also recorded it as a podfic. Right click here to download the .zip file.
The feathers were a light golden brown and puffed up into spikes, almost perfectly matching Dean's hair. Sam suspected the match wouldn't be quite as nice if Dean weren't frustrated and freaked as all hell, so he had to take pictures now to preserve the moment.
Or, at least, that's what he'd tell anyone who asked why he was going so camera happy. The fact that the constant flash and click of the camera was only exacerbating Dean's tension and causing the feathers to rise even higher certainly had nothing to do with it.
"Dude," Dean finally said. "I'm eating."
"Is that what you call it?"
"Fuck you, Sam."
"It's your own fault, you know, Dean."
"Shut up."
"You're the one who ordered the wings."
Dean flapped angrily at Sam, rustling his feathers. Sam responded by snapping another picture.
"You're freakin' lucky I can't punch you, right now," Dean said, then sighed and went back to trying to teach himself to eat with his feet.
* * *
It took Sam two days to figure out what had caused his brother to spontaneously sprout huge black leather wings and two more to reverse the effect.
It took him two months to finally convince Dean that randomly shouting "I'm Batman!" was no longer funny.
* * *
The wings were easy enough to hide. Hell, Dean hadn't even known they were there until Sam spotted them one morning as Dean was coming out of the shower.
"Dude." Dean craned his neck, trying his hardest to get a look at his own shoulder blades without the benefit of a mirror. "Am I doing it?"
"They're kind of shaking. Not flapping yet."
"Huh." Dean pulled on his t-shirt. "What do they look like?"
"I dunno, like wings."
"Like Cupid wings, or like devil wings?"
"More like dragonfly wings."
"They're freaking pixie wings?"
The day went downhill from there. Seriously. What good were wings when they were only three inches long?
"You know what they say about guys with small wings," Sam said.
"They punch annoying brothers in the face if they don't shut the hell up," Dean said. "Let's go kill us a goddamned trickster."
* * *
"Hell no, Sam."
"Come on, Dean."
"Not happening."
"You can't say you've never been curious."
"Yes I can. I can say it pretty damned easy, actually."
"Look, I know you're afraid of planes --"
"Flying, Sam. If man were meant to fly, he'd come with. . . ." Dean trailed off as Sam raised an eyebrow at him, then thrust out one arm, displaying the large flap of skin that extended from his wrist down to his waist band, and from there to his ankle. "This is not a wing!"
Sam nodded. "Okay. So, look at it this way. Technically, you'd only be gliding."
Dean smirked tiredly. "Gee, thanks for that, Bullwinkle, but I'm still not jumping off the roof."
* * *
"Sam," Dean said, when he woke up with a noseful of white feathers. "Sam, I think we have a problem."
Sam looked up from his laptop. His whiskers twitched, his eyes narrowed hungrily, and he started to purr.
Dean looked from his wings to his cat-ified brother and back again.
"Aw crap. Not again."
End
Author: Bella Temple
Category: SPN, gen, crack.
Rating: Teen for language
Warnings: Dude. It's crack.
Spoilers: None.
Characters: Sam, Dean
Disclaimer: The characters and basic premise within are property of Warner Bros, Eric Kripke, etc. No money is being made off this work of fiction.
Author's note: Everybody's gotta have a wing!fic, right?
Summary: Five times Dean Winchester had wings. (Well, let's call it four and a half.)
ETA This fic has been translated into Russian by elgav. See the awesomeness here!
I've also recorded it as a podfic. Right click here to download the .zip file.
The feathers were a light golden brown and puffed up into spikes, almost perfectly matching Dean's hair. Sam suspected the match wouldn't be quite as nice if Dean weren't frustrated and freaked as all hell, so he had to take pictures now to preserve the moment.
Or, at least, that's what he'd tell anyone who asked why he was going so camera happy. The fact that the constant flash and click of the camera was only exacerbating Dean's tension and causing the feathers to rise even higher certainly had nothing to do with it.
"Dude," Dean finally said. "I'm eating."
"Is that what you call it?"
"Fuck you, Sam."
"It's your own fault, you know, Dean."
"Shut up."
"You're the one who ordered the wings."
Dean flapped angrily at Sam, rustling his feathers. Sam responded by snapping another picture.
"You're freakin' lucky I can't punch you, right now," Dean said, then sighed and went back to trying to teach himself to eat with his feet.
* * *
It took Sam two days to figure out what had caused his brother to spontaneously sprout huge black leather wings and two more to reverse the effect.
It took him two months to finally convince Dean that randomly shouting "I'm Batman!" was no longer funny.
* * *
The wings were easy enough to hide. Hell, Dean hadn't even known they were there until Sam spotted them one morning as Dean was coming out of the shower.
"Dude." Dean craned his neck, trying his hardest to get a look at his own shoulder blades without the benefit of a mirror. "Am I doing it?"
"They're kind of shaking. Not flapping yet."
"Huh." Dean pulled on his t-shirt. "What do they look like?"
"I dunno, like wings."
"Like Cupid wings, or like devil wings?"
"More like dragonfly wings."
"They're freaking pixie wings?"
The day went downhill from there. Seriously. What good were wings when they were only three inches long?
"You know what they say about guys with small wings," Sam said.
"They punch annoying brothers in the face if they don't shut the hell up," Dean said. "Let's go kill us a goddamned trickster."
* * *
"Hell no, Sam."
"Come on, Dean."
"Not happening."
"You can't say you've never been curious."
"Yes I can. I can say it pretty damned easy, actually."
"Look, I know you're afraid of planes --"
"Flying, Sam. If man were meant to fly, he'd come with. . . ." Dean trailed off as Sam raised an eyebrow at him, then thrust out one arm, displaying the large flap of skin that extended from his wrist down to his waist band, and from there to his ankle. "This is not a wing!"
Sam nodded. "Okay. So, look at it this way. Technically, you'd only be gliding."
Dean smirked tiredly. "Gee, thanks for that, Bullwinkle, but I'm still not jumping off the roof."
* * *
"Sam," Dean said, when he woke up with a noseful of white feathers. "Sam, I think we have a problem."
Sam looked up from his laptop. His whiskers twitched, his eyes narrowed hungrily, and he started to purr.
Dean looked from his wings to his cat-ified brother and back again.
"Aw crap. Not again."
End