Dean Winchester - Philologist
Title: Dean Winchester - Philologist
Characters: Dean, Sam, Jo (used only as a plot device)
Pairing: None, Gen
Rating: R for explicit language
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Kripke, TPTB and the CW. The rest of it, including bad jokes and stupid thoughts, belongs to me. Don't sue, unless poor taste is a punishable offence.
Summary: 4 short vignettes in which Dean wows/horrifies/stupifies us with his love of language.
Exhibit A
(Sitting in a diner)
“Drunk as a skunk,” Dean mutters.
Sam glances up at his brother briefly then looks back at the newspaper he is reading.
“Do skunks get drunk a lot? Because I’ve never seen a drunk skunk.”
Irritated, Sam asks, “What are you going on about?”
“Huh?” Dean replies, unfocused. “Nothing, just thinking.”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Sam snorts and turns the page.
“I mean really, what kind of stupid expression is that anyway,” Dean says.
Sam shakes his head and tunes his brother out. He can’t get drawn into one of Dean’s weird-assed etymological arguments again, it’s just pointless.
“Drunk as a frat boy at a kegger or something, now that makes sense,” he continues, to no one in particular.
Exhibit B
(Driving down a back road)
“Whelmed. What the fuck is whelmed?” Deans asks.
“What are you going on about now?” Sam looks over at his brother, annoyed.
“People say they’re ‘overwhelmed’, some even say they’re ‘underwhelmed’. But you never hear people say that they’re just ‘whelmed’,” Dean explains.
“Huh?” Sam responds, staring at his brother.
“If you can be ‘over-’ or ‘under-’ ‘whelmed’, then ‘whelmed’ has to be a real word. But what the fuck does it mean? I’ve never heard anyone use it.”
“Did Dad drop you on your head a lot as a baby or something?” Sam inquires. “’Cause you have the most bizarre thought process I’ve ever encountered.”
“Are you’re telling me you never think about this shit?” Deans says angrily. “That’s classic,” he snorts. “This from a guy who has to over-analyze every freaking aspect of everything, down to the merits of having vanilla non-fat soymilk lattes over goddamned pumpkin-maple chai frozen slushee thingies. Dude, either way, it’s still shit. Coffee should not have anything in it but cream and sugar, and even then, only if you’re a wimp.”
Sam stares at Dean open-mouthed for a moment. “Pumpkin-maple chai?”
“Shut it,” Dean snarls, before his brother can reply. “Don’t even ask, having to listen to you whine on day in day out about your stupid wussy coffee crap….” he mutters, leaning forward to turn up the radio.
Sam sighs and goes back to reading his book.
Exhibit C
(While on a hunt with Jo)
“I wanna get this cocksucking sonovabitch,” Dean groans.
“I’ve never really understood that,” Jo says.
“Never understood what? Wanting to get this ghost?”
“No,” she smiles. “The other thing…”
“What other thing?” Dean is on edge, he wants this job to be over. He’s losing his patience.
“The whole cocksucker thing,” she shrugs.
Dean stops and turns on his heel. He gives her a playful grin, but she cuts him off before he can start to explain the mechanics of a blowjob, Winchester style.
“I don’t mean like that,” she laughs. “I don’t understand using it as an insult,”
“Okay,” Dean turns and starts walking again.
“You called this ghost a cocksucker, right?”
“Yeah,” Dean answers, drawing the word out into two syllables. What is her point?
“Well, why is being a cocksucker a bad thing?” she inquires, her tone earnest. “I mean, really, most guys enjoy having their cock sucked, don’t they?” When he fails to respond, she asks “don’t you?”
Dean nearly chokes on his tongue. “Uh,” he answers stupidly.
“Right,” she grins, moving ahead of him. “So, if you like it, that means that essentially, you’re appreciative of the one doing the sucking then, right?”
“I guess,” he replies.
“So if getting your cock sucked is a good thing, then you need a cocksucker,” she looks at him pointedly. “Since their action is enjoyable, they are doing you a favour, a positive thing.”
“Most certainly,” he murmurs. All this talk of cock sucking was sending all the wrong signals to his cock. The blood he needs to think is nowhere near his brain right now. He is totally unsure where this conversation is going, and where in the heck is the ghost? He hopes it is nowhere nearby, because he is in no condition to deal with that piece of the puzzle right now.
“So, being a cocksucker is technically a good thing then,” she declares. “I mean, I suck cock, and no one’s ever complained about it. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Doesn’t that make it a compliment? Shouldn’t we be going around calling awesome people ‘cocksuckers’?”
Dean stopped walking and grabbed her arm. “Jo?” he asks.
“Yeah?”
“Christo?!”
She laughs, “what?”
“Just making sure,” he says.
“You think I’m possessed because I’m talking about fellatio?” she shakes her head. “I would have thought a guy like you was pretty well acquainted with that subject.”
“I am,” he stares at her for a moment. He is not blushing. Dean Winchester does not blush. “I guess I just figured, you know, this would be more of a conversation to have with, oh… anyone but you.”
“Oh, really?” she crosses her arms. “And why would that be?”
“I don’t know,” he feels stupid. Really stupid. “Because, you’re….”
“I’m what? Supposed to be innocent?”
“Yeah, sure, that sounds good,” he says dismissively. Whatever will shut this chick up.
She rolls her eyes. “That’s funny, and I thought it was the girls who were innocent that gave the best head… not wanting to give up their virginity and all.”
“Um…” he looks extremely uncomfortable.
“Relax Dean, I’m joking!”
“I know that,” he exclaims.
They wait in silence for a few minutes, eyes peeled for any sign of the ghost. Dean is getting bored. This sucks, out loud, in stereo.
“Hey Jo,” he says.
“Yeah?”
“You know the expression motherfucker?”
“Uh huh.”
“Wouldn’t it be way more insulting to call a person a fatherfucker? I mean, ‘cause that’s like double the insult right? I mean, not only are you dishonouring their parents or whatever, but you’re like, insinuating that they’re gay. Which is still generally taken as, you know, a bad thing….”
Exhibit D
(In a haunted antique store)
“Son-of-a…!” Dean howls, firing his shotgun at the spirit. “I can’t believe that bitch threw a candelabra at me.”
Sam snickers, but stops when he catches tthe glare Dean sends in his direction.
“Laugh it up geekboy. I didn’t see you smiling when it bashed you over the head with that old coat stand,” Dean mutters under his breath.
“Sorry, it’s just funny,” Sam chuckles.
“You think getting hit by flying furniture is amusing?”
“No,” Sam explains. “It’s just, you called it a candelabra.”
“Well that’s what it was….”
“You could have called it a candleholder or stick or something, but you specifically said it was a candelabra.”
“And that’s funny because?” Dean huffs impatiently.
“Sorry Dean, I just didn’t think you would even know what that was.”
He turns and glares at his little brother. “I didn’t call it a candlestick, because that would mean that it holds only one candle, when that thing clearly held five. I didn’t call it a candle holder because the fricking implies something you buy at IKEA to hold goddamned tea lights. And it certainly was NOT a menorah. Plus it’s an antique, so referring to it as merely a candle holder doesn’t really do it justice, okay? Although, technically, it’s a candelabrum, since there was only one of them…”
Sam stares at the elder Winchester for a minute, with a mixture of horror and amusement on his face.
“What the fuck are you looking at me like that for?” Dean demands.
“Move!” Sam hollers, shoving them both out of the path of a toppling set of wooden drawers. He looks at the broken remains of furniture next to them and shakes his head. “I hate this job,” he mutters. “We nearly got taken out by a dresser!”
Dean rises to his knees, dusting of his jeans and jacket. “Chiffonier,” he says.
“What?”
“Dude, that’s not a dresser. It’s a chiffonier,” he clarifies, offering a hand out to help an incredulous Sam. “What did they teach you at that fancy college of yours Sam? How to gape like a fish?”
“How do you know this shit?”
Dean shrugs and turns to look around for the spirit. “After you left, Dad and I investigated a haunting at this antiques warehouse. It was pretty boring, but there was this hot chick that worked there man.” He turns to his brother with a grin. “She had a thing for doing it on the furniture.”
“I’m sorry I asked,” Sam says, rolling his eyes.
Characters: Dean, Sam, Jo (used only as a plot device)
Pairing: None, Gen
Rating: R for explicit language
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Kripke, TPTB and the CW. The rest of it, including bad jokes and stupid thoughts, belongs to me. Don't sue, unless poor taste is a punishable offence.
Summary: 4 short vignettes in which Dean wows/horrifies/stupifies us with his love of language.
Exhibit A
(Sitting in a diner)
“Drunk as a skunk,” Dean mutters.
Sam glances up at his brother briefly then looks back at the newspaper he is reading.
“Do skunks get drunk a lot? Because I’ve never seen a drunk skunk.”
Irritated, Sam asks, “What are you going on about?”
“Huh?” Dean replies, unfocused. “Nothing, just thinking.”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Sam snorts and turns the page.
“I mean really, what kind of stupid expression is that anyway,” Dean says.
Sam shakes his head and tunes his brother out. He can’t get drawn into one of Dean’s weird-assed etymological arguments again, it’s just pointless.
“Drunk as a frat boy at a kegger or something, now that makes sense,” he continues, to no one in particular.
Exhibit B
(Driving down a back road)
“Whelmed. What the fuck is whelmed?” Deans asks.
“What are you going on about now?” Sam looks over at his brother, annoyed.
“People say they’re ‘overwhelmed’, some even say they’re ‘underwhelmed’. But you never hear people say that they’re just ‘whelmed’,” Dean explains.
“Huh?” Sam responds, staring at his brother.
“If you can be ‘over-’ or ‘under-’ ‘whelmed’, then ‘whelmed’ has to be a real word. But what the fuck does it mean? I’ve never heard anyone use it.”
“Did Dad drop you on your head a lot as a baby or something?” Sam inquires. “’Cause you have the most bizarre thought process I’ve ever encountered.”
“Are you’re telling me you never think about this shit?” Deans says angrily. “That’s classic,” he snorts. “This from a guy who has to over-analyze every freaking aspect of everything, down to the merits of having vanilla non-fat soymilk lattes over goddamned pumpkin-maple chai frozen slushee thingies. Dude, either way, it’s still shit. Coffee should not have anything in it but cream and sugar, and even then, only if you’re a wimp.”
Sam stares at Dean open-mouthed for a moment. “Pumpkin-maple chai?”
“Shut it,” Dean snarls, before his brother can reply. “Don’t even ask, having to listen to you whine on day in day out about your stupid wussy coffee crap….” he mutters, leaning forward to turn up the radio.
Sam sighs and goes back to reading his book.
Exhibit C
(While on a hunt with Jo)
“I wanna get this cocksucking sonovabitch,” Dean groans.
“I’ve never really understood that,” Jo says.
“Never understood what? Wanting to get this ghost?”
“No,” she smiles. “The other thing…”
“What other thing?” Dean is on edge, he wants this job to be over. He’s losing his patience.
“The whole cocksucker thing,” she shrugs.
Dean stops and turns on his heel. He gives her a playful grin, but she cuts him off before he can start to explain the mechanics of a blowjob, Winchester style.
“I don’t mean like that,” she laughs. “I don’t understand using it as an insult,”
“Okay,” Dean turns and starts walking again.
“You called this ghost a cocksucker, right?”
“Yeah,” Dean answers, drawing the word out into two syllables. What is her point?
“Well, why is being a cocksucker a bad thing?” she inquires, her tone earnest. “I mean, really, most guys enjoy having their cock sucked, don’t they?” When he fails to respond, she asks “don’t you?”
Dean nearly chokes on his tongue. “Uh,” he answers stupidly.
“Right,” she grins, moving ahead of him. “So, if you like it, that means that essentially, you’re appreciative of the one doing the sucking then, right?”
“I guess,” he replies.
“So if getting your cock sucked is a good thing, then you need a cocksucker,” she looks at him pointedly. “Since their action is enjoyable, they are doing you a favour, a positive thing.”
“Most certainly,” he murmurs. All this talk of cock sucking was sending all the wrong signals to his cock. The blood he needs to think is nowhere near his brain right now. He is totally unsure where this conversation is going, and where in the heck is the ghost? He hopes it is nowhere nearby, because he is in no condition to deal with that piece of the puzzle right now.
“So, being a cocksucker is technically a good thing then,” she declares. “I mean, I suck cock, and no one’s ever complained about it. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Doesn’t that make it a compliment? Shouldn’t we be going around calling awesome people ‘cocksuckers’?”
Dean stopped walking and grabbed her arm. “Jo?” he asks.
“Yeah?”
“Christo?!”
She laughs, “what?”
“Just making sure,” he says.
“You think I’m possessed because I’m talking about fellatio?” she shakes her head. “I would have thought a guy like you was pretty well acquainted with that subject.”
“I am,” he stares at her for a moment. He is not blushing. Dean Winchester does not blush. “I guess I just figured, you know, this would be more of a conversation to have with, oh… anyone but you.”
“Oh, really?” she crosses her arms. “And why would that be?”
“I don’t know,” he feels stupid. Really stupid. “Because, you’re….”
“I’m what? Supposed to be innocent?”
“Yeah, sure, that sounds good,” he says dismissively. Whatever will shut this chick up.
She rolls her eyes. “That’s funny, and I thought it was the girls who were innocent that gave the best head… not wanting to give up their virginity and all.”
“Um…” he looks extremely uncomfortable.
“Relax Dean, I’m joking!”
“I know that,” he exclaims.
They wait in silence for a few minutes, eyes peeled for any sign of the ghost. Dean is getting bored. This sucks, out loud, in stereo.
“Hey Jo,” he says.
“Yeah?”
“You know the expression motherfucker?”
“Uh huh.”
“Wouldn’t it be way more insulting to call a person a fatherfucker? I mean, ‘cause that’s like double the insult right? I mean, not only are you dishonouring their parents or whatever, but you’re like, insinuating that they’re gay. Which is still generally taken as, you know, a bad thing….”
Exhibit D
(In a haunted antique store)
“Son-of-a…!” Dean howls, firing his shotgun at the spirit. “I can’t believe that bitch threw a candelabra at me.”
Sam snickers, but stops when he catches tthe glare Dean sends in his direction.
“Laugh it up geekboy. I didn’t see you smiling when it bashed you over the head with that old coat stand,” Dean mutters under his breath.
“Sorry, it’s just funny,” Sam chuckles.
“You think getting hit by flying furniture is amusing?”
“No,” Sam explains. “It’s just, you called it a candelabra.”
“Well that’s what it was….”
“You could have called it a candleholder or stick or something, but you specifically said it was a candelabra.”
“And that’s funny because?” Dean huffs impatiently.
“Sorry Dean, I just didn’t think you would even know what that was.”
He turns and glares at his little brother. “I didn’t call it a candlestick, because that would mean that it holds only one candle, when that thing clearly held five. I didn’t call it a candle holder because the fricking implies something you buy at IKEA to hold goddamned tea lights. And it certainly was NOT a menorah. Plus it’s an antique, so referring to it as merely a candle holder doesn’t really do it justice, okay? Although, technically, it’s a candelabrum, since there was only one of them…”
Sam stares at the elder Winchester for a minute, with a mixture of horror and amusement on his face.
“What the fuck are you looking at me like that for?” Dean demands.
“Move!” Sam hollers, shoving them both out of the path of a toppling set of wooden drawers. He looks at the broken remains of furniture next to them and shakes his head. “I hate this job,” he mutters. “We nearly got taken out by a dresser!”
Dean rises to his knees, dusting of his jeans and jacket. “Chiffonier,” he says.
“What?”
“Dude, that’s not a dresser. It’s a chiffonier,” he clarifies, offering a hand out to help an incredulous Sam. “What did they teach you at that fancy college of yours Sam? How to gape like a fish?”
“How do you know this shit?”
Dean shrugs and turns to look around for the spirit. “After you left, Dad and I investigated a haunting at this antiques warehouse. It was pretty boring, but there was this hot chick that worked there man.” He turns to his brother with a grin. “She had a thing for doing it on the furniture.”
“I’m sorry I asked,” Sam says, rolling his eyes.