Short!fic - Stiletto Heels
Title: Stiletto Heels
Author: Ry (curseangel / dreamsforlease)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Strong language.
Characters/Pairings: Deanna "Dee" and Sam Winchester, Bela Talbot.
Challenge: "Unsure", for occhallenge
Summary: Dee is in no way, shape, or form insecure. Honestly. She is, however, going to kill Bela Talbot. Genderswap AU of "Red Sky at Morning."
The only reason she even considered this is because of the job. Because for once in her entire career as a hunter, she can't get away with slacks and a nice shirt or something. No, that stupid bitch Bela insisted the only way they were going to get this thing was to go crash the party or whatever, and then she'd had the nerve to tell her that she would have to wear a freaking dress. If it hadn't been for Sam's grip on her arm, she probably would have beaten that skanky treasure hunter to within an inch of her life with a high heel.
She still wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing that Sam had stopped her, honestly.
It was definitely edging on bad, though. Really bad, because Sam was giving her a look like he didn't freaking recognize her, and Bela looked impressed, which was never a good sign. She had to check just to make sure she hadn't ended up with some huge tear in her dress or something (not even Bela had managed to con her into wearing stockings like some goddamn girl), because it was starting to get a little uncomfortable, and she was having enough trouble just making it down the stairs in the four-inch heels Bela had found for her. She was going to break her fucking ankle. Did people really wear shit like this? On a regular basis?
Yeah, okay, so maybe Dee's knowledge base about what she disdainfully referred to as "girl stuff" (and smacked Sam upside the head when he reminded her that she was, in fact, a girl) left something to be desired. Maybe a lot of something. Then again, she had grown up on the road with two guys, no "female role models" to be found, unless you counted the nice maid who helped her figure out that she wasn't bleeding to death when she had her first period at thirteen.
"Dee..." Sam isn't laughing, which is kind of freaking her out, because like hell she doesn't know how ridiculous she looks in this get-up, black dress that feels too tight against her skin, just down to her mid-thighs and making her have to resist the urge to pull it down compulsively. She couldn't help wondering what she was supposed to do if something happened-- flash her attacker? Yeah, that wouldn't work unless whatever was possessing Sam, apparently.
"Not bad," Bela announces, and Dee gives her a look, almost a glare, pretending she's not flush with embarrassment and a sort of bizarre shame, like she's not dressed up like somebody's damn doll. "You cleaned up better than I thought you would, Deanna." She is going to murder that bitch for calling her that. That was really all there was to it.
"Shut the hell up," she snaps, getting down the stairs by sheer luck and the coordination Dad had drilled into her. Probably for the best - she really didn't need Bela commenting on her underwear, too. Stumbling on the last couple of steps, she gives Sam a pointed look when he moves to help, gets him to stop, because dammit, she doesn't need it. Dee is just not the kind of girl who needs help to get down the stairs, even if she is wearing ridiculous pointy shoes.
They get moving, finally, after that. Dee doesn't think she'll ever be as glad to get a job done and over with as she will when she can change out of this get-up.
When they're walking out the door, Sam says low that she looks nice. She doesn't hit him for it, but just because she's still trying to figure out whether her purse is one of those ones you're supposed to hold or if she can put it over her shoulder.
Author: Ry (curseangel / dreamsforlease)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Strong language.
Characters/Pairings: Deanna "Dee" and Sam Winchester, Bela Talbot.
Challenge: "Unsure", for occhallenge
Summary: Dee is in no way, shape, or form insecure. Honestly. She is, however, going to kill Bela Talbot. Genderswap AU of "Red Sky at Morning."
The only reason she even considered this is because of the job. Because for once in her entire career as a hunter, she can't get away with slacks and a nice shirt or something. No, that stupid bitch Bela insisted the only way they were going to get this thing was to go crash the party or whatever, and then she'd had the nerve to tell her that she would have to wear a freaking dress. If it hadn't been for Sam's grip on her arm, she probably would have beaten that skanky treasure hunter to within an inch of her life with a high heel.
She still wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing that Sam had stopped her, honestly.
It was definitely edging on bad, though. Really bad, because Sam was giving her a look like he didn't freaking recognize her, and Bela looked impressed, which was never a good sign. She had to check just to make sure she hadn't ended up with some huge tear in her dress or something (not even Bela had managed to con her into wearing stockings like some goddamn girl), because it was starting to get a little uncomfortable, and she was having enough trouble just making it down the stairs in the four-inch heels Bela had found for her. She was going to break her fucking ankle. Did people really wear shit like this? On a regular basis?
Yeah, okay, so maybe Dee's knowledge base about what she disdainfully referred to as "girl stuff" (and smacked Sam upside the head when he reminded her that she was, in fact, a girl) left something to be desired. Maybe a lot of something. Then again, she had grown up on the road with two guys, no "female role models" to be found, unless you counted the nice maid who helped her figure out that she wasn't bleeding to death when she had her first period at thirteen.
"Dee..." Sam isn't laughing, which is kind of freaking her out, because like hell she doesn't know how ridiculous she looks in this get-up, black dress that feels too tight against her skin, just down to her mid-thighs and making her have to resist the urge to pull it down compulsively. She couldn't help wondering what she was supposed to do if something happened-- flash her attacker? Yeah, that wouldn't work unless whatever was possessing Sam, apparently.
"Not bad," Bela announces, and Dee gives her a look, almost a glare, pretending she's not flush with embarrassment and a sort of bizarre shame, like she's not dressed up like somebody's damn doll. "You cleaned up better than I thought you would, Deanna." She is going to murder that bitch for calling her that. That was really all there was to it.
"Shut the hell up," she snaps, getting down the stairs by sheer luck and the coordination Dad had drilled into her. Probably for the best - she really didn't need Bela commenting on her underwear, too. Stumbling on the last couple of steps, she gives Sam a pointed look when he moves to help, gets him to stop, because dammit, she doesn't need it. Dee is just not the kind of girl who needs help to get down the stairs, even if she is wearing ridiculous pointy shoes.
They get moving, finally, after that. Dee doesn't think she'll ever be as glad to get a job done and over with as she will when she can change out of this get-up.
When they're walking out the door, Sam says low that she looks nice. She doesn't hit him for it, but just because she's still trying to figure out whether her purse is one of those ones you're supposed to hold or if she can put it over her shoulder.