Fanfic - Chapter 3 of The Witching Hour, an NCIS/Supernatural Halloween story
Title: The Witching Hour
Author: Mokibobolink
Rating: gen, angst, possibly some h/c in later chapters
Warning: some foul language
Characters: Tony DiNozzo, Dean Winchester
Spoilers: All aired episodes of NCIS and Supernatural (just to be safe)
Summary: Tony and Dean never wanted anything to do with Halloween. But when the two decide to hang out on Halloween night, it seems something else has other ideas in mind. To save their lives, Dean is forced to introduce his new friend to the world of the supernatural. Not Slash.
Chapter One Chapter Two
Chapter Three
“You’ve got to be kidding me…”
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The “best Halloween ever” got started early for the two men who wanted nothing to do with the holiday. The sun was still an hour or so away from setting as Tony locked the door behind them, ready to wait out the night in Joey’s place. Tony silently thanked their lucky stars that they were tucked safely inside as he heard yet another car of revelers go driving past honking their horns.
“Nutjobs,” he mumbled, shaking his head and putting the keys back in his pocket as he turned away from the door.
Dean poured them both a beer, sliding one across the counter to Tony as he settled himself into the seat next to the other man. They were sitting at the bar relaxing when Tony suddenly jumped off his barstool with a purpose.
“’sup?” Dean asked.
“You wanna eat? Joey’s got more than just peanuts and snack mix. How about some hot wings and pizza?”
Never one to turn down that combo, Dean nodded enthusiastically. “Hell yeah, bring it on, DiNozzo.”
Tony went past the bar to the small kitchen behind it, pushing the swinging door with one hand while he flipped the light switch on with the other. He knew for a fact that Joey bought all his stuff pre-made and mostly just threw things on the grill or in the fryer, sometimes heating them up in the oven. At first, Joey had been afraid to tell Tony (one of his favorite customers) his secrets. But after a really bad case, Tony had been so melancholy that Joey had decided to drag the younger man back to the kitchen. The old barkeep figured that a busy man was less likely to be haunted by his job and put the federal agent to work. As it turned out, Tony had a natural knack at the grill and fryer and hadn’t been at all put off when he’d found out most of the food wasn’t homemade.
“Joey,” Tony had declared as he expertly flipped a burger, all vestiges of worry gone from his face after only an hour behind the grill. “I couldn’t care less where or how this stuff is made. All I care is that it tastes damn good when it hits my plate out there.”
With a few flicks of switches, Tony now had the equipment warming up that he needed. Going to the freezer he pulled out the chicken wings and a large pizza covered with “everything but the kitchen sink” (as was declared on its garish wrapping). While he was rooting around, Tony spied something that made his stomach rumble happily in anticipation.
“Hey Dean!” Tony called.
“Yo!” came the reply from the other side of the door.
“You want pie for dessert?”
Dean grinned wide, pie just happened to be his favorite dessert in the whole wide world. Pretty much any pie would do but if it was apple, he was gonna be really happy.
“What kind?” Dean called through the door.
“Apple!”
“Awesome!”
Tony took that as a “yes”, chuckling as he pulled the pan out of the freezer and set it out to defrost. By the time they were finished with dinner, the pie would be perfect.
While his buddy was busy in the kitchen, Dean took the opportunity to wander around the place. He found the pool cues for the table and a closer inspection behind the bar led him to a key that unlocked the cabinet where the balls were kept. When he found a box of darts, he pulled those out too. Now that he knew what Tony did for a living, he was curious to see which of them was the better shot - the man trained by his father or the one trained as a federal agent. Darts may not be guns but good aim was good aim and Dean had a feeling he may habe found a worthy adversary.
In his wanderings, Dean found the side room with the big screen TV and couches. It was down a small hallway on the way to the bathrooms and separated from the main part of the bar by thick velvet curtains. Deciding that the couches looked like they needed a test drive, Dean went inside. Sitting down with a happy groan, he put his feet up on the small table nearby. He had just relaxed fully when he heard his name being called.
“Hey, Winchester! Food is ready!”
Dean Winchester did not need to be called to dinner twice. Jumping up, he nearly ran out of the room and his pace only quickened as he caught a whiff of what Tony was carrying.
“Pizza and wings to start, the pie is still defrosting,” Tony said, putting the pizza on the bar.
“Wow man, did anyone ever tell you that you’re gonna make someone a great wife someday? All you need is an apron,” Dean said with a smirk.
As he walked around the bar to his seat, Tony unthinkingly slapped Dean across the back of the head in response to the snide comment. Too many years spent working for Gibbs (and training the Probie) and it was instinctual. He didn’t even realize he’d done it right away.
"Hey!" Dean replied and without hesitating, smacked Tony right back.
As he realized what he’d done, Tony laughed. In all the years he'd been headsmacked and headmacked the Probie, usually no one was ballsy enough to slap back. Tony kind of like it.
“Well maybe you’ll watch your mouth next time, Winchester,” Tony said, sitting down and shoving a slice of pizza in his mouth.
“Yeah and maybe next time I’ll kick your ass, DiNozzo,” Dean replied without rancor, grabbing a hot wing and shoving it in his own mouth.
Once the hot wings and pizza had disappeared, Tony got out the pie. Despite the amount of food they’d already consumed, they were able to finish the whole thing between the two of them. Though Tony was pretty sure that his new friend had eaten most of it. Apparently Dean hadn’t been lying when he’d announced that pie his favorite dessert as Tony laid it out in front of him.
“Oh man, I think I’m gonna barf,” Dean said after every morsel of food set before him had been annihilated. He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his stomach lightly.
Tony laughed and hopped off his stool. “Not so fast, I seem to recall someone challenging me to a game of darts.”
Thirty minutes later the two foes were locked in battle. Dean had started out strong but Tony was gaining fast, wracking up points left and right. The final few rounds had each of them screaming and jumping up and down in excitement, but in the end it was Tony who beat Dean by a smidge. His final throw was such a beautiful, perfect bullseye that he jumped up in triumph.
“Ha! Take that Winchester!” Tony said happily, practically dancing as he rubbed the other man’s face in his loss.
"Bitch," Dean said automatically. Tony was acting so much like his little brother that Dean didn’t realize he’d even switched into big brother mode. He may not exactly be missing his brother at the moment, but he did miss the banter they used to have before Hell had (quite literally) broken loose.
"Asshole," Tony replied without hesitation.
Dean barked in laughter and surprise, nearly choking on his beer. In all the years he and his brother had done that particular routine, not once had Sam ever come back with that response. Dean kind of like it.
The pool game went much the same as the dart game had. Each man discovered an admirable opponent in the other, making the contest a lot more fun for both of them. Other than Sam, Dean hadn’t met many who could give him competition like Tony was.
Tony’s thoughts were running along the same lines as he lined up another shot. Dean was ahead, but he was hoping to catch up with a tricky shot he’d learned from Gibbs. It wasn’t often that Tony talked his boss into playing pool with him, but when he did he found out what it was like to get beat. He’d never thought he’d meet another rival up to his standard. Not until he started playing Dean.
In the end, Dean won the game and the two men declared the night even with one victory and one loss for each. After the friendly game (except of course for the shit-talking, an important part of any pool game), Dean put down his cue and finished that last of his beer.
“Alright, now that we’ve worked off dinner, how about we go hit those comfy couches and watch a flick?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Tony agreed, putting down his own cue and taking his unfinished beer with him.
Tony had watched a few movies back there and soon enough had the TV set on and working. Joey mostly had sports films on DVD so they picked “Major League”. Tony had almost suggested they watch “Field Of Dreams” but then though better of it. That flick never failed to make him cry at the end and while that was fine in front of a chick (the most popular response being a very nice form of “comfort” that Tony didn’t mind at all), he had no intention of crying in front of Dean.
When Dean saw Tony’s hand pause over “Field Of Dreams” he stiffened, hoping the other man wouldn’t choose it. He sighed silently in relief when Tony chose the comedy baseball movie instead. Crying in front of chicks was one thing (and something that often got him lucky), but he had no intention of doing that in front of Tony.
“Put it on pause for a second,” Dean said when Tony had put the DVD into the player. “I gotta hit the head.”
“No problem,” Tony replied. “You want another beer?”
“Sure.”
Tony was headed towards the bar and Dean was halfway to the bathroom when every light in the place started flickering. Dean couldn’t help the way his body tensed automatically. Too many times had flickering lights meant more than simply an electrical problem. But he forced himself to relax. The bar was an old place, the wiring was bound to be less than stellar.
Besides, Dean thought to himself, what were the chances that he’d end up on a hunt? Out of all the places in the world, something would attack there? Right where Dean Winchester just so happened to be visiting a friend? Nah, it wasn’t possible.
Dean shrugged off the momentary rush of adrenaline and continued to the head. When he got back, Tony was cursing at the television, slapping it on the side with one hand and still holding a beer in the other.
Grabbing another brew from the table, Dean sat down with a laugh. “You know man, you keep hitting it like that, it’s not gonna work at all.”
“Stupid thing keeps flashing. It’s making me nuts. I swear it’s never done this before.”
Once again the lights flashed and this time the TV joined in too. Shaking his head, Dean tried to laugh it off again.
Right up until he heard the voice.
Tony didn’t notice. He was still busy slapping the set and putting together a string of curses that would make any sailor proud. Since Tony worked with the Navy, Dean thought, that wasn’t too surprising.
Only Dean noticed that between the flashes and underneath the flipping image, something else could be heard. Unfortunately, a very familiar something. Something he had been really hoping to avoid for once on this stupid holiday.
Dean muttered under his breath, unable to believe his absolutely rotten luck.
“You’ve got to be kidding me…”