Downtime (In which, Sadly, There Are No Clowns) [Supernatural, gen]
I have done pretty much nothing today except read Penny Arcade obsesively and ignore the open corel draw to finish my entry for this week's Illustration Friday. Um. I downloaded Traveler, too. Does that count for something? *shifty eyes*
Oh, yeah, yesterday, I sang the Mexican happy birthday song to Terra, so, if you were ever curious about how I sound while singing in Spanish, Here's your chance to find out!
Anyway, reposting Terra's birthday fic because I'm anal like that and I like to have my fic all prettily tagged in the same place.
Title: Downtime (In which, Sadly, There Are No Clowns)
Word Count: 1400 Words
Summary: In Rochester, New York, the boys break and enter into a little amusement park after closing time.
Author Notes: Written for the awesome terraneanblues whose birthday was yesterday and who really should've gotten a fic about evil hamsters of doom. Oh well, this'll have to make do. Betaed by geminigrl11.
In Rochester, New York, they break and enter into a little amusement park.
Dean wishes he could say otherwise, but in all honesty, it’s Sam’s idea through and through. Granted, he’s a bit drunk, and Sam’s been known to sing karaoke after downing a few shots, so it really shouldn’t be that surprising.
“When I was a kid I always wanted to go into a fair or park or something, whatever, after closing time,” is the comment that starts everything.
Sam actually looks surprised when Dean laughs and says, “All right, kiddo, let’s do it.”
Sam sobers up a bit once they’re outside the gate, starts blabbering about how it’s such a stupid idea and, Really, Dean, this is kinda illegal, and Dean says, Whenever has that ever stopped us before? and Sam scrunches his face real funny but has to admit that Dean is right.
The park’s old and nearly abandoned even by day, and by night, without the lights and cotton candy and colorful balloons, it looks almost pitiful. It’s almost midnight, and the park’s painted in shades of blue, the entire spectrum of it instead of the usual greens and reds and yellows.
“This is a really stupid idea,” says Sam, little bitch that he is, and Dean rolls his eyes.
“Shut up and help me turn the cotton candy machine on.”
-----
The park’s old and small enough to have only one nighttime guard, who is currently unconscious and tied to his chair inside a broom closet. He made the terrible mistake of jumping in front of Dean while waving a flashlight around and hollering ‘Stop there, ye felons!’
What? He had startled him.
Sam, as usual, is offended for a while, but Dean manages (finally) to make the stupid cotton candy machine work, so after ten minutes he’s too busy stuffing his face to complain. Hallelujah.
They stroll around the park for a while, checking out the prizes for some of the games and trying to figure out where they keep all the food at night. Dean falls in love with a giant blue stuffed monkey and is sorely tempted to take it with him, but Sam’s already snorting with laughter beside him and he’s not about to give him enough ammo to tease him for the centuries to come. He takes one of its ears as a souvenir, though, just because.
“Can we get a ride in the Ferris wheel?” Sam asks after a while, and Dean stares at him in horror.
“Dude, you wanna get into the girliest ride ever?”
Sam at least has the decency of looking vaguely ashamed. “Maybe?” he says as he turns the dewy eyes on. It always makes Dean (and everything else that breathes) feel like he’s just kicked a puppy. And run over him. While feeding on new born babies.
“Aw, no, don’t start with that shit, it won’t work with me.”
Sam’s lower lip starts trembling.
They ride the Ferris wheel. The mechanism’s a joke to operate, really. It’s boring as fuck, but Sam keeps on looking everywhere like a kid in a candy store and he doesn’t really seem to mind that they can’t turn the lights on in case someone notices them. Sam has his hands on the glass, and he occasionally lets his nose rest against it too, all wide eyes and childish innocence.
“Wow, this is so cool!” Sam says, and Dean wonders if they are actually related.
He does have to admit, though, that the view from the top is downright impressive. Not that he says it aloud, of course. He just lets Sam blabber on about the pretty, pretty lights and blah blah, blah and something else. Something girly, probably.
“I think this is my second time ever on a Ferris wheel,” Sam says after a while, still pressed up against the glass. The smashed nose makes him look vaguely like a pig.
Dean frowns. He has vague memories of a carnival when he was about twelve - he remembers Dad had bought them hot dogs and caramel-covered apples and let them ride everything they wanted. It’d been a wonderful day. Dean broke both his leg and right arm the next day in a hunt gone bad, and carnivals were out of the equation for a long time. Eventually, Sam started fighting everything Dad said and the fun, careless times had been over.
“For real? You never got a pretty girl to make out with you in one of these? Weak, dude, weak.”
Sam doesn’t really take the bait, which takes away half the fun of it. He just shakes his head and says, “Whatever dude, I’m not the slut in the family.”
Dean wonders for a second whether he should take offense at the comment, but then the ride finally ends and he thanks whichever deity is out there for delivering him from his torment.
“Yes, finally,” he says as soon as he stands on solid ground again, and Sam laughs behind him.
“What, you’re afraid of Ferris wheels, too?”
“Take that back, bitch.”
Sam laughs again.
----
“So, what next?” asks Sam after they’re done ransacking the souvenir cabin.
“Next is the ride real men take, Sammy.”
----
The controls for the roller coaster are a tad more complicated. There’s a lot more buttons, for starters. Dean’s always liked a challenge, though. He pushes a blue one. Nothing happens, and he finally relaxes after he’s certain nothing’s about to blow up. Hey. Stranger shit has happened. Sam wanders off to push buttons of his own.
After a while, Sam pulls on his sleeve. “Er, wait, Dean, there’s a sign in here. It looks important.”
“So, what’s it say?” he says without looking.
“Dunno, it’s in Japanese.” Dean’s about to blow him off when he speaks again. “Wait, I think it’s in Hebrew too. And oh, Korean!”
“Yeah well, that’s really helpful, Sam, wanna give me a hand here?” Dean says as he tries deciding which button he should push next.
Sam ignores him. “Mmm, and I think the fine print in the bottom is Spanish.”
Well, finally, jackpot. “Lemme see,” says Dean and pushes Sam away. Sam glares at him. “Precaución, alto voltaje,” he reads. “That’s ‘precaution, high voltage,’ if I’m not mistaken.”
Sam stares.
“Dude, what?” he finally says when he can’t take Sam’s dumbfounded stare anymore.
“Since when do you know Spanish?”
Dean scoffs. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. I’ve spoken perfect Spanish for eons.”
That’s not entirely true. He once found an abandoned phrase book underneath his bed in one of the hundreds of motel rooms he’s stayed at, and he thought it’d help him woo hot chicks. He can also say: ‘Excuse me, where’s the bathroom?’ (Disculpe ¿Dónde está el baño?), ‘You’re very pretty’ (Estás muy bonita), ‘This house is haunted’ (Ésta casa está encantada), and ‘Hi, you wanna give me a blowjob?’ (Hola, ¿me quieres mamar?). The last one wasn’t in the phrasebook, but the internet is a great, strange place, and one can learn pretty much anything from it.
Sam doesn’t seem to buy it, but he leaves him alone. They agree that they should probably move away from the buttons under the precaution sign and start fooling around with levers on the other side of the room, instead. It’s not until it’s nearing three in the morning where they finally succeed, mainly because Sam managed to find a battered copy of a user’s manual. A pretty thick user’s manual. Dean hadn’t even known there were roller coasters’ user’s manuals.
The roller coaster, just like anything else in this God-forsaken amusement park, is old and creaky and it vaguely looks like it’s about to fall down. Dean says it adds an edge to the experience. Sam says it’s fucking suicide.
The cart gets stuck just before the first drop, and Dean whistles for a bit as he ignores Sam’s irate look that clearly says ‘great, you asshole, we’ll be stuck here until we die, thanks a lot.’
Dean’s great at translating Sam’s bitchfaces.
The breeze hits him in the face, and it’s almost peaceful - nothing but darkness surrounding them.
Then the cart gets unstuck. And they plunge down. It’s awesome, and they both look significantly green once they’re finally standing again. Sam says “never again,” right after the ride, as he holds for dear life to a tree, but Dean doesn’t see what the fuss is all about. It’d been a damn sweet ride.
Sam pukes. Dean gloats. Dean dubs it the bestest day of his life while Sam’s too busy puking his guts out to correct his grammar.
Oh, yeah, yesterday, I sang the Mexican happy birthday song to Terra, so, if you were ever curious about how I sound while singing in Spanish, Here's your chance to find out!
Anyway, reposting Terra's birthday fic because I'm anal like that and I like to have my fic all prettily tagged in the same place.
Title: Downtime (In which, Sadly, There Are No Clowns)
Word Count: 1400 Words
Summary: In Rochester, New York, the boys break and enter into a little amusement park after closing time.
Author Notes: Written for the awesome terraneanblues whose birthday was yesterday and who really should've gotten a fic about evil hamsters of doom. Oh well, this'll have to make do. Betaed by geminigrl11.
In Rochester, New York, they break and enter into a little amusement park.
Dean wishes he could say otherwise, but in all honesty, it’s Sam’s idea through and through. Granted, he’s a bit drunk, and Sam’s been known to sing karaoke after downing a few shots, so it really shouldn’t be that surprising.
“When I was a kid I always wanted to go into a fair or park or something, whatever, after closing time,” is the comment that starts everything.
Sam actually looks surprised when Dean laughs and says, “All right, kiddo, let’s do it.”
Sam sobers up a bit once they’re outside the gate, starts blabbering about how it’s such a stupid idea and, Really, Dean, this is kinda illegal, and Dean says, Whenever has that ever stopped us before? and Sam scrunches his face real funny but has to admit that Dean is right.
The park’s old and nearly abandoned even by day, and by night, without the lights and cotton candy and colorful balloons, it looks almost pitiful. It’s almost midnight, and the park’s painted in shades of blue, the entire spectrum of it instead of the usual greens and reds and yellows.
“This is a really stupid idea,” says Sam, little bitch that he is, and Dean rolls his eyes.
“Shut up and help me turn the cotton candy machine on.”
-----
The park’s old and small enough to have only one nighttime guard, who is currently unconscious and tied to his chair inside a broom closet. He made the terrible mistake of jumping in front of Dean while waving a flashlight around and hollering ‘Stop there, ye felons!’
What? He had startled him.
Sam, as usual, is offended for a while, but Dean manages (finally) to make the stupid cotton candy machine work, so after ten minutes he’s too busy stuffing his face to complain. Hallelujah.
They stroll around the park for a while, checking out the prizes for some of the games and trying to figure out where they keep all the food at night. Dean falls in love with a giant blue stuffed monkey and is sorely tempted to take it with him, but Sam’s already snorting with laughter beside him and he’s not about to give him enough ammo to tease him for the centuries to come. He takes one of its ears as a souvenir, though, just because.
“Can we get a ride in the Ferris wheel?” Sam asks after a while, and Dean stares at him in horror.
“Dude, you wanna get into the girliest ride ever?”
Sam at least has the decency of looking vaguely ashamed. “Maybe?” he says as he turns the dewy eyes on. It always makes Dean (and everything else that breathes) feel like he’s just kicked a puppy. And run over him. While feeding on new born babies.
“Aw, no, don’t start with that shit, it won’t work with me.”
Sam’s lower lip starts trembling.
They ride the Ferris wheel. The mechanism’s a joke to operate, really. It’s boring as fuck, but Sam keeps on looking everywhere like a kid in a candy store and he doesn’t really seem to mind that they can’t turn the lights on in case someone notices them. Sam has his hands on the glass, and he occasionally lets his nose rest against it too, all wide eyes and childish innocence.
“Wow, this is so cool!” Sam says, and Dean wonders if they are actually related.
He does have to admit, though, that the view from the top is downright impressive. Not that he says it aloud, of course. He just lets Sam blabber on about the pretty, pretty lights and blah blah, blah and something else. Something girly, probably.
“I think this is my second time ever on a Ferris wheel,” Sam says after a while, still pressed up against the glass. The smashed nose makes him look vaguely like a pig.
Dean frowns. He has vague memories of a carnival when he was about twelve - he remembers Dad had bought them hot dogs and caramel-covered apples and let them ride everything they wanted. It’d been a wonderful day. Dean broke both his leg and right arm the next day in a hunt gone bad, and carnivals were out of the equation for a long time. Eventually, Sam started fighting everything Dad said and the fun, careless times had been over.
“For real? You never got a pretty girl to make out with you in one of these? Weak, dude, weak.”
Sam doesn’t really take the bait, which takes away half the fun of it. He just shakes his head and says, “Whatever dude, I’m not the slut in the family.”
Dean wonders for a second whether he should take offense at the comment, but then the ride finally ends and he thanks whichever deity is out there for delivering him from his torment.
“Yes, finally,” he says as soon as he stands on solid ground again, and Sam laughs behind him.
“What, you’re afraid of Ferris wheels, too?”
“Take that back, bitch.”
Sam laughs again.
----
“So, what next?” asks Sam after they’re done ransacking the souvenir cabin.
“Next is the ride real men take, Sammy.”
----
The controls for the roller coaster are a tad more complicated. There’s a lot more buttons, for starters. Dean’s always liked a challenge, though. He pushes a blue one. Nothing happens, and he finally relaxes after he’s certain nothing’s about to blow up. Hey. Stranger shit has happened. Sam wanders off to push buttons of his own.
After a while, Sam pulls on his sleeve. “Er, wait, Dean, there’s a sign in here. It looks important.”
“So, what’s it say?” he says without looking.
“Dunno, it’s in Japanese.” Dean’s about to blow him off when he speaks again. “Wait, I think it’s in Hebrew too. And oh, Korean!”
“Yeah well, that’s really helpful, Sam, wanna give me a hand here?” Dean says as he tries deciding which button he should push next.
Sam ignores him. “Mmm, and I think the fine print in the bottom is Spanish.”
Well, finally, jackpot. “Lemme see,” says Dean and pushes Sam away. Sam glares at him. “Precaución, alto voltaje,” he reads. “That’s ‘precaution, high voltage,’ if I’m not mistaken.”
Sam stares.
“Dude, what?” he finally says when he can’t take Sam’s dumbfounded stare anymore.
“Since when do you know Spanish?”
Dean scoffs. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. I’ve spoken perfect Spanish for eons.”
That’s not entirely true. He once found an abandoned phrase book underneath his bed in one of the hundreds of motel rooms he’s stayed at, and he thought it’d help him woo hot chicks. He can also say: ‘Excuse me, where’s the bathroom?’ (Disculpe ¿Dónde está el baño?), ‘You’re very pretty’ (Estás muy bonita), ‘This house is haunted’ (Ésta casa está encantada), and ‘Hi, you wanna give me a blowjob?’ (Hola, ¿me quieres mamar?). The last one wasn’t in the phrasebook, but the internet is a great, strange place, and one can learn pretty much anything from it.
Sam doesn’t seem to buy it, but he leaves him alone. They agree that they should probably move away from the buttons under the precaution sign and start fooling around with levers on the other side of the room, instead. It’s not until it’s nearing three in the morning where they finally succeed, mainly because Sam managed to find a battered copy of a user’s manual. A pretty thick user’s manual. Dean hadn’t even known there were roller coasters’ user’s manuals.
The roller coaster, just like anything else in this God-forsaken amusement park, is old and creaky and it vaguely looks like it’s about to fall down. Dean says it adds an edge to the experience. Sam says it’s fucking suicide.
The cart gets stuck just before the first drop, and Dean whistles for a bit as he ignores Sam’s irate look that clearly says ‘great, you asshole, we’ll be stuck here until we die, thanks a lot.’
Dean’s great at translating Sam’s bitchfaces.
The breeze hits him in the face, and it’s almost peaceful - nothing but darkness surrounding them.
Then the cart gets unstuck. And they plunge down. It’s awesome, and they both look significantly green once they’re finally standing again. Sam says “never again,” right after the ride, as he holds for dear life to a tree, but Dean doesn’t see what the fuss is all about. It’d been a damn sweet ride.
Sam pukes. Dean gloats. Dean dubs it the bestest day of his life while Sam’s too busy puking his guts out to correct his grammar.