Make me feel retarded [Can't leave it alone]
["Fireworks, cold beer and gasoline. Now that's a party waiting to happen." - 20 Greatest Redneck Moments.]
Written for im_afreakshow's mun because she insisted Dean and Sam needed to use this prompt
“Dean, this is not going to work,” Sam hissed under his breath. They were crouched behind a pile of rubble and boulders, watching the Rugaru finish off the group of hikers he had attacked and killed before the Winchesters had shown up.
“Sam, stop being a whiny bitch. The flame thrower is jammed. What the else do you want to use?” Dean growled at him.
“I don’t know but fireworks soaked in gasoline aren’t it.”
Dean rolled his eyes and continued with the plan. “Alright, I’m going to run out there and distract him. He’s gotta be about finished with those hikers by now. When I start yelling, light the bottle rockets and aim.”
Dean being Dean didn’t give Sam a chance to protest. He took off toward the Rugaru at a run, yelling at the top of his lungs. Sam just shook his head, pretty sure that wasn’t his cue to light the bottle rockets yet.
“Hey, ugly! ‘Bout finished with the trail mix over there? Come and get me. I’m prime grad A meat.”
Sam waited until the Rugaru turned to Dean, blood and gristle spattering its face. He flicked the lighter open, watching until the Rugaru started to charge. The first time the lighter failed and the second and finally it lit, the wick catching and spreading quick. Sam started to step back and the wooden sticks the bottle rockets were on broke. Sam groaned because this was exactly how people lost fingers and he liked his fingers where they were.
“SAM!” It wasn’t a yell. It was a desperate bellow, which meant Dean was about to be Rugaru food. Sam glanced up to see Dean running toward him. Sam closed his eyes and tensed up, wincing and preparing for the pain. The flame hit the bottle rockets and the stump of the wooden sticks were jerked out of his hand, leaving behind splinters in his palm and burns on the side of his hand. He crouched behind the rock again, joined by Dean shortly. The bottle rockets struck their target and the Rugaru started to scream as it caught fire. The whole thing went up in a flailing, screaming ball of flame that smelled liked burnt flesh.
Or maybe that was just Sam’s hand.
“Hell yes. Told you it would work,” Dean grinned that idiot’s smile at him; the one that crinkled up his eyes and stretched his face so much Sam wondered if it hurt. He slapped Sam on the back. “Come on, Sammy. We’ve got beer waiting for us back at the motel.”
Sam wasn’t so sure that Dean should be picking splinters out of his hands while he was drinking beer but he seemed to be doing a pretty fair job. Sam was drinking one beer and letting another set against the burnt part of his hand.
“Now come on, Sammy. You gotta admit that was fun,” Dean grinned at him.
Sam rolled his eyes and smirked. “We’ve had worse nights.”
Written for im_afreakshow's mun because she insisted Dean and Sam needed to use this prompt
“Dean, this is not going to work,” Sam hissed under his breath. They were crouched behind a pile of rubble and boulders, watching the Rugaru finish off the group of hikers he had attacked and killed before the Winchesters had shown up.
“Sam, stop being a whiny bitch. The flame thrower is jammed. What the else do you want to use?” Dean growled at him.
“I don’t know but fireworks soaked in gasoline aren’t it.”
Dean rolled his eyes and continued with the plan. “Alright, I’m going to run out there and distract him. He’s gotta be about finished with those hikers by now. When I start yelling, light the bottle rockets and aim.”
Dean being Dean didn’t give Sam a chance to protest. He took off toward the Rugaru at a run, yelling at the top of his lungs. Sam just shook his head, pretty sure that wasn’t his cue to light the bottle rockets yet.
“Hey, ugly! ‘Bout finished with the trail mix over there? Come and get me. I’m prime grad A meat.”
Sam waited until the Rugaru turned to Dean, blood and gristle spattering its face. He flicked the lighter open, watching until the Rugaru started to charge. The first time the lighter failed and the second and finally it lit, the wick catching and spreading quick. Sam started to step back and the wooden sticks the bottle rockets were on broke. Sam groaned because this was exactly how people lost fingers and he liked his fingers where they were.
“SAM!” It wasn’t a yell. It was a desperate bellow, which meant Dean was about to be Rugaru food. Sam glanced up to see Dean running toward him. Sam closed his eyes and tensed up, wincing and preparing for the pain. The flame hit the bottle rockets and the stump of the wooden sticks were jerked out of his hand, leaving behind splinters in his palm and burns on the side of his hand. He crouched behind the rock again, joined by Dean shortly. The bottle rockets struck their target and the Rugaru started to scream as it caught fire. The whole thing went up in a flailing, screaming ball of flame that smelled liked burnt flesh.
Or maybe that was just Sam’s hand.
“Hell yes. Told you it would work,” Dean grinned that idiot’s smile at him; the one that crinkled up his eyes and stretched his face so much Sam wondered if it hurt. He slapped Sam on the back. “Come on, Sammy. We’ve got beer waiting for us back at the motel.”
Sam wasn’t so sure that Dean should be picking splinters out of his hands while he was drinking beer but he seemed to be doing a pretty fair job. Sam was drinking one beer and letting another set against the burnt part of his hand.
“Now come on, Sammy. You gotta admit that was fun,” Dean grinned at him.
Sam rolled his eyes and smirked. “We’ve had worse nights.”