Uh Oh, Birthday Fangirl Alert!
*shrieks, points*
Look, everybody! may7ficis plotting devious birthday have-at-tery!
Quick! I'll sit on her head while you all GLOMP her.
*commits ribcrunching linebacker tackle*
Sam: Okay, so it’s may7fic’s birthday and we're doing… what about that?
Dean: Yeah, I dunno.
Sam: You heard from Dragons?
Dean: Actually, no. But she did leave this under the wipers on the car.
Sam: *reads* Dear Dean, Do me a favor and make sure may7fichas an awesome birthday. I’ll totally make it worth your while. Like, honey drizzled all down your- Oh, my God. That’s disgusting.
Dean: *chuckles* I know. Did you read the bit about the baling twine and the-
Sam: You’re both gonna die of syphilis. You know that? You’ll go stark raving mad and blind and then you’ll die.
Dean: Whatever, Monkboy. Jealous, much?
Sam: *changes subject* So, may7fic’s birthday. You know, I heard she might be working on a fic.
Dean: Yeah? Awesome. Am I gonna get my ass kicked in it?
Sam: *mutters* I sure hope so. *clears throat* Anyway, we should really get going, if we’re gonna make Canada by tomorrow.
Dean: W-w-w-whoa. Who said anything about goin’ to her house?
Sam: Well, unless you can think of a way to surprise her from here... What’s the big deal?
Dean: She has dogs, Sam. Lots of dogs.
Sam: Yeah? So?
Dean: So, I don’t like dogs, you jackass.
Sam: Huh? Since when do you not like dogs? You love dogs.
Dean: I love dogs? Excuse me? Have you contracted some sort of degenerative memory disorder?
Dean: Look at this, asshole. Point in case. Why the fuck would I love that? Every canine we come across has a major hard-on for fucking our shit up…
… They’ve either had their brains fried by a shapeshifter…
…or they wind up channeling Cujo and ripping my face off…
…I spent an entire goddamn year on the lamb from HELLHOUNDS…
…only to be mauled to death AGAIN while your lame-ass, do-nothin’, super-powered self got your girly scream on and FAILED to INTERVENE.
…And if that ain’t enough of a ball-thumper to crash your kite, just the other day I was pursued to within an inch of my life by a goddamn SILKY TERRIER.
Dean: *is adorably butthurt* So, no, genius. I’m not exactly filled with the milk of human kindness toward our little canine friends these days.
Sam: Okay, fine. Fair enough. So, what? You’re just gonna take a pass on this whole baling twine, honey drizzle thing?
Dean:…
Dean: Fuck.
SOME TIME LATER IN CANADA.
Sam: Just take deep breaths. Repeat after me: The Jack Russell Terrier is a small and noble breed. I am at one with the plucky fox hunter.
Dean: Shut up and knock already. I swear to God, if I get ripped to shreds again and end up in Hell, your ass is grass. You’ll be tasting nuts for a year.
LOCK UP THE HOUNDS, may7fic. WINCHESTERS IS A-KNOCKIN.
Have a fantabulous birthday, my dear. *smish* Thank you for being such an awesome flisty and sharing your mutts with us all.
Look, everybody! may7ficis plotting devious birthday have-at-tery!
Quick! I'll sit on her head while you all GLOMP her.
*commits ribcrunching linebacker tackle*
Sam: Okay, so it’s may7fic’s birthday and we're doing… what about that?
Dean: Yeah, I dunno.
Sam: You heard from Dragons?
Dean: Actually, no. But she did leave this under the wipers on the car.
Sam: *reads* Dear Dean, Do me a favor and make sure may7fichas an awesome birthday. I’ll totally make it worth your while. Like, honey drizzled all down your- Oh, my God. That’s disgusting.
Dean: *chuckles* I know. Did you read the bit about the baling twine and the-
Sam: You’re both gonna die of syphilis. You know that? You’ll go stark raving mad and blind and then you’ll die.
Dean: Whatever, Monkboy. Jealous, much?
Sam: *changes subject* So, may7fic’s birthday. You know, I heard she might be working on a fic.
Dean: Yeah? Awesome. Am I gonna get my ass kicked in it?
Sam: *mutters* I sure hope so. *clears throat* Anyway, we should really get going, if we’re gonna make Canada by tomorrow.
Dean: W-w-w-whoa. Who said anything about goin’ to her house?
Sam: Well, unless you can think of a way to surprise her from here... What’s the big deal?
Dean: She has dogs, Sam. Lots of dogs.
Sam: Yeah? So?
Dean: So, I don’t like dogs, you jackass.
Sam: Huh? Since when do you not like dogs? You love dogs.
Dean: I love dogs? Excuse me? Have you contracted some sort of degenerative memory disorder?
Dean: Look at this, asshole. Point in case. Why the fuck would I love that? Every canine we come across has a major hard-on for fucking our shit up…
… They’ve either had their brains fried by a shapeshifter…
…or they wind up channeling Cujo and ripping my face off…
…I spent an entire goddamn year on the lamb from HELLHOUNDS…
…only to be mauled to death AGAIN while your lame-ass, do-nothin’, super-powered self got your girly scream on and FAILED to INTERVENE.
…And if that ain’t enough of a ball-thumper to crash your kite, just the other day I was pursued to within an inch of my life by a goddamn SILKY TERRIER.
Dean: *is adorably butthurt* So, no, genius. I’m not exactly filled with the milk of human kindness toward our little canine friends these days.
Sam: Okay, fine. Fair enough. So, what? You’re just gonna take a pass on this whole baling twine, honey drizzle thing?
Dean:…
Dean: Fuck.
SOME TIME LATER IN CANADA.
Sam: Just take deep breaths. Repeat after me: The Jack Russell Terrier is a small and noble breed. I am at one with the plucky fox hunter.
Dean: Shut up and knock already. I swear to God, if I get ripped to shreds again and end up in Hell, your ass is grass. You’ll be tasting nuts for a year.
LOCK UP THE HOUNDS, may7fic. WINCHESTERS IS A-KNOCKIN.
Have a fantabulous birthday, my dear. *smish* Thank you for being such an awesome flisty and sharing your mutts with us all.