Fic: A Ton of Bricks (SPN)
Title: A Ton of Bricks
Fandom: Supernatural
Word Count: 860
Rating: PG.
Summary: Days of Dean's Life - part 4. Sam discovers modelling photos.
A/N: Written for the "I didn't know you..." Comment fic meme at spn_bigpretzel. A combination of prompts by antrazi and strgazr04 that doesn't exactly fit with either of them.
Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with Supernatural. Not for profit.
“Hey Dean,” Sam said distractedly, from where he was sitting, squinting at his laptop.
Dean looked up from the TV, which he was only watching because there was nothing else to do, and no other channels. It wasn’t like he actually enjoyed ‘Dancing with the Stars’. “What?”
“You know the shapeshifter…” Sam began.
“Which particular shapeshifter, Sam? In case you hadn’t noticed, we’ve ganked more than one.”
“You know which one, Dean.”
Dean sighed. Not again. Seriously. That guy couldn’t have got a job on anything more embarrassing than that soap opera. Acting on a soap opera was pretty much the limit in embarrassing things someone who looks exactly like you could do. “Do I even want to know?
“Come look at this, man,” Sam said. “This is the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen. I think you might have to change your mind about killing him.”
Dean rolled off his bed and went to stand behind his brother, peering over his shoulder at the image on the screen. Oh God. No. He reached forward to shut the laptop. Those pictures had no business being visible. He took it back. There were way more embarrassing things than being on a soap opera.
Sam grabbed his hand before he could reach to shut the computer, or even to shove it off the table so it would smash. A short, but violent game of Mercy followed, with Sam emerging the victor, due to his unnaturally large hands, vice-like in their strength. Dean was forced to withdraw, the computer still open, the nightmarish images still on display.
Dean squeaked. He could feel his face going red. A small trickle of sweat ran down his back. “That’s not me.”
Sam looked sideways at him. “I know. I think we pretty much established how useless you are in front of a camera - oh my God, he’s posing with a horse…”
“Damn shapeshifter,” Dean agreed, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders.
“Why is he not wearing a shirt? Is he old enough to be - wait, I thought the shapeshifter didn’t take your image until right before he started the soap opera…” Sam trailed off, thinking.
“Well, um,” Dean said, frantically wracking his brain for a plausible explanation. “He must have lied. Yeah, that’s it. He told me he got the soap opera gig straight away, but really he didn’t. Really he was doing, uh, this.” He shuddered. “Make it go away, Sam. It makes me feel dirty.”
Sam didn’t make it go away. Of course not. “Why would he lie about that, though? It’s not like the soap opera was that much less embarrassing than this.”
“Will you just drop it?” The words came out more harshly than they were meant to. “Can we just pretend they don’t exist? Now close it so I can go and wash my brain out.”
Sam looked up at him. “Dude, are you okay? You didn’t freak out that much about the other stuff.” He turned his attention back to the screen, and froze. “Oh. My. God. Holy Crap.”
Dean’s whole body clenched. A fresh river of sweat began to pour off him. Sam had figured it out. Sam knew he was lying.
Sam’s face broke out in a wide grin. “Look at this. Are you seeing this? Brick pants. He’s wearing pants with bricks on them.”
Dean breathed out, forcing a laugh. “Who the hell talked him into that? I bet he didn’t get paid nearly as much as he should have.”
Sam turned to look at him, all big, sympathetic eyes. “Hey, Dean, you know I believe you when you say it’s the shapeshifter, right? But even if it was you, there would be nothing to be ashamed of, and if you wanted to talk about it, I’d listen.”
Dean glared at him. “It’s not me.” Stupid internet. He’d tried so hard to forget about those pictures, and with everything that had happened, he’d almost managed to block them out.
There was a flap of wings and a slight gust of wind as the air behind him was displaced. “Hello Dean,” said Cas. “Sam.”
Dean turned to say hello to Cas, but the angel was already moving forward to peer curiously at the laptop’s screen. “Why are you looking at pictures of Dean’s unfortunate modelling days?” Cas asked.
“That’s not me!” Dean insisted, without much hope. Cas didn’t really get the whole lying to save face thing. That was the biggest problem with having a best friend who didn’t understand the concept of embarrassment.
Cas looked at him in confusion. “Yes it is. There’s nothing shameful in them, Dean. It is an admirable thing to undertake a task so repellent to you for the good of your family.”
Dean opened his mouth to say something, because Sam was looking at him, and the humour was gone from his face.
Cas spoke before Dean could. “Have you seen the ones where he’s sitting in a field with a flower in his mouth? They’re really quite good.”
Dean smirked. Actually, those ones really had been quite good. The chicks who’d seen them had certainly made their appreciation known.
Fandom: Supernatural
Word Count: 860
Rating: PG.
Summary: Days of Dean's Life - part 4. Sam discovers modelling photos.
A/N: Written for the "I didn't know you..." Comment fic meme at spn_bigpretzel. A combination of prompts by antrazi and strgazr04 that doesn't exactly fit with either of them.
Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with Supernatural. Not for profit.
“Hey Dean,” Sam said distractedly, from where he was sitting, squinting at his laptop.
Dean looked up from the TV, which he was only watching because there was nothing else to do, and no other channels. It wasn’t like he actually enjoyed ‘Dancing with the Stars’. “What?”
“You know the shapeshifter…” Sam began.
“Which particular shapeshifter, Sam? In case you hadn’t noticed, we’ve ganked more than one.”
“You know which one, Dean.”
Dean sighed. Not again. Seriously. That guy couldn’t have got a job on anything more embarrassing than that soap opera. Acting on a soap opera was pretty much the limit in embarrassing things someone who looks exactly like you could do. “Do I even want to know?
“Come look at this, man,” Sam said. “This is the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen. I think you might have to change your mind about killing him.”
Dean rolled off his bed and went to stand behind his brother, peering over his shoulder at the image on the screen. Oh God. No. He reached forward to shut the laptop. Those pictures had no business being visible. He took it back. There were way more embarrassing things than being on a soap opera.
Sam grabbed his hand before he could reach to shut the computer, or even to shove it off the table so it would smash. A short, but violent game of Mercy followed, with Sam emerging the victor, due to his unnaturally large hands, vice-like in their strength. Dean was forced to withdraw, the computer still open, the nightmarish images still on display.
Dean squeaked. He could feel his face going red. A small trickle of sweat ran down his back. “That’s not me.”
Sam looked sideways at him. “I know. I think we pretty much established how useless you are in front of a camera - oh my God, he’s posing with a horse…”
“Damn shapeshifter,” Dean agreed, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders.
“Why is he not wearing a shirt? Is he old enough to be - wait, I thought the shapeshifter didn’t take your image until right before he started the soap opera…” Sam trailed off, thinking.
“Well, um,” Dean said, frantically wracking his brain for a plausible explanation. “He must have lied. Yeah, that’s it. He told me he got the soap opera gig straight away, but really he didn’t. Really he was doing, uh, this.” He shuddered. “Make it go away, Sam. It makes me feel dirty.”
Sam didn’t make it go away. Of course not. “Why would he lie about that, though? It’s not like the soap opera was that much less embarrassing than this.”
“Will you just drop it?” The words came out more harshly than they were meant to. “Can we just pretend they don’t exist? Now close it so I can go and wash my brain out.”
Sam looked up at him. “Dude, are you okay? You didn’t freak out that much about the other stuff.” He turned his attention back to the screen, and froze. “Oh. My. God. Holy Crap.”
Dean’s whole body clenched. A fresh river of sweat began to pour off him. Sam had figured it out. Sam knew he was lying.
Sam’s face broke out in a wide grin. “Look at this. Are you seeing this? Brick pants. He’s wearing pants with bricks on them.”
Dean breathed out, forcing a laugh. “Who the hell talked him into that? I bet he didn’t get paid nearly as much as he should have.”
Sam turned to look at him, all big, sympathetic eyes. “Hey, Dean, you know I believe you when you say it’s the shapeshifter, right? But even if it was you, there would be nothing to be ashamed of, and if you wanted to talk about it, I’d listen.”
Dean glared at him. “It’s not me.” Stupid internet. He’d tried so hard to forget about those pictures, and with everything that had happened, he’d almost managed to block them out.
There was a flap of wings and a slight gust of wind as the air behind him was displaced. “Hello Dean,” said Cas. “Sam.”
Dean turned to say hello to Cas, but the angel was already moving forward to peer curiously at the laptop’s screen. “Why are you looking at pictures of Dean’s unfortunate modelling days?” Cas asked.
“That’s not me!” Dean insisted, without much hope. Cas didn’t really get the whole lying to save face thing. That was the biggest problem with having a best friend who didn’t understand the concept of embarrassment.
Cas looked at him in confusion. “Yes it is. There’s nothing shameful in them, Dean. It is an admirable thing to undertake a task so repellent to you for the good of your family.”
Dean opened his mouth to say something, because Sam was looking at him, and the humour was gone from his face.
Cas spoke before Dean could. “Have you seen the ones where he’s sitting in a field with a flower in his mouth? They’re really quite good.”
Dean smirked. Actually, those ones really had been quite good. The chicks who’d seen them had certainly made their appreciation known.