Fic: Distant Drabbles - Distant Relations 'verse
These are a couple of drabbles I wrote for one of the mini-challenges at spn_btvs. Each drabble uses a different fortune cookie saying as a prompt. They're set in the Distant Relations Universe, though they aren't (and won't be) included in Distant Relations.
Title: Good Intentions, Bad Ideas
Notes: **Set in the Distant Relations 'Verse**
Fortune: Ideas are like children; there are none so wonderful as your own.
It was all Xander could do not to collapse with laughter. As it was, he was forced to smother hysterical giggles behind his hand. If only he had a camcorder to record this moment because memories like this one were priceless.
He watched the scene unfold with undisguised humor as his brothers continued to argue. Though they were yelling at each other with fury-tinged voices, all out and out anger, Xander found the argument to be hilarious more than uncomfortable. But, then, how could it be anything other than funny when both his brothers looked like five-year-olds, so cute swamped in their now over-sized clothes, with their tiny, childlike voices.
"Well, it seem like a good idea at the time!" Dean yelled, youthful voice brimming with indignation.
"What did I say, Dean?" Young-Sam asked rhetorically. "I said 'don't touch anything.' But do you ever listen? No." The tiny boy crossed his arms over his chest and pursed his lips. It was a face adult-Sam made often to convey his displeasure whenever his older brother did something stupid, and sometimes it could even be quite fearsome. But the ever-so-serious expression on this younger Sam was like the world's best parody.
The sight was too much for Xander. He let loose a string of wild cackles.
"What are you laughing at?" Dean growled, or tried to, but instead it came out like a high-pitched whine.
"Oh, nothing," Xander wheezed. "Just that, now, I'm the oldest and the tallest. Guess I'll finally get to drive your car…seeing as your feet will never reach the pedals."
Dean looked down at himself as if only just noticing his tiny legs, now swimming in the massive pair of jeans.
Xander had never heard a child say Son-of-a-bitch with such feeling.
Title: Smooth Talker
Notes: **Set in the Distant Relations 'Verse**
Fortune: Your many hidden talents will become obvious to those around you.
We're in deep shit was Dean's first thought, and from the expression on the Deputy's face, the man agreed with that sentiment. There was no way in Hell they were going to be able to explain this one away. Grave desecration was not something people took lightly.
"Look, Deputy," Dean began.
"Dean, maybe we should just-" Sam tried to dissuade him only to get cut off by Dean's next words.
"The girl really wanted to be cremated, so we were just fulfilling her last wishes."
Sam heaved a resigned sigh, but, hey, Dean had to try, right?
The Deputy stared blankly at them. "All right, that's it. I'm taking you boys in. The cemetery is no place for a bonfire."
Dean sighed too, now. His only solace was the fact that Xander had had the good sense to stay far aw-
"There you two are," Xander called out from across the cemetery, moving toward them at a brisk pace.
Dean rolled his eyes. So much for Xander's good sense.
The Deputy pinned the newcomer with the beam of his flashlight. "Hold it right there, son. You know these two?"
"Oh yeah," Xander said with certainty. "We've been looking for these two for hours."
We? Dean frowned. Who the hell was 'we'?
"Yeah, they escaped a little while ago. Turns out one of the other patients was telling them a ghost story about some girl who died in town."
"Other patients?" the Deputy echoed.
"Yeah, over at the mental hospital? Anyhow, these two got it into their heads that they were ghost hunters and needed to salt and burn the bones."
Dean's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Lying with the truth? It was risky, but who knew? Maybe it would work.
"I'm going have to take the two of them to the station," the Deputy said.
"Look, can't you just come by the hospital later and get statements. As you can tell," Xander said, gesturing at his brothers, "these two are way overdue for their medication. I mean, they might flip any second now. That short one's already starting to look a little twitchy."
Dean frowned. Twitchy?
The Deputy gave an aggravated sigh. "Fine, fine. Just give me your name and…get them back where they belong?"
"Sure, just ask for Nurse Smith," Xander assured the man. "Now come on you two. It's padded-cell time."
Xander hustled them off in the opposite direction, toward the Impala, before the Deputy had a chance to change his mind. When they were safely in the car and headed out of town, Xander turned to them with a grin and said, "And you two thought you were the only ones who could pull off a con. Saved your asses, didn't I?"
"Oh, yeah," Dean returned dryly. "You're a real smooth talker." Then added a beat later with a snicker, "Nurse Smith."
Title: Good Intentions, Bad Ideas
Notes: **Set in the Distant Relations 'Verse**
Fortune: Ideas are like children; there are none so wonderful as your own.
It was all Xander could do not to collapse with laughter. As it was, he was forced to smother hysterical giggles behind his hand. If only he had a camcorder to record this moment because memories like this one were priceless.
He watched the scene unfold with undisguised humor as his brothers continued to argue. Though they were yelling at each other with fury-tinged voices, all out and out anger, Xander found the argument to be hilarious more than uncomfortable. But, then, how could it be anything other than funny when both his brothers looked like five-year-olds, so cute swamped in their now over-sized clothes, with their tiny, childlike voices.
"Well, it seem like a good idea at the time!" Dean yelled, youthful voice brimming with indignation.
"What did I say, Dean?" Young-Sam asked rhetorically. "I said 'don't touch anything.' But do you ever listen? No." The tiny boy crossed his arms over his chest and pursed his lips. It was a face adult-Sam made often to convey his displeasure whenever his older brother did something stupid, and sometimes it could even be quite fearsome. But the ever-so-serious expression on this younger Sam was like the world's best parody.
The sight was too much for Xander. He let loose a string of wild cackles.
"What are you laughing at?" Dean growled, or tried to, but instead it came out like a high-pitched whine.
"Oh, nothing," Xander wheezed. "Just that, now, I'm the oldest and the tallest. Guess I'll finally get to drive your car…seeing as your feet will never reach the pedals."
Dean looked down at himself as if only just noticing his tiny legs, now swimming in the massive pair of jeans.
Xander had never heard a child say Son-of-a-bitch with such feeling.
Title: Smooth Talker
Notes: **Set in the Distant Relations 'Verse**
Fortune: Your many hidden talents will become obvious to those around you.
We're in deep shit was Dean's first thought, and from the expression on the Deputy's face, the man agreed with that sentiment. There was no way in Hell they were going to be able to explain this one away. Grave desecration was not something people took lightly.
"Look, Deputy," Dean began.
"Dean, maybe we should just-" Sam tried to dissuade him only to get cut off by Dean's next words.
"The girl really wanted to be cremated, so we were just fulfilling her last wishes."
Sam heaved a resigned sigh, but, hey, Dean had to try, right?
The Deputy stared blankly at them. "All right, that's it. I'm taking you boys in. The cemetery is no place for a bonfire."
Dean sighed too, now. His only solace was the fact that Xander had had the good sense to stay far aw-
"There you two are," Xander called out from across the cemetery, moving toward them at a brisk pace.
Dean rolled his eyes. So much for Xander's good sense.
The Deputy pinned the newcomer with the beam of his flashlight. "Hold it right there, son. You know these two?"
"Oh yeah," Xander said with certainty. "We've been looking for these two for hours."
We? Dean frowned. Who the hell was 'we'?
"Yeah, they escaped a little while ago. Turns out one of the other patients was telling them a ghost story about some girl who died in town."
"Other patients?" the Deputy echoed.
"Yeah, over at the mental hospital? Anyhow, these two got it into their heads that they were ghost hunters and needed to salt and burn the bones."
Dean's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Lying with the truth? It was risky, but who knew? Maybe it would work.
"I'm going have to take the two of them to the station," the Deputy said.
"Look, can't you just come by the hospital later and get statements. As you can tell," Xander said, gesturing at his brothers, "these two are way overdue for their medication. I mean, they might flip any second now. That short one's already starting to look a little twitchy."
Dean frowned. Twitchy?
The Deputy gave an aggravated sigh. "Fine, fine. Just give me your name and…get them back where they belong?"
"Sure, just ask for Nurse Smith," Xander assured the man. "Now come on you two. It's padded-cell time."
Xander hustled them off in the opposite direction, toward the Impala, before the Deputy had a chance to change his mind. When they were safely in the car and headed out of town, Xander turned to them with a grin and said, "And you two thought you were the only ones who could pull off a con. Saved your asses, didn't I?"
"Oh, yeah," Dean returned dryly. "You're a real smooth talker." Then added a beat later with a snicker, "Nurse Smith."