Ayoub
"Help me."
"No."
"Sammy, help me."
"No!"
Dean stared at him, looking hurt. "You wouldn't help me?"
"Not with this," Sam said, raising his eyebrow. "Get your own girls."
"But they're twins," Dean said, suddenly brightening. "Blonde twins. You know how often this chance comes around?"
"I'm not playing wingman," Sam said stubbornly. "And that's final."
Dean glared at him, obviously wishing him to suddenly sprout a tail. Sam stared back, nonplussed. "You suck," Dean muttered, before taking off on his own. His smile was back on by the time he reached the twins, but he looked like he was failing without his original plan.
And Sam was not playing along with that. He'd probably go to hell for that alone. If Dean's lame-ass lines didn't hold up on their own, then it was his fault. Besides, it wasn't like Sam was going to get anything out of it, besides an empty motel room for the night (or worse, a full motel room for the night). There wasn't going to be a girl waiting for him.
They were smiling and laughing, but obviously not convinced by his line. Dean was trying, Sam could see that, but he wasn't going to strike gold unless they believed him, which they weren't going to do unless Sam came over and backed him up. Two people to say it generally meant more because come on, what guy would help another get laid when there was nothing in it for him?
"Oh, screw it," Sam muttered, taking a long pull from his beer. Then he was up and across the bar, pulling his phone out as he went. By the time he reached them, he was deep in a conversation with an imaginary person.
"Yeah, I got it," he said, loud enough to attract their attention. "Uh huh, yeah, I'll tell him. He's not gonna like it, but...okay, yeah, sure. No problem."
He glanced over at Dean, giving a quick wave to the twins. Okay, yeah, they were stunning up close, he had to admit it. Dean had turned away from them, staring at Sam with hope in his eyes. "That was the studio; we need to be back to sign papers tomorrow."
The girls' smiles were dropping into looks of awe, buying into his line hook and sinker. Dean looked grateful enough to start crying. "Sorry for the bad news," Sam said, looking as sorry as he could.
"Nah, it's fine," Dean said, tossing a sad smile over his shoulder. "Sorry girls, but I can't stay tomorrow to talk with you about auditions."
"Oh no, no no, that's perfectly fine," one of them said quickly. "Could we maybe talk...tonight? Back at our place? We're not far."
"Just so long as I'm back by nine or ten to get to the airport," Dean said, as if he was thinking it over. Sam managed to keep a straight face as the girls headed for the door, but Dean's quick turn around to hug him made him snort. "I love you," Dean whispered, then hurried after the girls.
"He's not a producer, is he?"
Sam glanced to his right, where a brunette was standing. She had her chin in her hands, a knowing look on her face. "No, he's not," Sam said, pocketing the cell phone.
"And you're not his associate director."
"Nope," Sam said easily. "I'm not."
There was a pause before she began to smile. "An honest man. I like that."
Slowly Sam began to grin. Okay, maybe playing wingman wasn't such a bad thing every now and then.
~Nebula
"No."
"Sammy, help me."
"No!"
Dean stared at him, looking hurt. "You wouldn't help me?"
"Not with this," Sam said, raising his eyebrow. "Get your own girls."
"But they're twins," Dean said, suddenly brightening. "Blonde twins. You know how often this chance comes around?"
"I'm not playing wingman," Sam said stubbornly. "And that's final."
Dean glared at him, obviously wishing him to suddenly sprout a tail. Sam stared back, nonplussed. "You suck," Dean muttered, before taking off on his own. His smile was back on by the time he reached the twins, but he looked like he was failing without his original plan.
And Sam was not playing along with that. He'd probably go to hell for that alone. If Dean's lame-ass lines didn't hold up on their own, then it was his fault. Besides, it wasn't like Sam was going to get anything out of it, besides an empty motel room for the night (or worse, a full motel room for the night). There wasn't going to be a girl waiting for him.
They were smiling and laughing, but obviously not convinced by his line. Dean was trying, Sam could see that, but he wasn't going to strike gold unless they believed him, which they weren't going to do unless Sam came over and backed him up. Two people to say it generally meant more because come on, what guy would help another get laid when there was nothing in it for him?
"Oh, screw it," Sam muttered, taking a long pull from his beer. Then he was up and across the bar, pulling his phone out as he went. By the time he reached them, he was deep in a conversation with an imaginary person.
"Yeah, I got it," he said, loud enough to attract their attention. "Uh huh, yeah, I'll tell him. He's not gonna like it, but...okay, yeah, sure. No problem."
He glanced over at Dean, giving a quick wave to the twins. Okay, yeah, they were stunning up close, he had to admit it. Dean had turned away from them, staring at Sam with hope in his eyes. "That was the studio; we need to be back to sign papers tomorrow."
The girls' smiles were dropping into looks of awe, buying into his line hook and sinker. Dean looked grateful enough to start crying. "Sorry for the bad news," Sam said, looking as sorry as he could.
"Nah, it's fine," Dean said, tossing a sad smile over his shoulder. "Sorry girls, but I can't stay tomorrow to talk with you about auditions."
"Oh no, no no, that's perfectly fine," one of them said quickly. "Could we maybe talk...tonight? Back at our place? We're not far."
"Just so long as I'm back by nine or ten to get to the airport," Dean said, as if he was thinking it over. Sam managed to keep a straight face as the girls headed for the door, but Dean's quick turn around to hug him made him snort. "I love you," Dean whispered, then hurried after the girls.
"He's not a producer, is he?"
Sam glanced to his right, where a brunette was standing. She had her chin in her hands, a knowing look on her face. "No, he's not," Sam said, pocketing the cell phone.
"And you're not his associate director."
"Nope," Sam said easily. "I'm not."
There was a pause before she began to smile. "An honest man. I like that."
Slowly Sam began to grin. Okay, maybe playing wingman wasn't such a bad thing every now and then.
~Nebula