The V-Day Team Drabble Challenge -Three more (sorry)
Title: Gross doesn’t even cover it.
Characters: Sam and Dean.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 100
Summary: Sometimes Sam wonders exactly how they’re related.
“That dude’s piece has been rubbing inside your armour, Dean!”
“Sammy, I’m revokin’ your Netflix privileges, no more Jay and Silent Bob for you, ever!”
“It’s a damned classic, and don’t even think about cancelling my subscription, or I’ll change the settings on the power showers.”
“You wouldn’t dare - I know where you live - I will hurt you!”
“Try me, Dean, and stop trying to distract me. That is a dead man’s bathrobe, you complete freak.”
“You’re just jealous you don’t have a bathrobe as soft and comfy as this.”
“If you get fifty year old cooties, don’t blame me.”
Title: How very dare you.
Characters: Rufus and Bobby.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 100
Summary: Rufus really should know better, by now.
Bobby’s on the verge of beating Rufus with a blunt instrument, blunt and possibly shot through with rusty ragged edged nails. “Gimme back my damned bottle of whisky and get the hell outta my house. How dare you come in here an’ pretend like you’re my friend then sit there an’ badmouth somethin’ that means so much to me. Go on, get!””
Rufus stares at Bobby like he’s grown a second head - in their line of work it’s entirely possible - before throwing up his hands and and backing away slowly. “I just said Tori would look better as a brunette.”
Title: King of what now?
Characters: Rowena and Crowley.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 100
Summary: Some people have no appreciation for fine art.
Crowley stares lovingly at the pile of folded and scored paper in front of him, pretending like he doesn’t know what a complete moron this makes him.
Who cares if this isn’t real? Who’s ever going to know that he spent nearly forty minutes with his tongue between his teeth, hissing at the safety scissors which kept snagging and ripping his creation?
Leaning forward and resting his chin in his hands, Crowley smiles to himself and nods, before straightening, reaching out, and placing his masterpiece gently on his head.
“Nice hat, Fergus.”
“It’s a crown, Mother!”
“Of course it is.”