Weekly Theme Fic: Roadhouse Modeling Agency
Summary: Sam and Dean head to the Roadhouse for a hunt as per Ellen’s request. But who were all these Vogue-type people at the bar? And just why were they trying to make Dean up like a painted whore? And what’s with all the cameras and did you say wardrobe? And what the hell do you think is so friggen funny, Sam?!
The Impala pulled up outside the strangely deserted Roadhouse. "You're sure about this?" Dean growled as he cut off the engine.
"Positive." Sam said, his jaw ticking. "Ellen said they needed help -- tonight -- it was something they couldn't handle on their own and they specifically requested our help."
"Any idea what?" Dean asked. "There's very little Ellen can't handle on her own..."
"Maybe Ash got a clue to the demon on top of everything else," Sam said, getting out of the Impala.
Dean followed. "I hope so, man. I'm getting a sick feeling about this."
Sam was glad Dean's back was to him as he came around the car. He couldn't keep his lips from twitching. If only Dean knew what was about to go down. "I'm sure it's fine. Ellen wouldn't lead us into anything we couldn't handle."
Dean smirked smugly. "Sure, but the list of things we can't handle is pretty friggen small." He snorted.
Sam rolled his eyes with a smile as he followed his brother inside.
The Roadhouse looked empty with the pool tables shoved against the wall and a large partition with a pair of umbrella lights standing in front of it. "Ellen?" Dean called. "Jo? Yo, Doctor Badass! Anybody here?"
A tall man walked out from the back. "Ah, you are here! Welcome, welcome! Oh, yes, you are perfection indeed!"
And Dean stiffened as the man -- hugged him! ".....uh....thanks?" he said uncertainly. "What....What's this about?"
The man frowned as he pulled back. "They didn't tell you?" He tisked. "Well doesn't matter. You're here. We'll just get to work then." He took Dean by the hand and led him away. "We'll get you fitted once your makeup's done."
"My what?!"
"Your makeup, dearie....You'll look like a huge white blob with eyes -- albeit those green eyes are gorgeous.... if we don't do your makeup. Now, come on, let's go."
Dean looked over at Sam and mouthed What the hell is going on here?
But Sam just looked at him with wide puppy eyes and shrugged his massive shoulders cluelessly.
A lotta help you are, Sammy. Thanks. Dean was frustrated. No one would tell him what the hell was happening and people were pulling him in a million directions. "Makeup for what? Clearly I ain't a chick, man." He suddenly felt someone tugging at his clothes. "Hey! What are you-" Turning, Dean found a cute brunette before him. He immediately slipped into a charming smile. "Well I usually at least offer to buy dinner first, but I think I can make an exception." He waggled his eyebrows.
She laughed. "Just relax. We'll have you changed in a tick and--"
His smile vanished. "Changed? Into what?"
She smiled and held up a pair of red, white, and blue starred briefs.
He laughed humorlessly and shook his head. "Yeah, no. I'm not putting those on. And what the hell do you expect me to do? Parade around in them in the middle of a bar?!" If his brother didn't get his ass over here and help...
"You will, and you'll go over there and let us take your picture and do your blamed job, mister!" she got in his face, jabbing a finger in his chest as she barked.
Just then, Sam started to giggle.
Yes. Giggle.
"Job?" Dean asked evading a makeup brush as if it were covered in ectoplasm. "Wait, is this some undercover thing for a job? Are you guys..." Nah. No way were these people hunters. The tall guy who first came up to him looked like he was dressed straight out of a fashion magazine!
Just as he ducked away from some sort of colored pencil aimed at his eye - thank you very much! - Dean began to hear familiar laughter. Eyes immediately narrowing, he whipped around to face his brother. "You better tell me what the hell is so friggen funny, pal. I'm sure that makeup chick has a bottle of Nair in her kit." He threatened, storming up to Sam and poking him in the chest.
Sam just shook his head, unable to speak for a second. Then he gasps out, "Come on, Dean....take one for the team?" And he was off and howling again.
It was clear the moment things begun to sink in for Dean. Dawning passed over his face quickly replaced by hard eyes and a ticking jaw. "You knew about this?!" He growled. "Oh you think it's funny huh? Watching me get all gussied up like a painted whore? And what were you gonna do if I put that Americana Speedo on huh? Wouldn'ta been so jolly then." He snorted. "I don't see anyone asking you to model, sasquatch." Dean noted, muscled arms crossed and chest puffed up like a proud rooster.
"What the hell is going on here?" Ellen bellowed, coming out from the back. "Hello, boys....what's going on in here?"
Dean snorted and shook his head. "I've been asking that for the past fifteen minutes!" He explained, throwing his hands up. "Seems these people think I'm their next GQ. Now I realize it's hard to look at this face,” he pointed to himself. “and not immediately think I must be someone famous with such good looks, but I was thinking a little more 'silver screen' and a little less...a lot less of whatever this is." He said picking up his 'outfit' and making a face. "Not even I could make this look good." There was a pause followed by a smirk. "Ok, no that's a lie."
Ellen chuckled. "I bet you could. But I'd rather not see it in my bar. So -- how about this instead? If you're going to do this, how about you head over to--"
"Ellen, I'm not gonna do this!" Dean burst out. "I'm not going to take off my clothes and be a damn underwear model for these people I don't even know!"
The man stepped forward. "Miss Ellen told us to expect you."
Ellen glared at him and Dean's jaw lowered. "She .... You.....What the hell! Ellen!"
She held up a hand. "Okay, fine! I can't stand that betrayed tone!" She jerked a thumb at the tall man. "This is Bertrand, and that is Sandra. They really do have business with you, Dean."
Dean crossed his arms. "Not sure I want whatever business they have with me. "Times New Roman";background:white">I mean, unless maybe they can set me up with some hot models. Maybe one of the Victoria's Secret girls?" His hopeful expression was dashed by the head shakes he received. "Anyway, lemme get this straight. You recommended me for this, Ellen? I'm flattered but I'm a little uncomfortable with you picturing me in that." Dean hooked a thumb back at the skimpy boxers.
"That," Ellen informed him, "was not part of the plan. And no, I signed you up for this." She nodded at Sandra.
Who promptly kissed Dean -- deeply.
Dean got over his shock real quick. There was barely any hesitation before he had one arm around her waist and the other hand cradling the back of her head as he gave as good as he got.
When he released her, Sandra was trembling and out of breath. "Oh....oh, my...." she breathed. ".....I've rarely had that happen when I gave a client a birthday kiss....."
"Birthday?" Dean frowned. "S'my birthday?" He looked over at his brother for confirmation. Dean looked away again when he saw a sad look pass over Sam's eyes for a second. He changed the subject. "So you're my birthday present huh?" He smirked, arm still slung around the brunette's waist. "Well then maybe this wasn't such a terrible plan after all, Ellen." He winked at the bar owner.
Ellen chuckled. "She's not your present, Dean. She's the messenger. Her and Bertrand." At the sound of his name, the thin man shook himself out of a seeming spell he'd fallen into watching Sandra kiss Dean, and hustled toward the back.
Shaking her head in amusement, Ellen turned back to Dean. "Sandra is to announce it...." She stepped back. "And Bertrand is to deliver it!"
Bertrand came out pushing a cart with a cake almost as big as Dean. Behind him was Jo, Ash, Bobby, and a few other of their friends. "Happy birthday, Dean!" they chorused, and blew on noisemakers.
And then the cake exploded upward as a woman wearing a bikini -- who looked just like Sandra -- shot to a standing position from within it.
Dean stood in shock for a long moment. Normally he'd always said that he didn't even like being the center of attention at parties like this. However, looking at the bikini-clad brunette he figured he could make an exception. Walking over, Dean scooped a bit of icing off her arm with his finger promptly sticking it in his mouth. "Mm, good cake." He grinned.
"Thank you!" she laughed. "So..." Dean helped her out of the cake and she moved to stand beside her -- clearly -- twin sister. "Ready?"
"Ready!" Sandra smiled.
Together, they sang the Happy Birthday song to Dean.
Sam was completely amazed to watch a blush crawl up Dean's neck as everyone joined in on the singing.
He leaned in and whispered, "Happy birthday, big brother."
And chuckled to himself at the whispered, "Bitch" that hit his ears. Planning the party had been one thing. Getting his attention-shy brother here had been another thing altogether.
He was rather proud of his modeling prank -- it had worked like a charm!
END
The Impala pulled up outside the strangely deserted Roadhouse. "You're sure about this?" Dean growled as he cut off the engine.
"Positive." Sam said, his jaw ticking. "Ellen said they needed help -- tonight -- it was something they couldn't handle on their own and they specifically requested our help."
"Any idea what?" Dean asked. "There's very little Ellen can't handle on her own..."
"Maybe Ash got a clue to the demon on top of everything else," Sam said, getting out of the Impala.
Dean followed. "I hope so, man. I'm getting a sick feeling about this."
Sam was glad Dean's back was to him as he came around the car. He couldn't keep his lips from twitching. If only Dean knew what was about to go down. "I'm sure it's fine. Ellen wouldn't lead us into anything we couldn't handle."
Dean smirked smugly. "Sure, but the list of things we can't handle is pretty friggen small." He snorted.
Sam rolled his eyes with a smile as he followed his brother inside.
The Roadhouse looked empty with the pool tables shoved against the wall and a large partition with a pair of umbrella lights standing in front of it. "Ellen?" Dean called. "Jo? Yo, Doctor Badass! Anybody here?"
A tall man walked out from the back. "Ah, you are here! Welcome, welcome! Oh, yes, you are perfection indeed!"
And Dean stiffened as the man -- hugged him! ".....uh....thanks?" he said uncertainly. "What....What's this about?"
The man frowned as he pulled back. "They didn't tell you?" He tisked. "Well doesn't matter. You're here. We'll just get to work then." He took Dean by the hand and led him away. "We'll get you fitted once your makeup's done."
"My what?!"
"Your makeup, dearie....You'll look like a huge white blob with eyes -- albeit those green eyes are gorgeous.... if we don't do your makeup. Now, come on, let's go."
Dean looked over at Sam and mouthed What the hell is going on here?
But Sam just looked at him with wide puppy eyes and shrugged his massive shoulders cluelessly.
A lotta help you are, Sammy. Thanks. Dean was frustrated. No one would tell him what the hell was happening and people were pulling him in a million directions. "Makeup for what? Clearly I ain't a chick, man." He suddenly felt someone tugging at his clothes. "Hey! What are you-" Turning, Dean found a cute brunette before him. He immediately slipped into a charming smile. "Well I usually at least offer to buy dinner first, but I think I can make an exception." He waggled his eyebrows.
She laughed. "Just relax. We'll have you changed in a tick and--"
His smile vanished. "Changed? Into what?"
She smiled and held up a pair of red, white, and blue starred briefs.
He laughed humorlessly and shook his head. "Yeah, no. I'm not putting those on. And what the hell do you expect me to do? Parade around in them in the middle of a bar?!" If his brother didn't get his ass over here and help...
"You will, and you'll go over there and let us take your picture and do your blamed job, mister!" she got in his face, jabbing a finger in his chest as she barked.
Just then, Sam started to giggle.
Yes. Giggle.
"Job?" Dean asked evading a makeup brush as if it were covered in ectoplasm. "Wait, is this some undercover thing for a job? Are you guys..." Nah. No way were these people hunters. The tall guy who first came up to him looked like he was dressed straight out of a fashion magazine!
Just as he ducked away from some sort of colored pencil aimed at his eye - thank you very much! - Dean began to hear familiar laughter. Eyes immediately narrowing, he whipped around to face his brother. "You better tell me what the hell is so friggen funny, pal. I'm sure that makeup chick has a bottle of Nair in her kit." He threatened, storming up to Sam and poking him in the chest.
Sam just shook his head, unable to speak for a second. Then he gasps out, "Come on, Dean....take one for the team?" And he was off and howling again.
It was clear the moment things begun to sink in for Dean. Dawning passed over his face quickly replaced by hard eyes and a ticking jaw. "You knew about this?!" He growled. "Oh you think it's funny huh? Watching me get all gussied up like a painted whore? And what were you gonna do if I put that Americana Speedo on huh? Wouldn'ta been so jolly then." He snorted. "I don't see anyone asking you to model, sasquatch." Dean noted, muscled arms crossed and chest puffed up like a proud rooster.
"What the hell is going on here?" Ellen bellowed, coming out from the back. "Hello, boys....what's going on in here?"
Dean snorted and shook his head. "I've been asking that for the past fifteen minutes!" He explained, throwing his hands up. "Seems these people think I'm their next GQ. Now I realize it's hard to look at this face,” he pointed to himself. “and not immediately think I must be someone famous with such good looks, but I was thinking a little more 'silver screen' and a little less...a lot less of whatever this is." He said picking up his 'outfit' and making a face. "Not even I could make this look good." There was a pause followed by a smirk. "Ok, no that's a lie."
Ellen chuckled. "I bet you could. But I'd rather not see it in my bar. So -- how about this instead? If you're going to do this, how about you head over to--"
"Ellen, I'm not gonna do this!" Dean burst out. "I'm not going to take off my clothes and be a damn underwear model for these people I don't even know!"
The man stepped forward. "Miss Ellen told us to expect you."
Ellen glared at him and Dean's jaw lowered. "She .... You.....What the hell! Ellen!"
She held up a hand. "Okay, fine! I can't stand that betrayed tone!" She jerked a thumb at the tall man. "This is Bertrand, and that is Sandra. They really do have business with you, Dean."
Dean crossed his arms. "Not sure I want whatever business they have with me. "Times New Roman";background:white">I mean, unless maybe they can set me up with some hot models. Maybe one of the Victoria's Secret girls?" His hopeful expression was dashed by the head shakes he received. "Anyway, lemme get this straight. You recommended me for this, Ellen? I'm flattered but I'm a little uncomfortable with you picturing me in that." Dean hooked a thumb back at the skimpy boxers.
"That," Ellen informed him, "was not part of the plan. And no, I signed you up for this." She nodded at Sandra.
Who promptly kissed Dean -- deeply.
Dean got over his shock real quick. There was barely any hesitation before he had one arm around her waist and the other hand cradling the back of her head as he gave as good as he got.
When he released her, Sandra was trembling and out of breath. "Oh....oh, my...." she breathed. ".....I've rarely had that happen when I gave a client a birthday kiss....."
"Birthday?" Dean frowned. "S'my birthday?" He looked over at his brother for confirmation. Dean looked away again when he saw a sad look pass over Sam's eyes for a second. He changed the subject. "So you're my birthday present huh?" He smirked, arm still slung around the brunette's waist. "Well then maybe this wasn't such a terrible plan after all, Ellen." He winked at the bar owner.
Ellen chuckled. "She's not your present, Dean. She's the messenger. Her and Bertrand." At the sound of his name, the thin man shook himself out of a seeming spell he'd fallen into watching Sandra kiss Dean, and hustled toward the back.
Shaking her head in amusement, Ellen turned back to Dean. "Sandra is to announce it...." She stepped back. "And Bertrand is to deliver it!"
Bertrand came out pushing a cart with a cake almost as big as Dean. Behind him was Jo, Ash, Bobby, and a few other of their friends. "Happy birthday, Dean!" they chorused, and blew on noisemakers.
And then the cake exploded upward as a woman wearing a bikini -- who looked just like Sandra -- shot to a standing position from within it.
Dean stood in shock for a long moment. Normally he'd always said that he didn't even like being the center of attention at parties like this. However, looking at the bikini-clad brunette he figured he could make an exception. Walking over, Dean scooped a bit of icing off her arm with his finger promptly sticking it in his mouth. "Mm, good cake." He grinned.
"Thank you!" she laughed. "So..." Dean helped her out of the cake and she moved to stand beside her -- clearly -- twin sister. "Ready?"
"Ready!" Sandra smiled.
Together, they sang the Happy Birthday song to Dean.
Sam was completely amazed to watch a blush crawl up Dean's neck as everyone joined in on the singing.
He leaned in and whispered, "Happy birthday, big brother."
And chuckled to himself at the whispered, "Bitch" that hit his ears. Planning the party had been one thing. Getting his attention-shy brother here had been another thing altogether.
He was rather proud of his modeling prank -- it had worked like a charm!
END