FIC: All He Wants to Do is Dance
Title: All He Wants to Do is Dance
Genre: Humor, Gen
Rating: PG
Character: Dean, Sam
Spoilers/Warnings: None.
Word Count: 400
Summary: Dean and Sam go undercover for a case. Sam might just be scarred for life.
Disclaimer: I'm just having a bit of fun with these awesome characters. I certainly don't own them.
ALL HE WANTS TO DO IS DANCE
By: vansgroi
"Hey, Dean, I found a connection between all our victims..." Sam announced as he stared at the laptop's screen.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, get this...they all attended the same Zumba class."
"ZUMBA?" Dean's face twisted into a playfully derisive scowl. "Really?"
"Yeah, they were regulars-three times a week at Barbells Gym."
"Great. So maybe...vengeful spirit or something," Dean mused.
"Could be-given the manner of death. Something sure hated them."
"So...next step?"
"Well, we could go undercover, I guess."
"Like you did with the yoga class at that spa?"
"Yeah. There's only one problem," Sam worried his bottom lip for a second. "I can't dance. There's no way I can teach a Zumba class."
"So I'll do it."
"Dude, you can't dance either."
"Says who? See-the thing with Zumba is, it's all in the hips. I think I got that covered." Dean began to gyrate his hips. Then he threw his shoulders into the mix.
"Oh, God-my eyes." Sam threw up a hand. "Stop-just stop...doing...that."
"You got a better idea?"
Sam sighed, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers. "No. So what do I do while you're...teaching Zumba?"
"Easy-you can take the class."
"This is going to be a disaster."
The next morning, Dean exited the bathroom dressed in knee-length cargo shorts and a tie-dyed t-shirt emblazoned with the word ZUMBA in gold across his chest.
"You look ridiculous," muttered Sam.
"Hey, according to the internet, this is what all the best instructors wear."
Later, an exhausted and sweaty Sam watched the dancers file out of the room after class. A petite blonde stopped and smiled at him.
"He's fantastic, isn't he?" she gushed.
"Uhh, yeah...he's great. I think I'm scarred for life though."
The blonde patted his arm. "It'll get better. If you just keep coming, you'll get the hang of it."
"Uh, thanks."
She patted his arm one more time and bounced out of the room.
Sam huffed out a breath, wiping an arm across his damp forehead as he walked to Dean.
"Dean, that was crazy. You were brutal. And yet they all seemed to like it."
Dean grinned. "Of course they did."
"Man, I'm beat."
"Suck it up, Sammy. We have two more classes to do today."
"Ugh...just kill me now."
FIN
Genre: Humor, Gen
Rating: PG
Character: Dean, Sam
Spoilers/Warnings: None.
Word Count: 400
Summary: Dean and Sam go undercover for a case. Sam might just be scarred for life.
Disclaimer: I'm just having a bit of fun with these awesome characters. I certainly don't own them.
ALL HE WANTS TO DO IS DANCE
By: vansgroi
"Hey, Dean, I found a connection between all our victims..." Sam announced as he stared at the laptop's screen.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, get this...they all attended the same Zumba class."
"ZUMBA?" Dean's face twisted into a playfully derisive scowl. "Really?"
"Yeah, they were regulars-three times a week at Barbells Gym."
"Great. So maybe...vengeful spirit or something," Dean mused.
"Could be-given the manner of death. Something sure hated them."
"So...next step?"
"Well, we could go undercover, I guess."
"Like you did with the yoga class at that spa?"
"Yeah. There's only one problem," Sam worried his bottom lip for a second. "I can't dance. There's no way I can teach a Zumba class."
"So I'll do it."
"Dude, you can't dance either."
"Says who? See-the thing with Zumba is, it's all in the hips. I think I got that covered." Dean began to gyrate his hips. Then he threw his shoulders into the mix.
"Oh, God-my eyes." Sam threw up a hand. "Stop-just stop...doing...that."
"You got a better idea?"
Sam sighed, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers. "No. So what do I do while you're...teaching Zumba?"
"Easy-you can take the class."
"This is going to be a disaster."
The next morning, Dean exited the bathroom dressed in knee-length cargo shorts and a tie-dyed t-shirt emblazoned with the word ZUMBA in gold across his chest.
"You look ridiculous," muttered Sam.
"Hey, according to the internet, this is what all the best instructors wear."
Later, an exhausted and sweaty Sam watched the dancers file out of the room after class. A petite blonde stopped and smiled at him.
"He's fantastic, isn't he?" she gushed.
"Uhh, yeah...he's great. I think I'm scarred for life though."
The blonde patted his arm. "It'll get better. If you just keep coming, you'll get the hang of it."
"Uh, thanks."
She patted his arm one more time and bounced out of the room.
Sam huffed out a breath, wiping an arm across his damp forehead as he walked to Dean.
"Dean, that was crazy. You were brutal. And yet they all seemed to like it."
Dean grinned. "Of course they did."
"Man, I'm beat."
"Suck it up, Sammy. We have two more classes to do today."
"Ugh...just kill me now."
FIN