[SPN ficlet] - Purple
Quite some time ago, I wrote this crack ficlet for a Spn challenge. But somehow I failed to post it here... So yeah... have I mentioned that it's total fun crack? *g* Yeah? Good. Also, there is a pic behind the cut, accompanying the story. You've been warned.
Title: Purple
Characters: Dean, Sam
Rating: PG13
Words: ~1300
Warnings: Crack.
Summary: Dean gets turned into a Teletubbie. Of course, Sam finds him like that *g* Set somewhere in season two.
So here was the thing. Most of the time Dean pretty much loved this job - or let’s say he was very content with it. As long as he could cruise around in the Impala, his little brother besides him on the passenger seat while they were on the way to kick some demonic bitches back to hell, life was good.
But you know, once in a while he really, absolutely, without a doubt hated this job. And today? Definitely one of them.
It all started two days ago. After they had gotten back from a fairly unspectacular hunt of some evil witches, terrorizing a small east coast town, he had felt a bit strange. Nothing much out of the ordinary, just a little bit bloated. But let’s face it, the three cheeseburgers (not to mention the extra bacon) he had eaten earlier that night probably hadn’t contributed to his well being either. So, he hadn’t given much thought into the whole situation.
But now, roughly two days later, he would like to re-consider his first presumption; because apparently witches who seemed to be not even worth a blip on the radar, could indeed be wicked. Go figure.
It can’t be… and what the flying fuck… were pretty much on a non-stop loop in his head. His big black saucer eyes were blinking rapidly as he gazed into the mirror in front of him. His reflection mockingly looking back, refusing to change - no matter how often he blinked in an attempt to make this nightmare go away.
One hand was still gripping the bathroom counter tightly while he poked at his new fluffy face with the other, when Sam came back from getting their breakfast. And if Dean would have been physically able to role his eyes in that moment, he definitely would have, because there was no way his brother wouldn’t taunt him for years and years to come.
Here we go… he thought and prepared for Sam’s reaction.
“Dude, don’t tell me you’re still in the bathroom?” Sam mocked, placing the breakfast and two large cups of coffee on the small table in front of the window. “You’re worse than a girl, you know that, right? It’s been like an hour and…”
Sam’s words died on his lips as Dean suddenly stepped out of the bathroom, face frozen in a stare, his brain altering between wanting to reach for a gun and trying not to laugh out loud.
“Sam.” Dean cringed at the high-pitched tone that was dancing in his voice. “I think something is wrong.” Well hello, stating the obvious here, aren’t we?
“Dean, is that…”
“Yeah, guess so. Same old, well except for the new wrapping. Stupid fucking witches…”
At this point Sam’s urge to reach for his gun was entirely devoured by the hilarity of the situation and the corners of his mouth twitched relentlessly while his gaze swiped up and down Dean’s new, though not so much improved, body. “Are you…”
“Don’t say it. I swear to God do not…” Dean interrupted, shuffling a few steps forward, definitely not contributing to the seriousness of the situation.
“But you are….”
“SAM!!”
“… a Teletubbie!!!” And as soon as the words were spoken out loud, Sam almost toppled over, waves of laughter breaking free, his whole body shaking until tears were forming in his eyes.
As much as Dean wanted to strangle his brother right that second, he figured he would only look more ridiculous while trying. And really, being the comedic relief in the room was so not fun at all.
“Oh my god!” Sam wheezed between his laughs, trying to take some deep breaths.
Dean just stood there, both hands (read paws) on his hips, tapping impatiently with his left foot while waiting for Sam to fucking stop laughing. This was the last thing he needed right now. “Are you done?”
Sam tried to compose himself. Amusement, to put it lightly, was still dancing around his eyes. “Oh dude, believe me when I say I won’t be done for a long, looong time.”
“Now that is really good to know,” Dean peeped. “God, I hate this fucking voice.”
Sam stepped closer, one hand reaching out and touching Dean’s fluffy face. “This is… I don’t even know what to say…”
“Well, I think your laughing fit already said enough.”
“Oh come one, if roles were reversed you’d probably be rolling on the floor laughing your ass off right now.”
Dean considered this for a second, but didn’t tell Sam that he was probably right.
“I guess something went wrong with the latest witch hunt after all, huh?” Sam remarked, poking away on Dean’s body.
“You think, genius?” Dean shot back, before stepping back. “And would you mind stop poking me? You know, just because some stuff is not visible doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
“Sorry, sorry… it’s just….” Sam said, pulling his hand back.
“Yeah, yeah, I know…hilarious.”
“Well, that’s definitely one way to describe it.” Sam grinned while he stepped back to the table, opening his laptop. “You know, one thing I’d really like to know is why they made you the gay one.”
“WHAT?”
“Well, judging by the color you’re obviously Tinky Winky. And he is considered the gay one.” Sam stated matter-of-factly as if he’d just announced that the sky was indeed blue. “Oh wait… where is your red handbag?”
“What?!” Dean repeated even more distressed. “I don’t have a…”
“Come one, if they went so far and made you a real living and breathing Teletubbie I’m sure they even got the details right.”
Dean was staring at his brother for a few seconds, highly wondering why he even knew so much about those damn things in the first place. But he stored the question away for later. Much, much later. “Alright fine. It’s in the bathroom. I pretty much woke up with it today. Happy?”
“As much as I can ever be,” Sam replied, his eyes already glued to the computer screen while his hands were flying over the keyboard. “Now sit down and relax while I figure this thing out.” Sam smiled before he continued, “Or you could always do a little song and dance number. Trust me, I’d be fine either way.”
The only thing Dean really did was flipping his brother off while plotting endless scenarios of revenge. And neither of them ended in a fluffy little show number.
______
“Alright, I think I got it,” Sam announced about two hours later, while grabbing for a piece of paper, scribbling something down. “It seems we are going on a little witch hunt - again.”
“We?” Dean asked flabbergasted. “You think I’ll leave the room looking like this? Well… think again, genius.”
“It seems that you have to kill the witch with your own hands. And bringing her here would be way too complicated and risky. So, man up…” Sam had to snicker while saying this “…and grab a weapon. Besides, people’ll think you’re in a costume or something.”
“Alright, fine.”
“Oh and don’t forget your red purse. After all, the outfit has to be complete.” Sam snickered some more.
“I hate you.”
“Sure you do.”
Less than a minute later Dean stumbled out of the bathroom, red purse in his left hand, while swinging a knife with his right. “Okay, let’s go.” He tried to sound as grim as possible, but failed miserably.
“Yeah… just…” Sam said while there was a sudden click “Just had to capture this image for all eternity.” He grinned, putting his phone away; the picture saved on it probably value more than a million bucks.
“Oh I’m so going to kick your ass,” Dean hissed.
“Sure thing, Tinky. Now move your purple butt, we have some witches to kill.”
The End.
____________________
Oh yeah… and back then I even made a pic for it, which I actually posted on the journal. But to complete the story, here it is again. :-D
Title: Purple
Characters: Dean, Sam
Rating: PG13
Words: ~1300
Warnings: Crack.
Summary: Dean gets turned into a Teletubbie. Of course, Sam finds him like that *g* Set somewhere in season two.
So here was the thing. Most of the time Dean pretty much loved this job - or let’s say he was very content with it. As long as he could cruise around in the Impala, his little brother besides him on the passenger seat while they were on the way to kick some demonic bitches back to hell, life was good.
But you know, once in a while he really, absolutely, without a doubt hated this job. And today? Definitely one of them.
It all started two days ago. After they had gotten back from a fairly unspectacular hunt of some evil witches, terrorizing a small east coast town, he had felt a bit strange. Nothing much out of the ordinary, just a little bit bloated. But let’s face it, the three cheeseburgers (not to mention the extra bacon) he had eaten earlier that night probably hadn’t contributed to his well being either. So, he hadn’t given much thought into the whole situation.
But now, roughly two days later, he would like to re-consider his first presumption; because apparently witches who seemed to be not even worth a blip on the radar, could indeed be wicked. Go figure.
It can’t be… and what the flying fuck… were pretty much on a non-stop loop in his head. His big black saucer eyes were blinking rapidly as he gazed into the mirror in front of him. His reflection mockingly looking back, refusing to change - no matter how often he blinked in an attempt to make this nightmare go away.
One hand was still gripping the bathroom counter tightly while he poked at his new fluffy face with the other, when Sam came back from getting their breakfast. And if Dean would have been physically able to role his eyes in that moment, he definitely would have, because there was no way his brother wouldn’t taunt him for years and years to come.
Here we go… he thought and prepared for Sam’s reaction.
“Dude, don’t tell me you’re still in the bathroom?” Sam mocked, placing the breakfast and two large cups of coffee on the small table in front of the window. “You’re worse than a girl, you know that, right? It’s been like an hour and…”
Sam’s words died on his lips as Dean suddenly stepped out of the bathroom, face frozen in a stare, his brain altering between wanting to reach for a gun and trying not to laugh out loud.
“Sam.” Dean cringed at the high-pitched tone that was dancing in his voice. “I think something is wrong.” Well hello, stating the obvious here, aren’t we?
“Dean, is that…”
“Yeah, guess so. Same old, well except for the new wrapping. Stupid fucking witches…”
At this point Sam’s urge to reach for his gun was entirely devoured by the hilarity of the situation and the corners of his mouth twitched relentlessly while his gaze swiped up and down Dean’s new, though not so much improved, body. “Are you…”
“Don’t say it. I swear to God do not…” Dean interrupted, shuffling a few steps forward, definitely not contributing to the seriousness of the situation.
“But you are….”
“SAM!!”
“… a Teletubbie!!!” And as soon as the words were spoken out loud, Sam almost toppled over, waves of laughter breaking free, his whole body shaking until tears were forming in his eyes.
As much as Dean wanted to strangle his brother right that second, he figured he would only look more ridiculous while trying. And really, being the comedic relief in the room was so not fun at all.
“Oh my god!” Sam wheezed between his laughs, trying to take some deep breaths.
Dean just stood there, both hands (read paws) on his hips, tapping impatiently with his left foot while waiting for Sam to fucking stop laughing. This was the last thing he needed right now. “Are you done?”
Sam tried to compose himself. Amusement, to put it lightly, was still dancing around his eyes. “Oh dude, believe me when I say I won’t be done for a long, looong time.”
“Now that is really good to know,” Dean peeped. “God, I hate this fucking voice.”
Sam stepped closer, one hand reaching out and touching Dean’s fluffy face. “This is… I don’t even know what to say…”
“Well, I think your laughing fit already said enough.”
“Oh come one, if roles were reversed you’d probably be rolling on the floor laughing your ass off right now.”
Dean considered this for a second, but didn’t tell Sam that he was probably right.
“I guess something went wrong with the latest witch hunt after all, huh?” Sam remarked, poking away on Dean’s body.
“You think, genius?” Dean shot back, before stepping back. “And would you mind stop poking me? You know, just because some stuff is not visible doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
“Sorry, sorry… it’s just….” Sam said, pulling his hand back.
“Yeah, yeah, I know…hilarious.”
“Well, that’s definitely one way to describe it.” Sam grinned while he stepped back to the table, opening his laptop. “You know, one thing I’d really like to know is why they made you the gay one.”
“WHAT?”
“Well, judging by the color you’re obviously Tinky Winky. And he is considered the gay one.” Sam stated matter-of-factly as if he’d just announced that the sky was indeed blue. “Oh wait… where is your red handbag?”
“What?!” Dean repeated even more distressed. “I don’t have a…”
“Come one, if they went so far and made you a real living and breathing Teletubbie I’m sure they even got the details right.”
Dean was staring at his brother for a few seconds, highly wondering why he even knew so much about those damn things in the first place. But he stored the question away for later. Much, much later. “Alright fine. It’s in the bathroom. I pretty much woke up with it today. Happy?”
“As much as I can ever be,” Sam replied, his eyes already glued to the computer screen while his hands were flying over the keyboard. “Now sit down and relax while I figure this thing out.” Sam smiled before he continued, “Or you could always do a little song and dance number. Trust me, I’d be fine either way.”
The only thing Dean really did was flipping his brother off while plotting endless scenarios of revenge. And neither of them ended in a fluffy little show number.
______
“Alright, I think I got it,” Sam announced about two hours later, while grabbing for a piece of paper, scribbling something down. “It seems we are going on a little witch hunt - again.”
“We?” Dean asked flabbergasted. “You think I’ll leave the room looking like this? Well… think again, genius.”
“It seems that you have to kill the witch with your own hands. And bringing her here would be way too complicated and risky. So, man up…” Sam had to snicker while saying this “…and grab a weapon. Besides, people’ll think you’re in a costume or something.”
“Alright, fine.”
“Oh and don’t forget your red purse. After all, the outfit has to be complete.” Sam snickered some more.
“I hate you.”
“Sure you do.”
Less than a minute later Dean stumbled out of the bathroom, red purse in his left hand, while swinging a knife with his right. “Okay, let’s go.” He tried to sound as grim as possible, but failed miserably.
“Yeah… just…” Sam said while there was a sudden click “Just had to capture this image for all eternity.” He grinned, putting his phone away; the picture saved on it probably value more than a million bucks.
“Oh I’m so going to kick your ass,” Dean hissed.
“Sure thing, Tinky. Now move your purple butt, we have some witches to kill.”
The End.
____________________
Oh yeah… and back then I even made a pic for it, which I actually posted on the journal. But to complete the story, here it is again. :-D
