SPN ficlet: The Gratitude of Strangers (Gen, G)
For the record, I didn't forget I'd written this--actually, I'm kind of fond of it. Just apparently never archived it, and the story never made it onto my sticky post.
The Gratitude of Strangers
Gen, G, 400 words or so
Disclaimer: Not mine, still Eric Kripke's.
Written for the January 2008 prompt at ostrich_2008, "chickens," originally posted here.
They hung back by the long tables covered with food, Dean scooping up as many mini-quiches and cold cuts as he could juggle on a small paper plate, while Sam kept tugging at his tie.
"Nice of Mr. Wilcox to invite us to the reception, wasn't it?" Dean said, popping a wedge of cheese into his mouth.
"Maybe because we saved him and the future Mrs. Wilcox from being ritually sacrificed by demons the morning before their wedding?" Sam stopped fiddling with his tie and looked around at the crowd of dancing, laughing people, at the streamers and balloons hanging from the ceiling of the rented dance hall. The youngest person in the room appeared to be an eight-week old baby; the eldest was a man who looked to be around ninety.
"Yeah, but a lot of people just say thanks and goodbye. They don't usually invite us to family functions, no matter what the circumstances. Oooh, cookies," said Dean, and added to the stash already on his plate.
"Dean! Sam!" Mr. Wilcox spotted them through the crowd. Holding his brand new wife's hand, the groom headed toward them, beaming. "You guys having a good time?"
"Absolutely," Dean said.
"Yes, thank you," Sam.
Mrs. Wilcox kissed Sam and then Dean on the cheek. "We can't thank you enough."
At that moment, the band finished playing an up-beat 80's pop song and the lead singer picked up an accordion.
"Oh, no," Sam muttered.
Beneath his freckles, Dean had gone a little pale.
"Come on, what are you waiting for? You two shouldn't be over here all by your lonesome!" Mr. Wilcox took Dean's plate from his hands and put it on the table.
Dean opened his mouth to object, but there was no stopping them. Mr. Wilcox grabbed Dean's arm, while Mrs. Wilcox took Sam's, and before they knew it, they had been dragged into a circle of friends and relations of the bride and groom.
Sam glanced at Dean, a frantic look that cried, do something.
The band started up again. Dean shrugged, what're you gonna do? Unbelievably, he put out his hands and started to do the chicken dance.
After a moment, Sam joined in.
At least there was little chance either of them would make any attempt to get their hands on a copy of the video tape. With both of them caught flapping their arms, side by side, the possibilities for blackmail were endless, but pretty much a stalemate.
The Gratitude of Strangers
Gen, G, 400 words or so
Disclaimer: Not mine, still Eric Kripke's.
Written for the January 2008 prompt at ostrich_2008, "chickens," originally posted here.
They hung back by the long tables covered with food, Dean scooping up as many mini-quiches and cold cuts as he could juggle on a small paper plate, while Sam kept tugging at his tie.
"Nice of Mr. Wilcox to invite us to the reception, wasn't it?" Dean said, popping a wedge of cheese into his mouth.
"Maybe because we saved him and the future Mrs. Wilcox from being ritually sacrificed by demons the morning before their wedding?" Sam stopped fiddling with his tie and looked around at the crowd of dancing, laughing people, at the streamers and balloons hanging from the ceiling of the rented dance hall. The youngest person in the room appeared to be an eight-week old baby; the eldest was a man who looked to be around ninety.
"Yeah, but a lot of people just say thanks and goodbye. They don't usually invite us to family functions, no matter what the circumstances. Oooh, cookies," said Dean, and added to the stash already on his plate.
"Dean! Sam!" Mr. Wilcox spotted them through the crowd. Holding his brand new wife's hand, the groom headed toward them, beaming. "You guys having a good time?"
"Absolutely," Dean said.
"Yes, thank you," Sam.
Mrs. Wilcox kissed Sam and then Dean on the cheek. "We can't thank you enough."
At that moment, the band finished playing an up-beat 80's pop song and the lead singer picked up an accordion.
"Oh, no," Sam muttered.
Beneath his freckles, Dean had gone a little pale.
"Come on, what are you waiting for? You two shouldn't be over here all by your lonesome!" Mr. Wilcox took Dean's plate from his hands and put it on the table.
Dean opened his mouth to object, but there was no stopping them. Mr. Wilcox grabbed Dean's arm, while Mrs. Wilcox took Sam's, and before they knew it, they had been dragged into a circle of friends and relations of the bride and groom.
Sam glanced at Dean, a frantic look that cried, do something.
The band started up again. Dean shrugged, what're you gonna do? Unbelievably, he put out his hands and started to do the chicken dance.
After a moment, Sam joined in.
At least there was little chance either of them would make any attempt to get their hands on a copy of the video tape. With both of them caught flapping their arms, side by side, the possibilities for blackmail were endless, but pretty much a stalemate.