Supernatural Fanfic: Twenty Questions (11/20)

Sep 19, 2009 21:38


Title: Twenty Questions

Author: poestheblackcat

Chapter rating: PG-13

Chapter characters/pairings: Dean, Sam/OFC (mention of)

Chapter warning/spoilers: uh, sex talk?

Chapter summary: The Sex Talk. That’s right. Well, actually, more like the Girl Talk. The reviews for the chapter where Sam asked Dean about boobs (Chapter 6) got me thinking. This is the result. Prepare for a collective head-desking.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Unfortunately. Darn you, Kripke. So, like I was saying, it’s almost my birthday…Okay, wishful thinking?

Chapter 11: The Three B’s-Birds, Bees, and Bananas

Sam couldn’t concentrate. He really couldn’t. English was his favorite subject, but today, even Edgar Allan Poe was looking a little dull. He kept doodling hearts all over his paper when he really should have been taking notes on “The Tell-Tale Heart.” He sighed and finally gave in.

“Dean? Are you busy?” he asked his brother, who was currently lounging on one of the beds, watching a movie on the cranky old motel TV.

Dean pried his eyes away from Buffy the sexy vampire slayer. “Mmm?”

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Can I ask you something? Itsaboutagirl.” He cringed at how nervous he sounded. Too late to take it back now. Dean was already sitting up with a very interested expression.

“Well, well, well,” he chuckled. “Ittle Sammy is now officially a horny teenager.”

Sam colored beautifully at the rib. “Shuddup Dean.”

Dean grinned wolfishly. “Aw, it’s okay. Nothin’ to be embarrassed about. At least you asked me and not Dad, right?”

Sam’s eyes grew to saucers. Ask Dad? Uh-uh, no way. He hadn’t even thought about that. If he had a problem, he always went to Dean first, especially with this kind of thing.

Dean seemed to know what he was thinking because he said, with a smirk on his face, “Who do you think I asked? Bobby? Pastor Jim?” He snorted at his own bad joke. “Good thing you asked me, because I’ve got some stuff I’ve learned from my own experience that I am totally willing to pass down to my little bro.”

Sam grimaced. “Ew, gross. Not like that kind of stuff. It’s just…” He sighed. “I wanna ask her out, and I don’t know how,” he ended helplessly, looking up through his fringe of hair.

Dean looked thoughtful for a moment. “Come here, Sammy,” he said, with a serious expression.

“It’s Sam,” the younger brother said, but still went and sat down on the other bed across from his brother. Maybe he wouldn’t tease his ass off about this and actually tell him something useful. Dean was enormously popular with the girls at any place they went to.

“Okay, Sammy,” Dean said, completely disregarding Sam’s correction. “First things first. Is this about that Melanie chick in your math class?”

Sam froze. How the hell did Dean know that? He looked up at his brother stunned, almost as if he’d been tazered.

Dean smirked. “It’s written all over your face, emo boy. Besides, you can’t stop talking about her. So it is Melanie, right? She’s the cute type,” he mused, “so with your puppy-dog looks, it oughta be a piece of cake getting her. All you have to do is give her a soulful look out of that adorable face and she’s yours.” He shrugged. Simple.

Sam snapped out of his shock and glared at his brother. Soulful? Puppy-dog? “I’m not adorable!” he growled. Well, it was more of a squeak, actually. Stupid puberty.

Dean grinned. He’d gone through his own voice changes and teenage growths gracefully, unlike his still short and squeaking younger brother. “Sure, I mean, it was only yesterday that I heard that freshman, Rachel Whatsername, tell her friend, you know that chubby one, that she thought you were such a tortured artist type. Just adorable!” he mocked, his voice a high falsetto.

Sam stood up and proceeded to march away from his ridiculing brother. Too bad he tripped over one of Dean’s outstretched legs. Dean caught him and wrestled him into sitting down again.

“Come on, Sammy. I was just teasing ya. Okay? I just meant, the freshman girls think you’re already a great catch, so all you have to do is ask and you will get.” Dean leaned over and closed the gap between them. “Between you and me,” he said confidentially, “the girls at this school will never know what hit ‘em. I’m telling you. Just ask her and see. Read her some of those poems you like to geek out over. Set up a study date or some shit and take her out to dinner and a movie after. Alright? Simple as that.”

Sam groaned. “But I can’t,” he grumbled to his dirty sneakers. “I don’t think she even likes me. She won’t talk to me, or look at me, or anything.” He slumped down, dejected. “Besides, I don’t even have any money to take her out. Even if she did say yes.”

Dean chuckled. “Aw, come on, dude. I’ve got you covered with the expenses. Alright? And as for her not paying any attention to you, she totally is. I mean, in my experience, there are only two reasons a girl would ignore a guy. The first is because she hates you, and the second is because she likes you. And the first one is just denial of the second reason.” He clapped a hand on the still-despondent Sam’s knee. “Trust me.”

Sam shrugged. His hair hung down in his face.

“Sam,” Dean shook the knee still under his hand. “Come on. How many girls have I slept with?”

Sam wrinkled his nose. “Too many. You’re gonna get an STD someday,” he said morosely, determined to bring Dean down with him.

Dean snorted. “So? It still means that I’ve gotten laid. And that means that my methods are tried and true. And speaking of which,” he tagged on thoughtfully, “I still need to give you the ‘safe sex’ talk.”

Sam’s head shot up. “Oh no, Dean. Hell no.” He backed away from the beds. “I am not going to listen to you talking about sex voluntarily. No freaking way.”

Dean ignored him. “We’ve got some bananas in the fridge,” he said, as if to himself. “I think it’s time for the banana-and-condom demo. Better safe than sorry.” He said that with the full knowledge of what effect he was having on his brother.

Sam stood unmoving in the center of the room, a horrified look frozen on his face. He found his voice. “Dean. No. Just…no. Please,” he begged, strangled.

Dean continued, unaffected. “And then we could eat the bananas for dessert after dinner. You like bananas, right, Sammy?”

“Dean,” Sam squeaked. “Gross.”

The older Winchester grinned at his disgusted younger sibling. “Tell ya what? You promise that you’re gonna ask Melanie out tomorrow and we won’t have that talk tonight. Deal?”

Sam had a few choice words to say about that, but couldn’t find the right one, so he stood there sputtering for a moment. “Dean,” he whined.

“Sam,” Dean mimicked back. “Come on, Sammy. This is important. Get the girl or get the talk. One’s more traumatizing than the other. Which one’s it gonna be?”

Sam sat back down on the bed, defeated. “Fine,” he groaned. “Deal. I’ll ask her out.”

Dean stood up and beamed at him. “Attaboy.” He gave the unresisting Sam a noogie. “So how about dinner?” He walked over to the refrigerator. “Bananas for dessert?”

Sam snarled at him. “Dean!”

With a laugh, Dean turned back to the fridge and pulled out a package of frozen beef patties. “Okay, Twinkies, it is then.”

- - - - - -

A week later, just before Sam’s second date with Melanie, the cute girl from his math class, Dean showed Sam the most horrific demonstration on how to use a condom he had ever seen. (Never mind that it was the only demonstration that he had ever seen. It scarred him for life.)

Dean’s puppet show starred the spurned banana (now sporting brown spots), a shiny-packaged condom, and a Dean Winchester impersonation of a nature show narrator, complete with play-by-plays.

Melanie never understood why her adorable date turned up at her doorstep that evening in such a jumpy state, red-faced and twitching.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

AN: Poor Sammy. Now we know why he doesn’t sleep around as much as Dean does. ;P

By the way, just little tiny detail things, for those detail-oriented people who like noticing itty bitty detail-like details, like the detail that I used the word “detail” six times in this sentence: Buffy, the movie the TV show was based off of, came out in 1992. I’m thinking this story is set somewhere around 1996 or ’97-Sam’s a young teen. Buffy the TV show came out in 1997 according to IMDb, if you’re interested in dates and things like that. Dean is watching the movie version in this story.

Chapter 12: Cutting Loose

wee!chester, supernatural, fanfiction, twenty questions

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