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jebbypalSo, first there was Sparky, We're In Kansas, without which, this will make NOOOO SENSE.
And then my frog muse went travelling or hibernation or something. However, the snark of Folsom Prison Blues woke him up or gave me a small visit and I got this. And I know a few of you could use a laugh, so I'm posting it even though it's SHORT, UNBETA-ED, and absolute crack.
Enjoy.
It’s sixty miles to the next travel plaza with a working pay phone. Sixty miles of very loud music combined with Dean’s singing voice and that of their male hitchhiker, John.
Sam just slides further down in his seat. In the side mirror, he can see the woman watching Dean and John with a bemused expression like she’s just meeting them for the first time. At a sci-fi convention. And they’re dressed like Andorians.
Sam winces as Dean misses yet another note. No, Vulcans. They’d be dressed like Vulcans. He’s pretty sure anyone that pulls out grey face paint would be able to hit musical notes in order to NOT embarrass themselves further.
“Thank God,” Sam says as they pull to a stop at the plaza.
“Sparky, stay inside the car,” John orders. Sam makes a face at the whimpers that the thing answers in. “Because, Buckwheat. They aren’t going to leave us so long as you’re in their car.”
“At least not until we throw it’s ass out,” Dean says quietly to Sam. Sam looks up just in time to see the glare from the woman. Aeryn, he thinks John called her. Being a good ten feet away and still in the car, surely she couldn’t hear Dean. Then again, her eyes say differently.
“You do that. I wouldn’t mind watching her kick your ass again,” Sam replies. Aeryn smirks.
“She got lucky. It’s not every day I get distracted by freaks dropping out of the sky onto my baby.”
Aeryn shakes her head. Then she gets out of the car. Even Sam can’t help but notice that the leather she wears hugs all the right places.
“Why don’t you go get us some food while he’s on the phone,” Sam says.
“Why don’t you go do that, Sammy. Me, I think I’ve got something more important to do,” Dean answers.
Sam looks at his brother and sees sign of imminent horndog activity. “Oh no. Look, it’s obvious they’re together. If you piss both of them off and they try to kill you, I’m not going to save you.”
“As if,” Dean says before sauntering off. Sam looks past him to where Aeryn is leaning against the trunk of the Impala. Sam’s been told before (by Jesse. And a couple of others) that he’s crap at reading women, but he doesn’t think it takes a rocket scientist to read the expression on her face. She knows what’s coming and she’s amused as hell by it. And for once in his life, Dean Winchester’s charm doesn’t stand a chance.
TBC as the muse allows.
And then my frog muse went travelling or hibernation or something. However, the snark of Folsom Prison Blues woke him up or gave me a small visit and I got this. And I know a few of you could use a laugh, so I'm posting it even though it's SHORT, UNBETA-ED, and absolute crack.
Enjoy.
It’s sixty miles to the next travel plaza with a working pay phone. Sixty miles of very loud music combined with Dean’s singing voice and that of their male hitchhiker, John.
Sam just slides further down in his seat. In the side mirror, he can see the woman watching Dean and John with a bemused expression like she’s just meeting them for the first time. At a sci-fi convention. And they’re dressed like Andorians.
Sam winces as Dean misses yet another note. No, Vulcans. They’d be dressed like Vulcans. He’s pretty sure anyone that pulls out grey face paint would be able to hit musical notes in order to NOT embarrass themselves further.
“Thank God,” Sam says as they pull to a stop at the plaza.
“Sparky, stay inside the car,” John orders. Sam makes a face at the whimpers that the thing answers in. “Because, Buckwheat. They aren’t going to leave us so long as you’re in their car.”
“At least not until we throw it’s ass out,” Dean says quietly to Sam. Sam looks up just in time to see the glare from the woman. Aeryn, he thinks John called her. Being a good ten feet away and still in the car, surely she couldn’t hear Dean. Then again, her eyes say differently.
“You do that. I wouldn’t mind watching her kick your ass again,” Sam replies. Aeryn smirks.
“She got lucky. It’s not every day I get distracted by freaks dropping out of the sky onto my baby.”
Aeryn shakes her head. Then she gets out of the car. Even Sam can’t help but notice that the leather she wears hugs all the right places.
“Why don’t you go get us some food while he’s on the phone,” Sam says.
“Why don’t you go do that, Sammy. Me, I think I’ve got something more important to do,” Dean answers.
Sam looks at his brother and sees sign of imminent horndog activity. “Oh no. Look, it’s obvious they’re together. If you piss both of them off and they try to kill you, I’m not going to save you.”
“As if,” Dean says before sauntering off. Sam looks past him to where Aeryn is leaning against the trunk of the Impala. Sam’s been told before (by Jesse. And a couple of others) that he’s crap at reading women, but he doesn’t think it takes a rocket scientist to read the expression on her face. She knows what’s coming and she’s amused as hell by it. And for once in his life, Dean Winchester’s charm doesn’t stand a chance.
TBC as the muse allows.