AN: Yes, more crack fic from me. Are we even surprised anymore? Reviews are appreciated!
Now, Dean is a guy's guy. Sure, sometimes people think he and Sam are gay, but that's probably because they're always together, and people are just ignorant that way.
But the thing is, even if Dean was gay, he's still a guy's guy. Butch, even. A beer-chugging, Chevy-loving, skirt-chasing man of a man.
Which is why, when he starts talking like a fifteen-year-old valley girl, it's a bit of a conundrum.
A pretty fucking annoying one.
"Shut up, slutface!" Dean glares at Sam, who would. not. stop. laughing. "You're like, totally such a bitch! I'm your, like, brother, you whore, and you're just totally being mean!"
"Oh my god," Sam manages to gasp out in between extended periods of laughter. Dean hopes he'll choke to death. "This is too good, I need to record this – where's the video camera?"
"If you do, I will like, totally crush you, bitch ass." Dean narrows his eyes threateningly. When he's not talking it's even still kind of scary. But apparently whatever is making him talk this way has also gifted him with the inability to shut up, so he pretty much just ruins it by going, "Like, seriously! You know I'm totally more awesome than you that way, but like, its not like it's your fault that you're really retarded."
To top it off, he's posing with one hip cocked to the side and his arms crossed, and he's got this really bitchy, condescending expression. Sam really wants to find that camera. Moments like this need to be captured for posterity. And blackmail.
"Hey, when I find the camera, can you do that again?" he asks, and he's pretty sure Dean wants to growl, but he's also pretty sure that Dean can't, and that's pretty fucking awesome.
"Ew! Like, whatever. Leave me alone, whore." And Dean actually does that hand-flopping thing, and Sam's kind of died and gone to a really bizzarre heaven where his brother is secretly a teenaged girl. With major attitude.
"Seriously, if this turns out to be a case, it's one of the most awesome we've ever had."
Dean really kinda wants to strangle Sam, but he's terrified that he'll be unable to and all he'll manage is to give his little brother a couple of bitchslaps or pull his hair and then all that would happen is he'd like, break a nail or something.
Wait a minute.
"Um, like, Sammy?" Dean says. "We kind of, have like, y'know, a problem?"
Sam is probably going to die from laughing so much. He started up again when Dean began with the sentence, "So, like, I think I'm totally turning into this bitch!" and kept it up all through Dean trying to explain it, which is actually really difficult when he speaks valley girl and Sam doesn't. It's only when Dean sighs huffily and pouts, saying, "Okay, so like, for a complete hottie, you're totally a jerk." that it really strikes home what Dean is trying to say, because Dean would never call him a hottie. Ever. So yeah, something's wrong with Dean.
Not that it makes it any less funny, of course. "So wait, you're telling me that you're possessed by a teenaged girl and she's slowly taking over?"
"Like, duh! What have I been saying?" Dean gives him a look that says he wants to slit Sam's throat for being such a dumbass. Or maybe his own, because this whole thing is really not cool. "I mean, why else would I be all totally, y'know, not me?"
"I dont know, man, you're into pretty weird shit sometimes," Sam offers, but this is really not the right thing to say to Dean at the moment.
If anything could convince Sam that this was something supernatural, it would be Dean bursting into tears. Actual goddamn tears, and actual freaking sobs. "I don't get why you're so mean to me! I mean, we're like, totally BFFs, and related and all, and you're like, being a total bitch!"
"Jesus Christ, Dean, are you actually crying?"
"Like you care! You don't care about me at all, you think I'm fat!"
"I – what now?" Sam is suddenly glad he never really had the whole high school experience. Girls in college were bad enough, he doesn't think he could deal with ones in high school.
"I HATE YOU!" Dean screams at him, then takes off, bursting through their door and running out into the town.
Okay, so it turns out that an upset teen girl, in Dean's extremely trained body, can escape Sam easily, ducking under low trees that just mess Sam up or scaling wire fences in a manner that Sam's pretty sure most fifteen year olds can't do. Sam's been searching for about twenty minutes, when Dean finally seems to regain control and hauls himself out of a Bergdorf Goodman outlet.
Sam gives him a look. "Dude, seriously?"
"Like, shut up already, bitch, I totally couldn't help it!" Dean snaps. "And it was like, really calming, y'know? Just breathing in the air there is totally like therapy."
"Oookay," Sam says. "I think we need to research this thing."
"So, there's quite a number of possibilities: about seven teenaged girls who have died in the past five years. Most of them were accidents, though; road accidents and stuff. But there's one 'mysterious circumstances' – a Regina Torres -"
"Oh, ew, please. Regina? What kind of lameass name is that? But like, she was totally a retard anyway." Dean made a move like he was flipping his hair, except that since he still had a crew cut it was just some motion in the air.
Sam blinked. "Um – okay. So she isn't who's possessing you?"
Dean examined his fingernails. "Like, no way, oh my god. I'm like, totally way cooler than that Regina slut. Hey, can I like go for a manicure after this? My nails are seriously skanky."
"Um, yeah, sure," Sam says. Dean with a manicure is blackmail that's gonna be worth the ass-whooping Sam is probably going to get. "But before that – do you know who you are? I mean, who's possessing you?"
"Well, duh. I'm right there." Dean leaned over Sam to point a finger at the laptop screen. "Isn't that such a cute picture of me? I mean, not like I ever had bad ones, but y'know. My hair is bitching."
Sam looks at where he's pointing. There's an article, with a picture of a pretty girl pouting her lips, and the name 'Brittany Tyler Moore' printed beneath it. "Huh."
"Like, where are we going?" Dean whines. Actually, it's probably Brittany who's whining, since she's also the one switching the radio stations until a Lindsay Lohan song comes on, and then sings along. Dean likes Lindsay and all, but he's never heard her music.
"We're going to your – Brittany's – high school. That's where you were killed, right?"
"Ugh, do we really have to go? Like, that bitch CeeCee is totally going to be there, whoring herself out to Jared, who is like, mine. Slut. And I bet she's totally stealing my routine, too."
Sam has a sneaking suspicion of what will happen if he asks, and he knows for sure that Dean will kill him dead later, but right now he can't help himself. "What routine?"
"Oh," Brittany-in-Dean grins, then poses with his arms bent and fists on his hips. "Ready? OK!" He thrusts one hand straight up, and then – Sam has honestly never laughed so hard in his life and has to pull over while this goes on – he begins to chant, while dancing in his seat and waving imaginary pompoms. "I'm sexy! I'm cute! I'm popular to boot! I'm bitching! Great hair! The boys all love to stare!"
Dean is swinging his hips from side to side almost obscenely, and Sam really, really, really wishes he had that video camera.
"I'm wanted! I'm hot! I'm everything you're not! I'm pretty! I'm cool! I dominate the school! Who am I? Just guess! Guys wanna touch my chest! I'm rocking! I smile! And many think I'm vile! I'm fly and I jump! You can look but don't you hump! WOO! I'm major! I roar! I swear I'm not a whore!"
Dean's gone from almost-obscene to flat out explicit, and whoa Sam is going to have to go to a lot of therapy to get that image of his brother out of his head.
But he still wishes he could film it, because this right here? Would set Sam's blackmail material for fucking life.
"Oh my god, I knew it! That slut!" Dean shrieks when they finally arrive at the high school, and see a group of cheerleaders and jocks hanging out in the parking lot. They turn when they hear Dean, and Sam just smiles calmly but pokes Dean sharply, and miracle of miracles, Brittany seems to let Dean stay silent.
"So this is where it happened, right?" Sam clarifies. He read in the news article that Brittany had been killed in the school parking lot after cheerleading practise. By a bus.
"Yeah," Dean says. "Like, one minute stupid Jeff is tossing me like, really far out, and then when I get up, I'm like getting run over. Mean Girls much?"
"Huh," Sam says, and looks around them. There doesn't appear to be anything supernatural, no runes or magical artifacts lying about.
"That bitch! She's totally trying to dig her skanky little whore claws into Jared – I'll like, be back, okay, Sam?"
Before Sam can stop him, Dean is stalking over to the group of teenagers, where he can see one of the girls blatantly pressing herself up against one of the guys. "Oh, this does not bode well," Sam mutters to himself, then tries to chase after. "Dean! Dean! Oh, for – Brittany!"
He's completely ignored, and Sam watches in fascinated horror as Brittany, in Dean's older, bad-boy body, swaggers up to a small little blonde. "Hey," he says, and Sam thinks that that's the least Brittany has said in for as long as she's been possessing Dean.
The girl looks up at him admiringly, and immediately pulls away from the younger boy that she's been clinging to. "Oh my god, hi!"
CeeCee nods rapturously. Dean smirks, and Sam feels very, very sorry for CeeCee. "You were, like, friends with Brittany?"
CeeCee immediately looks affronted, but smiles sweetly. "Yeah, it was like, such a tragedy, when she died. Are you like, her cousin or something?"
Dean smiles his most charming smile. "No, I was totally in love with her, she was so hot." Then he clapped a hand over his mouth in fake sympathy. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I know how hard it must be for you to like, hear about other people's hotness, since you're like, y'know, not."
Sam thinks maybe it's kind of really obvious there's a teenage girl speaking for Dean, but CeeCee just bursts into tears, even as Dean smirks again. When Dean winks in the direction of one of the jocks, though, Sam grabs him by the arm to pull him away, before they can be arrested for soliciting minors or something.
"That was fun," Dean says happily.
"So, okay, you like, totally promised me a manicure. And ooh, we should go shopping! I bet I've missed out on like, a ton of new clothes!" Dean exclaims, slurping his celery soy milkshake that's really kind of disgusting, but apparently it has near-zero calories and Dean is a hippo who needs to lose some pounds. Or that's what he says, or rather, what Brittany says, because his brother's apparently been possessed by a fifteen year old who was the size of a toothpick. Sam knows its really unhealthy, but he lets Brittany do what she will with Dean. After all, its temporary, and this way she doesn't start giving him a critical eye every time he bites into his double cheese burger. There's just something very fundamentally wrong with having his big brother, who he's seen gobble down three plates of ribs without a blink, looking at him like he's going to burst out of his clothes if he so much as sniffs at a steak.
"Um," Sam says, because he's pretty sure if he says no, Dean's going to start bawling again. But he can't actually support shopping for girl's clothes; besides the creepy factor, there's probably still a line to be drawn concerning what Sam lets possessed-Dean do, and cross-dressing as a valley girl is probably it. "We don't really have the money," he says instead.
"Oh," Dean says, looking distraught. "I thought these clothes were like, a fashion statement, or something. Like, 'I dress in the dark', y'know? But to be actually, like, poor? That's so tragic."
"Um. Yeah," says Sam, and then hustles Dean back to the motel when he starts to make googly eyes at their waiter.
Sam's sort of regretting letting Dean take control of the cable TV in their motel room, because now they've watched nothing but soap operas for seven hours. Dean has a crush on Eric Brady in Days of Our Lives, and makes frankly disturbing noises whenever he comes on. Sam's just trying to find a way to exorcise Brittany without sending her to hell, because she might be a living hell to deal with but she isn't actually evil, and besides which Sam really owes her for all the blackmail he now has on Dean.
He sees a spell for removing a spirit from an object, and reads it out to himself. "Phasmatis absum ex is res , is est non vestri sumo..."
Dean turns and gives him an odd look, but then turns back to squealing over Eric.
"Recedo ex is vas , immunda res," Sam mumbles another incantation, and Dean gives him another irritated look; whether its because Sam's not speaking English or because he's distracting Dean from his soap opera hero, he isn't sure, but he tries the next spell in barely over a whisper. "Everto exsisto privatus ex vestri captivus , quod captivus solvo vestri everto -"
"Do you, like, mind?" Dean finally snaps. "It's like, really impolite to try and remove me from this body without asking me first, whore. And hello? I'm not a demon, so it won't even work, you retard."
"Oh. Sorry," Sam apologises. "But how do we remove you?"
"You could always like, just ask. Sheesh."
"Um," Sam says doubtfully. "Would you have gone?"
"Of course. Well, probably. Maybe. Okay, no, because there's an Issey Miyake sale coming up and I totally need to go. But I would have left like, after that."
"Um, okay. So you'll go soon?" Sam asks hopefully.
Dean pouts at him. "Do you really want me to go? I thought we were like, having fun, Sammy. I thought you liked me."
Sam gets the feeling that he's missed something really, really huge. "Of course I do, De – um, Brittany?"
"I totally knew it!" Dean says happily. "And like, don't worry, Sam, I really like you too! So I can totally, y'know, stick around, and we can like, be together!"
Oh yeah, Sam's definitely missed something. "Well, um, not that I wouldn't like that, but you're kind of – in my brother, and I'd really like him back."
"But this way you like, have both of us, which is totally more awesome," Dean says, and then leans in to kiss Sam.
Sam can't do much but freeze in terror as his brother's face shifts to align itself with his, and he wonders frantically how much Dean would hurt him if he broke Dean's nose right now, but then he figures that since it would spare them from kissing, Dean really can't complain, and he draws back his hand to strike out. But before he can throw the punch, Dean's sort of – spasming, and the lust that Sam tried not to see on his face clears up. Then Dean grabs Sam's arm to prevent the blow, and Sam wants to laugh in relief, because this is Dean and Brittany's gone.
When Sam laughs, Dean joins in, because he's just so fucking happy to be back in control of his own body and not have to sing ridiculous pop songs or drink crappy vegetable shit, or kiss his own brother.
Dean isn't about to let people think they're right about him and Sam being gay, because they really aren't. Dean is a beer-chugging, Chevy-loving, skirt-chasing man of a man, after all.
Which is what he told that total bitchface, because hello? It was totally his body and all, and no way was Dean going to let her like, take over and be a slut, y'know?