Grudge Strip Halo Deathmatch II

Dean Winchester made the rules up as he went along - which was really annoying when he was trying to get into your pants.

This is a vignette in my Gobsmacked 'verse, taking place after Winter.


Disclaimer: The Winchester boys aren't mine but I'd make Dean wear his boots all the time if they were.

Rating: M (Language, sex and a video game console.)

Pairings: Dean/OFC

Beta: embroiderama let me get spastic sending her wee updates. Everything that rocks in this piece is because of her. The mistakes? Those are all me.


Sam decided to get the hell out of dodge for a couple of days, leaving with her brother after Saturday night dinner – carrying his duffel bag over his shoulder.

He planted a kiss on Penny's cheek when she realized it. This is as close to normal as you two might get, he whispered. They both knew it could be weeks or months before the Winchesters came back to Chicago once they left. And I want you to have it. Penny held onto Sam Winchester as long as he would let her.

Dean spent the next three days doing his best to annoy her.

She caught him eating all of her frozen cookie dough for breakfast because he didn't want to wake her up and was hungry. Somehow, he managed to sneak in enough snow from outside to make snowballs – hiding them in the freezer until Penny decided to take a shower. Penny had chased him naked through the apartment with red circles down her back. And at night, when she had other plans, Dean made her start learning a tenth century exorcism ritual because he thought it might come in handy for her to know – cruelly side-stepping every amorous overture she made until Penny could recite the first verse of what seemed like hundreds correctly.

He even started learning how to play Halo after they went to Tommy's for a Halo party and got trounced by his friends.

Penny didn't have the heart to tell him that BoomstickW was the worst handle in the history of men using video game characters as 64-bit salutes to their penises. The 'W' stands for wide, he cackled when she asked. And that was saying something, given that she once watched Bill and Daniel play Monster Rancher with a suezo they named The Big Dick just so they could laugh like idiots every time the game told them to 'Have fun raising The Big Dick.'

But Penny never doubted that 'close to normal' was all she'd be getting with Dean Winchester, between exorcism rituals and some random phone call in the middle of the night telling her to never take her charm off – and, if Penny was really as lucky as everyone thought she was, she'd never have to call Bobby Singer because it had been over a month since she heard from the Winchesters.

Small moments were all they had; an afternoon sharing a big plate of pizza rolls and watching the original Star Wars trilogy while Dean made cracks about how stupid the Empire was cloning some yahoo who couldn't even shoot straight.

Two stories slipped out about his father.

They weren't big stories. They provided no clue about the remorse she still saw on Dean's face when he mentioned John Winchester; Dean was the world's worst liar, for all that he could charm the pants off of anyone, and Penny was no stranger to the way that guilt could wear anyone down – especially when it was coupled by grief, the deadly combination that stuck her in an emergency room. When he finished the second story, Penny couldn't help herself; all she did was snuggle up next to him and try to feed him a pizza roll but she couldn't hide the big grin on her face and that was enough for him to get annoyed and throw down the gauntlet.

And you better not hold back on me, Short Stuff. I won't put out later if you treat me like a pansy.

Penny didn't have a lot of pity for him, after that.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean yelped when BoomstickW flipped forward, waving his arms and legs frantically while he screamed out a death cry. "How the hell did you get so good at this game?" he demanded. Dean didn't even let her answer. "Right. You've got six freaking older brothers, that's why." He snorted. "I should take you scamming on the video game circuit or something, PeeWee. Geek boys won't know what hit them when some short ass chick with an umbrella walks up and slaps down her entrance fee."

"Pee-Wee?" It did not get better the more he used it; even Baby Doll had become endearing. Penny glared at him over the edge of her controller. "That's worthy of a penalty." She raised her eyebrows. "So take off two things, Dean."

"But – "

"I took off two things because of the joke I made about Johnny Ramone," Penny pointed out.

"Those were your socks." Dean could sound like a pitiful kid when he wanted to, followed up with a pouty lower lip that she always wanted to suck when he jutted it out. Penny resisted the urge to lean across the couch; there were levels of propriety that needed to be maintained. She just held up two fingers and looked at him sternly. "You suck," he continued, slipping two more shirts over his head. "Whose idea was it to play this stupid game?"

"Grudge Strip Halo Deathmatch II?" she asked calmly. It was hard to even say with a straight face. It has to be the sequel, Penny, Dean had reasoned. Why else would we want to play it if the game sucks? Penny grinned at him. "Since I'm not the one who cited my bare breasts as the incentive to win, I'm confident in stating that honor goes to you." She snorted. "Maybe you should change your name to ShotgunL."

"L?" Dean eyed her warily and she giggled. His eyes widened. "Screw you, Penny!"

"The 'L' stands for loser," she managed, the controller falling from her hands and bouncing on a sofa cushion as she laughed. "But I guess it could stand for last place or looking for every opportunity to save face because I'm being beaten at a video game by a girl."

"Shit." Dean's voice was soft and he actually looked chagrined, a small laugh of his own escaping his throat as he shook his head. "I thought it stood for little…" His voice trailed off. "Isn't it unsportsmanlike conduct for the winner to mock the person in second place?" Dean demanded suddenly. Penny stopped laughing and Dean's eyes twinkled. "I knew it. One of those stupid Hillsworth rules." He leaned down and picked up his controller. "All I have to do is kill you and I can call a penalty." Dean cackled. "Your shirt is as good as off!"

After that, there was nothing but the competing clicks of button-mashing and the occasional grunt from Dean whenever BoomstickW lobbed a grenade at BiogenGrrl and she ducked out of the way. Penny decided to show him how it was done, fragging him with a grenade in mid-run.

She waited for him to lose another piece of clothing.

"You're a freak of nature," Dean grumbled, pulling off another shirt. He had finally reached the last one, frowning a little when she touched his bare chest. "If I had six older brothers teaching me every video game move known to man, I'd kick your ass, too." He snorted, diving right for his controller, and waited for BoomstickW to respawn. Dean moved around the field, getting his bearings and managing to stay under cover. "All I've got is an emo little brother who plays Hello Kitty Cube Frenzy," he added.

"It scares me that you know about a game called Hello Kitty Cube Frenzy."

"Hello Kitty is the Antichrist." Dean said it so matter-of-factly, Penny stopped watching the television to look at him. "Bullseye," he bellowed, grinning as BiogenGrrl flailed her way to an unpleasant demise. He tapped her arm. "Shirt and bra, Baby Doll. Off. Now."

"You can't choose what I take off," Penny retorted, deliberately going for the waistband of her exercise pants.

"Hey, your family enforces a time out penalty in touch football for being unsportsmanlike." The bastard actually tugged on the hem of her shirt and had it off before she could protest. "Based on those crappy rules you and Tommy came up with for Punk Pool, I'm the one who defines corollaries to penalty rules. So in Grudge Strip Halo Deathmatch II, the additional penalty for unsportsmanlike behavior is that the offended party gets to name the articles of clothing that are getting removed." Dean looked too goddamn proud of himself, the words tripping off his tongue like he was the one who went to law school.

"Fuck me," she muttered while she unhooked the clasps at her back and shimmied out of the straps. Dean's eyes went dark when the bra fell, tongue coming out slowly as he wet his lips. The damn man could detonate every pulse between her thighs just by looking at her.

"That's the plan, sweetheart." Dean knocked both controllers to the carpet, pushing her backwards against the couch. He didn't even wait for her to get settled, stretching out on top of her – circling her right breast with his lips while he cupped her left breast in his hand, rough palm a slow scrape against wrinkling skin that made her shiver. Penny pried her fingers past the elastic of his waistbands, working them past the tightness until she hit skin, and started slipping all four pairs of boxer shorts past his hips.

At least she'd given Dean a handicap when he came up with his idiotic idea to play strip Halo.

His cell started to ring, vibrating on the coffee table. "Damn it," he murmured. It was the theme song to the Thundercats. Dean pushed himself off of her, reaching into the opposite corner of the couch but she just stretched out next to him as he moved – clamping her mouth around him before he flipped open the phone. "Sam!" he yelled into the mouthpiece, giving a short hiss as she began to bob her head. "What? No, I can hear you fine." Dean grabbed Penny's hair with his free hand. "What's, uh-uh-up?"

She managed to keep Dean using words of one syllable while Sam rambled loud enough for both of them to hear what he was saying, a soft litany of 'yeah' and 'yes' and 'huh' that was enough to keep Sam talking – something about a chupacabra sighting in Utah but Provo was too far north to be their hunting ground. Dean breathed 'wendigo,' a breath just a hint too long between syllables, which launched Sam into a discussion of migratory patterns long enough for Dean to start tugging off her exercise pants; Sam thought that maybe he'd do some more research, dig up some additional eyewitness reports because it was winter. "Good," Dean observed with a gasp. Sam would meet them for breakfast in the morning. Penny was sinking down hard, roaring through Dean like a snowstorm, by the time Dean groaned "Bye," and threw his phone somewhere over his shoulder.

Rough fingers dug into her hips as Penny crashed down on him – opening her legs wider with each thrust off the couch, biting her lip as he poured through her with a shudder. She held tight to his shoulders, nails leaving marks, and Dean threw his head back with a groan – keeping time with her own heartbeat and the pulse she was licking on his neck until she whimpered and he brought his forehead down to rest against hers.

"You…fucking rock…at phone sex," Dean managed, catching his breath.

"I've been practicing," Penny answered when she could form words, hitching up slowly while they both shifted and curled up in his lap; resting her head on his shoulder. "It's all we're getting for awhile," she added, brushing the arm he pulled around her with her fingers. "The chupacabra might move to Colorado or Wyoming."

"See, now that's a problem. This whole phone sex thing only works if you call me, Baby Doll." Dean chuckled. "And you won't even call me when you're shacked up with a drip bag and hacking up your left lung."

"I feel bad bothering you when you're – " Penny squeaked when he tightened his arm around her.

"Well get over it," Dean retorted. "Because there's Sam and there's you. And that's it." He laughed, but it sounded like it was fighting with something else – getting choked up in his chest. "I think I can squeeze a phone call or two every couple of days into my busy schedule."

"Are you sure?"

"Sam might have to take the wheel if you start talking science at me."

"I'll keep all discussions on gas-foaming delivery methods to a minimum. I promise."

Dean surprised her by tucking his free hand underneath her chin and tilting up her head, kissing her gently before her fingers got a mind of their own – scratching down his chest slowly as the kiss deepened, sucking on his lower lip just like she wanted to do whenever it was there and blinking back tears all the same because she could smell vanilla in the air and it reminded her of when she was little and all of the daydreams she'd had listening to her mother's laugh came swirling back when Penny closed her eyes.

Because maybe her mother always knew, when she pulled Penny onto her lap and told her stories about luck and heroes and princesses all saving each other with second chances, that serendipity's real name was Dean Winchester.


A/N:

As always, I did my best to downplay the sexual content. If more work is needed in that regard, please let me know.

I actually self-inserted myself into this story. I'm either Bill or Daniel – take your pick. And it was my friend Krysta who played Monster Rancher with me. Contrary to popular opinion, the best part actually occurred when TBD met its untimely death. It would curl up into a little fetal position (quite the trick for a monster that basically looked like a sperm with one eye) and sad little music would play, followed by "Oh no! The Big Dick died." It was so tragic we came up with all sorts of ways to try and kill TBD. Hell hath no fury like women scorned, I guess…

The Halo references are courtesy of the ever-patient masahide. My husband once again added another line to the "why he's so cool" list by letting me pester him about Halo lingo.