A/N: It wrote this for Halfshellvenus' birthday, she asked for it it's her fault. I feel I should probably mention that there was alcohol, but truth be told that doesn't actually change my state of mind all that much.
Candy Corn Is Of The Devil
"You know what?"
"No, Sam, I do not know what. What?" God, was Sam not going to shut up tonight? Dean was trying to watch TV! Okay, so it was some reality crap and Dean wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but whatever those girls were doing, they looked good doing it.
"We haven't killed anything evil in like, two weeks." Dean sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward.
"There hasn't been anything evil to kill in like, two weeks." Dean touched the bed frame. Sam stared at him.
"What was that?" Dean stared ahead at the TV.
"What was what?"
"You touched the bed frame." Dean pulled another handful of candy corn out of the bag resting on his stomach. It was caramel apple flavoured, the stuff was practically addictive. "Oh my god, you were touching wood!"
"You were touching wood so you didn't jinx us!" Sam beamed, practically jumping up and down in glee.
"Dude," said Dean, staring at Sam with a very disapproving look on his face, "Of course I'm touching wood." Sam became marginally less gleeful, his previous glee dimmed slightly by confusion.
"It's the week before Hallowe'en. More weird things happen at this time of year."
"Come on, you fed me this bull when I was seven. It's not going to work now."
"It's not bull!"
"Sure it isn't. In fact, I'm going to prove it." Sam smiled. "I think it's great--"
"Do not finish that sentence."
"--that there haven't been--"
"I'm serious, Sam, do not finish that sentence."
"--any evil things to kill." Sam stuck his chin out defiantly. Dean glared.
"Sam, touch some wood."
"Touch some wood now!"
"Look, Dean, I'm tired of you bossing me around just because you're older. This jinxing thing is a crock of shit and I'm not letting it go until you admit that."
"No, Sam, I'm serious, really, touch some damn ow!" Dean looked down at his handful candy corn. Or what had been candy corn until roughly one second earlier. Now he was holding a handful of candy corn-shaped... i things /i with teeth. And they were sharp teeth. And they bit really, really hard. "Holy shit!"
"Holy shit!" echoed Sam. Dean shook his hand but the little fuckers were holding on tight. Dean hoped he'd properly chewed the ones he'd eaten, because he did not want those things in his stomach.
"Ow! Ow!" Dean jumped up, spilling the rest of the bag across the bed. They twitched and rolled around on the blanket, gnashing their tiny, needle-like teeth. Dean pulled off the five that were trying to gnaw their way through his hand and threw them down on the bed as well. Sam stood beside Dean and looked down at the bizarre creatures.
"What are they?" Dean looked up at Sam and then elbowed him in the side. Hard.
"They're fucking jinxed candy corn, you fucking idiot." He held up his bleeding hand. "Look what they did to me! Look! What am I supposed to say when someone asks what I did to my hand? 'My candy corn decided it would rather be eating me'?" Sam frowned at Dean and shuffled away from his outburst.
"I'm sure you'll be able to think of something."
"Well, of course I will because I'm awesome, but still. This could've been avoided. These are unnecessarily fanged candy corn!" Sam eyed said fanged candy corn as they tried to roll off the edge of the bed.
"Okay, Dean, I'm sorry, really I am, but can we deal with the candy before you start ranting?" Dean sighed and pushed Sam out of the way so he could pick up the four corners of the blanket.
"Go get the burning stuff."
Dean glared sourly at their makeshift blanket-and-candy-corn bonfire that they were now having around the back of the motel. He'd been really enjoying that candy corn. Now he'd have to buy another bag. Sam sidled up alongside him.
"I've packed the Impala," said Sam. Dean grunted. "Look, Dean, I'm really sorry, I didn't think--"
"Just shut up and get in the car."
Woot! And joy and other stuff.