Fairy Dust Inn
Rating: umm, PG...I guess
Warnings: pure and utter CRACK
Spoilers: not a damn thing
Feedback: oh hell yea!
Disclaimer: I do not own Dean or Sam :damnit: or anything else from the Supernatural universe.
Author's Note: dont even ask...my minds a scary place to be
Sam couldn't help but laugh at his luck. Dean was already slipping in and out of sleep beside him and his own vision was starting to go blurry from driving so long.
And the first motel he finds?
The Fairy Dust Inn.
No frigging joke.
He made sure to park where Dean couldn't see the sign when he woke up, which he no doubt would once the car stopped moving.
On cue, as Sam was still in the process of putting the shifter in park he groaned and rubbed at his face.
"Yea, man, I'm dead, I'll be right back, gonna go get us a room," he said, careful to keep the chuckle waiting to break through at bay.
The keys were fuzzy…and pink…with sparkles. Sam was careful to keep the bulk of the poof ball in his hand so hopefully Dean wouldn't spot the monstrosity.
Whatever god or gods there were decided to shine down on Sam that night, because apparently Dean was so out of it that he didn't even notice the pink and purple paisley bedspread.
Or the LED lit pink globes over by the bathroom.
Or the glitter covered lampshade on the Tinkerbelle lamp between the beds.
Or the fact that the kitchenette appliances were all pink.
Or that the curtains? Oh yea, trimmed…with pink feathers.
Sam had to go into the bathroom just to keep his laughter from waking Dean.
Unfortunately whatever gods had smiled on Sam the night before decided their generosity was over because at six am Dean let out a scream before falling with a crash to the floor, wrestling and twisting with the bedspread like it was trying to eat him alive.
Sadly, Sam wouldn't be surprised if it was.
"SAM?! WHERE the HELL did you take us?"
Sam's lips twitched in a half grin half grimace.
"Fairy Dust," he mumbled, burying his face in his pillow.
"Sam!" Dean said, snatching up a pillow from his own bed and beating Sam in the head with it.
"Ow! What the fuck?" Sam squawked, when something hard smacked him in the eye. "Are those beads?" he asked, eyeing the dangling fake jewels on the end of Dean's weapon, before bursting into giggles of the fact that there was a whole row of them imprinted on Dean's face.
"You find this funny?!"
Sam just nodded before having to block another pillow attack from Dean.
"I let you drive ONCE, I let you pick the motel ONCE and we end up in Barbie's playhouse!"
"Figures you'd know what that looked like," Sam grinned.
Dean yelled at the top of his lungs beating Sam over the head again with the pillow.
"Oh my god, dude…stop!" Sam said between laughs, batting at the pillow with his hands, finally managing to land a kick to Dean's hip, sending him sprawling back down into the mess of pink and purple fabric that he had ripped from his bed.
Dean's attempt at a quick getaway from the evil material was thwarted when his feet got tangled up in it and he managed some sort of army crawl roll thing that managed to get him between the ends of the beds and the dresser free of the blanket. Finally standing again, hair in ten different directions, shirt rucked up his stomach, his boxers drug down on one hip and the phantom bead design still on his face he let out a full body shudder.
"Ugh, dude…as if pink and purple weren't bad enough but…paisley," he hissed, as if the word itself could cause the swirls to come to life to attack him again.
Sam couldn't hold it back anymore and busted out laughing, wiping haphazardly at the tears that were streaming down his face.
Dean glared, glancing over at the clear purple acrylicside table and snatching up the furry pink pen…complete with feather thank you, and hurled it at Sam's face.
Sam instantly stopped laughing when it smacked him in the cheek.
"Dude! That could have taken out my eye!"
Dean just grinned, before his eyes went wide when Sam launched himself from the bed, headed straight for Dean.
"Back off! My aim's better than that!" Dean yelled, vaulting himself over Sam's bed and heading towards the bathroom.
Sam's damn long legs got him there faster though, socked feet sliding across the tile to bar the door and Dean scrambled to change direction, picking up one of the pink glowing balls and throwing it behind him, hearing it hit with a dull plastic thunk on the floor instead of colliding with Sam.
He again launched himself over Sam's bed, laughter finally getting the better of him.
He wished he had a camera for this shit, him and Sam playing like five year olds in a pink friggin' room.
Sam caught his legs mid leap causing Dean to crash to the floor once again on top of his forgotten bedspread.
Sam managed to hold onto Dean's foot, his momentum sending him sliding across his own bed to end up half on top of Dean, half buried in the now two bedspreads that were crumpled on the floor.
"Oh my god," Dean laughed, pushing at Sam, "Get your gigantic ass off me!"
And if Sam managed to land a knee on Dean's stomach during their fumbled attempt to stand it was totally on accident.
They were both laughing so hard by the time they finally made it upright they had to lean over, Dean clutching at his side as they caught their breath.
"Shut up over there!" came a muffled pounding behind them, and they both started laughing again.
"Dude I could so go for some pancakes," Dean said and Sam just shook his head and went to get dressed.
Dean was still eyeing the crumpled mass of sheets between the beds when Sam came out of the bathroom.
"Umm…earth to Dean?"
"It's like The Blob or something, I keep waiting for it to like…attack," Dean said, waving his hands comically.
Sam just laughed, silently picking up the Impala's keys off the table before shoving Dean into the dresser between the beds and taking off for the door.
Dean caught himself against the dresser, eyeing Sam as he streaked out of the room and finally turned his head when the Tinkerbelle lamp started playing like a music box.
It wasn't until then he noticed that half the glitter from the lampshade had covered his leather jacket.
He jumped back, boots tangling in the blob, hands slapping against the leather, trying to rid his poor jacket from the evil dust only to succeed in sending little plumes of it to erupting and covering his arms, and hands, and face. All the while he's trying to stumble his way out of the sheets and towards the door where he could already here the Impala running.
And maybe…if all of Sam's white clothing happened to turn pink the next week…it was totally on accident.