Warnings: None. Set... probably early season 3? No spoilers for anything. Pointless crack. Probable Canadianisms. Might be a little gross.
Disclaimer: I own neither the Winchesters and their associated world, or any other trademarked property inferred or referred to herein. The insanity, though, is definitely all mine.
A/N: This started as an exercise in character voices, then it hooked up with the stupidest plot-bunny ever and turned into... this. Maaaaaybe it's a metaphor. Or maaaaaaaybe it's just pure random crack. (Yeah, okay, it's crack. Yeesh.)
It was raining. No big deal; it seemed to rain a lot wherever they went, even Nevada. The real pain in the ass was when it was raining frogs. Or fish. Or blood, probably. Dean hadn't seen a rain of blood, and really hoped he might avoid the experience.
This though? This was weird. And kind of cool.
"Yep," said Dean. "And cheese."
"It's raining macaroni and cheese," Sam said flatly, not looking up from the laptop, frowning. "You expect me to believe that?"
"You don't have to believe it. If you'd pry your nose away from the laptop for a second you could see it for yourself."
"Yeah, so I look up and that's when you nail me in the face with spray cheese or something, right?" He glowered at the backlit screen. "No thanks, Dean."
"I'm not lying, Sam, seriously. It's raining mac and cheese outside right now."
"I'm not falling for it," Sam glared at the screen and resumed flipping through arcane databases.
"Come on! I haven't pranked you in months. And if I was going to, I'd come up with something more believable as a hook than 'hey, Sam, it's raining macaroni'."
"Still not falling for it, Dean."
"Suit yourself," Dean said, opening the balcony door. A waft of humid, starchy air entered the room.
Sam sniffed, and turned away from the laptop. Outside the windows and off the balcony, little orange tubes fell from the sky. "Holy crap," he said, standing. "It's raining macaroni and cheese."
"Told ya." Dean stood at the balcony doors and stared out, watching the bright orange pasta falling through the air. "Man, am I glad we picked a hotel with underground parking. Stuff would be a bitch to clean off the Impala."
Sam went the the balcony door. "Macaroni and cheese doesn't just fall from the sky, Dean."
"I know," Dean grinned. "But that's what it's doing."
"Maybe someone on an upper floor is throwing it out a window?"
Dean went out onto the balcony and looked up, narrowly missing a noodle in the eye. "Nope. It's definitely falling from the sky." He peered downward. "It's all up and down the street too."
Sam joined Dean on the balcony to watch the flying noodles pelt pedestrians three stories down. Most were running for cover, some were staring up into the sky, letting the stuff hit their faces. None seemed to be more distressed by the situation than would be normal for an unexpected rain of comfort food.
"...Okay..." said Sam, looking back up at the sky, "so... is this part of the case?"
"Are we on the trail of a high school cafeteria ghost?"
Sam considered for a moment. "Uh, not one of the possibilities we're looking at, no."
Dean smirked. "Probably not related to the case then."
"But what's causing it?"
"I have no clue." Dean shrugged, grinning. "It's awesome."
Sam held out his hand and caught a few cheesy noodles. "It's warm!"
"Looks like the same stuff we used to make when we were kids, the blue box kind..." Dean smacked Sam in the shoulder. "Dude! Do we have bowls?"
"Bowls, Sam. Did you bring the cooking kit up from the car?" He went back into the room to search.
"No..." Sam eyed his searching brother skeptically from the balcony door. "You're not seriously going to eat stuff that fell from the sky?"
Dean hadn't been planning to, but... "Why not?" Dean called back over his shoulder, "It's like snowflakes, but cheesier."
"We don't even know where it came from." He scowled at the macaroni in his hand.
"Aw, come on, Sam. There's probably nothing to this."
"Nothing to it?" Sam repeated in disbelief.
"Macaroni and cheese falling from the sky is something that just happens in Winnemucca?"
Dean waved his hand dismissively. "It'll turn out like all the rains of crap do. Some tornado picked up stuff somewhere, whipped it up into the air and dropped it somewhere else."
"Yeah, sure. A school of fish picked up by a water spout I can see. But macaroni and cheese?" Sam poked the starchy orange tubes in his hand. "Fully cooked macaroni and cheese? Where would that get picked up from?"
"Maybe it's a mistargeted humanitarian food drop?" Dean stepped out onto the balcony again, carrying a mug from the room's complementary coffee table.
Sam snorted. "Because Nevada and Somalia are so similar."
Dean shrugged and held the hotel mug out to catch macaroni. "Pilot got confused."
"Yeah, right. Even if that wasn't entirely impossible, they don't drop macaroni, Dean. Cooked or raw."
Dean watched the noodles falling, maneuvering the cup to catch clumps. "Manna."
"Manna from heaven. Or whatever. That stuff what's-his-face and his gang ate when they were hauling ass out of dodge."
Sam processed his brother's statement. "Moses? And the Israelites? Fleeing Egypt?"
"Yeah, them." Dean smirked.
Sam sighed in exasperation. "Leaving aside any theological debates, and the fact that many scholars these days figure if manna did exist, it was either a form of lichen of some kind of bug, I seriously doubt manna was cheddar-flavoured. And nothing heaven-sent is that shade of orange."
Dean shrugged. "Macaroni tanker explosion?"
"Macaroni isn't shipped in tankers. And also doesn't explode."
Dean glanced sidelong at Sam. "You have no sense of humour at all, do you Sam?"
Sam pressed his lips together and scowled. "Even if it was something like that, where would the cheese come from? And it's cooked- I mean it smells..." Sam inhaled deeply over the noodles in his hand and frowned in alarm. "It smells like sulfur, Dean."
"Ehn, that's just the cheesy stuff, it always smells weird." Dean sniffed the macaroni in his cup. "No, you're right. It does smell kinda like sulfur."
"Maybe it's demonic?"
Dean raised his eyebrows at his brother. "Demonic mac and cheese, Sam? Seriously?"
"It fell out of the sky, Dean. It smells like sulfur. This is atypical macaroni behavior."
"Macaroni behaviour. Uh huh. Right." Dean went back to catching noodles.
Sam rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."
"Yeah, but I don't think mac and cheese is a sign of the coming apocalypse, Sam."
"Even if it smells like sulfur and falls from the sky?"
Dean thought briefly. "Nah. Why would Hell want it to rain macaroni? In Winnemucca or anywhere else?"
"I have no idea," said Sam, stepping back into the room.
"There's a perfectly rational explanation for this." Dean sniffed at his half-full cup of macaroni and cheese. "Including the 'smells like sulfur' part..." He turned and saw that Sam had pulled out his phone and started dialing. "Who you calling?"
Dean smirked. "You're going to tell Bobby it's raining demonic mac and cheese in Winnemucca?"
"Please tell me your new phone has speakers, Sammy, because I so wanna hear this." Dean grinned broadly.
Sam scowled. "It doesn't. Hey, Bobby? Hi. It's Sam."
Dean continued collecting the deluging pasta and listened to Sam's half of the conversation.
"Good, Bobby... No, I uh... Was just wondering if you'd heard of any, uh, unusual weather systems heading through Nevada... maybe demonic storm patterns? ...How about just, uh, general weird weather? ...Well, because, because, uh-" Sam covered his phone with his hand and stuck his head out the balcony door. "How do I explain this, Dean?"
Dean blinked innocently. "Oh, don't ask me, Sam. You're the one who thinks we're under attack by demonic pasta."
Sam glared at Dean and removed his hand from the phone. "Because we're here in Winnemucca and there's some weird weather happening... No, not frogs. ...No, no, definitely not blood. It's, uh." Sam winced in anticipation of Bobby's response. "It's raining macaroni and cheese."
After a pause, Bobby's "WHAT??" roaring out the tiny cellphone earpiece didn't need speakers. Sam held the phone away from his ear. Dean snickered.
Sam put the phone back next to his head. "No, no, I'm serious, Bobby, it's raining macaroni and cheese here, the kind that usually comes in a blue box... no, not in boxes, cooked... No I haven't been drinking! I swear! ...It's just it smells a little like sulfur and- uh hunh? ...okay... yeah. Yeah? ...heh. Yeah, okay."
Dean came in off the balcony with his mug-full of sky-borne mac and cheese and slid the balcony door shut. "So, what did he say?"
"He said if macaroni and cheese was falling from the sky there'd probably be a rational explanation for it."
"See? What'd I tell you?"
"He also said to tell you to make your own crank phone calls, because I suck at it."
Dean shrugged equitably. "True."
"What? You do." Dean dug the EMF meter out and ran it over the mug of glistening orange macaroni with a gratifying lack of beeps and howls. "Awesome." He put down the EMF meter and grabbed a spoon from beside the coffee machine.
Sam looked on, horrified. "You're not actually going to eat that?"
Dean grinned, stirring the noodles in his mug with the teaspoon.
"It fell from the sky, Dean. We don't know-"
Dean shoveled up a heaping spoonful of unnaturally orange pasta, winked and stuffed it into his mouth.
"Eugh... Could you possibly be more disgusting?"
Dean pondered as he chewed open-mouthed. "Yeff," he said, nodding, and grinned broadly.
Sam rolled his eyes.
Dean swallowed. "Hey, sometimes weird crap just happens." He waggled a second spoon at Sam. "And sometimes, weird crap gives you a free lunch."
"No thanks," said Sam, grimacing. "I'll just keep the path clear between you and the toilet."
Dean shrugged and kept eating. Sam sighed heavily and went back to the laptop.
After a while it stopped raining mac and cheese. There was even a rainbow.
Right before it started raining Skittles.
"Alright! Dessert! Score!"
"Oh come ON!"
Post A/N: Based on a Kraft Dinner commercial which might only air in Canada, featuring a Scout troop using a geyser to make Kraft Macaroni and cheese. Set in Winnemucca because Google tells me there's a predictable geyser relatively nearby in Beowawe. And the last bit is based on those commercials where it used to rain Skittles for no apparent reason, which I can find nowhere online, but I swear I remember them in the late eighties, early nineties.
Post Post A/N: I only realized after I wrote this that one of my bunnies must have a 'Winchesters eating unexpected cheese' kink, considering the cheese-lizard dream for number 4 of Conversations. This snuck under my radar as being cheese-related because, well, the cheese content of Kraft Dinner is debatable. Anyway, twice is coincidence, three times is a cheese-ninja plot. I shall be watchful of future cheese-bunnies.