I continue to be unable to RESIST THE CRACK.
Fandom: Supernatural/Numb3rs/D&D/(possibly more)
Title: Rocks Fall, Everyone Dies (AKA: Brotherly Crossover Crack with Extra Dragons, Just in Case)
Characters: A bunch of brothers
Category: Crossover, Humor, Gen, Crack
Spoilers: Yeah, probably
Summary: Dean and Sam Winchester. Don and Charlie Eppes. Playing D&D. (The party is not complete and more brothers will be added in later sessions.) Sam DMs. Because his life sucks.
Word Count: 884
Disclaimer: For once, I am okay with not owning this one.
Author's Note: Like I said, my brain is a whiny, fractious little kid with a combination of ADHD and Alzheimer's. Don't blame me. Blame my brain. And also limegreenjillo. Oh, yes, I blame her.
First night: Winchester and Eppes brothers.
Sam: All right, everybody, I think for our first meeting we should just talk about our characters and kind of get an idea for what everyone wants to get out of the campaign….
Dean: Well, I'm going to be a fighter. Duh. And I want to kill things. Also duh. Why are we talking about this? You said that this would be fun.
Sam: It WILL be fun, Dean, but first we have to set up a few ground rules, you know, figure things out before we start.
Dean: This is how it always is with you, Sam, talk talk talk, research research research. Just gimme a gun.
Sam (with the patience of a saint): No guns in this game. We're going with the basics for this first one. Maybe there will be guns later.
Dean: Then can I have a sword?
Dean: How about a katana? Katanas are cool.
Sam: No. We're not doing Oriental Adventures. There's the long sword, short sword, bastard sword—or wait! Do this. You can have a great axe, since you're a fighter. It does a d12 of damage.
Dean: Is that good?
Sam: … Yes.
Dean: Cool. Gimme that one.
Don: God, Charlie, I can't believe I let you talk me into this.
Charlie: Your therapist said that you needed something to relax, take your mind off things. This is fun. You get to kill things, and there are no moral quandaries. That's relaxing, isn't it?
Don: Well, yeah, I guess, but—
Charlie (very quietly): And you need to practice your roleplaying for your therapy sessions.
Don: How many times do I have to tell you it's NOT THAT KIND OF THERAPY? We just talk!
Charlie: Okay, okay, whatever you say. I'm just saying, this will be fun. Bunch of guys sitting around a table, taking a break from real life, killing monsters, eating junk food, talking about nothing more important than how to kill that dragon over there…
Dean (quickly): Heh, yeah, that is SO far from reality, I can't even tell ya.
Don (after a narrow-eyed look at Dean): Okay, Charlie, I'll give it a shot. But don't blame me when this backfires.
Charlie: Not gonna happen. Okay, now. (turns to Sam and starts pulling papers and books out of his bag, spreading them over the table) I have this character concept all worked up for Don, an elf ranger, fully tricked out, but I know the DM has to give permission for some of these things so…
(Sam nods and the two bend over the papers, quickly embroiled in a deep and involved discussion about just how far the rules can be stretched to allow for Charlie's elaborate plans. Dean scratches his belly and takes a swig of soda, then burps. Don squints at him and looks over to Charlie.)
Don: What are you going to be, little bro?
Charlie (looks up and flashes a grin): Why, a wizard, of course. Using my intellect to bend the universe to my will.
Don: So not so different from your day job, then?
(Charlie shrugs and goes back to the discussion with Sam.)
Dean: So, what do you guys do, anyway?
Don: Charlie's a professor at CalSci. And what do you two do?
Dean: Hey, don't think I missed your little skip, there. What do you do, Donny-boy?
Don: You didn't answer my question.
Dean: You didn't answer mine.
(The younger brothers look up as the older brothers' voices get more heated.)
Don: It's a simple question. You got something to hide?
Dean: No more than you do, man.
Don: I seriously doubt—
Charlie (sharply): Hey! This is going to be fun, remember? We're just a few working fellas getting together to explore a common interest. Seriously, you two, chill out.
(Dean and Don settle down a little, looking sheepishly at their little brothers. After all, they agreed to do this for them.)
Don (sullenly): Yeah, okay.
Dean (even more sullenly): Whatever, man.
Sam (quickly, before this devolves any further): We should also talk about adding another player or two. It's easiest with four or five people in the party, and that's what most encounters are built for.
Dean: No sweat, Sam. I met this big guy with a mullet at the bar last night, told him what you're getting up to.
Sam: You were making fun of me, weren't you?
Dean (roguish grin): Of course we were. But never mind that. The big guy, Brick or Brock or something, said he knew a couple of teenagers who could fill out the team, real enthusiastic, imaginative types. What you're looking for, right?
Sam: Oh. Okay. That sounds good.
Dean (aside to Don): Of course, he did say something about how it would be great to have them out of the house for a few hours, 'cause maybe then nothing would explode or catch fire for a while. But I'm sure that doesn't mean anything.
Don (slowly): Yes…I'm sure that…means nothing.
Charlie (meanwhile, talking to Sam): You know, I think this is going really well. Everyone seems to be hitting it off just fine.
Sam: … You're an optimistic little guy, aren't you?
Dean W: STOP EATING THE MINIS, HANK! DAMMIT! THEY ARE NOT PEOPLE-SHAPED CANDY, OKAY?