Title: If I Were A Boy
Disclaimer: Kripke's characters for the most part, a few OCs mentioned, you can tells who's who – I've got faith
Drabble Challenge Word: "Frame"
Word Count: 760. What can I say? This got away from me.
Players: Go to Enkidu07's page, and you'll find all the usual suspects. Resistance is futile – you will be drabbleized.
Spoiler Alert: None
Author's Notes: I have to give a shout to my DH, who gave me the idea for the title. Thanks, my imzadi.
Some more Author's Notes: I'm warning you right now – this is complete and utter crack. It's what happens when I get inspired, when the mood takes me… or as my DH says "it's what happens when you don't take your meds."
My guy. Gotta love him.
Dean sat down behind Sam, who was perched cross-legged on his motel bed, humming along to the latest Miley Cyrus song.
"Ready, bro?" he asked, playfully ruffling the younger man's tresses.
Sam turned and flashed a bright smile at his older brother. "I'm, like, so ready, Dean!" He settled back with a happy sigh as his brother started to brush his hair.
"You are so totally lucky, Sam" Dean cooed as he ran the comb down through his brother's locks. "You're hair just falls so pretty, it totally frames your face, really highlights your features." Dean pouted slightly. "I so wish my hair would behave…"
"Oh, whatever!" Sam tsked, rolling his eyes. "You're the one that's lucky! You can eat, like,anything you want and never gain an ounce!"
Dean giggled, then sat back and proclaimed "Done! Hey Sam, did Bobby say how long this spell was going to, like, last?"
Sam turned around so he was facing Dean and gave him a shrug. "Yeah, once he'd stopped, like, laughing his head off. He said it should be something like twenty-four hours, give or take."
"And he said we should stay here?"
"Uh-huh. That we needed to keep, y'know, a low profile."
"So I can't drive Baby? We can't even go shopping?!" Dean sounded beyond scandalized.
"Um…" Sam twirled a strand of hair around his index finger, thought back to Bobby's instructions. What he could understand of them anyway; by the end of their phone call Bobby had been wheezing and muttering something about needing a very stiff drink. He shook his head sadly. "Nope. Bobby said we'd attract too much, like, attention."
Dean pouted again. "That sucks. Stupid witch. All we were doing was asking some, y'know, questions…." his lower lip suddenly trembled, "and we have a teeny little difference of opinion…"
"Um, Dean, you called her a 'nasty old crow'…"
"Only after she said we were sniping at each other like her 13 year old grandnieces! So she has to go and, like, curse us so we act like them..." His green eyes began to well with tears. "And then Bobby's got to be such a drag and tell us we can't even go to the mall. It's so NOT fair!" The last sentence had a distinctly whiny edge to it.
"Oh, hey, c'mon now…. Dean, don't you dare start crying or you'll get me started too!" Sam said, a few sniffles already breaking through. He took a deep, quivering breath, forced himself to calm down. Freaking mood swings… "This is so, like, stupid. We're HUNTERS, Dean! We're Winchesters… we're freaking GUYS, dude! This is just another spell… Bobby's sure it'll wear off; we just need to be cool 'til it does."
Dean blinked away the tears. "Well, if I'm gonna be cursed with
something this, like, weird…" He looked down at the bedspread,
then gave Sam a warm smile.
"I'm glad you're here with me."
Sam's answering smile was beyond radiant. "I am too, bro. At least we're facing it, like, together." He held out his arms for a hug. Dean didn't budge.
"Um, Sam, no 'Chick Flick' momen-"
"Dean, all we're gonna have for the next twenty four hours are, like, 'Chick Flick Moments'" Sam reminded him dryly.
Dean blinked, smiled, and gave his brother a quick embrace. "Hey, Bobby said we shouldn't leave and go shopping, right?"
"Uh-huh" Sam replied, looking down at his nails. Ugh! They were so gross… he really needed to take better care of them. "So what's your point?"
Dean's smile was positively mischievous. "But he didn't say we had to, like, stay right here in the motel room, right?"
"Welllllll…" Sam drawled the word out. "He said we should stay around the motel... but no, he didn't say we had to, like, stay IN the room." His hazel eyes lit up. "You thinking what I'm thinking?'
"Mrs. Parker's SUCH a nice lady…" Dean began, thinking about the elderly motel manager, a kind woman that had reminded him of Mrs. Santa Claus when she gave them their keys.
"Totally nice" Sam agreed.
"And she said we could just hang out with her in the office and talk, it being, like, the off-season and us being the only ones here…"
Sam jumped off the bed. "C'mon! Let's go talk to her! I'm SO sure she'd like some company!" Sam looked down at his hands again. "Maybe she can help me do something about my nails."
"After she takes a look at mine…"
Happily chattering away, the Winchesters left the room.