BARE FACED CHEEK
WOW Swarm. It's the lovely MeAzrael's birthday and she wanted some naked and embarrassed Winchesters for her big day. So, I'm delighted beyond words to oblige - I mean, when have I ever needed a prompt to write about naked Winchesters? Really?
This kind of got away from me (I know, I know ... I'm incorrigible) um, so I present a quadruple drabble; 400 words of gratuitous nakedness. *reaches for bucket of cold water*
I hope this goes some little way towards a lovely birthday hunny x
Disclaimer: I don't own them, they really wouldn't like it if I did.
Puffing and panting, the brothers dashed wildly through the forest toward civilisation.
"I didn't know the manticore's spit was corrosive to textiles either," Dean yelled, his breath curling into vapour in the early evening chill. Hopping along right behind him, Sam shook the sizzling remains of his jeans from around his right ankle.
Dean stumbled as his jacket sleeves crinkled into nothingness, wafting away in his slipstream. "The Impala's right over on the other side of town," he yelled behind him as his shirt dissipated, it's fraying fragments swirling around him like a living swarm.
Sam's shirt fizzled away at around the same time as Dean's jeans and boxers dissolved into thin air leaving Sam with a view that would mentally scar him for the rest of his life.
"We gotta get under cover until darkness," Dean yelled breathlessly as they frantically scampered down the hill towards town.
"Uh, yeah" Sam agreed enthusiastically, realising he now only had a fading pair of boxers and one sock between him and a prosecution for indecent exposure.
"There," yelled Dean, pointing towards a big old building on the edge of town.
The gasping, shuddering brothers peeped shiftily around the corner of the crumbling building beneath a faded sign identifying it as 'Saint Bernard's Church Hall,' bare feet pitter-pattering across the deserted parking lot as they made their way toward a ramshackle wooden door.
Dean crouched before the door; "lock pick," he grunted, holding out his hand.
Sam's eyes widened as he patted his naked hips demonstrating an obvious lack of pockets; "and where the hell am I supposed to keep it?"
Dean groaned, and rammed his shoulder against the ancient door.
Inside Saint Bernard's Hall, the Churchwoman's Guild Coffee Circle sat discussing the inconvenience of traipsing across town because their parking lot was closed for resurfacing. Their spokeswoman had promised them a delicious surprise at today's meeting. However, the chocolate cake that she had lovingly baked just couldn't compare with the delicious surprise that stumbled, huffing, puffing and shivering through the fire exit.
The two naked figures froze in horror, as thirty seven good christian ladies stared open-mouthed at their unexpected visitors. Eighty year old Alice's dentures dropped into her tea, and at least two other ladies were subsequently hospitalised when their pacemakers exploded.
"Sam…" Dean croaked.
"What?" Sam whispered, unable to look at his crimson-faced brother.
"At least the heating's on."