DRESSED TO KILL
We join the brothers on one of their more, um, unorthodox hunts; whoever would have thought alcohol and lederhosen would be such an effective combination?
3 x 100 words from Dizzo, Edina Clouds and Amberdreams, not necessarily in that order - the EO challenge word is 'tight', our own challenge word is 'over'.
Happy birthday to the lovely Vanessa Sgroi, we are delighted to present some inebriated and imperilled Dean for you. x
Disclaimer: We don't own them, we would take such good care of them if we did.
Hunting while drunk is not often a good idea. Hunting while drunk and in fancy dress is probably even more ill-advised. Though it seemed like a great idea after one bottle of slivovitz (Dean) and half a fifth of whiskey (Sam).
"Deeeeean, they're too tight, can't you wear them?"
"Shut up, Sam, it's your turn."
"I don't see how you know that invisible ghost werewolves even go for lederhosen any way. I can hardly move in these things let alone walk and when I bend over…"
"Sammy, did you just…?"
"Rip my pants? Um yeah. Ooops."
"Told ya they were too tight," Sam whined, glancing back at the ripped material.
But Dean couldn't respond - he was laughing too much; doubled over; tears streaming down his face; the effects of the slivovitz and the sight of his brother's split pants too much.
"It's not ..." But whatever Sam was about to say was cut short by the demonic howl that filled the enclave.
It was the slap-in-the-face that Dean needed and he was sober in an instant; razor-sharp instincts kicking in just in time to push his brother out of the way of the invisible beast.
Suddenly, Dean was floored as a rank body pressed down over him. It slavered foully, a growl rattling against his ear as savage claws gripped his shoulders tightly.
Without hesitation, he thrust his trusty Bic to his lips and delivered an incendiary blast of slivovitz-fortified breath into his attacker's face.
Sam followed up with two silver bullets into the shrieking creature's writhing, flame-wreathed outline.
"See Sammy," Dean grinned a soot-blackened grin, " lederhosen and alcohol; it's all a hunter needs."
Sam cringed as a breeze fluttered across his exposed nether regions.
"Needle and thread would be handy right now, too."
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