If my Adobe Photo program had transferred to my new computer, there would be decent fic art. As it is, I just wanted to make sure that the photos that inspired the story got thrown up here with it, even though I don't have a photo program worth a damn.
Title: Nymphs, Fairies and Paranormal Hoochies
Category: Drabble, General, Humor
Characters/Pairing: Dean, Sam & mild John
Summary: Sam and Dean have tracked their hunt to a charity auction. Now what?
Word Count: 437 words.
Date Written: 02/13/2007
Disclaimer: “Supernatural” belongs to Eric Kripke and The CW. If I owned it, I’d make them do an auction in tuxes for damn sure. This story is mine and yet, I make no money off of this.
Author's Notes: This is the first Supernatural fic I ever wrote! Yay, new fandom! I really just wanted to write something based on this picture of Jared on Gilmore Girls, getting his tie adjusted. The one of Jensen in the tux isn’t bad either.
Dedication: For hiyacynth & liptonrm. May all your Valentines come in tuxedos. And look like Winchesters.
Nymphs Dean could handle. Fairies. Hell, even freaking Mermaids.
But this was ridiculous.
So some sexed-up, supernatural chick had decided to take out a few horny men at some charity auctions. From what they had seen of this case so far, it looked like the guys were getting the ride of their lives before they bit it.
Dean could only hope to be so lucky when his time came.
He glanced over at Sam, who was fidgeting with the bowtie on his tux.
"You look like a deformed orangutan in that thing," Dean said, just to be spiteful.
"I can't get the bow," Sam whined.
Dean sighed and pulled his brother toward him.
Tuxedos Dean was not so good at. Suits he didn't like much better, but at least that was something their dad had taught them.
"F.B.I. agents don't wear flannel," John had said the first time he fitted the boys for suits.
Dean had paid attention, learned how to tie a tie, how to use starch on the collar and iron out the creases.
Sam hadn't done so well.
"Head up, Sammy," John had told him. "Shoulders back. F.B.I. agents carry badges and guns. They exude confidence and cock. They don't hunch."
Dean had laughed at Sam. Sam had put him in a headlock and thrown him to the floor.
"I have to hunch," Sam had called over his shoulder, as John disappeared into the motel bathroom. "It's the only way the midget can hear me."
Dean finished fixing the bow on Sam's tuxedo and stepped back to grin at his brother. "This might be your worst idea yet, Sammy, but man do we look good."
Sam let his boyish scowl drop to grin back at Dean. "Well, I do anyway."
Dean ignored him. "So, who goes first?"
Sam reached over to press at Dean's collar and before Dean knew what was happening, he was being shoved through the red curtain and onto the auction stage. At the last second, he found the presence of mind to hook his foot on Sam's leg and pull his brother out with him, which only managed to land Dean in an even more undignified position, sprawled across the cold hard floor on his belly.
He glared up at Sam. "I swear, Sam, if this freaked-out, paranormal hoochie doesn't get you, I will."
Sam hooked an arm under Dean and hauled him to his feet. "Oh, I don't know, Dean. You might be a little busy,” Sam said, grinning and winking at the elderly blue-haired lady in the front row, who already had her bidding paddle in the air.