crossover crack!fic (spn/juno)
Apr. 21st, 2008 02:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
withimpunityTitle: Cravings
Pairing: SamnDean
Rating: R
Words: 745
A/n: HI THIS IS CRACK. Crossover with Juno. o.O
A/n2: Also totally![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bigfiction's crack bunny, she gets all the credit. I just wrote it for her since she’s working on the religion paper of d00m.
“Man,” Sam says, nose wrinkled up the way it usually gets when Dean overshares or tries to hook him up with some random bar slut. “In the men’s room they sell soda flavored condoms. Seriously, like Coke and Mountain Dew flavored rubbers. Can you believe that?”
Dean gets this grin on his face like Sam just said something more awesome than he did and rubs at the shadow lining his jaw. “Poor, sheltered Sammy,” he clucks his tongue and shakes his head.
“Screw off,” Sam mutters, mixing eggs with grits until one isn’t distinguishable from the other.
“Dude seriously,” Dean leans back in the booth and sips his ice tea, sets it back down and wipes the condensation on his jeans. “This one chick I was with had this pack of flavored condoms, I swear it was like that gum on Willy Wonka where you taste a complete meal-”
“Dean.” Sam looked up and frowned his disapproval. Dean threw his straw paper at him and continued.
“The first one she handed me was purple, I think, it was dark. Anyway, so I unroll it and slide it on-”
“Dean! We’re in a restaurant.”
“Oh keep your granny panties on, Thelma.” Dean rolls his eyes, but leans forward anyway and lowers his voice a little. “So anyway, I put the thing on and dude, pie.”
“Pie? What?”
“Pie,” Dean answers, biting off a piece of sausage. “Made my junk smell like warm, delicious pie, man. Only, I was trying so hard to figure out what flavor it was that I kinda forgot about Jenny - Jeanie - Jenna? going down on me.”
Sam shifts nervously in the booth, eyes darting around to make sure no one can actually hear what Dean’s talking about.
“Smelled kinda like berries. Definitely berryish. Not blueberry though. Damn it, now I’m going to be thinking about this all day.”
“Seriously, Dean?” Sam nearly squeaks as he pushes his breakfast platter away with a finger. “I really don’t want to hear about your pie balls.”
“Come on, man. This has haunted me for like,” Dean stops, counts on both hands. “Almost eight years, Sammy!”
“Boysenberry.” A voice says from behind them and Dean turns around, face to face with a round faced teenage girl with a pipe hanging out of her mouth. Dean thinks there should be wrong with this picture.
“Huh?”
“Boysenberry,” She says again around the pipe. “Dark purple? Smelled like the bastard child of a raspberry and a blackberry?”
“Well, yeah. But-”
“Boysenberry,” She says matter-of-factly and takes the pipe out of her mouth “Try Women Now, but shake a leg. I hear they’re going like hot cakes, dude. Though honestly, Diggler‘s Bakery has these sweet jelly donuts that I’m pretty sure taste a heap better than freaky berry flavored latex.”
Dean stares. “Uh. Thanks, kid. Yeah.”
“Not a problem,” She shrugs, replacing the pipe between her lips and slides out of the booth. “Just don’t tell Diggler I’m pushing his awesome pastries as sex lube and we’re kosher.”
“Uh. Roger that.”
“Later bitches,” She stands up, shocking them both with the roundness of her stomach underneath orange and white stripes. She notices them staring as she pulls her hood up. “Yeah. Guess I got the memo about pie rubbers a little too late. It‘s a sad, sad story."
They’re both still staring as she waddles out, can’t be more than sixteen or seventeen years old, old brown pipe still perched between her lips.
“That was weird,” Sam says when the bell on the diner door jingles as it closes behind her.
“You ain‘t wrong,” Dean replies, throwing a twenty on the table for their breakfast and a fair tip as he slides out of the booth.
“Where to now?” Sam asks when they get back into the Impala, pulling the map out of the glove box.
“Diggler’s?” Dean laughs nervously when Sam arches an eyebrow at him. “What? Kid flung a craving on me.”
“I know what you‘re craving,” Sam mutters as Dean pulls out of the parking lot, “and it ain’t donuts.”
Dean blushes, forgetting to look both ways as the tires squeal across the pavement. He thanks every god he can remember off the top of his head when Diggler’s has a drive through, and drives three times the speed limit back to their motel.
Dean discovers that he’s not nearly as distracted by the smell of pie when he’s the one with the the berries in his mouth.
Pairing: SamnDean
Rating: R
Words: 745
A/n: HI THIS IS CRACK. Crossover with Juno. o.O
A/n2: Also totally
bigfiction's crack bunny, she gets all the credit. I just wrote it for her since she’s working on the religion paper of d00m. “Man,” Sam says, nose wrinkled up the way it usually gets when Dean overshares or tries to hook him up with some random bar slut. “In the men’s room they sell soda flavored condoms. Seriously, like Coke and Mountain Dew flavored rubbers. Can you believe that?”
Dean gets this grin on his face like Sam just said something more awesome than he did and rubs at the shadow lining his jaw. “Poor, sheltered Sammy,” he clucks his tongue and shakes his head.
“Screw off,” Sam mutters, mixing eggs with grits until one isn’t distinguishable from the other.
“Dude seriously,” Dean leans back in the booth and sips his ice tea, sets it back down and wipes the condensation on his jeans. “This one chick I was with had this pack of flavored condoms, I swear it was like that gum on Willy Wonka where you taste a complete meal-”
“Dean.” Sam looked up and frowned his disapproval. Dean threw his straw paper at him and continued.
“The first one she handed me was purple, I think, it was dark. Anyway, so I unroll it and slide it on-”
“Dean! We’re in a restaurant.”
“Oh keep your granny panties on, Thelma.” Dean rolls his eyes, but leans forward anyway and lowers his voice a little. “So anyway, I put the thing on and dude, pie.”
“Pie? What?”
“Pie,” Dean answers, biting off a piece of sausage. “Made my junk smell like warm, delicious pie, man. Only, I was trying so hard to figure out what flavor it was that I kinda forgot about Jenny - Jeanie - Jenna? going down on me.”
Sam shifts nervously in the booth, eyes darting around to make sure no one can actually hear what Dean’s talking about.
“Smelled kinda like berries. Definitely berryish. Not blueberry though. Damn it, now I’m going to be thinking about this all day.”
“Seriously, Dean?” Sam nearly squeaks as he pushes his breakfast platter away with a finger. “I really don’t want to hear about your pie balls.”
“Come on, man. This has haunted me for like,” Dean stops, counts on both hands. “Almost eight years, Sammy!”
“Boysenberry.” A voice says from behind them and Dean turns around, face to face with a round faced teenage girl with a pipe hanging out of her mouth. Dean thinks there should be wrong with this picture.
“Huh?”
“Boysenberry,” She says again around the pipe. “Dark purple? Smelled like the bastard child of a raspberry and a blackberry?”
“Well, yeah. But-”
“Boysenberry,” She says matter-of-factly and takes the pipe out of her mouth “Try Women Now, but shake a leg. I hear they’re going like hot cakes, dude. Though honestly, Diggler‘s Bakery has these sweet jelly donuts that I’m pretty sure taste a heap better than freaky berry flavored latex.”
Dean stares. “Uh. Thanks, kid. Yeah.”
“Not a problem,” She shrugs, replacing the pipe between her lips and slides out of the booth. “Just don’t tell Diggler I’m pushing his awesome pastries as sex lube and we’re kosher.”
“Uh. Roger that.”
“Later bitches,” She stands up, shocking them both with the roundness of her stomach underneath orange and white stripes. She notices them staring as she pulls her hood up. “Yeah. Guess I got the memo about pie rubbers a little too late. It‘s a sad, sad story."
They’re both still staring as she waddles out, can’t be more than sixteen or seventeen years old, old brown pipe still perched between her lips.
“That was weird,” Sam says when the bell on the diner door jingles as it closes behind her.
“You ain‘t wrong,” Dean replies, throwing a twenty on the table for their breakfast and a fair tip as he slides out of the booth.
“Where to now?” Sam asks when they get back into the Impala, pulling the map out of the glove box.
“Diggler’s?” Dean laughs nervously when Sam arches an eyebrow at him. “What? Kid flung a craving on me.”
“I know what you‘re craving,” Sam mutters as Dean pulls out of the parking lot, “and it ain’t donuts.”
Dean blushes, forgetting to look both ways as the tires squeal across the pavement. He thanks every god he can remember off the top of his head when Diggler’s has a drive through, and drives three times the speed limit back to their motel.
Dean discovers that he’s not nearly as distracted by the smell of pie when he’s the one with the the berries in his mouth.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 08:18 pm (UTC)Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, pie. And Dean. And pie-flavoured Dean. OK, I have to go have a lie-down...
no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 01:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-22 04:38 am (UTC)Think of all the making fun of Sammy they could have. And maybe Mark and Sam...
Mmmmm.
*likes*
no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 01:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-22 04:59 am (UTC)“Dark purple? Smelled like the bastard child of a raspberry and a blackberry?”
ROFL. Oh, McGee, my darling love. You wrote me Supernatural/Juno BERRY CONDOM CONVERSATION CRACK.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 01:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-22 06:16 pm (UTC)and your Juno was spot on.
mmm, pie flavored Winchesters. this is something I shall have to ponder for the rest of the day. ;p
no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 03:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-24 08:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-24 06:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-10 04:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-10 05:32 pm (UTC)