Fic meme!

[ratherastory]

Seen on de_nugis' and road_rhythm's LJs.

Tell me about a story I haven't written, and I will give you 1-3 sentences from or about it.

Comments

[blueeyedliz.livejournal.com]

Awesome meme! :D

How about the one where Sam has to shave off all his hair and Dean is the one who mourns the loss the most.

[ratherastory.livejournal.com]

It's kind of ironic that, after the giant fuss Sam put up about his hair all their lives, that now he doesn't seem all that worried about having it all shaved off. Sure, Dean's always been at him to get a proper buzz cut, and Sam was the first to point out that he's finally getting what he always wanted, but somehow Sam just doesn't look much like Sam anymore with only thin stubble doing nothing to hide the ugly scar that snakes from his right temple to all the way behind his ear.

By all rights, Sam should be freaking out, but in the end it's Dean who derives the most comfort when Sam stretches out on the sofa, sprawls in Dean's lap and lets his brother pet the soft fuzz that's growing back in slowly, until they both fall asleep right there in front of the staticky television.

[ravelqueen.livejournal.com]

the one where there are no demons, Mary lives, but the Winchesters still manage to turn Christmas into chaos^^

[ratherastory.livejournal.com]

It's Sam who notices the funny smell at first, but it takes a while to identify it as a crack in the furnace, which means that they have to turn the heat almost all the way off so the whole house doesn't go up in a ball of flame. Dean thinks it would be cool, but the look he gets from Dad tells him it would be a really bad idea to voice that thought aloud. There are no repairmen available until after Christmas because it's the holiday season, they're busy, and anyway it's not like they can afford the holiday rates.

Sam tries to help Mom with Christmas dinner, but his mashed potatoes turn out weird and lumpy, and the turkey doesn't thaw in time for it to be cooked properly. Dad trips over the dog, who's been underfoot in the kitchen all day, hoping for scraps, and somehow sprains his ankle amidst a string of curses each more colourful than the last.

In the end Mom makes hot chicken sandwiches from yesterday's leftovers, and they pile together on the sofa —Dad with an ice pack tied to his ankle— and watch 'It's a Wonderful Life' on the TV until Sam falls asleep on Dad's shoulder and Dean curls up in Mom's lap and nobody says anything about it at all.

[alexseanchai]

The one where they're dealing with the fallout from Sam's baby dying.

wait, no.

[ratherastory.livejournal.com]

"What if she's not dead?"

Dean looks up from where he's been reading the obituaries, startled. Sam is sitting cross-legged on his crappy motel bed, staring at the photos of Jess he keeps in his wallet, hair falling into his face.

"What?"

"What if she's not dead, Dean?" Sam turns eyes on Dean that seem to take up half his face. He's lost a lot of weight since they left Stanford, is gaunt and hollow-eyed, the haunted look never leaving his face these days. "I've been thinking about it," he insists. "They never found her, right?"

"Sam..."

There's no good way to tell your little brother that denial is not a healthy choice for dealing with his dead baby. There's a selfish part of Dean that kind of wants to let Sam cling to this hope, futile as it is, because at least then it'll give him a reason to keep going.

Sam fiddles with the cuff of his jeans, already beginning to fray. He's going to need new clothes, soon. "Do you think... when we find Dad... Do you think he'd help us look for her?"

Someone has replaced Dean's lungs and heart with a ball of molten lead. It hurts to even think about drawing breath.

"Sure, Sammy. Of course he will."

[azziria.livejournal.com]

The cracky one where Sam and Dean meet Shrek.

[ratherastory.livejournal.com]

Sam shuffles uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "This wasn't really what I was expecting," he whispers to Dean.

"Dude, preaching to the choir."

The ogre glares at them from the head of the rough wooden table where he and what appears to be a wife and multiple children are all sitting down to a meal. The meal looks perfectly ordinary, too, if a little disgusting by human standards.

"Can ye not read?" the ogre shouts in a heavy Scottish accent. "No intruders! Do I come barging into your homes while ye're having supper? No! It's the height of rudeness, isn't it, Fiona!"

The ogre's wife nods. "It is. Next time, you should write ahead to let us know you're coming, at the very least. You're very lucky Shrek here hasn't tossed you out already with a flea in your ears."

"Um, I don't think they're the monsters we're looking for," Sam whispers again.

"Yeah, you think?"

The ogre rolls it's eyes. "Oh, yes, monsters. Just because people are dying mysteriously, it must be the ogres who live in the woods and don't bother anyone at all. It's absolutely logical!" it says sarcastically. "Look, next time dispense with the formalities and just come with your mob with torches and pitchforks, it'll save us all a lot of bother."

"We're very sorry to have intruded," Sam stutters, and he and Dean tuck their tails between their legs and hightail it out of there with very little regard for their own dignity.

[tifaching.livejournal.com]

The one where Dean's deaf and he gets kidnapped by Santa's elves at Christmas.

[ratherastory.livejournal.com]

(Sorry for the giant images. I can't seem to resize them.)

[de-nugis.livejournal.com]

The one where Sam and Dean fight over who gets the last popsicle in the GOOD flavor, and Cas does not understand the issue and feels that other things are more important.

[ratherastory.livejournal.com]

"Why can you not each just take one of the remaining popsicles?"

Dean rolls his eyes as though Cas has just said one of the most ridiculous things ever and, okay, Sam is inclined to agree with him. "Because, Cas, one of them is grape-flavoured, and grape tastes like ass. So it's Sam's turn to get the gross popsicle."

Sam socks him in the arm. "No way. You pulled that trick the last two times, so I kept track this time. It's your turn to get the grape one, quit trying to weasel out of it!"

"I am not! It's totally your turn."

Sam opens his mouth to argue, but before he can so much as manage a word, Castiel steps forward, takes the cherry popsicle out of the box, unwraps it and promptly puts it in his mouth. When Sam and Dean gape at him, he smiles around the popsicle with red-stained lips.

"I have not had a turn yet. You two may share the grape popsicle."

[(Anonymous)]

What about the one where Sam and Dean are trapped by the wrist and they have to decide which one uses the hacksaw to cut them both free before they drown/burn/suffocate..?

[ratherastory.livejournal.com]

Okay, it's a dirty trick, but Sam figures it's better that than both of them dying. Dean's better-positioned to survive this, and anyway, they both know Sam is broken beyond fixing and has been for a very long time.

So he feels a little bad for sucker-punching his brother and taking the hacksaw from his limp fingers, but not nearly as bad as for what he's going to do next. Tying a good tourniquet with only one hand and his teeth is hard, but Sam has found that he can do pretty much anything when he's properly motivated.

The wound bleeds a lot in spite of the tourniquet when Sam has finished sawing, and he's pathetically grateful that Dean stays unconscious throughout, because it's damned hard to saw through bone, not to mention horrifiying. The water is up to their chests, now, blood swirling in crimson eddies around them. He tries to make sure Dean's arm stays elevated by his shoulder, makes sure Dean is floating on his back. Eventually the water will lift him all the way up and out of here, and maybe someone will find him.

Sam looks down to where his hand is still trapped, and takes a deep breath. If he's lucky, he might not pass out while he's sawing. If he's really lucky, then he will pass out, and none of this will matter at all.

[embroiderama]

The one where Danny Williams meets Sam Winchester.

[ratherastory.livejournal.com]

"It's gotta be the growth hormones in the milk these days, I swear to God. I mean, what even?" the little blond man sputters, gesturing expansively up and down at Sam.

Sam flushes a little and hunches his shoulders more. "Um."

"Don't mind Sammy, he's always been a mutant freak."

The blond guy arches an eyebrow. "Oh, don't give me that, you're almost as bad. I swear to God, first Steve, now you two, what am I even supposed to make of this? What the hell are you doing in my crime scene, anyway? Are you friends of Steve's? It wouldn't surprise me if you were."

"Uh, yes?" Dean ventures, and the guy's features darken.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You're lying through your teeth." A moment later he has a gun in his hands, trained expertly on them. "On the floor, both of you, and hands where I can see them. Now!"

When they're face down on the floor, fingers laced behind their heads, Dean twists a little until he's facing Sam.

"I hope you realize this is all your fault."

[jennytork.livejournal.com]

The one where Dean is so congested and cranky that he blows out both his eardrums when sneezing and doesn't realise it until he's well and Sam is horrified and awesome taking care of his grumpy-assed big brother.

[ratherastory.livejournal.com]

It's actually after the two weeks of misery that Sam figures out something is wrong. Dean's not as sick anymore, can actually breathe through his nose even if it still presents some difficulty, and the swelling in his sinuses has gone down enough that he can keep his eyes open now and doesn't need to alternate hot and cold compresses to keep from moaning in pain. He's even back to regular cold medicine to manage the symptoms instead of the heavy-duty antibiotics that wreaked havoc with his digestive system.

Dean's blowing his nose for the billionth time, sitting shotgun because he's still too sick to drive for long. He wipes his nose with the tissue, reaches for another one. "God, that's annoying."

"You've been blowing your nose for two weeks. How is it only starting to annoy you now?"

"No, I mean the whistling noise when I do it. That's sort of new. And annoying."

Sam doesn't even bother to ask for Dean's opinion before driving directly to the nearest clinic. He doesn't say a word when he sees Dean's face fall at the news that he's perforated both his eardrums, just accompanies him to the drugstore to get his prescription.

Later that evening he lets Dean lay his head in his lap while he puts antibiotic drops in his ears, and gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

[nwspaprtaxis.livejournal.com]

In which Dean has a traumatic Hell flashback - complete with all the bells and whistles - and Perry licks his face until Sam comes to draw him out of it.

[ratherastory.livejournal.com]

I actually have a whole Fusion story that's going to include that planned. Would you be willing to wait for it rather than get a ficlet?

[lobrien0914.livejournal.com]

The one where Danny Williams and Steve McGarrett tried living together and "it didn't work out."

[ratherastory.livejournal.com]

It's better off this way, Danny tells himself for the thousandth time. He's got a nice room to stay in without the sound of the ocean to keep him up at night. There's no elbow jabbing him in the ribs in the middle of the night, no one dripping sea water on him at ungodly hours in the morning and insisting he get up long before normal human beings set foot out of bed.

It's better off this way. Steve was never the type to make a commitment anyway, and Danny should have known that. Better to know now, than later when he'd have become attached to the guy. The living arrangements were a temporary thing, just while he was looking for a new place to stay, and if he and Steve haven't been together at all since Steve told him he should look for a new place, well, it's better this way. The clean cut heals soonest and all that.

So Danny sits in his new room, throws open the window as the sun begins to set over the horizon, and listens to the distant sound of the ocean crashing against the beach.

[callistosh65.livejournal.com]

The one where Sam gets old and retired enough to forget Latin.

[ratherastory.livejournal.com]

"You used to be able to recite ten exorcisms by heart. Letting yourself go, Sammy," Dean grins at him over the breakfast table.

"Shut up. At least I don't have to wear bifocals to read the morning paper. And you never knew more than one to begin with."

"Still, you can't even manage the third declension without looking it up these days. It could be Alzheimer's." Dean takes a sip of his coffee and tries to look innocent.

"Fuck you, I do not have Alzheimer's," Sam snaps, but he suddenly looks worried, the corners of his mouth tugging downward.

And now Dean feels like the world's shittiest brother because he's gone and worried Sam about something he doesn't even need to worry about. Sam's still as sharp as they come, and Dean is goddamned proud of the fact that it's been long enough that Sam doesn't feel like he needs to compulsively revise all their old spells and exorcisms, just in case. They're here, and Sam is old enough to have forgotten his Latin, and that is something to be celebrated.

So he kicks Sam under the table and hands over the plastic jug of French vanilla creamer and tries not to feel too warm when Sam takes it from him with a smile.

[quickreaver.livejournal.com]

The one with snow angels and Perry snapping at snowflakes and extremely spiked hot chocolate.

*I can haz gud spelling? No, can't haz.*

[ratherastory.livejournal.com]

It's been snowing for three hours already and shows no sign of letting up any time soon. Sam stands on the porch, one arm wrapped around the post as though it's the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth.

"Come on, Cas!" Dean calls out from where he's let himself fall backward into the snow. "You wanna learn to make snow angels, or what?"

Castiel glances back at Sam, who just smiles and nods at him encouragingly. Perry, unharnessed for the occasion, is leaping from snow drift to snow drift, snapping at the snowflakes drifting by her head, shoving her nose into the deepest drifts and then pulling it out again with an insulted-sounding sneeze. Sam seems all right, and Dean, under the influence of perhaps a little too much liqueur added to the hot chocolate, is sweeping his arms and legs in regular motions in the snow, leaving behind an imperfect imprint beneath him.

"Just let yourself fall, Cas, it's easy," he says.

Castiel does as he's told, tries to mimic Dean's movements as Dean starts to complain that he's stuck in the snow now and can't get up and is getting wet in all the wrong places. Castiel stares up at the starry evening sky while Sam comes down the porch stairs and hauls Dean back to his feet. Dean's face is flushed with excitement and a little too much alcohol when Castiel gets back up.

"See? What'd I tell you? Pretty neat, right?"

Castiel stares down at the imprint of the fallen angel, wings stunted and useless, frozen in place in the snow, and doesn't know how to answer. Sam claps him gently on the shoulder.

"I think we should go back inside and have more hot chocolate now. What do you think?"

Castiel nods. "I think that's a very good idea. This time, we should try rum."

[4422shini.livejournal.com]

Sam's a terrible swimmer and his unconscious brother is not making this any easier.

[ratherastory.livejournal.com]

This is yet another example of just what a shitty childhood they had. When other kids were getting their maroon patches and graduating to silver cross and being lifeguards over the summer, Sam and Dean Winchester were being drilled on Latin declensions while running five miles in the morning and moving on to sparring and crossbow practice before lunch time even rolled around. So it follows that neither of them is a particularly adept swimmer.

Sam can manage a pretty creditable, if clumsy breaststroke, and Dean's doggie paddle is rivaled by none, but right now that's not helping at all because Dean is out cold and it's all Sam can do to keep both their heads above water. When he does manage to drag them both to safety he checks Dean's airways, performs CPR until Dean coughs up a lungful of water onto the slimy tiles of the abandoned pool.

"I have chlorine up my nose," he tells Dean, grinning with relief at his brother's bewildered expression, "and it's entirely your fault for getting yourself knocked out and thrown into a really disgusting old swimming pool. Just for that, you owe me laundry for the next month."

"Two weeks," Dean counters, still coughing.

"Deal."

[crazybeagle.livejournal.com]

It's bad enough being cursed with, well, woman-hood by a witch with a twisted sense of humor who thinks you're a chauvinist and need to learn a lesson. Experiencing "that" time of month before the spell wears off? Even worse. But what takes the cake? When it's Ruby who's the only one around to explain to you what exactly you're supposed to do during "that" time of month....In "Deanna" Winchester's eyes, a fate worse than death.
*cackles evilly*

[ratherastory.livejournal.com]

Dean's curled up into the tightest ball possible and praying for a quick death when the covers get ripped back unceremoniously from the bed, and Ruby's disapproving scowl comes into view. Dean groans pathetically.

"What do you want, bitch?"

"You better be nice to me, Deanna," Ruby sing-songs. "Sam told me what happened, and since he's being a typical guy he is putting as much physical distance between himself and his menstruating sister as possible."

"Not his sister," Dean snarls, trying to pull the covers back over his head with arms that are a lot shorter than he's used to.

"You are for now. Anyway, he blushed so hard I thought he'd burst a blood vessel, and then he practically begged me to come help you. So, here I am. Step one, Midol." She pulls a small bottle of pills and rattles them at Dean. "Midol is your friend. It'll get rid of the bloating and most of the cramps, if you're lucky. I also brought other supplies."

"Supplies?" Dean's almost afraid to ask, and Ruby rolls her eyes.

"Yes, short bus, supplies. You're probably only going to have to do this once, maybe twice before the curse wears off, which means you're lucky. Some of us had to do this for all our natural child-bearing years. So here's your choice: pads are easier, but you're more likely to leak and get blood all over your pants and your car seat. Tampons are harder, but less likely to leak."

"Oh my God." Death would be preferable to this. Or at least unconsciousness. It's easier to just dry-swallow the Midol Ruby hands over than to argue, though. "So, uh... how do they work?" Maybe death would be better, after all.

Ruby snorts. "Oh, no. My generosity does not extend that far. Here's a tip: use a thin pad just in case. Otherwise," she opens the box of tampons and takes out a folded piece of paper with some really unappealingly medical-looking illustrations of the female anatomy. "The tampons come with step-by-step instructions. You're a bright boy, or girl, whatever, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Dean glares at her, but takes the box from her hands with as much dignity as he can muster. "Whatever."

"Yeah, don't bother to thank me or anything. Oh, and Dean?"

Dean turns, hand still poised on the door handle. "What?"

Ruby grins wickedly. "Try not to clench."