Title: Four Truths and a Lie, or Five Pick-Up Lines that Failed Dean Winchester
Author: M Kari (meinterrupted AT livejournal DOT com)
Summary: Dean's never been the most truthful of men.
Rating: Adult General
Pairing: Dean/multiple OFCs, gen
Spoilers: None.
Word Count: 612
Notes: For technosage, for the prompt "five pickup lines that didn't work for Dean." Many thanks to her for betaing and handholding. You can request prompts here or here. Comments are love.
1. "Nice shoes; wanna fuck?"
If anyone asks, Dean will explain that it was a joke.
Dean's never been the most truthful of men.
The brothers were in L.A., hunting a pack of rogue werewolves that had holed up in Hollywood. The locals weren't much help; too much weird shit goes down in the city for a pack of weres to stand out. They'd tracked a probable member to a fancy martini bar, and somehow convinced the bouncer to let them in, despite their jeans and leather jackets.
Sam maneuvered through the crowd, still tailing the shape shifter, and Dean made his way to the bar. He stood behind a leggy blonde, eyes roving her shapely body. He was admiring her gorgeous legs when he realized she was watching him. He looked up with a grin. "Nice shoes. Wanna fuck?"
She slapped him.
Dean doesn't like L.A. very much anymore.
2. "Wanna see my gun?"
Dean claims he was really offering to show her his .45.
Yeah, again with the lying.
They were in a bar in the middle of nowhere, Montana, and Dean was drunk. They'd found the necromancer that had caused a rash of zombie raisings: the kid was ten and completely unaware of his powers. A quick lesson in anger management and call to the local reservation's medicine man left Sam and Dean with a hotel already registered and a few hours to kill.
The girl's hair was tied back into a low ponytail, and the tight plaid button-down left little to the imagination. Dean sidled up beside her, noting the bulge of an ankle holster under her jeans. "So, you want to see my gun?"
He wasn't aware until afterward that she also had a knife at her belt.
3. "I'm a lesbian in a man's body."
This one, Dean says, was a stroke of genius.
It's too bad the chick didn't agree.
Ghosts in girl's dorms were always Dean's favorite. They didn't usually do much but irritate the residents, maybe steal a handful of things, but clearing them out usually resulted in some very hot thank-you sex. He figured this de-ghosting would go about the same way, with a very hot, very thankful coed.
Too bad the entire dorm seemed to be filled with nature-loving, razor-hating lesbians.
Turns out they were man-hating too, and his claim of being a lesbian in a man's body did nothing to help his case.
4. "The only reason I would kick you out of bed would be to fuck you on the floor."
The less said about that story, the better.
Suffice it to say the redhead's football-playing boyfriend wasn't as amused as she was, and leave it at that.
5. "I hunt ghosts."
Dean has always subscribed to the theory that one must tailor responses to one's audience.
Of course, if you don't take a good gauge of your audience first, it tends to backfire.
The woman's long braid was dyed black and the pentagram around her neck sparkled in the dim light. Dean recognized the book she was reading as an introduction to paranormal phenomena and slid into the booth across from her with a lecherous grin.
She wasn't quite as enthusiastic as he might have hoped, but she didn't tell him to leave immediately, which he took as a good sign. He complimented the book, then attempted small talk. When that fell flat, he tried something new: the truth. "I hunt ghosts."
How was he supposed to know that she also had "The Layperson's Guide to Crossing Over" in her bag?
No matter his track record with lies, they're a hell of a lot better than the alternative.
Author: M Kari (meinterrupted AT livejournal DOT com)
Summary: Dean's never been the most truthful of men.
Rating: Adult General
Pairing: Dean/multiple OFCs, gen
Spoilers: None.
Word Count: 612
Notes: For technosage, for the prompt "five pickup lines that didn't work for Dean." Many thanks to her for betaing and handholding. You can request prompts here or here. Comments are love.
If anyone asks, Dean will explain that it was a joke.
Dean's never been the most truthful of men.
The brothers were in L.A., hunting a pack of rogue werewolves that had holed up in Hollywood. The locals weren't much help; too much weird shit goes down in the city for a pack of weres to stand out. They'd tracked a probable member to a fancy martini bar, and somehow convinced the bouncer to let them in, despite their jeans and leather jackets.
Sam maneuvered through the crowd, still tailing the shape shifter, and Dean made his way to the bar. He stood behind a leggy blonde, eyes roving her shapely body. He was admiring her gorgeous legs when he realized she was watching him. He looked up with a grin. "Nice shoes. Wanna fuck?"
She slapped him.
Dean doesn't like L.A. very much anymore.
Dean claims he was really offering to show her his .45.
Yeah, again with the lying.
They were in a bar in the middle of nowhere, Montana, and Dean was drunk. They'd found the necromancer that had caused a rash of zombie raisings: the kid was ten and completely unaware of his powers. A quick lesson in anger management and call to the local reservation's medicine man left Sam and Dean with a hotel already registered and a few hours to kill.
The girl's hair was tied back into a low ponytail, and the tight plaid button-down left little to the imagination. Dean sidled up beside her, noting the bulge of an ankle holster under her jeans. "So, you want to see my gun?"
He wasn't aware until afterward that she also had a knife at her belt.
This one, Dean says, was a stroke of genius.
It's too bad the chick didn't agree.
Ghosts in girl's dorms were always Dean's favorite. They didn't usually do much but irritate the residents, maybe steal a handful of things, but clearing them out usually resulted in some very hot thank-you sex. He figured this de-ghosting would go about the same way, with a very hot, very thankful coed.
Too bad the entire dorm seemed to be filled with nature-loving, razor-hating lesbians.
Turns out they were man-hating too, and his claim of being a lesbian in a man's body did nothing to help his case.
The less said about that story, the better.
Suffice it to say the redhead's football-playing boyfriend wasn't as amused as she was, and leave it at that.
Dean has always subscribed to the theory that one must tailor responses to one's audience.
Of course, if you don't take a good gauge of your audience first, it tends to backfire.
The woman's long braid was dyed black and the pentagram around her neck sparkled in the dim light. Dean recognized the book she was reading as an introduction to paranormal phenomena and slid into the booth across from her with a lecherous grin.
She wasn't quite as enthusiastic as he might have hoped, but she didn't tell him to leave immediately, which he took as a good sign. He complimented the book, then attempted small talk. When that fell flat, he tried something new: the truth. "I hunt ghosts."
How was he supposed to know that she also had "The Layperson's Guide to Crossing Over" in her bag?
No matter his track record with lies, they're a hell of a lot better than the alternative.
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