February 27th, 2014

exercise, team

It really is a workout!

TITLE: He's About to Lose Control (And He Thinks He Likes It)
CHARACTERS: Sam and Dean
WARNINGS: Sneaky Sam, oblivious Dean
SPOILERS: Through mid-season eight for setting.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Dance games are addictive! They're also embarrassing to play with other people in the room if you're the only one dancing...

Sam looked up from his book and cocked his head to one side. There was music playing off in the distance, but it didn’t sound like Dean’s usual fare. In fact, Sam was fairly certain it sounded like the Pointer Sisters!

He followed the music to a room Dean had designated “the rec room,” furnishing it with the comfiest sofa in the bunker, a television, and various electronics.

Sam peeked around the corner, and there was Dean, dancing enthusiastically along to “I’m So Excited” on some sort of dancing game.

Though tempted to embarrass Dean, Sam decided to walk away.
exercise, team

You guys put the idea in my head!

TITLE: Click
CHARACTERS: Sam and Dean
WARNINGS: Fail!sneaky Sam, not so oblivious Dean
SPOILERS: Through mid-season eight for setting.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Inspired by a comment I read from Lou Bollo, the show's stunt coordinator, about Jensen running very fast.

On second thought, Sam grabbed his phone and snuck back to the doorway. Unfortunately for him, he forgot to turn off the obnoxiously loud sound his phone made when it took a picture.

The room went silent, and Dean’s head very slowly turned to level Sam with a glare that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Sam tore down the hall, knowing he wouldn’t make it. He might have longer legs and work out more, but Dean was like a cheetah--ridiculously fast in short bursts.

He was slammed into the wall.

“Hand it over.”
exercise, team

Dean might be spending too much time around Crowley...

TITLE: Leverage
CHARACTERS: Sam and Dean
WARNINGS: CruelSweet revenge
SPOILERS: Through mid-season eight for setting.

“You don’t understand!” Sam pleaded. “There was no way I could resist! You’d have done the same thing!”

Dean handed Sam the controller and pointed at the screen. “I’m about to.”



Sam swallowed and turned back to the screen. He put the selection on shuffle, hoping for something simple. There was a sort of irony in the game selecting Scissor Sisters’ “I Don’t Feel Like Dancing.”

“I only have to do this until you have a picture, right?”

“Finish the song.”

“I swear I wasn’t going to send it to anyone!”

“Now I know it. I have leverage.”
exercise, team

Ever have one of those mornings...

TITLE: Panic
CHARACTERS: Sam and Dean
WARNINGS: Nothing, really, unless anxiety makes you anxious!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This morning, I accidentally rushed out in a panic that I would be late for work and realized partway that I'd left an hour early... So, I grabbed a coffee and came back to post stuff.

Sam’s eyes opened blearily to find the room bathed in sunlight that somehow snuck through the thick curtains. He bolted upright. What time was it! The clock said 7:50!

Heart pounding, Sam scrambled to find clean clothes. Did he have any homework he hadn’t done? Any tests? He couldn’t think!

He rushed to the kitchenette and grabbed a slice of bread--no time for toasting or anything else!

He shoved the blanket covered lump that was both his older brother and his ride to school since the bus was long gone...

“Dean! Wake up! I’m late!”

“Dude, it’s Saturday!

Team Diet | Wee!Chesters & Uncle Bobby

Title: Merry Spring
Claim: Bingo card
Fandom: Supernatural
Character: Wee!Sam, Wee!Dean, Bobby
Words: 100
Rating: G
Summary: Bobby has a plan to keep the boys busy and happy.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I make no claims of ownership or profits.
Written for the prompt: Bingo Square: Christmas Cookies for [community profile] allbingo
and Team Diet for: spn_bigpretzel
spn--dean profile from hell house
  • nesmith

Team Diet: Third Time Ain't No Charm

This was beyond sick, some weird region where the word took on three extra vowels, a z, and some messed-up punctuation. Why did he eat that last burrito? Because it was calling his name, that’s why. The other two had been so good, but he should have known the chicken was a little off; ten bucks said it was underdone, and underdone poultry was nothing to mess around with.

He’d waited for Sam to start in, criticizing his eating habits for the nine billionth time, but instead Sam had only given him the Pepto without a word. Sweet, wonderful mercy.

Playing With Balls

Sam tossed the ball to Dean, grinning gleefully as he avoided the rush at him. “I don't have it!” He declared.

“Whoops!” Dean taunted at the other end of the room. “Too slow!” He stepped aside to avoid another rush at him and tossed it to Sam, who nearly dropped it before recovering. He sucked in air and checked the ball. This was something he did not want to damage. How long could they keep this up?

Their opponent was a psychic, after all.

“Dammit, boys!” Missouri Mosely yelled. “Give me back my crystal ball!”
Team Diet

Team Diet: Sam Hates Hallowe'en


Rating: K+
Genre: Humour
Characters:Sam and Dean Winchester
Spoilers/warnings: None
Word Count: 100
Disclaimer: Don't own them.


Well, Hallowe’en was a time for horror.

And Sam had sure been horrified when Dean had brought six giant bags of Hallowe’en candy back to the bunker.

And then proceeded to eat the lot himself.

Just as he had last year, and the year before, and - guess what- the year before that.

So as Dean lay curled up on his bed, moaning miserably and clutching his churning, distended belly, Sam decided to let him enjoy the fruits of his labour.

Actually, he kinda looked like he was in labour.

All in all, just one more reason for Sam to hate Hallowe’en


Team Diet

Team Diet: A Fun Guy to be with


Rating: K+
Genre: Humour
Characters: Sam and Dean Winchester, Castiel
Spoilers/Warnings: None
Word Count: 100
Disclaimer: Don't own them!


“Cas?” Sam turned to the perplexed angel standing beside him as they watched Dean shimmy across the bunker, arms flapping airily as he belted out a tuneless and obnoxiously loud rendition of ‘Wuthering Heights’ which gave the bemused  onlookers a graphic demonstration of the sorts of dance moves best left to Kate Bush.

Castiel blinked owlishly as he turned his attention toward Sam.

“Yes Sam?” he muttered vacantly.

Sam shook his head in resignation as Dean performed a clumsy high-kick which took out two statuettes and a lamp-stand.

“Cas, where exactly did you get those mushrooms you put in Dean’s omelette?”



Working Hard At Hardly Working

Dean was watching Sam gather up a pile of books and stride off to the library to put them back. Sam was woefully familiar with the routine by now; whenever there was research to be done, Dean was more than happy to help Sam get books off the shelves, but when it was time to get them all put back, he didn't bother offering help.

It might have been because Sam had threatened to disembowel him if he put the succubus codex next to the djinn handbook, but still, Sam would have appreciated some help nonetheless.

For all ten trips.

Washing Down Baby

Dean didn't want anyone to know about this. Particularly Sam. Bobby might laugh, but Sam would hold this over his head until the next time they died. It had to stay a secret.

Dean waited until Sam and Bobby were in town grabbing supplies. It was the only guaranteed safe time to do it. To be careful, he waited ten minutes after they left, just in case Sam forgot his reusable bags, or the list, or some other thing.

Finally feeling sure, he put the tape in, and sashayed outside to the beat of “working at the car wash, yeah!”
Team Exercise

Fixing Stuff, Mowing Things, The Family Business

“Dammit, Sam, it won't turn over,” Dean grumbled, wiping his sweaty face with the bottom of his white shirt.

“Let me try it a few times,” Sam replied, yanking on the cord a few times in rapid succession. Dean had already tried, working up quite a sweat doing it. Sam's white tank was quickly going see-through.

It didn't look like the lawnmower was going to get fixed any time soon. Still, Sam had to wonder why they'd gathered an audience of the neighborhood women. They were just trying to mow a lawn.

After all, lawnmowers weren't that interesting.

Proving A Point

Dean hated getting old. He really hated it when he was trying to teach someone a lesson. That someone today, as with most days, was Sam.

Sam had collapsed laughing when someone had suggested Dean looked like he could have been a linebacker in high school. Dean had puffed himself up (he admitted it) and bet Sam that he was still in good enough shape to play with the high school students.

Now he was here, trying to push over a tackle dummy, and he couldn't even move it one inch. Worse, he could hear Sam laughing.

Getting old sucked.
Team Exercise


Bobby was humming a quiet tune to himself as he harvested some of his potatoes. He needed to turn the dirt over where they were, but for now, he was getting a good yield and everything looked healthy. Gardening helped keep him in shape

Just as he was putting the potatoes into his handcart, a small redcap hurled itself at him with a feral yell. Calmly, Bobby reached back into the ground near him, pulled out a shallowly-buried shotgun, and blasted the thing to smithereens.

Silence reigned for a moment, then Bobby shrugged and went to weed his herb garden.
Team Exercise

Dancing Queen

Charlie stood in front of the mirror in jeans and a “Night Vale” t-shirt, thoughtfully examining herself. She tried a shimmy, then shook her head. She waved her arms and nodded, then tried a turn with it, keeping herself in view as best she could. She thought that would work.

She then put the rest of the small routine together with what she had developed before, and grinned in satisfaction. She liked to make sure everything was perfect before she tried them in front of people.

The perfect elevator dance for the day was definitely going to be hers.
Team Exercise

Developing The Perfect Legs

“Remind me why we're doing this again?" Sam muttered to Dean as they nodded to some of the women walking nearby.

“We're building up our leg muscles,” Dean whispered back, smiling at two leggings-clad women as they power-walked past them.

“Let me see if I have this straight,” Sam said, then huffed a wry laugh. “You have us walking through this mall, at the crack of dawn, with sweaters around our necks and jackets around our waists...to build our leg muscles?

When Dean nodded, Sam sighed. “Dean...they all think we're together.

Dean grimaced. “Oh.”
Team Exercise

Special Delivery

Dean loved undercover jobs. He liked dressing up and charming people out of their information, and sometimes their money. It was like Halloween without the spooky stuff every day to him.

Delivering water was proving harder than it looked, but Dean carried the jugs and set everything up to appreciative oohs and ahhs from the office ladies he encountered.

Today, though, was an annoyance. The hot widow in number fifteen was supposed to get a delivery today, but when Dean knocked on the door, water jug, devilish grin and all, he instead saw two-hundred pounds of her deadbeat son.

Team Exercise



Fingers were clicking rapidly on the keys, tracking weather patterns and odd sightings. A graceful foot was pulling open the over door, checking on the food in there. The other leg was gently pushing the man's body up and down as he furiously pounded on the keyboard.

When he heard the oven ding, still typing and squatting, he carefully pulled a specially-made oven mitt onto the raised foot, opened the oven door, and took the pan out of the oven to rest on the stove.

Ash figured it was probably best Ellen didn't see him doing this in her kitchen.
Team Exercise

Angelic Calisthenics

Castiel silently stood in place in the open field. Dean took it upon himself to see if he was still alive.

“Cas, what are you doing out here?”

“Currently, Dean, I am exercising my wings,” Castiel explained quietly. “I rarely use them, and exercising is vital.”

“Hate to break it to you, Cas, but I don't see anyt--” Dean was suddenly sent flying by a strong wind, only to crash into the swiftly-moving angel.

“Forgive me, Dean,” Castiel said humbly. “I believe I should have warned you to brace yourself.”

“You think?!
Team Exercise

The Fine Art Of Avoiding Lasers

Dressed in nothing but skintight shorts, Sam took a deep breath and started to bend. He slid under the first red strings without a problem; none of the bells attached jingled to signal a mistake. His ass in the air, he extended and swept his left leg forward, levering himself upward.

By the time he reached the end, he was sweating like a horse and every muscle in his body ached, but he was grinning with accomplishment. He wiped some sweat off his forehead, only to hit a string and cause the whole thing to start ringing.

“Well, crap.
Team Exercise

Dodging Roger

“Sam,” Dean panted. “We've done a lot of weird shit, right?”

“Yeah,” Sam rasped back, narrowly avoiding the knife to his face. “We--have.

“So, believe me---when I say--this might well be--the weirdest thing--we've ever done,” Dean wheezed, trying to get his breath back before he permanently lost it.

“Come on, boys,” the long-dead Richard Simmons look-alike screeched at them. “Let's see some tone in those legs! Pivot faster! You'll never lose weight that way!”

Dean could only pray Bobby hurried the hell up and burned this bastard's bones.

It's Only A Game

Bowling alleys.

Crowley sniffed. They were clearly the home of the degenerate, the lowlife, and the spineless. The ability to hurl a ball down a lane and knock down stubby white pins was not something he had ever aspired to himself, and those who earned their money this way---well. Crowley sniffed again.

“Dammit!” He heard a young man cursing. “What's it going to take for me to break 100 this game?”

Crowley grinned. Another poor soul clearly wanted his help in life. Time for a deal!

Perhaps bowling alleys were not so bad for business after all.
Team Exercise

Leaving Town

Sam jogged down the stairs the first time with a bunch of confident energy, believing that they'd manage to get everything downstairs in one trip. That had been three trips ago, and his legs were starting to get shaky. All of their belongings had multiplied somehow overnight, he was sure of it. He didn't think they had this much stuff. Still, three trips later, they still hadn't been able to finish unloading the room.

It wasn't until they were in the car, shaky and panting with all the stair-climbing, that Sam realized that Dean had raided the hotel cleaning-lady's cart.