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Story #1 ( Read more...Collapse )
Word count: 1743.
Rating: R – for cuss words and the bit of innuendo.
Characters: Sam and Dean. Very minor slash subtext - can easily read it through a straight lens.
Summary: Sam gets a haircut and Dean covets outside underpants.
Disclaimers: set at some unspecified point after season one, but before The Usual Suspects. No other spoilers.
Sam finished adjusting Dean’s tie and stood back to assess his handiwork. ‘Much better.’
Dean scowled. ‘Man, I could have tied it myself. I can tie knots.’ He pointed at his brother. ‘You don’t know the difference between a truckers’ hitch and a granny knot, bro.’
Sam chuckled. ‘What can I say to that? Your tie is supposed to be loosely done in a half-Windsor – you made your tie look like it was used for throttling people.’
Dean tugged on his collar. ‘Yeah, me.’
Sam was still standing with his hands on his hips, smiling at Dean.
‘Dude, what is it?’
Sam shook his head and dropped his gaze to his shoes, suddenly concerned about whether they were black and shiny enough.
‘Nuh-uh. You don’t get to look funny at me like that without explaining the joke.’
‘No joke.’ Sam tilted his head in direction of the full-length mirror. Dean turned and looked at himself for the first time since he started getting dressed.
Sam stood behind him. ‘See? You look… right.’
Dean’s scowl got deeper, if that was possible. Unfortunately for Dean, the scowl cemented just how well the disliked costume suited him. ‘Way to insult me Sammy.
‘I do not look like a cop.’
Except that he did. The ‘borrowed’ uniform sat perfectly on Dean’s frame - his short-back-and-sides haircut, his current scowl - all screamed someone who loved playing cop as a cover for being a righteous bully. That was what he hated – he didn’t just look like a cop, he looked like the type of cop he despised.
Sam didn’t look like a cop at all. He looked goofy - like he just happened to land himself a particularly realistic Halloween costume instead of a uniform. If anything, he was too tall to be a real policeman. Nearly every cop Dean ever came across tended to be the stocky type, possibly running towards fat, but with a disturbing addiction to lifting weights and bumping chests at the slightest provocation. Sam looked like a messy kid playing dress-ups in Daddy’s clothes.
‘We need to cut your hair.’
Sam backed away. ‘No way!’
‘Sam, you look wrong. There’s no way your hair will pass muster. If we want to get into the evidence archive, you’ll have to sacrifice those girly locks of yours.’
Sam picked up his peaked Baltimore Police cap. ‘I’ll just hide it under this.’
Dean folded his arms, which made him look even more like the strong arm of the law. ‘You can’t wear that inside all day.’
Sam sighed. He flopped down on his bed, crushing his police radio receiver into his collarbone, and cursed. He quickly got up again, and started removing the uniform.
‘Aw man, the uniforms were your idea. Again. Don’t get mad just ‘cos you have to cut your hair.’
Sam glared. ‘I am not getting mad. If you have to cut my hair, then I don’t want the cut bits caught in my uniform and making me itch all day. That would make things suck even more, okay?’
Dean raised his hands in surrender, and began to rummage through his bag for suitable hair cutting tools. He found scissors in the first-aid kit. And Sam had that wussy electric razor with beard trimmer that he could use as well. Sam shucked off the regulation trousers, and stood by the bed in nothing but his boxers and navy police socks. Not a good look. Dean beckoned Sam into the bathroom, and pointed at the toilet. ‘Sit.’
Sam sat. Dean draped a towel around Sam’s shoulders, flicked the switch on the trimmer, pushed Sam’s head forward and began to run the trimmer up the back of his neck. ‘Run through the plan for me again?’
Sam nodded, and Dean cuffed him around the ear. ‘Dude, I’m cutting your hair – try and stay still.’
Sam put a hand to his ear. ‘That hurt!’
‘And it would hurt even more if I cut you because you kept moving. So, stop your bitching. The plan?’
Sam’s shoulders slumped. ‘We’ve both been sent to Central’s archives to cool our heels after a minor fuck-up on duty. We’re actually from North Eastern. We go in and ask for Officer McFadyen – she’ll be our “boss” until we can work out what the hell is going on in there.’
‘It’s a pity we’re not out patrolling the streets – I’d like the chance to drive one of those new Impala’s the city uses as cop cars.’
Sam laughed. ‘And you say you’re not a cop.’
Could he cut Sam a dorky haircut and get away with it? ‘I’m nothing like a cop. Remember my career of petty hustling and credit card fraud? I’m pretty flexible when it comes to the law.’
‘Still like a cop.’ Sam paused, ‘Don’t forget your love of guns, fast cars, and the high ground of fighting the good fight – you’re so just like a cop.’
What about carving “bitch” into the back of his scalp? It was tempting, especially as Sam wouldn’t actually be able to see it, but then they’d be even less likely to get into the archives successfully. He needed to steer Sam away from this conversation. It would probably be easier if he just let Sam win. ‘Okay, I’ll give you that I am looking forward to getting one of their .40s. I need a new gun.’
Sam remembered not to shake his head just in time. ‘No guns - we’re in Archives, remember? If you’re lucky, you’ll have a nightstick, but that’s it.’ Sam paused. ‘Did you ever consider being a policeman?’
Dean frowned. Why wouldn’t Sam let this whole “Dean as cop” thing go? ‘No. Fireman was the extent of my childish fantasies about real jobs.’
‘Pity.’ Sam spoke softly, ‘You’d have made a good cop.’
Dean smirked, ‘You’re just saying that because you know how hot I look in this uniform. The girls are gonna love me.’
Sam swivelled around to face his brother. ‘I’ve seen you in other uniforms before - and we’ve played at being State police and all, the only thing different about this uniform is the navy and shiny silver buckles –‘
‘Sam! Kinky, much?’
Sam rolled his eyes, and Dean used the opportunity to grab Sam’s chin and hold him still while cutting his fringe. ‘I’m being serious, Dean. I’m wondering if your “flexibility” as you put it, isn’t exactly the type of thing that makes people become cops, you know like how firemen are far -’
‘I said I wanted to be a fireman, remember?’
‘- how firemen are far more likely to be pyromaniacs than the rest of the community.’
Dean grinned. ‘There you are, then – I still have a real thing for pouring gasoline on stuff and setting it on fire.’
Sam grinned as well. ‘And don’t think I didn’t see how much you liked putting on the fireman’s outfit in Jefferson City. But don’t you sometimes still wish that you could have been a fireman or a cop, for real?’
Dean shook his head and stood back to assess Sam’s hair. ‘Not one bit.’
He held out another towel so Sam could wipe the fallen hair off himself. Sam paused, waiting for Dean to explain further. He knew Dean would – he just had to let the silence stretch long enough that Dean would feel compelled to fill it.
‘I mean, look at what I get to do – not only have I been a fireman, a policeman, state sheriff, and federal marshal, but I also get to try on being a doctor, lawyer and even a goddamned priest. What I do – what we do – means I get to try everything.’
Dean was standing there with a big grin on his face. Sam eyed off Dean’s handiwork in the mirror. The haircut was okay – it would take a few weeks to grow out, but at least Dean hadn’t replicated his own haircut on Sam’s head. That’d be a bit creepy. ‘And now you can add hairdresser to the list.’
‘Dude, not cool.’
Sam smirked, and went back into the bedroom to retrieve his uniform. Dean came out as well, but went back to eye himself and pull poses in the mirror. Sam laughed. ‘Man, you’re nothing but a big kid playing dress-ups.’
Dean crossed his arms again, but this time he was smiling at Sam. ‘Damned straight.’
He picked up his police hat and tucked it under his arm, adopting his most serious of looks. ‘Well, Officer Winchester, are you ready for a day of fighting evil in this city?’
Sam smiled. ‘Ten-four, Officer Winchester - but drop the “fighting evil” stuff, okay? It sounds more Batman than Dragnet. And as much as you like playing dress-ups, I really don’t wanna see you wear your underpants on the outside.’
Dean pouted, ‘It takes real cojones to pull off the underpants look.’
Sam swept up his hat and adjusted it on his head. He still didn’t look the part, not really, but it would be good enough to get him where they needed to be. He moved to the door, watching his brother take a final look in the mirror and tug again on his collar.
‘I swear you did the tie too tight.’ Dean paused, ‘Do you think we could convince the Baltimore PD to ditch the tie and start wearing outside underpants?
Sam pulled Dean over and adjusted his tie. ‘The tie is fine. The uniform is fine. You’re fine. Police uniforms do not need outside underpants.’
He pushed his brother away, ‘You’re done, Joe Friday.’
Dean picked up the Impala keys - satisfied with his costume at last. ‘Okay, no underpants.’ He grinned at Sam. ‘Do you think we could get them to go for a cape?’
Sam laughed. ‘Dude, I’m beginning to worry. Am I gonna come in one day and find you “flying” around dressed as Superman?’
‘No way! Superman’s a pussy.’
‘Okay, Batman then.’
Dean paused. ‘You know, I had a Batman costume once. Think I was four.’
‘What happened -’ Sam shook his head – he wouldn’t be led astray. ‘You still haven’t said I won’t find you dressed as a superhero.’
Dean grinned. ‘I haven’t, have I?’ He laughed and slapped Sam on the back, hard, before running to the car, arms outstretched like an airplane.
Sam followed, shaking his head but still smiling. If only Dean could understand how much of a hero he really was.