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adventdrabbles2019-12-10 07:43 pm
firefly124) wrote in adventdrabbles2019-12-10 07:43 pm
Entry tags:
Dec 09, Supernatural, Sam/Eileen, Costumes, T
Title: Costumes
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/Characters: Sam/Eileen
Rating/Warnings: T, spoilers through SPN 15x06
Prompt: tuxedo
Summary: Sam was used to having to get dressed up for cases. There was a difference, though, between the fed suit and the tuxedo, and he had a definite preference for the suit.
A/N: I blame the impending full moon for this.
Sam felt ridiculous. He tugged at the bowtie for what had to be the eightieth time, and it just wouldn’t lie straight. He looked like a kid trying on a costume that didn’t fit. Had he looked like this when he’d worn this for other cases too? If so, it was a wonder he hadn’t been thrown out.
“Let me try,” Eileen said.
She looked beautiful in the deep blue evening gown they’d found in one of the storage rooms. How it had survived sixty-something years in such good shape was a mystery, never mind that it fit her so well. Cas had confirmed it was not in any way spelled or cursed though before he and Dean had left for wherever they’d gone this time. She tugged at the corners of the tie gently and somehow got it to fall into place.
“Are you sure this is the only way we can get the information we need?” he asked.
“We know the bank has something to do with the disappearances,” she said. “If you’ve got any better ideas, you have five minutes before we have to get to this party.”
Posing as potential investors at the skeevy bank’s holiday gala was probably the best way to get to talk to their top-tier suspects, Sam had to admit. He just wished that didn’t involve him having to be in a tuxedo. Dean was the one who enjoyed getting dressed up like this. Sam just felt like an idiot.
“Suck it up,” Eileen said, slapping his hand away from the tie before he could mess with it any more. “If I have to wear this dress, you have to wear that tuxedo. You’ll live.”
Three hours later, that was debatable. They’d taken out most of the werewolves, but there were still a couple left unaccounted for. Werewolves. Even though the full moon hadn’t been a factor in any of the disappearances, and it wasn’t like there had been any corpses with missing hearts to give them a heads-up. The lack of actual silver at such a high-end function had been a clue, though.
Eileen dispatched yet another one. She looked very much the Celtic warrior queen in her torn and blood-stained gown, silver knife in hand. She looked over to him and signed, “One more.”
Sam nodded and carefully approached the next room in the long hallway. He threw the door open and stepped inside, covering it with his gun as he checked every possible hiding spot. Nothing.
A scuffle outside had him running back toward Eileen. Sure enough, she’d found the last one, but it had her pinned.
“Hey!” he yelled, getting it to look up at him long enough for him to put a bullet in between its eyes. He only had regular bullets, but it was enough to send the beast reeling backwards.
Eileen leapt up and stabbed the werewolf square in the heart, yanking the blade back out and wiping it off on the former CEO’s tuxedo shirt. She turned to him and grinned.
“You do realize,” he said, “we’re going to have to torch this place to deal with all the bodies.”
In reply, Eileen produced a lighter from wherever she managed to hide things in that gown.
When they got back to the bunker, he insisted she shower first while he sorted through the trunk of his car, organizing and restocking it. It wasn’t as well-stocked as the Impala, but it got the job done, and getting it set the way he liked it was a good way to keep his mind busy and not thinking at all about the fact Eileen was just a couple of floors away shampooing werewolf blood out of her hair.
What was his life that he’d even thought that sentence?
He was fiddling with the ammunition compartment when he saw her come back into the garage, looking comfy in a sweatshirt and jeans, though her hair was still damp.
“Time for you to get out of that monkey suit,” she said.
He snickered. “That’s the sign for monkey?”
“Why, how would you sign monkey?” She repeated the movement, scratching under both arms, elbows out.
She had a point. It definitely got the idea across.
“It was nice to get a win,” he said. “It might not get us closer to Chuck or Lilith, but at least we helped some people. Thanks for finding that case.”
“We needed it,” she agreed. “Now, your turn. You stink like wet dog.”
Once he got to the shower room, he peeled off the tattered tuxedo and tossed it into the trash alongside the gown Eileen had trashed. Sixty years in this bunker and all it took was a few hours to destroy it. He’d had that tuxedo through a few cases over the years, too, for that matter, and now it was toast.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He hated wearing the thing, but throwing it away felt like the end of an era. Considering the era, though, maybe that was a good thing. He thought of Eileen, probably in the library looking for more leads.
He pulled the liner out of the wastebasket and tied it off, replacing it with a fresh liner. Once he’d gotten cleaned up and changed into the clothes he’d grabbed, he’d bring that all out to the trash. Then they could get back to figuring out how to do the same to Chuck. Without, he hoped, needing any more costumes.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/Characters: Sam/Eileen
Rating/Warnings: T, spoilers through SPN 15x06
Prompt: tuxedo
Summary: Sam was used to having to get dressed up for cases. There was a difference, though, between the fed suit and the tuxedo, and he had a definite preference for the suit.
A/N: I blame the impending full moon for this.
Sam felt ridiculous. He tugged at the bowtie for what had to be the eightieth time, and it just wouldn’t lie straight. He looked like a kid trying on a costume that didn’t fit. Had he looked like this when he’d worn this for other cases too? If so, it was a wonder he hadn’t been thrown out.
“Let me try,” Eileen said.
She looked beautiful in the deep blue evening gown they’d found in one of the storage rooms. How it had survived sixty-something years in such good shape was a mystery, never mind that it fit her so well. Cas had confirmed it was not in any way spelled or cursed though before he and Dean had left for wherever they’d gone this time. She tugged at the corners of the tie gently and somehow got it to fall into place.
“Are you sure this is the only way we can get the information we need?” he asked.
“We know the bank has something to do with the disappearances,” she said. “If you’ve got any better ideas, you have five minutes before we have to get to this party.”
Posing as potential investors at the skeevy bank’s holiday gala was probably the best way to get to talk to their top-tier suspects, Sam had to admit. He just wished that didn’t involve him having to be in a tuxedo. Dean was the one who enjoyed getting dressed up like this. Sam just felt like an idiot.
“Suck it up,” Eileen said, slapping his hand away from the tie before he could mess with it any more. “If I have to wear this dress, you have to wear that tuxedo. You’ll live.”
Three hours later, that was debatable. They’d taken out most of the werewolves, but there were still a couple left unaccounted for. Werewolves. Even though the full moon hadn’t been a factor in any of the disappearances, and it wasn’t like there had been any corpses with missing hearts to give them a heads-up. The lack of actual silver at such a high-end function had been a clue, though.
Eileen dispatched yet another one. She looked very much the Celtic warrior queen in her torn and blood-stained gown, silver knife in hand. She looked over to him and signed, “One more.”
Sam nodded and carefully approached the next room in the long hallway. He threw the door open and stepped inside, covering it with his gun as he checked every possible hiding spot. Nothing.
A scuffle outside had him running back toward Eileen. Sure enough, she’d found the last one, but it had her pinned.
“Hey!” he yelled, getting it to look up at him long enough for him to put a bullet in between its eyes. He only had regular bullets, but it was enough to send the beast reeling backwards.
Eileen leapt up and stabbed the werewolf square in the heart, yanking the blade back out and wiping it off on the former CEO’s tuxedo shirt. She turned to him and grinned.
“You do realize,” he said, “we’re going to have to torch this place to deal with all the bodies.”
In reply, Eileen produced a lighter from wherever she managed to hide things in that gown.
When they got back to the bunker, he insisted she shower first while he sorted through the trunk of his car, organizing and restocking it. It wasn’t as well-stocked as the Impala, but it got the job done, and getting it set the way he liked it was a good way to keep his mind busy and not thinking at all about the fact Eileen was just a couple of floors away shampooing werewolf blood out of her hair.
What was his life that he’d even thought that sentence?
He was fiddling with the ammunition compartment when he saw her come back into the garage, looking comfy in a sweatshirt and jeans, though her hair was still damp.
“Time for you to get out of that monkey suit,” she said.
He snickered. “That’s the sign for monkey?”
“Why, how would you sign monkey?” She repeated the movement, scratching under both arms, elbows out.
She had a point. It definitely got the idea across.
“It was nice to get a win,” he said. “It might not get us closer to Chuck or Lilith, but at least we helped some people. Thanks for finding that case.”
“We needed it,” she agreed. “Now, your turn. You stink like wet dog.”
Once he got to the shower room, he peeled off the tattered tuxedo and tossed it into the trash alongside the gown Eileen had trashed. Sixty years in this bunker and all it took was a few hours to destroy it. He’d had that tuxedo through a few cases over the years, too, for that matter, and now it was toast.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He hated wearing the thing, but throwing it away felt like the end of an era. Considering the era, though, maybe that was a good thing. He thought of Eileen, probably in the library looking for more leads.
He pulled the liner out of the wastebasket and tied it off, replacing it with a fresh liner. Once he’d gotten cleaned up and changed into the clothes he’d grabbed, he’d bring that all out to the trash. Then they could get back to figuring out how to do the same to Chuck. Without, he hoped, needing any more costumes.