Ficlet: Book Club
Aug. 9th, 2008 02:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
astri13This was supposed to be a drabble but I needed to add a couple words so it`s now more like a double-drabble. Sue me. :) Anyways, it is - literally - a dream I had last night. Don`t judge me, we all have weird dreams. Just a little humourous piece. Brownie points for those who can tell me the name of the novel in question. *g*
Title: Book Club
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
astri13
Genre/Rating: Gen, PG, Humour
Word Count: 600
Summary: Sometimes, Dean has a unique perspective on things. Sometimes, Sam wants to bang his head into a wall because of it.
Disclaimer: None of it belongs to me.
Book Club
The bespectacled guy in his mid-forties clears his throat. “As I was saying, the two sisters—“
Dean huffs unhappily, and Sam tries to resist giving his brother a good jab with the elbow. They both agreed on speaking up as little as possible, so as not to blow their cover as the nice, new neighbours prematurely.
A plan that had been fine with Dean, because infiltrating a book club that covered ´chick novels´, as Dean had so charmingly put it, hadn't been something his brother had looked forward to. Sam, on the other hand, had. It had reminded him a bit of College.
Glasses fixes Dean with a stern glare. “You have something to say, young man?”
Dean huffs again. “I just don't know why everybody is making such a fuzz about the older ones. There are three more, you know.”
Sam narrows his eyes. He can't believe Dean actually read the book. Even Sam only did it as a class requirement.
Now Glasses frowns. “What do you mean by that?”
“Well,” Dean grabs another canapé and pops it in his mouth, chewing luxuriously. “Obviously the older one is supposed to be like uber-pretty or something, and I'm not gonna lie, men appreciate a pretty face. And the second one is all spunky which is also good.” Here, Dean smiles to himself wistfully.
From the corner of his eyes Sam notices two women leaning forward with obvious interest.
“But,” Dean goes on, “The other three are hot, too.”
A balding guy, wearing an ill-fitting sweater, scratches his head and looks at Dean dubiously. “Hot?”
The woman next to him, Sam assumes her to be his wife, gives him the stink eye before she turns back to Dean with a bright smile. “You really think so?”
Dean nods enthusiastically. “Sure. The youngest one? I don't know why everybody is so down on her. She just wanted to have fun. Run a bit on the wild side.”
A muttered “hell yeah” can be heard from Sam's left. He risks a glance at the source of origin and encounters a matronly woman, looking to be in her early sixties. Sam can't recall her name from the earlier round of introductions, but she looks as far from running on the wild side as you can be.
Oblivious, Dean continues. “And the other two? I mean one plays the piano all the time.” His eyes widen for dramatic effort. “Can you imagine how sensitive her hands must be?”
The lady of the house – incidentally the owner of a piano herself, at least if the rusty old thing, they passed on their way in and which looks like it hasn't been played since World War I, can be called a piano - beams at Dean in unadulterated adoration.
Another guy has adopted a thoughtful expression. Sam just prays he can keep himself from barfing on the expensive carpet.
For his part, Dean still hasn't noticed his captive audience, as he seems to be on a roll. “And why is everybody so down on the geeky one, huh? Let me tell you, I met my fair share of totally hot geeks.”
Sam isn't a hundred percent sure, but he'd swear there are tears clinging to lashes of one woman as she clutches her copy of the novel to her chest, looking at Dean like he belongs on the canapé table.
He slumps down further in his chair. Book club sucks. They should have just waited till nightfall, broken in and looked for the damn statue like Dean wanted to do in the first place.
- The End -
Title: Book Club
Author:
astri13Genre/Rating: Gen, PG, Humour
Word Count: 600
Summary: Sometimes, Dean has a unique perspective on things. Sometimes, Sam wants to bang his head into a wall because of it.
Disclaimer: None of it belongs to me.
Book Club
The bespectacled guy in his mid-forties clears his throat. “As I was saying, the two sisters—“
Dean huffs unhappily, and Sam tries to resist giving his brother a good jab with the elbow. They both agreed on speaking up as little as possible, so as not to blow their cover as the nice, new neighbours prematurely.
A plan that had been fine with Dean, because infiltrating a book club that covered ´chick novels´, as Dean had so charmingly put it, hadn't been something his brother had looked forward to. Sam, on the other hand, had. It had reminded him a bit of College.
Glasses fixes Dean with a stern glare. “You have something to say, young man?”
Dean huffs again. “I just don't know why everybody is making such a fuzz about the older ones. There are three more, you know.”
Sam narrows his eyes. He can't believe Dean actually read the book. Even Sam only did it as a class requirement.
Now Glasses frowns. “What do you mean by that?”
“Well,” Dean grabs another canapé and pops it in his mouth, chewing luxuriously. “Obviously the older one is supposed to be like uber-pretty or something, and I'm not gonna lie, men appreciate a pretty face. And the second one is all spunky which is also good.” Here, Dean smiles to himself wistfully.
From the corner of his eyes Sam notices two women leaning forward with obvious interest.
“But,” Dean goes on, “The other three are hot, too.”
A balding guy, wearing an ill-fitting sweater, scratches his head and looks at Dean dubiously. “Hot?”
The woman next to him, Sam assumes her to be his wife, gives him the stink eye before she turns back to Dean with a bright smile. “You really think so?”
Dean nods enthusiastically. “Sure. The youngest one? I don't know why everybody is so down on her. She just wanted to have fun. Run a bit on the wild side.”
A muttered “hell yeah” can be heard from Sam's left. He risks a glance at the source of origin and encounters a matronly woman, looking to be in her early sixties. Sam can't recall her name from the earlier round of introductions, but she looks as far from running on the wild side as you can be.
Oblivious, Dean continues. “And the other two? I mean one plays the piano all the time.” His eyes widen for dramatic effort. “Can you imagine how sensitive her hands must be?”
The lady of the house – incidentally the owner of a piano herself, at least if the rusty old thing, they passed on their way in and which looks like it hasn't been played since World War I, can be called a piano - beams at Dean in unadulterated adoration.
Another guy has adopted a thoughtful expression. Sam just prays he can keep himself from barfing on the expensive carpet.
For his part, Dean still hasn't noticed his captive audience, as he seems to be on a roll. “And why is everybody so down on the geeky one, huh? Let me tell you, I met my fair share of totally hot geeks.”
Sam isn't a hundred percent sure, but he'd swear there are tears clinging to lashes of one woman as she clutches her copy of the novel to her chest, looking at Dean like he belongs on the canapé table.
He slumps down further in his chair. Book club sucks. They should have just waited till nightfall, broken in and looked for the damn statue like Dean wanted to do in the first place.
- The End -
