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majestic_duxk) wrote2014-07-16 04:50 pm
Into the Woods
other characters: numerous fairy tale characters
Fandom: Supernatural
Kinks: humour, fluff, cuddles, case fic, true love, fairy tales
story length: approx 9000
Summary: For a kink meme prompt: Dean and Sam are trapped in an enchanted fairy tale book. The only way to get out is to successfully navigate their way through the story they are trapped in: snow white
Dean is upset about the fact that he’s the one that has to eat the apple, but secretly Sam is excited about the chance to finally be Dean’s knight in shining armour.
“Well… I guess we go this way?”
Sam knew he sounded uncertain. But given the situation, he didn’t think Dean would blame him.
“Dude. We are on a yellow brick road! Is this awesome, or is this awesome?”
Sam voted for not awesome, although part of him warmed at seeing his brother so enthusiastic.
“Never took you for someone who liked fairy tales, Dean.” Sam teased gently. “Does this make you Dorothy.”
“That would be you - Samantha. I could be…” Dean thought hard. He didn’t want to say ‘Scarecrow’, as that was leaving himself way open. Even he could admit he was probably not the lion. Sure, he got scared, but he made sure to hide it from Sam. That left the Tinman. Who didn’t have a heart. And that cut a little too close to the bone...
“Toto.”
“What?”
“Toto. If I’m Dorothy, then you're my loyal companion Toto.” Sam grinned and held his arms wide. “Come to my arms, Toto!”
Dean laughed and pushed him away. “Well if you’re Dorothy, you lead the way.”
The boys walked in amicable silence for a little while. They both agreed that the glass slipper was placed a little too perfectly on the castle stairs to the right. It had to be a trap. And sure, Sam had to hold Dean back from rescuing the girl with the long hair in the tower, but then Dean stopped Sam from climbing the beanstalk, so they were probably even.
“I thought the yellow brick road was straight forward?”
The boys stood at a crossroads. Neither particularly liked crossroads. And these were... particularly creepy. At the centre a signpost loomed. It was shaped like a lamppost, although decaying wooden planks pointed in each direction. It seemed they had come from ‘Narnia’ (although why the yellow brick road ran through Narnia was anyone’s guess). To the south was ‘Blue Jungle’, to the west ‘Gingerbread Thicket’, and the eastern most sign pointed to the ‘Hunstman's Weild’.
“I vote Narnia.” Dean turned on his heel only to find that the way behind them had sort of… disappeared. “Uh…”
Sam had been studying each direction carefully. It didn’t seem to matter where they went, they would be walking into woods. “I don’t really like it Dean. We won’t be able to see anything.”
“Well, given that there is nothing behind us…”
Sam span around, “Don’t… oh.”
There really was nothing. A weird sort of fog, but in the distance they could see clouds building, and the wind howling.
“You know this is straight out of the Never Ending Story?” Dean stepped forward and cupped his hands to his mouth. “MOON CHIIIIIIILD!”
Dean waited a moment. “Hmmm. That didn’t work.” He spun around, to find Sam just looking at him. “I can’t believe you never saw The Never Ending Story! Right up your alley, man.”
Sam shook his head. “This is much more Two roads diverging in a yellow wood.” Dean looked blank. “It’s Frost, Dean!! Robert Fro… oh forget it. Ok, so we can’t go back, we have to choose one of these three ways.”
“Ah, but which way ith the betht.” A soft voice purred from the signpost.
A lithe body was wound around the lamppost.
“That… That’s Puss in Boots.”
The cat swept its hat off. “How pleathed I am to make your acquaintanthe. You theem unthure of what to do fair travelerth.”
Dean couldn’t control his snort. Sam elbowed him in the side. “Uh. Yeah. We need to get home, and we thought if we, y’know, followed the yellow brick road we would get to the end and…” Sam’s voice trailed off. Now that he thought about it, they hadn’t really considered anything. They had just been wondering through this place like they were on a pleasure hike.
“Dean?”
Dean had realized at the same time. He straightened. “Ruby red slippers would have sent us home. But I don’t think we’re in Oz anymore. If we ever were.” He turned to Sam. “Wanna get back to Kansas?”
Sam scowled at his brother before turning to eyeball the cat, who in turn stretched. And kept on stretching, the look of its bones elongating, the fur rolling inwards really quite revolting. The woman who eventually stood before them, however, was anything but revolting.
Dean stepped forward “Why hello….”
And Sam pulled him back. “Dean! Think for a minute. The cat just turned into a woman.”
“A naked woman, Sammy!” Dean interjected.
“A naked woman. Are you seriously planning on walking up to her and hitting on her? Doesn’t this whole situation strike you as strange?”
There was a pause. “The funny thing is, Sam, nothing has struck me as strange. And I don’t actually know anything – where we are, how we got here, what we were doing before…” Dean’s voice trailed off. “Sam, what were we doing?”
The woman in front of them smiled, revealing sharp teeth. “Oh my. Stronger than I thought. It is quite a wonderful glamour, is it not?”
Fae. Fucking fairies.
Sam thought back. “So we have passed Cinderella, Rapunzel, Puss in Boots…”
“Well, what’s with the Wizard of Oz and the Never Ending Story? Those aren’t fairy tales!”
The lady waved her hand dismissively. “Modern fairy tales. If it suits us we can move with the times. The question is now, how to get out?”
She shifted form again, this time into a gnome. “You get one guess.”
Dean went to raise hell, but Sam grabbed his arm. “Rumpelstiltskin.”
The gnome pouted. “Damn, I was hoping you would have less self-control than that.”
“Send us home.” Sam stated it clearly. The gnome grinned, baring blackened teeth.
“Unfortunately I can’t do that. I can tell you how to get home… but it is up to you to complete the fairy tale. From these crossroads there are three choices… each leading to a different place. As soon as you enter, you will be given your… roles. And the prince must rescue the princess. Once you do that – correctly – you will be automatically sent home.”
“What about the fairy abductions? Will they stop if we get home.”
The gnome sneered. “Shouldn’t you be more worried about what will happen if you fail to rescue the princess?”
The gnome was obviously speaking to Sam.
“Hang on a minute…”
But it simply smiled a disturbingly big smile, and faded into the background.
“That would have been less disturbing if it had been a cat,” Sam pointed out quite fairly.
--
The question became which way to go. “So South is Bluebeard, West is Hansel and Gretel, and East is Snow White. Which way do you want to go, princess?”
Sam quite manfully hid his smirk, but Dean didn’t even notice. He was too busy bemoaning his fate. “Why do I have to be the chick? You don’t think I’m actually going to turn into one?” Dean’s distress was quite real, even if the sight of him palming his cock was slightly off putting.
“Uh, Dean? Do you need a private moment?”
Dean turned sad eyes on his brother. “No, no. Just… if these are my last moments as a man, I want to remember what it was like.”
Sam couldn’t hide his eye roll. “Right. Well, even if you do turn into a woman, when we get back to the real world, you’ll be yourself, yeah?”
With a final, lingering caress, Dean shifted his hands to his hips, and nodded. “Yeah. Right. So, which way Sammy?”
“Do you remember anything about the fairy tales?”
Dean frowned. “Was Bluebeard a pirate? Pirates could be fun?”
Sam coughed. A lot. “Ah, no. Bluebeard was… I don’t know what he was, but he collected wives.”
Dean looked interested. “I’d get to meet some ladies?”
“Well, you’d see them. No, he killed them and kept them in a room. He gave his pretty new wife the run of his house, but forbade her to enter one room… and if he should, his punishment would be swift. Well, Of course she had to look in the room, and it was filled with bodies of previous wives, all of whom had looked in that room…”
“I wonder what the first one did,” Dean interrupted. Sam just looked at him. “Well, if the others got killed because they looked in the room and saw the murdered bodies, what did the first one do?”
Sam ignored him. “So she looks in the room, he says he will kill her, but she argues that she needs to pray if she is going to die. She is really waiting for her brothers to ride up on a horse and save her.”
“I don’t like that one,” Dean decided. “Too much can go wrong.”
“Ok, well the witches cottage is that way.”
“I fucking hate witches.”
And it was true. Out there in The Real World witches were always trouble. And here? Probably not much better. But Sam had to try.
“I don’t think there is going to be any good options. Dean. So the Gingerbread House is that way, and – “
“No. Fucking. Way. I know that story Sam. I know it. Friendly grandma invites two mistreated siblings in, treats ‘em nice, then tries to eat them. She tries to put them in the fire, Sam.”
Okay. Dean definitely had a point. All of that cut a little too close to the bone. And no fires. That was pretty important.
“Well that only leaves Mirror Way. Which has to be Snow White.”
“Snow White.” Dean considered it. She got sent into the woods with a Hunter after her, the Hunter let her go and she hooked up with seven blokes, then she got poisoned and was rescued by the prince. Ah.
“Gotta be that one, Sammy. It’s the only one with a princess.”
Sam blinked. So it was. The other two were about commoner siblings. And Snow White was a princess… Sam felt a little glow start to blossom in his chest. He bravely fought it down, but when that didn’t work was satisfied with just keeping his expression blank. He got to be Dean’s prince. The princess was woken with True Loves Kiss.
“You okay Sam? You’re looking a little flushed there.”
Right. Don’t zone out in front if Dean. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’m fan man. Well. Shall we?” He held out his arm, and Dean just punched him.
“Not a girl Sam!” He stalked ahead.
Ahhh, it was true. Dean was not a girl. He was, however, a princess.
--
“Is it just me, or does this forest seem to be getting thicker?”
“Not forest – weild.”
Sam could hear Dean rolling his eyes.
“Is it just me, or does this weild seem to be getting thicker?”
“Not just you – goddamnit Dean!”
It was the third time Dean had let a branch swing straight into Sam’s face. Sam grabbed Dean’s arm, pulling him close. “I think I will go first now.”
“Trust me again, do you?”
That gave Sam pause. Sam had been gallantly leading the way, removing the thickest thickets from the path, until he had turned back to not see Dean following behind. He wasn’t ashamed to admit he’d panicked, just running back the way they came. Luckily, Dean had not strayed too far, and Sam could find him and haul him back. His reason that ‘the breadcrumbs looked interesting’ was deemed unacceptable, and he was placed in the lead, right where Sam could see him.
Sam leveled him with a look. “Nope.”
Dean did his best to look innocent, until the silence got a little too much. “Fine, Sammy! I won’t follow any more breadcrumbs. Jesus Christ! But you know something interesting could have been at the end of that trail. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“I lost it when we got sucked into a fairy tale, Dean. And at the end of the breadcrumb trail? A gingerbread house. We haven’t come this far to be cooked by a witch, Dean.”
“You don’t know that…”
“Hansel and Gretel left a trail of breadcrumbs, Dean. But not just breadcrumbs. No followings trails of lentils, no foot prints, golden twine, and don’t go following any perfume.” Sam scowled. “Don’t go trip trapping over any bridges, don’t follow any strange men, women, or voice, and don’t buy any beans.”
Dean was silent for a moment. “This place is wacky.”
Sam just raised an eyebrow.
“Back at the crossroads, the Gingerbread Thicket was to the west, right? Well, I could have sworn that those breadcrumbs were leading north, which means I have no idea which way is what.”
It was a fair point. However, Sam was happy to ignore it, given that Dean had just ignored his safety lecture.
“The fae trapped us in a book of fairy tales. You have to eat a poison apple and I have to wake you up. I am pretty sure that nothing here follows any set rules.”
Dean scowled. “Can’t we swap jobs?”
“What?”
“Can’t we swap jobs? Why do I have to eat the apple? I’m more than happy to save you Sammy, and you know I would?” Dean had his version of the puppy dog expression. It didn’t move Sam.
“Sorry Dean. Pretty sure our roles are locked in.”
“Well let’s go back to the crossroads for a restart.”
Dean turned on his heel, and promptly tripped on a plant root, face planting in the dirt.
“Ow.”
Sam winced, but offered him a hand up. Dean looked at it like it was poisoned, but took it anyway. Sam pulled him to his feet, an extra bit of strength pulling Dean off balance, who in turn fell against Sam’s chest in a rather delicious manner. He enjoyed the flutter of Dean’s hand as he tried to figure out where to put them. He enjoyed how small Dean seemed against his body. He could feel himself standing up straighter, the need to stop anything hurting his brother coming to the fore of his mind. He wanted this. He wanted to be the knight in shining armour!
Dean quickly brushed off Sam’s hand, and went to walk back was brought up short.
“Son of a BITCH.”
The path was covered with the roots. Sam sniggered.
“It’s not funny, Sam!”
“No, it kind of is, Dean. The only reason you want to go back is so you don’t have to be the princess.”
Hands on hips, Dean turned back to face Sam. “No Sam. I don’t want to eat a poisoned apple. I have lots of good feelings associated with apples. Why would you want to destroy that for me?”
--
Given that back was not an option, the boys heading along the path they were on. Dean bitterly complained, and Sam didn’t stop him. He reasoned that if he could hear Dean complaining then he was right behind him, not at some seedy oak, doing deals for beans.
Unexpectedly, the trees cleared. One hand on Dean’s chest, Sam slowly led them into the clearing. It was quite nice, as far as clearings went. Some attractive looking wildflowers, a few picturesque sunbeams. And an axe and a cloak.
Giving into the weird compulsion, Sam headed straight for the axe. Only to be stopped by Dean hanging off his arm.
“Oh no. You do not pick that up, Sam! It’s probably cursed. I don’t want you to go all Harriet Travis on me!”
“What? Who… Who even is that Dean? And why are we talking about strangers?”
Dean looked pained. “I can’t believe you don’t know the movie.”
Sam could feel the vein in his temple pulse. “Dean. Are you taking this seriously? We need to complete the fairy tale so that we can leave here and go home.”
Dean opened his mouth, the stubbed a toe on the ground, looking up at Sam. “Sorry, Sammy. But no axe murders, ok?”
Sam ignored him. They didn’t need a neon arrow pointing the props to show that this is where the game started for real.
“Ah.” Sam picked up the cloak, and thrust it into Dean’s hands. “Put it on.”
“What? Why?”
“This is where it starts, Dean.”
Sam was eerily serious. He walked towards the axe. Dean, unsurprisingly, backed away.
“What the fuck, Sammy?”
Sam picked up the axe. He turned to his brother, who looked poised to flee. The red cloak flared behind him, and his green eyes seemed to sparkle, as the sun broke through the clouds that had appeared from nowhere. He was a pretty picture.
Spinning around, he pressed Dean against a tree, the handle of the axe coming to his throat.
“Now Princess. Beg.”
--
“Fuck you Sammy!” Dean struggled, but it was like as soon as he put the cape on, his power was sapped.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, this is obviously the scene where Snow White begs the huntsman for her life. Can you at least try and follow the story.”
Dean glowered. Then tossed his head, and pulled the cape around him. He tossed his head and sank to the ground. Gracelessly, it must be admitted, but at least he did it. Dean looked at Sam through hooded eyes. Sam pretended they were beseechingly rather than murderously enraged.
“Oh. Brave. Huntsman. Please. Don’t. Kill. Me. I’m. Too. Beautiful. To. Die.” The stilted, monotonic execution left a lot to be desired.
“Put a bit more effort into it, Princess.”
Dean’s expression was priceless. So was Sam’s, when Dean allowed tears to fill his eyes, looking up at Sam through his lashes.
“Please… please let me live?”
--
Sam threw his axe down, and noisily burst into tears as pulled Dean into his arms. “Of course! Of course! I want you to live!”
Dean awkwardly petted Sam on the back. “Gotta say, Sammy. I don’t remember the story going this way. But you’ve got to go and get an animal heart? Right? Oh, and I probably need to give you this cloak.”
To Dean’s eye it looked more like a hood, but what did he know about fairy tales?
Sam wiped his eyes.
“Right. Yes. Don’t know what came over me. So. Game plan. Slaughter a stag. Wrap its heart in your cloak.
Sam stood up, silhouetted in the light. He knew he looked majestic. Now, the really majestic thing to do, would be to turn, and stride into the fading light. But he couldn’t, instead he reached for Dean, pulling up, cradling him against him.
“I’ll come rescue you, Dean. Don’t doubt it for a minute.”
Then with tears streaming down his face, he strode away from Dean.
--
That was weird, Dean thought to himself. And evidence that Samantha should be playing the part of the princess.
Dean looked around the clearing. There was nothing there to let him know what way to go. Did Sam’s rules still apply, now they were split up? No breadcrumbs, no golden twine, no perfume, no strangers with beans, no legumes of any sort? What did that leave?
Looking again just confirmed his initial thoughts. There were no hints. He looked to the sky.
“Come on! I need a sign, dammit!”
And the bushes moved.
--
It had been as disgusting as Sam thought, killing the buck (was it Bambi’s dad? Was he traumatizing Bambi for a second time?). When he finally presented his prize to the Evil Queen (and with a name like Flugabelle, ‘Evil’ was definitely an improvement), the heart seemed to pass the tests. As she received it, she had a cold smile, and a nasty glint in her eye. Sam was glad not to be invited to eat in the royal dining room.
The castle itself was fascinating, full of twists and turns, secret doors and dungeons. At any other time, Sam would have been pleased to look, lurk, and linger. Especially in the library! The thought of what such a room could contain… but he was worried about Dean. And while Sam had thought he could quickly take off to check on his brother, Her Majesty seemed to have other ideas. Every day he was called to the throne room to describe how he killed Snow White.
It was more than a little disturbing, and Sam wondered how long it would go on for.
The answer was five days.
On the fifth day, an unholy shriek rent the castle. The queen had nothing but on her mind but to hunt the huntsman. Luckily, Sam had been raised by Dean, and in his copious amounts of spare time he had discovered all the exits to the castle. Some were impassable, and some seemed viable. One exit was covered by a grandfather clock, where a drunken skeleton lived. While the skeleton would be the easiest to bribe, there was no way Sam was fitting through that space. Who the hell could? (Apparently unicorns could, but no way did Sam believe that pile of bones.)
Weirdly enough, the best exit was the labyrinth, guarded by a fearsome Minotaur. But a in a life where dealing with denizens of hell and bickering angels was an everyday occurrence, a silent bull headed creature wasn’t much of a challenge. (Having said that, he played a mean game of chess. Sam may have flipped the board when the Minotaur won for the fifth time in a row. Seriously. Sam was better than this. The creature somehow managed to look smug too). So when the time came, Sam simply asked to be shown out of the castle, and the Minotaur was amenable. Sam left him at the stone gate. If he was honest, he was sad to say goodbye. It was strangely restful spending time with someone who didn’t argue all the time.
Sam tossed his head, and would have flared his cape if he had one. Unfortunately it was stained with stag blood. And the queen hadn’t given it back anyway.
--
The walk through the forest was much easier. And finding the seven dwarves home was incredible straight forward. That was assuming the advertising along the path all lead to where he thought it did. "Exams that bit too hard? You need Seven Season’s Apothecary." “Short on money? Let the Seven Horses Book keeping help you!”
Sam idly wondered what Dean was doing, if the dwarves were all busy with their businesses…
Doctor… lawyer… loan shark… And Lechy and the dance of the seven veils? Sam’s head twisted trying to get a better look at the sign. Perhaps things weren’t as legitimate as he’d believed…
Finally Sam arrived at a gate. A gate which was falling off its hinges. Glancing up to the house behind, Sam had to admit that the decrepit gate certainly matched the decrepit house behind it. It was all a bit of a letdown really, Sam admitted, looking around. As a matter of fact, not just a letdown – the whole place was falling down. One wall seemed to have collapsed in, remnants covered with graffiti from a Wolf Gang threatening to Get the Pigs. Sam snorted. Kids these days. There was a small sign pointing up the garden path. Sam bit his lip. He really didn’t want to go up there, but the truth was Sam didn’t have much of a choice.
Taking a deep breath, Sam stepped over the debris, prepared for the worst. To his surprise, some effort had been made at beautification. The pansies and zinnias and snapdragons would have all been beautiful, except that they were stomped into the ground. Such wanton destruction displeased him. A slight frown marred his face, as he rounded the corner.
Only to be faced with Dean and seven small men playing poker.
Drinking whiskey.
In their boxers.
Well, Dean was in boxers, the men were in various states of undress.
“Seriously?” Even Sam could tell his bitch face was on. “I’ve been having daily meetings with an evil queen after slaughtering an innocent stag, and here you are , boozing it up in a kiddy pool?”
It was interesting the way the tableau seemed to freeze. Then Dean bounced up, and threw himself into Sam’s arms.
“Sammy! What kept you? We were playing inside, but at last night’s poker night, the wolves and little pigs were here, and it didn’t end well."
Sam held Dean at arms length and looked him over. He looked... tired but relaxed. Sam felt tension he hadn't known he was holding release. Enough that he felt pissed rather than relieved. Dean seemed to know, and headed him off.
“It hasn’t been all fun and games!”
From the chortles and cut off laughter behind him, the dwarves disagreed.
Dean ran an embarrassed hand through his hair, and offered a sheepish smile. “Why don’t I introduce you to the boys?”
--
The “boys” were nothing like what Sam had expected. Disney had lied. The wholesome dwarves from half-remembered childhood memories, were in actual fact some of the most disgusting people he had met.
Doc ran a meth lab. When queried about his sign to ‘help students’, he sneered. “What? You never took an upper before a test?”
Happy appeared to be Doc’s best customer.
Twitchy ran a betting book.
Sam looked disapproving. “That is not book keeping.”
Twitchy looked remarkably unconcerned. “Keeping books, fixing books. Same difference really.”
Dean dragged him away to meet others, hissing at Twitchy, “That is not what you should say to a lawyer.”
Sam felt mildly offended.
---
A bunch of reprobates, Sam though viciously on being introduced to the rest of the housemates. A drug dealer (who obviously worked with Doc), hired muscle (brought another meaning to knee capping…) as well as a trained assassin. And yes, Lechy was a stripper. Currently down to a single veil.
Sam was not impressed, to put it mildly.
Sam fixed his lawyer smile at the room, before excusing himself and dragging Dean outside. It wasn’t like he needed to – the weren’t listening. They were too busy planning nefarious schemes.
“This is what you’ve been doing?!” he hissed, shaking his brother. “I’ve been reliving killing Bambi’s dad every fucking day, having my ass beat at chess by the fucking Minotaur, and forced to use perfect fucking table manners at every meal? And you’ve been, what? Boozing and gambling with the seven thieves.”
Dean shook Sam off, placing his hands on his hips (and sticking one hip out very provocatively… Did he always do that? What it would like when he was in a dress? Sam allowed himself to be mentally sidetracked…)
“Actually Sam, that would make me Aladdin.”
“Alibaba,” Sam corrected, now thinking about Dean in a harem outfit. He could pull it off. Better than Lechy. Then Sam, could pull it off him. But hold up. That was getting ahead of himself. Sam nervously licked his lips. They hadn’t even kissed yet.
Sam mentally kicked himself. It wasn’t time for that yet. Right now he had to figure out how they were going to get to the next stage: kissing.
--
Sam had wondered if Dean’s role had gone anything like his own. Sam had vaguely followed the path of the woodcutter, but he sure couldn’t remember a Minotaur in the original story. And what had Snow White done? She’d cooked and cleaned, bringing happiness to the lives of seven bachelors.
Dean cooked.
Initially Sam had wondered if the skills were Dean’s or were fairy tale enhanced. But after looking around the house (it was disgusting) Sam decided that if the cooking was enhanced, then the cleaning would have been enhanced. And Dean’s house cleaning skills were seriously lacking.
He’d said as much to Dean, who’d pinned him with a glare.
“I am perfectly capable of cleaning, Sammy. It’s these guys! Every time I get it looking halfway decent gang warfare breaks out. It just isn’t worth it.”
Sam had his doubts, but taking another big bite of quiche he decided Dean would be cooking a lot more when they got back.
--
It was a tough few days. Sam itched to research the problem, but there were no freaking books in the cottage! (There was however, dwarven busty Asian porn. Sam didn’t ask. He didn't even want to know…) Given his normal pastimes (ok, pastime. He researched for fun. So shoot him!) were not available, Sam found he actually missed the quiet seriousness of the Minotaur. The dwarves were always fighting, or drinking, or planning to raid the next forest over, and he had no means of escape.
So he was forced to listen to their ridiculous scheming. If they’d asked Sam’s opinion (they didn’t), going after the witch in the gingerbread house seemed to be asking for trouble. They were after all, snack sized.
Sam had eventually found a book of fairy tales (finally, something that wasn’t porn!), and was trying to get some intel on the evil queen. He knew she would come for Dean soon, and they had to be prepared. Dean wasn’t being helpful at all. If Sam asked him, he'd just shrug his shoulders, or pretend he hadn't heard. And he’d just bet his life savings in spoons that he would make it through the other end alive. And won a vigorous argument that dead in between counted.
Sam was snappy and bored. And Dean wasn't taking this seriously. The happy interlude was interrupted (thankfully before Sam murdered Dean himself) when Twitchy sidled up to him. “Doc’s got a job for you.”
Sam closed his book, carefully noting his page. He stared at Twitchy. “Why do I have to come?”
Twitchy twitched.
“Living here rent free, man. Gotta help out sometimes.”
Sam glowered. There was no way he wanted to touch anything these dwarves dreamed up. And anyway, he was busy trying to save his brother. “Is it illegal?”
The problem with Twitchy, was that twitching wasn’t a tell. The dwarf was constantly jiggling and eyes darting here and there. Sam sighed and put down his book. It was probably be good to get out of the house. Might help him think better.
--
He left very stern warnings for Dean.
“Don’t buy any apples. Actually, just don’t eat any apples. Apples are not your friend.”
Sam turned to go, but thought of more warnings. “And don’t answer the door. Don’t even talk to anyone.” A slight cough. “Except Happy.” Sam turned hard eyes on the dwarf. “Dean better be ok when I return.”
Dean rolled his eyes and sent Sam on his way.
--
“Without even a token of affection,” Sam grumbled to himself. “A handkerchief? A ring. A kiss. Would that have been so hard?”
The dwarves ignored him, although Twitchy was sending him interested glances. Sam ignored them all in return. He didn’t want to talk to these fiends, who were taking him from his beloved.
--
Sam should have remembered if he told Dean to do something, Dean would do the exact opposite.
He currently had Happy pinned against a tree, while Twitchy, Doc, and Lechy stopped him from punching him out. The dwarves were surprisingly strong little fuckers.
“You were supposed to watch him! Where were you? Where the fuck were you?”
Sam was screaming at this point, his spittle flying into Happy’s face. And the fucker just sneered at him.
“Had to move the story forward. You were never gonna let him eat no apples.”
Happy was very, very lucky that Sam had no demonic powers.
--
Twitchy sent him away for a walk. Well, Doc did, but Twitchy fucking accompanied him. Sam strode majestically, stretching his legs and covering the ground. And if he gained a little petty satisfaction from seeing Twitchy scurrying to keep up, well, who could blame him.
“Sam!”
Sam paused and turned to the panting dwarf. He looked down from his impressive height, but Twitchy didn’t look cowed. In fact… the dwarf was brazenly studying him.
“Good start, good start.”
Sam glared at him. What did this dwarf want? Sam glared harder when Twitchy answered his unasked question.
“Had to get you away,” Sam was informed shamelessly. “Gotta put the princess in her coffin, all ready for her prince.”
“I’m her prince!” Sam roared. Then blushed slightly, correcting himself. “His prince. I’m Dean’s prince.”
Twitchy’s face moved into a vaguely approving expression. “Good. But you’re not the only one who is after the princess.”
Sam saw red.
He went to barge past Twitchy, who grabbed a hold of his coat sleeve.
“Where y’goin’?”
“To get Dean!” Sam roared. And wow. There was a lot of unresolved anger going on there. Maybe it was a lack of control thing? Maybe if he tied Dean to a tree, and he stayed there, Sam would feel better.
Twitchy… was probably attempting to roll his eyes. “D’y’know where he is?”
Sam’s glare should have turned Twitchy into a cowering mess. As it was, he just twitched at him.
“I see you have spotted the flaw in my cunning plan.”
“Not just one flaw.”
Well, thought Sam. Was that really called for? He couldn’t see what else was missing in the go and get Dean back plan, except for Dean.
“The evil queen?”
If Twitchy’s voice was a little pointed, Sam could forgive it. Because that was a pretty major thing to be forgetting, and the bitch had effectively killed his brother… and really? If there was one thing guaranteed to really piss of Sam Winchester, it was killing his brother.
“She’s dead.”
“You couldn’t have told me that before?”
Sam realized he was shouting, but was unable to do anything about it. Twitchy just sneered at him.
“Tried t’ tell you back at the house. But you were tryin’ t’ beat up Happy. Who killed the apple toting harpy.”
Ok, ok, so he deserved the pointed words. He couldn’t help muttering, “Doesn’t make Dean less dead. Never should’ve trusted any dwarves.”
Twitchy was entirely unaffected by Sam’s complaints. “Better hurry if you want to win the princess.”
Sam kicked a tree. “He’s dead, Twitchy. He isn’t going to get any deader if I take my time.”
Twitchy appeared to smirk at him. “No, but you’re not the only one tryin’ to wake him with true loves kiss.”
--
Sam ran in the direction that Twitchy indicated, putting on an extra burst of speed when he eyed the clearing, only to be grabbed and pushed back.
“Sir! No pushing! We all wish to win the hand of the princess. However we can we be princely about it.”
The young man holding him back was dressed in satin pantaloons and was wearing a cravat.
“I say… I don’t think I recognize your crest. What house are you from?”
Sam glanced down, only to see himself wearing similarly ridiculous garb. But he could suck it up. For Dean. He allowed his voice to ring through the clearing.
“I am Prince Samuel of Ravenclaw. Princess Dean is mine!”
There were various tittering sounds, when a spindly man in blue livery pushed him into line. “Very nice, Prince Samuel, but you must wait your turn.”
--
Sam was furious when he realized he was in a line of princes who were all lining up to kiss Dean. He ranted and raved, and even drew his sword, but all that happened was he got moved to the back of the line. Behind that damn fae from the crossroads.
“It’s nice that you made it this far, Sam.”
“Shut your mouth, foul being!”
The fae just raised an eyebrow. Sam looked slightly abashed. “I can’t help it, ok? Being around all these princely types is doing bad things to my vocabulary.”
She just raised an eyebrow and turned back to face the front of the line.
“You have realized that I am in front of you in line?” She paused, then her voice took on a sing-song quality. “That I am going to kiss your brother before you?”
Sam hadn’t realized. He also hadn’t really taken on board that every single prince in this line was kissing his brother. He had realized in the abstract that all these scum wanted to awaken Dean with true loves kiss, but now that he looked at them, there were so many. And was this the way the original went? He definitely didn’t remember a conga line leading up to Snow White. Even with her back to him, Sam could tell the fae was smirking
“You changed the story, you putrid fiend!” The words burst from him. Not what he was actually thinking, which was more along the lines of fuck you, you manipulative fucking bitch. Apparently swearing (from a prince) wasn’t allowed in this fairy tale.
He may not have been able to swear, but the threat in his next words was very clear. “You’d better keep your word. You leave and don’t come back when I rescue my brother.”
The fae shifted uncomfortably before once again turning away.
--
Sam was finally at the front of the line. As each prince had tried and failed to awaken the sleeping Dean, it had become something of a spectator sport. As Dean’s slumber continued, the failed princes moved to the sideline, watching and (much to Sam’s fury) commenting on kissing technique. With so many failed princes hanging around, the dwarves had somehow found chairs, and he could see Twitchy peddling his trade. Catching sight of Sam, Twitchy sidled up to him.
“Odds’re not good on you. Hundredandtwennytoone.” Twitchy’s words ran together. “Prince Charming was the best bet, at tentaone. He was first in line, and the princess didn’t wake.” Twitchy looked sad for a moment, before focusing again. “Wanna put a bet on?”
Sam glowered. “I’m not making a bet as to whether I can wake my brother.” He swung himself around dramatically, before turning back. Cocking his he and asked, “What’s the payout?”
“We-ell… most of the princes didn’t have much cashonthem. So it’s a combination of gold, jewels, silks, horses, and younger sisters.”
Sam pondered this, then called to fae (who was sulking on the sidelines, having failed to wake Dean despite copious amounts of tongue), “if I put a bet on and win, do I keep the winnings?”
The fae looked trustworthy. “Of course, Sam.”
“When we leave this place?”
The fae made a face. “What are you going to do with six younger sisters?”
It was a good point. “Can you give me a good exchange rate for real world money?”
Waving its hand majestically, the fae agreed, so Sam bet the Kingdom of Ravenclaw and as well as the crown jewels.
But now that he was standing next to Dean… he was nervous. He wiped his hands against his satin pantaloons, and looked around the clearing. None of the faces were particularly encouraging. There were sneers, and jeers, and Twitchy looked particularly calculating.
Happy looked at him, and smiled widely. “Got performance anxiety, eh? M’sure Doc has something that could help you out.”
Doc, conniving dwarf that he was immediately saw a way to improve business. Sam was having none of it. “I don’t need any…” Sam trailed off. What exactly would Doc offer? Was there even such a thing as a kiss enhancing product? And even if there was, there was no way Prince Sam Winchester needed it.
Sam tuned out everything around him. It didn’t matter who was watching. It didn’t matter who was betting. All that mattered was that here and now? It was him and Dean. Dean… who he loved. Dean, who, despite all his protestations really did make a pretty princess…
Sam really wished he had his phone. The dwarves had dressed Dean in a beautiful kind of yellow-y white silk dress. It suited Dean well, making his freckles glow. Sam caught sight of a stockinged foot, and immediately wondered what else Dean had underneath is skirts.
And then wondered who had touched Dean to dress him like this. Without realizing it, Sam’s hand slid to his sword hilt, and he looked around, fire in his eyes.
Twitchy was beside him in a moment. “There’s a time limit. Now’s your moment! I know you're dying to try, go on and kiss the girl.”
No one had told Sam there was a time limit. However, Twitchy was correct; he had been wanting to try. Sam took a deep breath, ready to lean down, when Lechy’s deep voice filled the space.
“Percussion! Strings? Winds...?”
Sam couldn’t deal with it. He had really wanted to make this romantic and wonderful, Dean waking up with the taste of Sam, and a feeling of love. But if Sam didn’t put a stop to this, neither would be making it out.
Leaning down, he muttered an apology in Dean’s ear, promising to make it up to him.
Admit catcalls and whistles, Sam leant down. He gently placed his lips on Dean’s, giving him a chaste kiss. Sam waited a few seconds. But of course the bastard didn’t move. Sam bit his lip… he could hear the calls in the background, to move, he had failed.
But he hadn’t.
He couldn’t.
This was Dean.
There was no way in Hell that Dean wasn't meant to be with Sam.
“Come on, Dean!” He growled softly into his brothers’ ear. But there was no movement.
Not a chest heave.
Not an eye twitch.
Not a pout.
Nothing at all.
He felt a hand on his arm, and whirled, sword in one hand, while he flared his cape to protectively to cover Dean. Realizing it was Twitchy, he allowed the sword to drop – slightly – but kept his stance tense and ready for attack.
“I’m not leaving. You can’t have him. Dean is mine!”
Twitchy looked at him. Really looked at him. As his eyes seemed to flare golden, Sam felt as if Twitchy was seeing much more than Sam wanted to show. Eventually, Twitchy nodded. “If Dean is yours, you have to wake him. And make it clear at the end that Dean is yours. But the trick? Dean has to know he’s yours too. And Sam? A little peck on the cheek ain’t gonna cut it, kiddo. A different key for every lock. Or a different kiss for every princess.” The eyebrow wriggle looked vaguely familiar, but Sam was too busy keeping Twitchy from touching Dean. “What sort of princess is Dean?”
Dean… well, Dean was no Snow White. Or Aurora. Or Rapunzel, Buttercup, or Ariel. Maybe a Mulan? Dean had lost his innocence the day he saw his mother burning on the roof, a baby Sammy thrust into his arms. Dean was hard drinking, hardworking, and hard on himself. Would that sort of person be awoken by a chaste kiss? Snow White had been awoken by true love’s kiss, it was true. But it was also her firstkiss - in theory. In practice, if her dwarves were anything like the ones currently running the betting books and strip joints that had sprung up around the meadow, Prince Charming wasn’t her first kiss. Not that Sam was interested in the love life of Snow White. Or the dwarves. He had much more important things to think about than Snow White and Happy getting it on…
A loud cough brought Sam back to the present. Dean. Yeah, Dean. This was about Dean. Dean and Sam. And their first real kiss. Sam quickly dismissed the chaste moment. That wasn’t a real kiss. And if Sam didn’t think it was a real kiss, Dean’ wouldn’t either. Dean had always been the tough one. He’d always taken care of Sam – protected him, defended him. And now it was Sam’s turn to protect him. Sam smiled to himself. That was ok. He wanted to help Dean.
And Dean wasn’t some virginal princess locked in a tower, or singing to crabs under the sea. Oh no. Dean needed much more than that. He needed something solid, something and someone strong to know he was loved and cared for. He needed Sam. Obviously this was something they would work on – when Dean woke up. But for now, Sam had his princess to kiss.
He leant back down again, his breath ghosting over Dean’s lips. He could hear the crowd behind him, but this time it was ok. He could imagine Dean liked to be watched.
“Wake up for me big brother,” Sam whispered, before licking along Dean’s lips. Dean’s lips were soft and smooth and Sam couldn’t wait until they were parted and he could slip his tongue in…
Happily, he didn’t have to wait. Dean gave a soft sigh, his lips pouting beneath Sam. Oh yes. This is what he wanted. And well that was as good as an invitation, right?
Sam didn’t hesitate. With one hand he grasped the back of Dean’s head (careful not to tilt too much, as he wanted Dean under no illusions as to what this was when he awoke properly: and it definitely wasn’t CPR.
He nibbled at Dean’s lips, feeling the soft give. As Dean’s lips parted, Sam felt a swell.
Of pride.
He had the magic fucking kiss to get them out of here!
Unfortunately for Sam’s romantic intentions, it was at that moment Lechy’s spotlight for the Hottest Event in the Meadow fell on couple. Sam felt his temper rise… This was private for fuck’s sake! It shouldn’t be a spectator sport complete with cameras and fucking movie screens which currently a little too focused on Dean’s lips. Twitchy was taking bets as to how long the kiss would last, and Happy was looking at them a little too happily.
It was time to wake Dean up. They could take it slower at home. Or faster, because you know what? They could do whatever they hell they wanted, as often as they wanted.
“Sorry big brother,” Sam whispered against Dean’s mouth. “You deserve for this to take time… You’re my beautiful princess, and very important to me” (Sam had to say it. He couldn’t guarantee Dean wouldn’t punch him if he was awake). “I promise to make it up to you tonight.”
Sam groaned at the feeling of Dean so soft and pliant under him, the way his mouth just incited him in. Although Sam knew it had to be hard and fast, as soon as Dean moved (because surely that wasn’t a gun underneath Dean’s dress) he allowed himself the pleasure of slowing down, kissing all around Dean’s mouth, allowing his teeth to nip, and his tongue to sooth.
And soon (much to most everyone’s delight) Dean was moaning, his breath coming in cute little huffs. With that Sam was all tongue and teeth and fuck if Dean didn’t taste good!
Sam sat down beside Dean, hauling him into his lap, kissing over his face until sleepy green eyes found his.
“Sammy?”
Sam couldn’t help the smile that lit up his face. Dean! He was alive! He was here.
And there wasn’t a rule that said you couldn’t kiss the princess after awoke. Right?
Sam let his arm move up Dean’s back – still supporting him – until his hand found its rightful place, cupping Dean’s neck. He stroked a few seconds, just taking in the sight of his living, breathing brother.
“Love you, Dean.”
That was all the warning Dean got before Sam’s mouth was on his, demanding entry. It was shock, Dean informed Sam later, that was why he opened his mouth. It sure as hell wasn’t the invitation that Sam took it as. However, Dean couldn’t deny how good he felt as Sam took control, tongue touching and tasting everywhere. Teeth hitting teeth. It was when Dean shyly pushed his tongue back, that Sam pulled away, face filled with a feral grin.
“What the fuck, Sammy? I was just…”
“Now is not the time, Dean. We must not tarry in this meadow. Fear not, fair princess. I will take you to my castle, and there you will want for nothing!” With a glance towards Twitchy and an angry glare at the rest of the crowd, Sam declared, “There nothing shall come between us and wedded bliss!”
Twitchy looked approving, and the rest… well, Sam actually didn’t care what anyone else though. Not even Dean at this moment, who was coughing and spluttering, and doing his best to deny the truth of Sam’s statement.
Dean pushed at Sam, and, gentleman that he was, Sam gave him a little space. He was still concerned, and as Dean went to stand up, Sam beat him to it. With one sweeping move, Dean was held (princess style) in Sam’s arms. Sam flipped his cape at the cheers and catcalls. Before he could do more than glower, the forest around them started to fade. The seven dwarves vaguely gesticulating a farewell, the fae looked inordinately pleased with herself, giving Twitchy a high five. The princes looked relieved (ah fuck! The riches! Sam’s riches! Hadn’t organized a payment system with that thrice damned fae!), and the big bad wolf (when the hell did he turn up?) gave a lascivious wink. Sam pulled Dean closer, and although he complained, he was fairly compliant in Sam’s arms.
Leaving the fairy tale, thank goodness, nothing like flying Angel Express. It was gentle, and Sam watched as reality and the fae kingdom overlapped, until the meadow faded into nothing.
“We’re back, Dean! It worked!” Sam felt a sense of overwhelming relief. With no other options, Sam had played along. But he was still relieved to find them back in the real world.
With Dean.
Suddenly, it all came tumbling down on him. Dean loved him! Dean loved him! True loves kiss was required to break the spell, and here he was, back to reality, with a beautiful princess in his arms. His princess.
“I don’t get it, Sammy.” Dean hadn’t actually stopped complaining. “How come you're back in normal clothes, and I’m still wearing a fucking dress? And why are you carrying me? Not a bloody prin… Not a girl!”
Dean grumbled for a few moments, then sat bolt upright. Sam was hard pressed to not drop him.
“Sammy! My matches! My life savings!”
Sam kissed the top of Dean’s head, drawing him nearer. Dean was his. He didn’t even bother stopping the smile that spread across his face. This time they’d get their fairy tale ending. Sam was going to make sure of it.
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and thanks! I had great fun with this one ^_^ I love writing comedy. It is so hard, but so enjoyable when it works ^_^
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thanks for reading :-)
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and can I just say I love your username?
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