Dizzojay's Dean Dreams (dizzojay) wrote,
Dizzojay's Dean Dreams

  • Location:
  • Mood:

Washday Blues


Rating: K+
Genre: Humour
Characters: Dean Winchester
Spoilers/Warnings: None
Word Count: 400
Disclaimer: I don't own him or his laundry!

Written for the DEW drabble challenge at spn_bigpretzel. The prompt was based on 'Changing Channels, and was to put Sam and/or Dean in a TV show/movie/commercial of your choice.


The melodic strains of 'Heard it through the Grapevine' drifted faintly through the steamy atmosphere as Dean strode across the Launderette's confined space toward the gleaming steel bulk of the washing machine, and fed a handful of quarters into the slot on top of it.

His arms seemed to have developed a mind of their own as they slowly began to pull up his tight white T-shirt, rolling it provocatively up and over his chest before tugging it off over his head, and hurling it into the machine's gaping maw.

Behind him, there came a collective gasp and at least one whimper from the various figures seated around him, all of which had abandoned their reading material and were apparently enjoying this impromptu cabaret as they all waited for their washing to finish.

In a shadowy corner of the room, the blue-rinsed launderette attendant was peering over the top of her steamed spectacles and made a faint wheezing noise as she almost choked on her chewing gum.

Pulling a rolled up copy of 'Musclecars Weekly' from the back pocket of his jeans, he placed it on top of the machine, and chanced a sideways glance to a young blonde woman who was staring, pebble-eyed in his direction, seemingly unaware of the stray bead of drool which was sliding down her chin, and looking like she might actually faint.

His hips swayed almost imperceptibly in time with Marvin Gaye's honeysoft tones as his wayward hands clasped his belt; unbuckling it, and threading it carefully back through the beltloops, before reaching down to unbutton his fly. One, two, three … his nimble fingers worked their way down with tantalising slowness, popping the buttons one by one.

It seemed as if the whole launderette was holding its breath; a dozen eyes watching, unblinking, as his hands moved to his slim hips and began to work the faded denim down over them. Slowly and purposefully those hands worked, cruelly teasing his mesmerised audience, lowering his jeans inch by tantalising inch until gravity finally took over the task and they slithered all the way down his sweetly bowed legs, pooling heavily around his feet with a jangle of belt buckle, and revealing …

… a pair of pink satin panties.


Cue voiceover:


Dean was seriously going to kill the Trickster.



If you wanted to watch the original advert that the Trickster took his inspiration from, here it is:
Tags: dean winchester, fan fiction, humour, supernatural, trickster
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