It just kinda sums fanfic up really, doesn't it?
Here, as further proof, if it were needed, are a selection of my last few drabbles:
Nb: there is no word in the English language for 'taking pleasure in LJ cuts not working properly' Mainly because it's complete crap when they don't!
Therefore, apologies in advance if the cuts are all squiffy.
Word Count: 100
Summary: waking up in hospital, Dean discovers the disturbing truth about his condition ...
"Dean, the doctor's gonna check your wound later."
A weary nod.
"What? No protestin'? No whinin' about leavin' hospital?"
"Dude, do you remember the rattlesnake bite?"
"No ..." green eyes drift closed.
"s'okay, they said the venom might cause temporary amnesia and loss of feeling."
Green eyes snap open; "loss of feeling? Not …"
"no, dude, not there; only around the wound."
Reassured, the eyes close.
"Anyway, the doctor's gotta check your wound."
"No, your ankle's bandaged because you sprained it when you fell on your ass."
"You didn't step on the snake, dude; you sat on it."
"Sammy, wanna leave!"
Word Count: 100
Summary: It's a good thing Sam knows exactly how to deal with a hypothermic brother. Dean, however, is really not impressed.
Grappling with the shivering figure in the bed beside him, Sam pulled his squirming brother into a hug, gasping as Dean's freezing back pressed against his bare chest; "Sorry man, but if you're gonna go fallin' into frozen lakes ..."
"g-gedd-dof-m-me;" Dean stammered, barely coherent.
"Sorry," Sam explained, "skin on skin, best way to exchange body heat."
"S'n-not jus' one o'your p-pervy fan-fantasies?"
Sam sighed; "trust me, none of my pervy fantasies involve you."
Still wriggling sluggishly, Dean was reeled further into the powerful embrace.
"Sucks…" he yawned.
Sam smiled as the body in his arms stilled; "yeah, whatever; tell me about it tomorrow."
HELL HATH NO FURY
Word Count: 200
Summary: Just because you love someone dearly doesn't mean you don't take them for granted sometimes. Dean learns an important lesson from a scorned 'woman'.
Sam grimaced as Dean's mighty sneeze peppered the Impala's windshield with a fine mist of snotty spit.
"She knows I'm sick, so she'll forgive me," Dean croaked with a sniff.
Sam looked away in disgust as Dean, out of tissues after his recent cold, snuffled wetly and wiped his nose with his hand, absent-mindedly spreading the resultant snail-trail across his baby's steering wheel.
The Impala was roaring effortlessly along a deserted highway when her problems began.
Hissing and backfiring, after a few moments of pained spluttering, she coasted to a shuddering halt as Dean pulled over onto the verge and leapt out of his poor crippled baby, eyes wide with concern.
After checking the engine, Dean crouched behind the car, peering intently into the tailpipe, convinced there was a blockage until a spontaneous blast of black smoke belched out of the pipe straight into his face.
Job done, her engine fired up smoothly like sweet music.
Standing up, Dean trudged grumpily round the car, coughing nauseously as he slammed the hood and climbed into the driver's side; soot blackened face throwing a sulky glare at Sam through watering green eyes.
Sam grinned broadly; "I think that's called payback dude!"
Word Count: 100
Summary: Spoilers for 5.08 Changing Channels ... "we have to play our roles..." Dean's not self-conscious; not self conscious at all!
The Universal Wrestling Federation is proud to bring you a battle of barbarians; a duel of daredevils, a contest of conquerors; Ladieeeeez and Gentlemen, hold onto your seats for 'Dean the Dominator' versus 'Sam the Savage' in a no-holds-barred, without-mercy Bout of Champions …
Irritably extricating his blushing face from his brother's armpit, Dean gasped; "The Trickster is so friggin' dead; I've never been so goddamned humiliated."
Sam snorted, flipping Dean onto his back, and planting a knee on his chest; "tell me about it."
Dean panted, trying to writhe out of Sam's grip; "We're wearing spandex Sam. In front of millions of viewers; It's practically freakin' obscene!"
"So I see;" Sam grimaced at the revolting sight squirming beneath him as the referee counted down, "an' by the way, Mr Dominator, next time you want to stuff a pair of socks down the front of your leotard; use your own!"
Word Count: 200
Summary: Two big strapping hunters vs one pixie. You wouldn't think too much could go wrong, would you?
"Aw, freakin' crap, Sammy; " the plaintive cry drifted from behind the bathroom door.
Swallowing back a sense of foreboding, Sam responded to the voice; "you haven't tried to wash it off have you?"
"Well, I just thought …"
Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose; "Dean, I told you, it can only be removed by a spell; Bobby's on it."
"If you try an' wash pixie dust off, you'll just …"
Towel-wrapped and dripping, Dean stomped furiously out of the bathroom, scowling as Sam's eyes widened in horrified amusement.
"… spread it around," Sam finished weakly.
"Sammy, I'm all sparkly!"
Dean's face, body and even his hair was coated in twinkling silver pixie dust. Sam's eyes watered as he bit his lip in an attempt to stifle the guffaw which threatened to escape.
"Look at me," Dean moaned miserably, staring down at his shimmering chest with a slightly demented glaze in his eyes, "I'm sparkling in places no man should ever sparkle!"
It was Dean's outraged but glittery face that did it; Sam crumbled helplessly.
"well look on the bright side dude …" he spluttered
"what freakin' bright side?"
"… It didn't do Edward Cullen any harm."
It was almost worth the carpet burns.