Black and White and Red All Over, SN fic, gen, PG-13, 1/1

[ht_murray]

Author: tru_faith_lost
Characters/Pairings: Sam and Dean, no pairings
Rating: PG-13 because they have potty mouths
Warnings: Language
Summary: Head wounds require special attention. Total crack. Hair!fic.
Disclaimer: Oops, forgot the disclaimer. As much as I'd like that to mean I own them, it really just means I forgot. Don't own 'em, don't sue.
Dedication: For tigriswolf, who saw an offhand comment I made and enabled me to act on it, and to mlebayre whose post inspired the original comment and who betaed the part that was actually finished when I sent it.


Black and White and Red All Over

"Oops."

"Oops?"

Silence. Well, that can't be good.

"Dean?...Oops?" Sam prodded. Dean Winchester did not do 'oops'. Something didn't quite go according to plan, he did eyebrow quirk, shrug of leather across shoulders, and slow walk away, miles to go and nowhere to be, no regret. Tomorrow was another day, after all. Fuck the spilled milk.

‘Oops,’ well, that was some serious shit. "Ow!" Sam jerked away, refusing to allow Dean to continue his ministrations as Dean’s fingers twisted uncomfortably in his hair. The latex gloves sounded like half-inflated balloons, stretching as they filled with water. "Dean, what the hell are you doing? That hurts."

Sam jerked away, one hand flying up to massage at his scalp around the fresh laceration, and spun around to glare at his brother accusingly. He turned just fast enough to see Dean thrust his arms behind his back, a look on his face that Sam knew best as the ‘Dad won’t know if you don’t tell him’ look.

Dean didn’t keep secrets from their dad very often, mostly because he never could lie to the man, and if John asked, well, Dean cracked like a ninth grade egg drop experiment. The fact that there even was such a look brought up memories of deeds so dire they’d likely both have been offered as human sacrifices if they’d ever been caught.

The look, paired with the ‘oops’…so not good.

"Dean? What’d you mean by ‘oops?’"

Oh God, was that a quibble? Yeah, Dean quibbled, Sam was sure of it. His eyes did that thing where they looked at Sam, because lord knew John Winchester had always insisted on direct eye contact, but then looked away, then back and away, which could only mean…holy fuck, Dean Winchester was at a loss for words. "Dean…you’re scaring me, dude. I mean, what? Do I need to call Bobby? Is there poison or something?"

Sam didn’t know. Hell, none of them had ever been attacked by a demonic, undead woodpecker before.


Then Dean did the face, the one where half of it kinda scrunched together while the other half spread apart, one eyebrow up and one eyebrow down, diddlefuckingdumpling my brother, Dean.

"Sammy…"

"Don’t Sammy me, dorkwad…" Then Sam did the face, the one where his oversized emo forehead and all its trademark broody lines suddenly went flat like his whole head had been stretched from scalp to chin,(not that it could get much bigger) and his lips pursed around grinding teeth as his jaw set defiantly, one eye twitching. Sammy bitch face. Yeah, wasn’t one of his finer moments, but he didn’t give a damn. "Explain yourself…"

The face again, this time accompanied by the ducked gaze and the nervous scratch to the back of the head…wait…nope, no scratch to the back of the head. In fact, Dean jerked his glove-clad hand away the second he felt it brush against the ends of his hair. Odd. Then, without hesitating, he stripped off the gloves and dropped them in the trash can like he’d just finished his first day as a proctology intern.

Sam was so screwed. Of course, it didn’t matter, because he was gonna be stroked out in another thirty seconds if Dean didn’t tell him…

"Uh…you remember what happened to my AC/DC t-shirt? The Back in Black one?"

Sam’s brow crinkled, once again cold-cocked by the randomness that passed as Dean Winchester logic.

"Yeah…," he ventured, the memory coming back to him one word at a time, "it…got that …weird pink…stain on it that you… said was from the… zombie spit." He straightened decisively, brain fart cleared. "Then it turned white and dissolved in the washing machine, so you had to throw it out."

Now gloveless, Dean scratched the back of his head as he nodded, and again with the face. "Well, it wasn’t the zombie spit that did it in. Actually, there was this girl, and I had this zit, so I got me some of that pimple cream. I accidentally got some on the t-shirt."

"Well, yeah, dumbass, peroxide will strip the color out of…"

Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck

Sam yanked his hand away from the throbbing cut and stared at it horrified. Sam bitch face on top, Mr. Bill face on the bottom.

White foamy fingers. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit

Sam lunged for the nightstand, pushing Dean out of the way roughly, and snagged the economy-sized brown bottle that his brother had been working so hard to conceal.

"You put fucking peroxide in my hair?! What the hell were you thinking?"

"I forgot, Sam. I was thinking we had to get that cut good and clean. I mean, who the hell knows where that pecker’s been?"


Sam didn’t bother to go around the bed, just leaped over it like an emu on the attack as he scrambled for the bathroom.

"Since when do you worry about that, Dean?" He snapped angrily as the bathroom door clanged off the wall and reverberated like the recoil on a catapult. "And how much did you use?"

"Enough…?" Obviously not the right answer, but apparently Dean just couldn’t help himself. Smug bastard.

Sam clicked on the flickering fluorescent tube that hummed above the bathroom mirror and stared at his reflection, agape as he pulled at the soggy strands in disbelief. He had a fucking stripe, a multicolored fucking skunk stripe right the fuck on top of his head. It started at the hairline in the center of his forehead, mottled pink and nearly black at the roots to snow white at the ends, and it went all the way across the crown of his head to some spot in the back he couldn’t see.

Dean stepped up behind him tentatively, clearing his throat. "I…uh,…I suppose now’s not a good time to ask what’s black and white and red all over…"

That’s when Sam hit him.

XXXX

"’a cn awas air uh ‘at?"

"What? Dean take the ice pack off your face. I don’t have time to interpret dick latin."

Dean let the half-melted compress fall into his lap with a slosh like the last beers floating in an ice chest.

"I said you can always wear a hat," he huffed around his bruised mouth, lips swollen like a duck bill.

"I don’t do hats," Sam grumbled as he combed over the freshly washed train wreck atop his head. "Aflac," he added for good measure.

"What?"

"C’mon Dean, say it. You could get a commercial. C’mon, ….Aflac. Or wait…no…Dissthpiccable. Put that bill to work Daffy." Should’ve been funny, but the heat in his voice went way beyond warm humor.

"What, you’re still pissed at me? I said I was sorry, all right? Not like I did it on purpose."

"Yet.."

"Hey, gimme a little credit here. I would not stoop that low."

"Nair in my shampoo, Dean…"

"You were fourteen and built like a giraffe. I did it to take the attention off how goofy the rest of you looked. I was just getting your back."

"My brother, the superhero. Where’s the kryptonite when you need it?" Sam picked up the scissors on the edge of the sink and tried awkwardly to maneuver it, using the reflection in the mirror, but he kept zigging when he should’ve been zagging, never quite compensating for the reversal in the glass.

Dean dropped his ice on the nightstand and stood up. "Let me do that."

"Hell, no!" Sam slapped away his brother’s hand as Dean reached for the scissors. "You think I’m letting you anywhere near my hair after what you did?"

"C’mon…Saammy. It’s not the first time I’ve cut your hair."

"I’m not letting you put a bowl on my head."

"Don’t think they make one that‘d fit."

"Dumbass."

"Bitch face."

"Fine," Sam consented slapping the plastic handles into Dean’s waiting palm. "But not too much. Just the ends. The shit’s breaking off."

"We’ll have to find some conditioner or something."

Sam gave Dean the lifted eyebrow.

"What? I know a lot of chicks. They like to talk about their hair. What of it?"

"You’re such a girl, Dean," Sam relented, finally smiling after two straight hours of bitch pucker. Damn, his cheeks kinda hurt.

"Maybe, but at least I’m not gonna look like Mr. Burns from the Simpsons when I’m ninety."

"You won’t live to see ninety."

"No, probably not. But you damned well better. Now stop making the bitch face, cuz it’ll get stuck that way."


XXXX

"This one sounds good," Dean offered, looking up over the screen of the laptop, "says it’ll ‘get those ugly reddish overtones out, intensify the black and sparkle with a sheen like you've never seen’."

Well, that sounded pretty good, but something about the sing-song tone of Dean’s voice, and…"Wait? Sparkles with a sheen?"

Dean raised his eyebrows innocently, but grinned Cheshire bright as he deflected the wad of dirty socks that careened toward his head.

"You’re not ordering dog shampoo for me, Dean!"

"Fine. Just keep the look. I think it works for you. Makes a statement, says, ‘Sam Winchester, celebrity.’"

Afraid to ask, Sam rolled his eyes. "And what celebrity would that be?"

Dean feigned shock. "What, you never heard of Borlis Karloff? How about Igor? Michael Landon in I Was a Teenage Werewolf? Oooh, Morticia Adams? Heh?" He wiggled his eyebrows. The bastard.

"Dean!"

"Fine, then, Pepe le Phew?"

"Fuck you."

"Not my type," Dean dismissed, looking back at the screen. "Here’s one that’s used to repair sun damage. Says it reverses the effects of sun bleaching. That could work?"

"Do you shampoo it in?"

"No, it’s a dietary supplement."

"Dietary?"

"Yeah, says you sprinkle it right over your oats."

"God, I hate you."

"Whatever you gotta tell yourself, little brother. And it’s Dean."

"Jerk."

XXXX

"We have to do it, Sam. It’ll just keep breaking off if we don’t."

"I know, that’s not the problem."

"Then what is?" Dean asked. The look on his face when he turned around said he clearly knew the answer. Smug bastard. He straightened the plastic gloves that had come with the deep conditioning kit and held them out in front of him like a surgeon entering his OR.

"Do not say it, Dean."

"Bend over and cough."

"I hate you."

He didn’t. Really, taking a bullet or the wrath of a demon, standing at the gates of hell when the bastards just kept coming and coming-any run of the mill superhero could do that. Only a big brother would do your hair.

And Dean, well, Dean was the still the bestest. He just wasn’t allowed to play with chemicals anymore. No matter where the pecker’s been.

The End

Comments

[tigriswolf]

*sporfles* (I've never done that before. Interesting.)

Awesome! And brotherly and funny and for ME! *twirls*

[tru-faith-lost.livejournal.com]

LOL, only you could pull of a sporfle. Glad you liked it. I suppose it could've been longer, but they just wanted to talk, so I let 'em. Muahahaha.

Tracy

[oc-pixie.livejournal.com]

*dies laughing* THIS is why I don't let my brother anywhere near my hair!

[tru-faith-lost.livejournal.com]

Haha, yeah I know. I had to write some crack about the hair, and I just can't do angst lately, so it worked for me. Glad you liked it.

Tracy

[oc-pixie.livejournal.com]

I just get this image of Dean saying "Oops" and then the stripe in Sammy's hair...hilarious!

[lark_ascends]

That was friggin' hilarious. Just what I needed this morning.

[tru-faith-lost.livejournal.com]

Thanks darlin'. The angst bunnies have eaten my heart out and left it scattered in little pellets around their cages. I needed humor. Glad you liked it.

Tracy

[i-speak-tongue.livejournal.com]

Yeah! You did it! This was just fantastic.
Best line:

Dean cracked like a ninth grade egg drop experiment.

Brilliant.


and:

“You won’t live to see ninety.”

"No, probably not. But you damned well better."
that was just... ouch. Lines like this in crack!fic or humor seem so much more effective and hurty. Subtly heartbreaking.

[tru-faith-lost.livejournal.com]

Thanks. There was actually an angst bunny trying to gnaw his way into this. I wrapped the fic in aluminum foil, cuz I heard bunnies won't chew that, but he was quit tenacious and poked a hole in anyway.

Glad you liked it. My damned egg broke every time. Good thing I aced all the written work. Haha.

Thanks for reading.

Tracy

[soydolcelatte.livejournal.com]

This was awesome! Your descriptions of their faces and mannerisms was perfect!!!! LOVED IT!!

Dean - "Ooops!" LOL!!!! Loved that!!

[tru-faith-lost.livejournal.com]

Thanks for reading darlin'. I'm glad you liked it. I tried hard to write them exactly they way they were playing in my head. Squee if it worked.

Tracy

[mgbutterfly.livejournal.com]

This was fabulous!

Bless their little hearts. I think my brother did that to his hair on purpose once. He wasn't too bright.

And this: “What? Dean take the ice pack off your face. I don’t have time to interpret dick latin.”
had me snorting!

hehehehehe

[tru-faith-lost.livejournal.com]

Haha, Glad you liked it. I had fun writing it. And I swear I don't know where some of that stuff comes from. I 'm just glad when someone can relate.

Thanks for reading.

Tracy

[wildesidewalker.livejournal.com]

Yay for funny crack fic. There hasn't been a lot around lately, it seems. I love the way you write them; you just capture that brotherly dynamic so well. The descriptions of their expressions were great, too.

And gods, I am such a 12 year old, because this line just had me cracking up: I mean, who the hell knows where that pecker’s been?”

Yeah, I'm a dork.

[tru-faith-lost.livejournal.com]

No, you're not a twelve year old. I totally laughed out loud when I wrote that. I was just trying to think of the most ridiculous way for Sam to get a cut on his head, and wham! Woodpecker, muahahahaha.

Thanks for reading.

Tracy

[gumnut.livejournal.com]

Well, you certaily had me laughing my ass off :D Apart from the funy stuff, you also had quite a few endearing moments in there.

Thank you so much for writing.

Nutty
(still giggling)

[tru-faith-lost.livejournal.com]

Thanks darlin'. I read somewhere that touching of hair is pretty high on the intimacy scale, so I couldn't just brush over the sweetness of brothers doing hair. Glad you liked it.

Tracy

[mlebayre.livejournal.com]

Teee heheehehehee........still way too funny.

Laura

[tru-faith-lost.livejournal.com]

Heheheh, well, I probably never would have thought of it without your kitty fic to inspire me. LOL. Thanks, BTW, I really needed to let off some steam, and writing this did the trick. *grin*

Tracy

[3rd-leg.livejournal.com]

You know I loved this! I got a good laugh out of it too, yeah for crack! the fic kind...um, I'm gonna shut up now. lol

[tru-faith-lost.livejournal.com]

Haha, yay for crack. You are a dork, lol.

Tracy

[iamstealthyone.livejournal.com]

Cute story! I love how Dean is sooo reluctant to 'fess up at the begininng, and of course Sam gets super pissy about what's happened. Oh, boys, you amuse me so. :)

Favorite lines:

Sam’s brow crinkled, once again cold-cocked by the randomness that passed as Dean Winchester logic.

*g*

“’a cn awas air uh ‘at?”

“What? Dean take the ice pack off your face. I don’t have time to interpret dick latin.”

LOL! I love pissy!Sam.

Dean let the half-melted compress fall into his lap with a slosh like the last beers floating in an ice chest.

Nice description.

“God, I hate you.”

“Whatever you gotta tell yourself, little brother. And it’s Dean.”

Pissy!Sam+smartass!Dean=love. :)

“Do not say it, Dean.”

“Bend over and cough.”

“I hate you.”

*snickers* Poor, beleaguered Sam.

He didn’t. Really, taking a bullet or the wrath of a demon, standing at the gates of hell when the bastards just kept coming and coming—any run of the mill superhero could do that. Only a big brother would do your hair.

Aww. :)

[tru-faith-lost.livejournal.com]

Aw, thanks. I needed something light-hearted, cuz I so havent' been myself. Sigh. And once the boys opened their mouths, well, this happened. LOL. Glad you liked it. And thanks for reading.

Tracy

[mlebayre.livejournal.com]

Tracy I love the new layout....but...um....hon....there's no words to the fic.

It's the stealthiest fic EVER!

L

[tru-faith-lost.livejournal.com]

Gosh, I hope it's only this fic...EEE. I think maybe the font didn't change color for some reason. Prolly copied it from Word. Now I will have to go back and look. Sniff.

Thanks for pointing it out.

Tracy