spn_on_parade | My First Fic in Forever

kinkthatwinked.livejournal.com posting in

So, I’ve had the Fic Prompt Challenge image stuck in my head for a few days, with absolutely no idea what (or if) I would write, when I walk in on my son watching Toy Story. The idea of toys that come alive only when their owners aren’t around, having adventures that only a toy could have, and racing to get back to exactly where their owner left them before he/she returns, stayed with me and led to this.

Please understand, I’ve had writer’s block for YEARS now when it comes to fanfic, despite the armada of plot bunnies, so this burst of inspiration is unexpected and frankly making me a bit nervous. It’s plastic dolls, for Pete’s sake! How did I get a full-blown ficlet from this?!

Also, I blew the word maximum. Thankfully, not by much, but still, I'm sorry about that. And my mentioning a moderator in this story is not an attempt to curry favor; it just made sense to base the story on someone I know who owns these dolls.

So, let me know what you think. All comments, especially constructive criticisms, are welcome.

TITLE: Sam vs. The Fence
AUTHOR:

kinkthatwinked
BETA: None, all mistakes are mine
CHARACTERS: Mini Dean, Mini Sam,

milly_gal, mention of Steve
GENRE: Gen
RATING: R for language, I guess
WORD COUNT: 1,156
SUMMARY: An adventure in the neighbor’s yard leads to a race against time, and Sam fears for his future

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“Dean, help!”

God, what now? It was bad enough Dean hardly ever got any time to himself, since Milly always had him and Sam joined at the hip, along with Cas and that freaking dwarf and Bagpuss (well, Bagpuss was cool). Today she’d left him and Sam on the patio table while she went inside to “check her e-mail,” i.e., surf porn, so for a few glorious, precious minutes the boys could split up and roam the backyard as they each pleased. The last Dean saw of Sam, he was at the fence, peering over into the neighbor’s garden.

Dean raced toward Sam’s voice, which came from the fence, but he didn’t see him. He tried to tamp down his panic; Sam out of his line of sight and calling for help was never a good thing. “Sammy?”

“Up here!”

Using his knife as an anchor, Dean heaved himself up along the brick wall until he reached the wooden slats of the fence. He leapt upon the railing, ready to defend his brother against anything: a playful puppy, a cat in hunting mode, a rabid squirrel, whatever. He wasn’t prepared to find Sam alone, with only his tight grip on the railing to indicate something was wrong.

“What is it?”

“I …” Sam averted his eyes, and if it were possible for a plastic doll to blush, Dean was pretty sure Sam would have been pink by then, “… I can’t get out.”

“Come again?”

Sam was silent for a few seconds, then the words came out in a rush. “I just wanted a closer look at the flowers over here, and there’s nobody home next door, and Milly’s gonna be in there for a while, so I knew no one would see me, but now I’m trying to come back home and … and … I can’t,” he finished miserably.

“Well, just squeeze on through.”

“I tried that, Dean, my head doesn’t fit!”

“It doesn’t – how’d you get your head through in the first place?”

“I just kept wiggling and twisting my head till I got through, and I tried it to get back over the same way, but it’s not working now.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know everything! How can we both be carrying Ruby’s knife when there was only one? How can we talk when we have no mouths?! I DON’T KNOW!”

“Alright, alright,” Dean soothed. For a toy that didn’t even need air, Sam’s chest was heaving. Jesus, panic much? “We’ll figure something out.”

“Oh man, Dean, I don’t wanna get caught. Imagine what’ll happen if they find out we’re alive.” Sam glanced nervously around the garden, as if afraid some passerby might spot them.

“Yeah, Steve might freak and throw us out. Or sell us and get rich.” I would, Dean thought, but he wisely kept that to himself.

“Forget him – imagine what Milly would do with us!”

Images of the sexual poses they’d already been forced to take at the hands of their filthy-minded owner flashed through Dean’s mind, and he shuddered. God, what positions would she make them assume if she found out they have bendable joints when they’re active?! “Shit, we gotta get you outta there. Okay, c’mon, let’s try feet first this time.”

Sam’s body came through easily, but once again his head stubbornly remained too big to pass. Shoving his knife into his belt loop, Dean grabbed his brother’s legs with both hands, braced his own feet against the fence, and started pulling.

“Ow, ow, Dean – OW! Dean, stop it! Lemme go, my head’s about to come off!”

Dean looked up, fully prepared to call Sam a whiny little bitch, and froze in horror at the neck plug, which shouldn’t be visible, emerging from Sam’s head like a birthing baby. Dean snatched his hands away as if burnt. It’s not like Sam would actually die if his head separated from his body, but still. It’s the principle of the thing.

“Dammit!” Dean turned away and started rubbing the back of his own neck: partly out of sympathy for Sam, partly to comfort himself, and partly so Sam couldn’t see the worry in his face. What the hell were they going to do?

Sam, for his part, turned his body and curled into a fetal position. This was it, they were going to get caught. Milly would come out here and find a half-decapitated doll with its head stuck in a fence, and God only knows what she would do. Write him off as broken?

“Sammy?”

Throw him out? Buy a new Sam?

“Sam.”

What if the last thing he saw was another Funko Pop box with a mint-condition Sam inside before the trash bag closed in on him, cutting him off from Dean forever?

“Sam!”

“What?!” Sam said, trying hard to not sound like he was about to cry.

“Your head looks like it’ll fit now.”

“… What?” Sam repeated, voice still wibbly.

“Your head’s diagonal now. We were trying to pull you straight through; your head’s too wide for that. But if we pull you through at this angle, it might fit. That’s probably how you got in there in the first place.”

“You think …?” Sam was afraid to hope, but as usual, Dean had enough hope for both of them, since he’d already grabbed Sam’s head and, leaning it so it was at the same diagonal slant as the opening, was carefully inching it past the slats. Adjustments were necessary for Sam’s nose and layers of hair, but in moments that felt like eternities to both dolls, Sam was free and safely back on Steve and Milly’s property.

The dolls raced as fast as their little legs could carry them back to the patio. Once there, Sam turned his off-kilter head to gaze at Dean: his brother, his partner in crime, and once again, his hero.

“Oh God, Dean, thanks, man – OW!” It was the only reply Sam could manage as Dean picked Sam up, held him upside down, and slammed Sam headfirst against the concrete. “What the –” Dean did another pile driver on him.

Forget all the nice stuff he was just thinking; Dean’s an asshole. “Dean, what the hell?!”

“I’m trying to get your head back on right, dumbass! Do a headstand!” As Sam complied, balancing on his head and hands, Dean stood atop Sam’s jaw and tried twisting Sam’s body back into place. Finally, both dolls heard a distinct, miraculous pop!

A quick shimmy up the patio chair’s legs and tightrope walk across the chair’s arms brought them within leaping distance of the table. Whipping out their knives, they posed and froze in place just as the screen door slid open.

“Well, I’m back, my loves,” Milly sang as she sat down. “Anything exciting happen while I was away?”

Of course they remained silent. Besides, they wouldn’t have told her even if they could.

Current Mood: nervous

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

jeweledvixen.livejournal.com

I'm dying of laughter! For someone with writer's block, this is awesome. My favorite part was when Dean banged Sam's head in the ground to get it back on - twice. Fantastic crack fic. :D

From:

small, but perfectly formed ...

My First Fic in Forever

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