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phantismaTitle: The Seduction of Scott, Part 21 (Promzilla)
Characters: Sam/Dean, Dana, Scott (cameo by Aristotle)
Rating: PG-13 (established m/m relationship, nothing explicit here)
Word Count: 1572
Disclaimer: Not mine - just playing.
Summary: Written by my friend M, Part 21 brings pre-prom terrible behavior from Dana. Next chapter (22), THE PROM, is the last in this series.
“No.”
She looked at the picture then back at Sam. “What do you mean ‘No’?” she seethed, her voice rising. “Now, of all times, you say ‘No’?”
“Not ‘No’ to buying you a prom dress,” replied Sam in his best talking to a kindergartner voice. “No to that excuse for a dress. Your father would shoot me between the eyes.” Sam turned his eyes back to his magazine.
“What the hell is wrong with this dress? This dress is HOT!” Dana looked at the picture of the black rayon dress with the red trim. It clung in all the right spots, exactly the places where Dana was blessed and wanted cling. She shoved it in front of his face.
Sam carefully pushed it away.
“Sweetheart, I don’t care if it is the height of fashion. It is flat out slutty. That dress shows everything but your nipples in front and way too much skin in the back. Absolutely not.”
“I want this dress,” she jabbed her finger at the picture.
“No sweetheart. Pick something that covers some skin.” He added gently, “There is so little fabric in the back, it’ll show your scars.”
She saw the concern shining in his eyes. “Sam, I want this dress and it will cover the scars, you know I won’t let them show. And I’ll use a wrap if I have to.”
“No, that dress is all wrong for you. It isn’t you at all. Pick something else. And not black. Green is nice, matches your eyes.”
She screamed in frustration and stormed out of the house.
Scott came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck, whispered in her ear. “You hair is standing on end. You need to relax.”
She slammed her locker door with an almighty bang and spun around.
“Dana – there are flames coming out of your ears.”
She grabbed at her ears before realizing he was joking. She kicked him in the shin, hard and uttered, “Ass.”
Dana headed down the hall. Scott limped after her. “What’s wrong?”
“Sam won’t buy me the dress I want.”
Scott snorted.
“What’s so damn funny?”
“Sam gives you everything. That dress must cost a fortune.”
“He didn’t even ask the price.”
“Huh?” Dana stalked away without answering, leaving Scott rubbing his shin.
Dana was stirring the sauce in the newly scrubbed kitchen. She glanced at the gleaming sink and admired her handiwork.
Sam and Aristotle walked in the kitchen.
“Good walk?”
Sam gave her a quizzical look and checked out the stove.
“You cleaned the kitchen and you’re cooking dinner?”
She smiled and nodded, seemingly emitting a golden glow around her head, transmitting a vibe of peace and tranquility. Maybe it was overkill but she wanted that dress.
“Who’d you kill and did you dispose of the body correctly?”
“Har-dee har har.” She looked down at Aristotle who was sitting at her feet gazing at the pots on the stove. “Don’t beg Ari.” Ari whimpered and crawled under the kitchen table.
Sam reached into the refrigerator for a beer.
“I’m making that Bolognese sauce you love so much. And I made lemon bars.”
Sam slumped into a chair, looked at her with slanted eyes. “Angel hair pasta?”
She nodded and turned up the wattage of her plastered on smile.
“And the reggiano I like too?”
She nodded some more, head bouncing up and down.
“That’s so great Dana,” he smiled, swallowed some beer, stood, kissed her cheek. “Thank you. And you still can’t have that horrid dress.”
And Sam left the room, Ari following.
As the door shut, she threw her spoon at it.
They had finished her dinner.
Dean was in the yard pretending as if he wasn’t playing Frisbee with Aristotle. Sam picked up the final plate. “Dinner was delicious Dana. And please remove that spoiled child look from your face. It makes me question my lifelong parenting decisions.”
“Ok, let’s not talk about the dress,” she reached for her bag and pulled out her bound notebook and opened it.
“What is that?” Sam plopped himself into a chair and leaned over to look, reached for the book.
She slapped his hand away.
“Oh god. It’s a hunter’s journal all about the prom.”
“You say that as if it is a problem,” Dana replied tersely.
“No problem,” Sam mumbled, brushed the hair out of his eyes.
She pulled out pictures of shoes, strappy, high heeled sandals and slides. Pictures of corsages, nail colors and hair styles fell out onto the table.
Sam looked at the pictures of the shoes, ignoring the others. “Dana, how do you plan to run in these things if something attacks you?”
“Bite your tongue! How could you? Nothing is going to attack at prom. Nothing,” she glared at him. “How could you say such a thing?”
Sam looked them over, ran his fingers through his hair. He went through each of the pictures twice. Put them down on the table, kissed his finger, touched it to her nose. “Dana, find a suitable dress and you can have any of those shoes.”
“I have picked my dress.”
“No, you haven’t and you’re running out of time.”
Sam picked up the last plate and left the room.
Dana slammed her prom journal shut.
Dean and Sam walked into the kitchen. Dana was sitting at the table drinking coffee, elbow on the table, head resting on her hand.
“Good morning sunshine,” Dean said. “Did you sleep at all? You look like crap.”
Dana rubbed her eyes. “Gee thanks Dad. We have to talk.”
Dean turned to Sam, who yawned and shrugged his shoulders in reply. Dean reached for the coffee pot. “What is this on the Winchester 1 – 10 scale?”
“A two.”
“Fine. I can deal with a two.” Dean sat down in the chair next to her. Dana pulled out the prom journal. Sam groaned and headed to the coffee machine.
Dana pulled out the picture of the dress, handed it to her Dad.
“Sam won’t approve this dress. I want this dress Dad.” She pointed her finger at the picture. “So please tell Sammy it’s okay.”
Dean drank some coffee, looked at the picture, turned to Sam who held up his hands in a “leave me out of it” gesture. Dean rubbed his face.
“It’s a great dress,” Dean started. Dana bounced in her chair. “For a whore working the Strip,” he added.
Sam spit his coffee, soaking the front of his shirt. Dean reached over to grab the kitchen towel and tossed it at Sam.
“If you somehow manage to coerce Sam into buying that so-called dress for you, I’ll shoot him.”
Dana didn’t look at either of them. She just shut her journal and exited the kitchen.
Dana and Erin were sitting under their favorite tree in the school’s courtyard. Erin leaned back on her arms. Dana reached into her backpack and pulled out the prom journal, flipped it open to the nail color section.
“So, should I go with the Berry Blush or Vixen Red?”
“You should go with the appointment with Dr. Sumenium to get your head checked,” said Erin as she bit into her apple.
“Why would you say that?”
Erin wiped the juice from her chin and talked with her mouth full.
“Girl, you have appointments booked for your hair, your make-up, your nails. You have reservations for us at The Ridge for dinner. You have the whole thing planned to the minute. You need to chill the fuck out.”
Not heeding a word coming out of Erin’s mouth, Dana proceeded, “Do you love the up-do I picked?” holding up a picture of a hair style.
“Enough.” Erin grabbed the book, pictures flying. Dana scrambled to gather them up.
Erin put the book under her butt and sat on it.
“Enough. I want Dana back, not this possessed crazy person. Come out Dana,” Erin teased.
In a small voice, Dana said, “I just want it to be perfect.”
“Why Dana? Why is it so goddamn important? One month ago you were making fun of the whole thing?”
Dana stopped, bit her nails. Erin whacked her hand. “Dunno why.”
“Fine. Doesn’t matter. Obsession stops today. You need to relax. You are driving me fucking nuts.”
“I need to get Sam to buy me that dress.”
“He’s told you ‘No, I’m not buying that dress’ how many times? You gotta move on.” Erin’s voice was approaching shrill.
At that moment, Georgina and her group of friends gathered under the tree about fifteen yards away.
Dana glanced in their direction. Erin touched her arm. “Stay calm. I know that nasty skank throws herself at Scott. But you can’t let her know you want to gouge her eyes out.”
Dana nodded slightly, averted her eyes.
Georgina had a box with her and she was excitedly relaying the tale of buying whatever was in it loudly enough so Dana and Erin couldn’t help but overhear.
Then she reached in and pulled out a black rayon dress with a red trim. Georgina stood and held it up to herself to model it, spinning around. She stopped in front of Dana and shouted at her. “Do you think Scott’ll like this dress on me?”
Dana looked up and flashed a tight smile then reached for her phone.
Text to Sam: U R Right about dress – all wrong 4 me.
Characters: Sam/Dean, Dana, Scott (cameo by Aristotle)
Rating: PG-13 (established m/m relationship, nothing explicit here)
Word Count: 1572
Disclaimer: Not mine - just playing.
Summary: Written by my friend M, Part 21 brings pre-prom terrible behavior from Dana. Next chapter (22), THE PROM, is the last in this series.
“No.”
She looked at the picture then back at Sam. “What do you mean ‘No’?” she seethed, her voice rising. “Now, of all times, you say ‘No’?”
“Not ‘No’ to buying you a prom dress,” replied Sam in his best talking to a kindergartner voice. “No to that excuse for a dress. Your father would shoot me between the eyes.” Sam turned his eyes back to his magazine.
“What the hell is wrong with this dress? This dress is HOT!” Dana looked at the picture of the black rayon dress with the red trim. It clung in all the right spots, exactly the places where Dana was blessed and wanted cling. She shoved it in front of his face.
Sam carefully pushed it away.
“Sweetheart, I don’t care if it is the height of fashion. It is flat out slutty. That dress shows everything but your nipples in front and way too much skin in the back. Absolutely not.”
“I want this dress,” she jabbed her finger at the picture.
“No sweetheart. Pick something that covers some skin.” He added gently, “There is so little fabric in the back, it’ll show your scars.”
She saw the concern shining in his eyes. “Sam, I want this dress and it will cover the scars, you know I won’t let them show. And I’ll use a wrap if I have to.”
“No, that dress is all wrong for you. It isn’t you at all. Pick something else. And not black. Green is nice, matches your eyes.”
She screamed in frustration and stormed out of the house.
Scott came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck, whispered in her ear. “You hair is standing on end. You need to relax.”
She slammed her locker door with an almighty bang and spun around.
“Dana – there are flames coming out of your ears.”
She grabbed at her ears before realizing he was joking. She kicked him in the shin, hard and uttered, “Ass.”
Dana headed down the hall. Scott limped after her. “What’s wrong?”
“Sam won’t buy me the dress I want.”
Scott snorted.
“What’s so damn funny?”
“Sam gives you everything. That dress must cost a fortune.”
“He didn’t even ask the price.”
“Huh?” Dana stalked away without answering, leaving Scott rubbing his shin.
Dana was stirring the sauce in the newly scrubbed kitchen. She glanced at the gleaming sink and admired her handiwork.
Sam and Aristotle walked in the kitchen.
“Good walk?”
Sam gave her a quizzical look and checked out the stove.
“You cleaned the kitchen and you’re cooking dinner?”
She smiled and nodded, seemingly emitting a golden glow around her head, transmitting a vibe of peace and tranquility. Maybe it was overkill but she wanted that dress.
“Who’d you kill and did you dispose of the body correctly?”
“Har-dee har har.” She looked down at Aristotle who was sitting at her feet gazing at the pots on the stove. “Don’t beg Ari.” Ari whimpered and crawled under the kitchen table.
Sam reached into the refrigerator for a beer.
“I’m making that Bolognese sauce you love so much. And I made lemon bars.”
Sam slumped into a chair, looked at her with slanted eyes. “Angel hair pasta?”
She nodded and turned up the wattage of her plastered on smile.
“And the reggiano I like too?”
She nodded some more, head bouncing up and down.
“That’s so great Dana,” he smiled, swallowed some beer, stood, kissed her cheek. “Thank you. And you still can’t have that horrid dress.”
And Sam left the room, Ari following.
As the door shut, she threw her spoon at it.
They had finished her dinner.
Dean was in the yard pretending as if he wasn’t playing Frisbee with Aristotle. Sam picked up the final plate. “Dinner was delicious Dana. And please remove that spoiled child look from your face. It makes me question my lifelong parenting decisions.”
“Ok, let’s not talk about the dress,” she reached for her bag and pulled out her bound notebook and opened it.
“What is that?” Sam plopped himself into a chair and leaned over to look, reached for the book.
She slapped his hand away.
“Oh god. It’s a hunter’s journal all about the prom.”
“You say that as if it is a problem,” Dana replied tersely.
“No problem,” Sam mumbled, brushed the hair out of his eyes.
She pulled out pictures of shoes, strappy, high heeled sandals and slides. Pictures of corsages, nail colors and hair styles fell out onto the table.
Sam looked at the pictures of the shoes, ignoring the others. “Dana, how do you plan to run in these things if something attacks you?”
“Bite your tongue! How could you? Nothing is going to attack at prom. Nothing,” she glared at him. “How could you say such a thing?”
Sam looked them over, ran his fingers through his hair. He went through each of the pictures twice. Put them down on the table, kissed his finger, touched it to her nose. “Dana, find a suitable dress and you can have any of those shoes.”
“I have picked my dress.”
“No, you haven’t and you’re running out of time.”
Sam picked up the last plate and left the room.
Dana slammed her prom journal shut.
Dean and Sam walked into the kitchen. Dana was sitting at the table drinking coffee, elbow on the table, head resting on her hand.
“Good morning sunshine,” Dean said. “Did you sleep at all? You look like crap.”
Dana rubbed her eyes. “Gee thanks Dad. We have to talk.”
Dean turned to Sam, who yawned and shrugged his shoulders in reply. Dean reached for the coffee pot. “What is this on the Winchester 1 – 10 scale?”
“A two.”
“Fine. I can deal with a two.” Dean sat down in the chair next to her. Dana pulled out the prom journal. Sam groaned and headed to the coffee machine.
Dana pulled out the picture of the dress, handed it to her Dad.
“Sam won’t approve this dress. I want this dress Dad.” She pointed her finger at the picture. “So please tell Sammy it’s okay.”
Dean drank some coffee, looked at the picture, turned to Sam who held up his hands in a “leave me out of it” gesture. Dean rubbed his face.
“It’s a great dress,” Dean started. Dana bounced in her chair. “For a whore working the Strip,” he added.
Sam spit his coffee, soaking the front of his shirt. Dean reached over to grab the kitchen towel and tossed it at Sam.
“If you somehow manage to coerce Sam into buying that so-called dress for you, I’ll shoot him.”
Dana didn’t look at either of them. She just shut her journal and exited the kitchen.
Dana and Erin were sitting under their favorite tree in the school’s courtyard. Erin leaned back on her arms. Dana reached into her backpack and pulled out the prom journal, flipped it open to the nail color section.
“So, should I go with the Berry Blush or Vixen Red?”
“You should go with the appointment with Dr. Sumenium to get your head checked,” said Erin as she bit into her apple.
“Why would you say that?”
Erin wiped the juice from her chin and talked with her mouth full.
“Girl, you have appointments booked for your hair, your make-up, your nails. You have reservations for us at The Ridge for dinner. You have the whole thing planned to the minute. You need to chill the fuck out.”
Not heeding a word coming out of Erin’s mouth, Dana proceeded, “Do you love the up-do I picked?” holding up a picture of a hair style.
“Enough.” Erin grabbed the book, pictures flying. Dana scrambled to gather them up.
Erin put the book under her butt and sat on it.
“Enough. I want Dana back, not this possessed crazy person. Come out Dana,” Erin teased.
In a small voice, Dana said, “I just want it to be perfect.”
“Why Dana? Why is it so goddamn important? One month ago you were making fun of the whole thing?”
Dana stopped, bit her nails. Erin whacked her hand. “Dunno why.”
“Fine. Doesn’t matter. Obsession stops today. You need to relax. You are driving me fucking nuts.”
“I need to get Sam to buy me that dress.”
“He’s told you ‘No, I’m not buying that dress’ how many times? You gotta move on.” Erin’s voice was approaching shrill.
At that moment, Georgina and her group of friends gathered under the tree about fifteen yards away.
Dana glanced in their direction. Erin touched her arm. “Stay calm. I know that nasty skank throws herself at Scott. But you can’t let her know you want to gouge her eyes out.”
Dana nodded slightly, averted her eyes.
Georgina had a box with her and she was excitedly relaying the tale of buying whatever was in it loudly enough so Dana and Erin couldn’t help but overhear.
Then she reached in and pulled out a black rayon dress with a red trim. Georgina stood and held it up to herself to model it, spinning around. She stopped in front of Dana and shouted at her. “Do you think Scott’ll like this dress on me?”
Dana looked up and flashed a tight smile then reached for her phone.
Text to Sam: U R Right about dress – all wrong 4 me.
