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apocalypsosTitle: With A Poodle Under One Arm, And A Two-Foot Salami Under The Other
Author: Troll Princess
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,455 words
Spoilers: Nothing specific
Pairing: Sam/Dean/OFC
Warnings: Bad language, incest, genderswap, bodyswap, threesome (It's called "overkill." Heh.)
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just like playing with them.
Summary: So two guys and a girl walk into a bar.
Author's note: I have written some crackfic in my time, but this is soooo pushing it.
*****
With A Poodle Under One Arm, And A Two-Foot Salami Under The Other
*****
1.
So two guys and a girl walk into a bar.
The girl shows up first, sauntering into the joint like she owns the fucking place and isn't above kicking a few customers to the curb to prove it. Red leather clings to the curves of her legs and hips, hugging her like the only thing holding it together might be a hopeful wish. The wifebeater tugged down over her breasts looks like a last-minute replacement, like she spilled something on the fancy shirt she'd been wearing first and all she could come up with was this tiny scrap of a thing sheared off just high enough to show off her belly button.
Little black lines of ink mark the golden brown skin on her arms, groups of four slashed through. When she accepts her beer from the bartender with a wink and smile, he sees the marks and thinks of someone notching a bedpost, of someone keeping time in jail by scratching the days into the wall.
The first of the guys to show is this cocky son of a bitch, right, and if the girl comes in like she's got the deed, this bastard swaggers in like he knows he can talk her out of it. And then ten minutes later, this other one walks in, tall as a redwood and tense as anything, and heads right over to the table at which the cocky bastard's currently holding court.
The cocky bastard finishes off a couple of beers and the tall one just sprawls in the other chair looking bored and surly, and the girl pretends to feed quarters into the jukebox while her gaze keeps darting their way.
The next thing anyone in the place knows, the girl's in the cocky bastard's lap and her hand's taking up residence on the tall one's zipper.
So, yeah, two guys and a girl walk into a bar, and thirty minutes later they walk right back out again.
The funny thing is what happens next.
And no, it's not the punchline.
2.
Okay, on second thought, maybe it is a punchline.
Sam wasn't even going to go, all right. He was just going to stay at the goddamn bar and nurse a beer and wait the appropriate amount of time for Dean to get what he wanted before going back to the motel room. But then this girl crawls into Dean's lap, and she says something like, "Hi, I'm Viola, and now that we've been properly introduced --" and then she just shoves her tongue down Dean's throat.
Which might be the most perfect introduction Dean's ever gotten, come to think of it.
And Sam really wasn't thinking the image was all that hot, no matter what his rapidly hardening cock wants you to believe. His cock wants you to believe that seeing the girl lick at Dean's mouth like it was a heat wave and he was made out of ice cream was an erotic portrait made that much hotter by the fact it was Dean. His cock wants to make sure you understand that there was no way in hell Sam wasn't going to squirm at the sight of that, of Dean's fingers threading through the girl's brown curls as he tasted the inside of her mouth over and over again.
Look, Sam doesn't even know why you're listening to his cock, okay. Obviously, the fucking thing's defective, because it's getting off watching Dean make out with someone.
Yeah, there's a hot girl there. Who cares?
But it doesn't change the fact that Sam's jeans got uncomfortably tight in a heartbeat, and just when he thought he'd gone completely out of his mind, suddenly a small warm hand pressed against his crotch.
And really, Sam couldn't say no to a invite like that.
No, not even if Dean's involved.
Sam's cock would like to point out that you really have to say yes to an invite like that especially when Dean's involved, but Sam's mind's a little preoccupied right now.
That's not the punchline, though.
No, no matter how much it feels like it.
3.
The punchline goes a little something like this.
Once upon a time, two brothers and the hot girl who offered to fuck them both stumble in a motel room. The girl slams the older brother into the wall and his zipper's yanked down right about the same time that the younger brother presses up against her back and mouths kisses along the slope of her neck. Those big-ass hands of his cup her breasts and his thumbs brush across her nipples as she wraps her fingers around the older brother's cock, stroking hard and steady as the older brother undoes her leather pants and then they all get off. The end.
I know it sounds like a fairy tale. Just play along, all right?
And okay, I only said it went a little something like this, not exactly like this. The story deviates right where you think it does, because when Dean tugs down the zipper on the side of Viola's leather pants, that's when her tattoos start to glow.
And I am totally getting to that punchline. Honest.
4.
Right, so.
Then Sam turns into a girl and Dean ends up in Sam's body.
See, I told you there was a punchline coming.
5.
What throws Sam off -- you know, aside from the abrupt lack of a cock -- is the tits. And it's not even the tits, really, it's that whoever's got their hands on them -- and he knows they're his hands, but he's not the one currently using them -- just keeps going. Thumbs circling and fingertips grazing every patch of skin they can reach and Jesus, how the hell is he supposed to think straight with someone doing an admittedly fabulous job of fondling his tits?
Better question.
Why is he even having this problem?
"Dean," Sam says in something way too much like a moan, because somebody here is Dean and he's not exactly sure it's the one who's somehow managed to dip his hand into those tight-as-fuck leather pants.
"Yeah, baby?" he hears from behind him.
Behind him. Christ.
If he elbows Dean, it's probably because the moron deserves it.
Dean hunches over a little and groans, and Sam twists around in his arms to glare at him and hiss, "You're in my body, Dean." So once Dean catches his breath again and realizes he's three inches taller and fifteen pounds heavier and not even close to where he was standing a second ago, he snaps, "So who the hell is in my body?" like it's a real fucking question.
And that's when they both turn towards Dean's body only to have it flash them a wicked smile and say, "You boys are so cute when you're flustered."
6.
Their options look like this.
Either they can handcuff Dean's body because she's in it, or they can handcuff her body because the tattoos seemed to have caused this whole stupid mess. Or they can do both.
Or, as Viola in Dean's body so eloquently puts it, "We were all about to fuck a minute ago, and now that you're going to whip out handcuffs, this is what you want to use them for?"
Frighteningly enough, it's an excellent point.
The whole problem is that Dean and Sam are just thrown completely off their game here. Hookups and jobs require two totally different parts of their brains, and they're not about to get into a fight when they don't even know what they're dealing with. Hell, she's not even starting a fight or running off or trying to kill them. She's just perfectly content to lean against the wall with this amused leer on her face while she watches Dean blow the hair out of his eyes and Sam try to work his arms when there's breasts in the way.
"Look," she says with this put-upon sigh, "I'm completely harmless, all right? I mean, yeah, I'm not entirely human, but I don't hurt anyone and it's not like you won't switch back to your own bodies, you know."
"Can we switch back now?" Dean asks, although he doesn't sound all that serious about it.
"Well, I can, but where's your sense of adventure?"
It's the right thing to ask Dean, too, because after a minute he flashes Sam this "I'm game if you are" look and that's more than enough to make Sam antsy in ways he doesn't even want to contemplate. So Viola turns her attention to Sam, right, and she says, "I just like having a little fun, that's all."
"You think this is fun?" Sam squeaks.
That familiar leer comes out in full force as she moves towards him in Dean's body, leaning close and saying, "Oh, baby, if you don't think this is fun yet, just you wait."
Sam really wants to argue that, because he's a girl and he's got breasts and he's tiny, for fuck's sake. And maybe it's the whole psychic thing that tells him that if he said no, he can trust her to just say, "Okie dokie," switch everybody back, and be on her merry way. But there's a crazy part of his brain that says there's no way in hell he's saying no to this, that he's never going to get another chance to try this.
A second later she's kissing him and this is what it feels like, Dean and this girl together, and it turns out Dean tastes like beer and cinnamon gum and smoke. Sam's trying not to slip to the ground and suddenly Dean's behind him again right where he left off, and Sam knew he had big hands but he'd never been on the receiving end, never felt them skim over curves and soft tanned skin like this.
For the record, Sam plans on making a list after this whole thing is over of reasons why this night is incredibly fucked-up, but somewhere between his brother's hand tugging down his pants enough to slide a finger into him and getting off on the hard length of his own erection pressing against his ass, he loses track.
Well, honestly.
7.
The question is, how far is Sam willing to go?
'Cause, see, so far he's fine with his own hands on his breasts and and his own lips taking over his flesh in hot, searing kisses. And he's fine with Viola in Dean's body peeling the leather from his legs, leading him towards the bed, stripping off his top and bra and sliding her hands along his thighs.
He's fine when Viola gives him a look asking him for permission before she parts his legs and swipes her tongue over him.
He's fine when Dean takes advantage of Sam's distraction to kiss him until he's even dizzier.
And he can't even begin to describe how fine he is when he finally shatters under the onslaught, when he comes with a prolonged moan that would have driven him nuts if he were in his own body.
Hell, he's so fine that when Viola crawls up beside him and says, "So, big man, you up for the next round?", when her fingers rest high up on his thigh while Dean presses his lips into the curve of Sam's neck and all of this continues to make the least amount of sense on the planet, Sam turns away from Viola's teasing smirk and says, "Dean first."
"Fuck," Dean hisses, and can't strip off the rest of his clothes fast enough.
How far is Sam willing to go?
Pretty fucking far, it turns out.
8.
So on the floor is the furniture and their luggage and all of their clothes and all of their shoes and sometimes Dean's knees and sometimes Viola's knees and this one time it's Dean's feet and Viola's knees at the same time and Sam may never get that image out of his mind for the rest of his life.
Especially when he's in the shower.
9
They wake up at the end of the night in this pile of sweaty limbs with the entire room smelling like sex. Hell, the entire motel may smell like sex because of them, considering. Sam's half-tempted to go knock on every door at the motel just to check.
Everybody's back in their own bodies, though, which is nice.
Viola peels those leather pants of hers back on while she grins down at Dean and Sam, and if they had any problems with lying naked in the same bed together, they sure don't look like they do now. Sam looks up at her with shaded brown eyes and a sleepy smile, and Dean's cocking his head with this contemplative look on his face. So maybe she's a mind-reader, too, because as soon as she's fully dressed again, she leans over to give Dean this kiss that lasts forever and makes Sam blindingly hard in an instant, and she says, "You know, I'm at that bar all the time. I might even be there tomorrow night, if you're lucky."
She saunters out the motel room door with this swish of her hips, a move Dean's pretty sure he can duplicate, and he leans over to Sam. "Dude, what are we doing tomorrow night?"
"You even have to ask?" Sam says.
Sam comes five minutes later. Three guesses on whose hand is on his dick when it happens, and the first two don't count.
10.
So then the bartender says to the horse, "So why the long face?"
And the horse says, "Because that chick in the red leather pants left with those other two guys, that's why."
But that happened last week, so who knows? He may get lucky.
Author: Troll Princess
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,455 words
Spoilers: Nothing specific
Pairing: Sam/Dean/OFC
Warnings: Bad language, incest, genderswap, bodyswap, threesome (It's called "overkill." Heh.)
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just like playing with them.
Summary: So two guys and a girl walk into a bar.
Author's note: I have written some crackfic in my time, but this is soooo pushing it.
With A Poodle Under One Arm, And A Two-Foot Salami Under The Other
*****
1.
So two guys and a girl walk into a bar.
The girl shows up first, sauntering into the joint like she owns the fucking place and isn't above kicking a few customers to the curb to prove it. Red leather clings to the curves of her legs and hips, hugging her like the only thing holding it together might be a hopeful wish. The wifebeater tugged down over her breasts looks like a last-minute replacement, like she spilled something on the fancy shirt she'd been wearing first and all she could come up with was this tiny scrap of a thing sheared off just high enough to show off her belly button.
Little black lines of ink mark the golden brown skin on her arms, groups of four slashed through. When she accepts her beer from the bartender with a wink and smile, he sees the marks and thinks of someone notching a bedpost, of someone keeping time in jail by scratching the days into the wall.
The first of the guys to show is this cocky son of a bitch, right, and if the girl comes in like she's got the deed, this bastard swaggers in like he knows he can talk her out of it. And then ten minutes later, this other one walks in, tall as a redwood and tense as anything, and heads right over to the table at which the cocky bastard's currently holding court.
The cocky bastard finishes off a couple of beers and the tall one just sprawls in the other chair looking bored and surly, and the girl pretends to feed quarters into the jukebox while her gaze keeps darting their way.
The next thing anyone in the place knows, the girl's in the cocky bastard's lap and her hand's taking up residence on the tall one's zipper.
So, yeah, two guys and a girl walk into a bar, and thirty minutes later they walk right back out again.
The funny thing is what happens next.
And no, it's not the punchline.
2.
Okay, on second thought, maybe it is a punchline.
Sam wasn't even going to go, all right. He was just going to stay at the goddamn bar and nurse a beer and wait the appropriate amount of time for Dean to get what he wanted before going back to the motel room. But then this girl crawls into Dean's lap, and she says something like, "Hi, I'm Viola, and now that we've been properly introduced --" and then she just shoves her tongue down Dean's throat.
Which might be the most perfect introduction Dean's ever gotten, come to think of it.
And Sam really wasn't thinking the image was all that hot, no matter what his rapidly hardening cock wants you to believe. His cock wants you to believe that seeing the girl lick at Dean's mouth like it was a heat wave and he was made out of ice cream was an erotic portrait made that much hotter by the fact it was Dean. His cock wants to make sure you understand that there was no way in hell Sam wasn't going to squirm at the sight of that, of Dean's fingers threading through the girl's brown curls as he tasted the inside of her mouth over and over again.
Look, Sam doesn't even know why you're listening to his cock, okay. Obviously, the fucking thing's defective, because it's getting off watching Dean make out with someone.
Yeah, there's a hot girl there. Who cares?
But it doesn't change the fact that Sam's jeans got uncomfortably tight in a heartbeat, and just when he thought he'd gone completely out of his mind, suddenly a small warm hand pressed against his crotch.
And really, Sam couldn't say no to a invite like that.
No, not even if Dean's involved.
Sam's cock would like to point out that you really have to say yes to an invite like that especially when Dean's involved, but Sam's mind's a little preoccupied right now.
That's not the punchline, though.
No, no matter how much it feels like it.
3.
The punchline goes a little something like this.
Once upon a time, two brothers and the hot girl who offered to fuck them both stumble in a motel room. The girl slams the older brother into the wall and his zipper's yanked down right about the same time that the younger brother presses up against her back and mouths kisses along the slope of her neck. Those big-ass hands of his cup her breasts and his thumbs brush across her nipples as she wraps her fingers around the older brother's cock, stroking hard and steady as the older brother undoes her leather pants and then they all get off. The end.
I know it sounds like a fairy tale. Just play along, all right?
And okay, I only said it went a little something like this, not exactly like this. The story deviates right where you think it does, because when Dean tugs down the zipper on the side of Viola's leather pants, that's when her tattoos start to glow.
And I am totally getting to that punchline. Honest.
4.
Right, so.
Then Sam turns into a girl and Dean ends up in Sam's body.
See, I told you there was a punchline coming.
5.
What throws Sam off -- you know, aside from the abrupt lack of a cock -- is the tits. And it's not even the tits, really, it's that whoever's got their hands on them -- and he knows they're his hands, but he's not the one currently using them -- just keeps going. Thumbs circling and fingertips grazing every patch of skin they can reach and Jesus, how the hell is he supposed to think straight with someone doing an admittedly fabulous job of fondling his tits?
Better question.
Why is he even having this problem?
"Dean," Sam says in something way too much like a moan, because somebody here is Dean and he's not exactly sure it's the one who's somehow managed to dip his hand into those tight-as-fuck leather pants.
"Yeah, baby?" he hears from behind him.
Behind him. Christ.
If he elbows Dean, it's probably because the moron deserves it.
Dean hunches over a little and groans, and Sam twists around in his arms to glare at him and hiss, "You're in my body, Dean." So once Dean catches his breath again and realizes he's three inches taller and fifteen pounds heavier and not even close to where he was standing a second ago, he snaps, "So who the hell is in my body?" like it's a real fucking question.
And that's when they both turn towards Dean's body only to have it flash them a wicked smile and say, "You boys are so cute when you're flustered."
6.
Their options look like this.
Either they can handcuff Dean's body because she's in it, or they can handcuff her body because the tattoos seemed to have caused this whole stupid mess. Or they can do both.
Or, as Viola in Dean's body so eloquently puts it, "We were all about to fuck a minute ago, and now that you're going to whip out handcuffs, this is what you want to use them for?"
Frighteningly enough, it's an excellent point.
The whole problem is that Dean and Sam are just thrown completely off their game here. Hookups and jobs require two totally different parts of their brains, and they're not about to get into a fight when they don't even know what they're dealing with. Hell, she's not even starting a fight or running off or trying to kill them. She's just perfectly content to lean against the wall with this amused leer on her face while she watches Dean blow the hair out of his eyes and Sam try to work his arms when there's breasts in the way.
"Look," she says with this put-upon sigh, "I'm completely harmless, all right? I mean, yeah, I'm not entirely human, but I don't hurt anyone and it's not like you won't switch back to your own bodies, you know."
"Can we switch back now?" Dean asks, although he doesn't sound all that serious about it.
"Well, I can, but where's your sense of adventure?"
It's the right thing to ask Dean, too, because after a minute he flashes Sam this "I'm game if you are" look and that's more than enough to make Sam antsy in ways he doesn't even want to contemplate. So Viola turns her attention to Sam, right, and she says, "I just like having a little fun, that's all."
"You think this is fun?" Sam squeaks.
That familiar leer comes out in full force as she moves towards him in Dean's body, leaning close and saying, "Oh, baby, if you don't think this is fun yet, just you wait."
Sam really wants to argue that, because he's a girl and he's got breasts and he's tiny, for fuck's sake. And maybe it's the whole psychic thing that tells him that if he said no, he can trust her to just say, "Okie dokie," switch everybody back, and be on her merry way. But there's a crazy part of his brain that says there's no way in hell he's saying no to this, that he's never going to get another chance to try this.
A second later she's kissing him and this is what it feels like, Dean and this girl together, and it turns out Dean tastes like beer and cinnamon gum and smoke. Sam's trying not to slip to the ground and suddenly Dean's behind him again right where he left off, and Sam knew he had big hands but he'd never been on the receiving end, never felt them skim over curves and soft tanned skin like this.
For the record, Sam plans on making a list after this whole thing is over of reasons why this night is incredibly fucked-up, but somewhere between his brother's hand tugging down his pants enough to slide a finger into him and getting off on the hard length of his own erection pressing against his ass, he loses track.
Well, honestly.
7.
The question is, how far is Sam willing to go?
'Cause, see, so far he's fine with his own hands on his breasts and and his own lips taking over his flesh in hot, searing kisses. And he's fine with Viola in Dean's body peeling the leather from his legs, leading him towards the bed, stripping off his top and bra and sliding her hands along his thighs.
He's fine when Viola gives him a look asking him for permission before she parts his legs and swipes her tongue over him.
He's fine when Dean takes advantage of Sam's distraction to kiss him until he's even dizzier.
And he can't even begin to describe how fine he is when he finally shatters under the onslaught, when he comes with a prolonged moan that would have driven him nuts if he were in his own body.
Hell, he's so fine that when Viola crawls up beside him and says, "So, big man, you up for the next round?", when her fingers rest high up on his thigh while Dean presses his lips into the curve of Sam's neck and all of this continues to make the least amount of sense on the planet, Sam turns away from Viola's teasing smirk and says, "Dean first."
"Fuck," Dean hisses, and can't strip off the rest of his clothes fast enough.
How far is Sam willing to go?
Pretty fucking far, it turns out.
8.
So on the floor is the furniture and their luggage and all of their clothes and all of their shoes and sometimes Dean's knees and sometimes Viola's knees and this one time it's Dean's feet and Viola's knees at the same time and Sam may never get that image out of his mind for the rest of his life.
Especially when he's in the shower.
9
They wake up at the end of the night in this pile of sweaty limbs with the entire room smelling like sex. Hell, the entire motel may smell like sex because of them, considering. Sam's half-tempted to go knock on every door at the motel just to check.
Everybody's back in their own bodies, though, which is nice.
Viola peels those leather pants of hers back on while she grins down at Dean and Sam, and if they had any problems with lying naked in the same bed together, they sure don't look like they do now. Sam looks up at her with shaded brown eyes and a sleepy smile, and Dean's cocking his head with this contemplative look on his face. So maybe she's a mind-reader, too, because as soon as she's fully dressed again, she leans over to give Dean this kiss that lasts forever and makes Sam blindingly hard in an instant, and she says, "You know, I'm at that bar all the time. I might even be there tomorrow night, if you're lucky."
She saunters out the motel room door with this swish of her hips, a move Dean's pretty sure he can duplicate, and he leans over to Sam. "Dude, what are we doing tomorrow night?"
"You even have to ask?" Sam says.
Sam comes five minutes later. Three guesses on whose hand is on his dick when it happens, and the first two don't count.
10.
So then the bartender says to the horse, "So why the long face?"
And the horse says, "Because that chick in the red leather pants left with those other two guys, that's why."
But that happened last week, so who knows? He may get lucky.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 04:43 am (UTC)I love this and you!
BRILLIANT!
*giggles*
no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 12:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 04:54 am (UTC)The title is made of Awesome and John Bender's pants.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 12:36 pm (UTC)*pokes you towards Supernatural*
no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 04:56 am (UTC)Well, that sure got me out of my bad mood. It's...kinda nuts but in a fun, hot way. I do hope you were going for something like that.
Also, I liked the style--and I had no problem keeping track of who was in who's body.
Thanks, and you rock. *g*
B
no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 12:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 05:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 12:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 05:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 12:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 05:27 am (UTC)you are officially my favorite. fangirling to commence in five, four, three...
No, seriously: this is incredible. And, yes, I have a kink for m/m/f threesomes, and yes, I have an even bigger kink for bodyswap, so I probably would have liked this regardless. Plus, Winchesters! Winchesters are hot.
But this - it's hot and gorgeous and pushes all my buttons at once, and it's written so beautifully! God, the structure of this piece is killing me, because it's exactly right, for this piece and for them, and it hits the bits it needs to right on the money.
Also, *fans self*. Mmmmmm.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 12:51 pm (UTC)And thanks so much! *hugs*
no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 05:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 12:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 05:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-31 12:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 05:42 am (UTC)That was probably the hottest thing ever. The concept is just... OMG HOT! And the ideas that are floating around my brain... Jaysus.
I would love to see more of this, or see what happens the next night, because hot damn!
Just, wow, I need a cold shower now... great job... super super hot.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-31 12:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 06:03 am (UTC)Fun.
So fun. And oh, yis - hawt, too. This.
:)
no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 06:35 am (UTC)You win everything!
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 06:48 am (UTC)Guh.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-31 12:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 07:29 am (UTC)That was awesome.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 07:41 am (UTC)Okay, that was officially the hottest thing this side of anywhere. GUH. You have the bestest crack ever.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 10:22 am (UTC)Overkill? I call it "The Perfect Recipe For A Story Manda Is Guaranteed To Love". And what would you know - I was right.
I loved every word of it and I would LOVE to read more of it but it works perfectly as a one-shot too.
Bravo!
no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 10:40 am (UTC)I would like to live inside your brain too. Maybe you should start a motel there.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 11:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 11:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 12:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 01:03 pm (UTC)*memories for a rainy day*
no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 01:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 02:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 02:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 03:21 pm (UTC)*blinks again*
Duuuuude, this is truly the weirdest piece of crack!fic I've ever read.
I think you're my hero!
*shakes head* I gotta go back and read this again. *perks* Oh! At work, when I seriously need a lift! Yeah, that's the ticket.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 03:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 03:54 pm (UTC)