Drabbles: Supernatural: Cooking Sucks
Title: Cooking Sucks
Author Name: Patriciatepes (Patricia de Lioncourt @ fanfiction.net )
Rating: G to PG-13 for all.
Warnings: Some silliness and fluffiness, that's about it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any related characters. SPN belongs to Kripke. No money made here.
Author's Notes:Five drabbles done for the prompts for the table below as a part of spn_bigpretzel Holiday Drabble Challenge. Hope you enjoy!
Title: Sprig of Holly, Gotcha
Prompt: Recipe Substitution
"It's the same thing," Dean said, holding the sprig of holly over the pewter bowl.
Sam's hand shot out, preventing his brother from dropping the twig with the bright red berries and equally as bright green leaves into the spell mixture. The younger Winchester shook his head.
"The spell says 'mistletoe,'" Sam said, pointing to the parchment.
Dean dropped the sprig in, and the room was instantly filled with a cloud of purple-ish smoke. When the smoke cleared, Sam rolled his eyes. Little balls of golden lights filled the room. Fairies.
"Mistletoe. Got it," Dean said.
"I'm to understand it's tradition to have many sweets on this incorrectly placed holiday," Castiel said, holding the rock he was daring to call a "pie" on the vinyl hotel table.
Dean looked ready to mourn for the dessert, while Sam eyed his brother, reminding him to be kind.
"Uh… what kind is it?"
Castiel's brow furrowed. "Pecan."
Dean pursed his lips, pressing his finger onto the middle of the pie. It had absolutely no give. Castiel cut a slice—burnt black—and handed it to Dean, who took a small bite.
"Mmm—" he choked out, "yum."
Title: When He Was Short
Prompt: Smoke Alarm
Dean coughed, waving the dish rag at the black smoke. The smoke alarm had just stopped beeping. Sammy sat at the foot of the nearest bed—bottom lip quivering, eyes glassy. Dean frowned, staring his nine-year-old brother down, waiting for an explanation.
"I wanted to make you a special dinner. It's Christmas," he explained, his voice as wobbly as his lips.
Dean sighed, scratching the back of his head. He nodded, moving to sit beside his brother. He wrapped a forgiving arm around him.
"I know," Dean said. "I'm just saying… if you can't reach the stove top… don't try."
Title: Found It
Prompt: Cranberry Mold
"What do you mean, you can't find the cursed ring?" Dean said, incredulous.
Sam shrugged, which looked hilarious on his lanky teenaged body. "It was right here!"
He pointed to the table in front of him, still littered with the empty cans of fruit and gelled cranberry. Dean frowned.
"Dad's gonna kill us."
Sam mimicked his frown. "I'm sorry. I swear, it was right—Wait—"
Sam ran to the fridge, where his "holiday dessert" was chilling. He grabbed the mold, and upturned it. With a sucking noise, it fell out. Floating in it was the ring.
"… Found it."
Prompt: Candy Thermometer
"Dean… dude… where's that candy thermometer?" Sam asked, turning to gaze at his brother.
Dean, meanwhile, was a groaning, a layer of sweat on his forehead, and his skin an ashen pale. However, much to Sam's horror, a metal stick with a large, numbered dial hung from his germ-filled, flu-infected mouth. Sam darted over and yanked it free. Dean jerked up.
"So many health violations… what the hell man? It's a candy thermometer!"
Dean still managed to look properly insulted. "Why do you even have a candy thermometer?"
Sam shrugged. "Just in case."
"Of what? The Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man?"