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TGIF, everyone! That means today we get to play in whatever sandboxes we want, posting whatever prompts we want with no themes!

Just remember to follow the rules:

Only three posts per fandom, and only five total. If one of your prompts is answered, you may go ahead and post another.
No spoilers for new shows/seasons until a week after airing.
If your fill is spoilery, WARN accordingly and leave enough space for people to pass on by

Please also honor and respect our code monkeys by following the correct format:

Inception, Eames/Arthur/Ariadne, domestic is overrated

Leverage/White Collar, Author's Choice, sometimes the best need an extra hand

And as always, please feel free to look over our lonely prompts and fill any that tickle your fancy!

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

rayhne.livejournal.com

Supernatural, Bobby/Crowley or Bobby and Crowley, The Hellhound needs a bath. Extra points of Dean and/or Sam drop in.

From:

jennytork.livejournal.com

"GRAAAAAH!" Bobby gasped, clapping the back of his wrist to his nose. "What in the fuck has that thing been rollin' in?"

Dean's shoulder rose in a shrug. "Windego guts."

Sam nodded. "Then there was the werewolf blood...."

Dean nodded. "And the --"

"All right," Crowley said, pushing off the porch and walking over to them. "You know what, it doesn't really matter. You two did this to her, you can go pull out the wheelbarrow."

The Winchesters looked at each other, then back at Bobby, who nodded. As one, they went -- muttering insults to each other on the way.

Crowley bent down and ran his fingers through the fouled fur. "You really got into it this time, huh?" A pleased bark was his reply, and Bobby saw the dust kick up as a seated dog wagged its tail.

"Hold up," Bobby said as he walked over. "Will she fit in the wheelbarrow?"

"She's only the size of a pit bull, not a mastiff," Crowley chuckled. "And to anticipate your next question, so long as it's not holy water or salted water, she'll be just as fine as any regular dog getting a bath."

Sam returned, pushing the wheelbarrow. Dean was unwinding the hose.

"You two idjits get inside and clean yourselves up," Bobby ordered, and they snapped to obey.

"You never told me what you did to make them able to see her," Bobby said as he filled the barrow from the hose.

"No deal was involved, if that's what you were asking," Crowley said, removing his tasteful jacket and rolling up his sleeves. "At least, not in the conventional sense. They did a favour for me and the ability was a gift to them." He tapped the wheelbarrow twice with his ring, and the hellhound jumped into the water. "Now. Lift the hose about six inches."

Bobby waited till Crowley was out of the line of fire, then did. The spray hit the hellhound, and Bobby saw her for the first time.

He couldn't see a colour or how long her fur was, but she was, indeed, a pit bull. And he could see her tail wagging. "She's a pretty thing."

"When she's not covered in foul, yes. She's coloured like a Doberman," Crowley said. "And her eyes are red."

Bobby shook his head and continued to hose the muck off of the hound, who kept trying to get the water in her mouth. Crowley soaped her up, and got the worst of the worst off. As Bobby rinsed her with the hose, he muttered, "She definitely smells better."

"Yeah, until next time." Crowley studied her for a minute. "Okay, she's clean."

Bobby shut off the hose, and the wheelbarrow rocked as the hellhound shook itself, spraying both of them with water.

A whistle from the porch, and the hound leapt out of the wheelbarrow and into the arms of Sam, who crouched at the edge of the porch, fully dressed, his wet hair streaming along his face. He laughed as the dog licked his face.

Bobby sighed. "You never told me what you pulled to get us a tame hellhound, either."

"That, Bobby, is a need to know thing. And you don't need to know. Yet."