I'm sorry this didn't turn out quite so explicitly pairing-y, but I tried. Plus, I... kinda couldn't resist....
It was the last person Dean ever expected to see through the peephole of the motel room door. After he and Sam had gone back to Kripke's Hollow to check out Chuck's house - Becky had called them in a panic and said she hadn't heard from him in days, but the police wouldn't do anything about it - Dean had honestly figured that the guy just did not want to be found. With the Apocalypse giving him enough material to need an assload of therapy, he really can't blame Chuck for just wanting to disappear and unwind.
But there he is, shifting from one foot to the other nervously and looking healthier than Dean's ever seen him. Well, if he didn't count the white "douche suit". With a quick glance over his shoulder at Sam, who's busy typing away at something so fast that it sounds like his fingers are on Viagra, Dean opens the door. "What are you doing here, Chuck?"
"I, uh… I don't really know, to be honest. One minute, I was at home, writing about the day you confronted Death and then I woke up in the parking lot and I look like a televangelist," Chuck says, almost squeaking with fright at the thought of losing time without even getting drunk first. "I think I may have been possessed by… uh…"
Dean raises one eyebrow and pulls Chuck inside because this is one conversation he is not having where civilians might hear him. "Possessed by what? Chuck, you look great. And you don't-" He leans in, sniffs at Chuck's hair, but all he finds is something that's a little bit shampoo and a little bit Chuck himself. "You don't smell like sulfur. What the hell happened?"
Chuck starts twitching again as he looks back and forth from Dean to Sam for a lot longer than he should if he wasn't being possessed by a demon. Or he was and the demon just has really great hygiene. "Uh, I don't know if you'll believe me. And you might want to sit down."
"Oh trust me, after some of the things we've seen this year, I'm willing to believe just about anything," Dean says with a snort. He complies with Chuck's suggestion anyway because hey, can't hurt, right?
A long silence again, then- "God. I… think I was being possessed by God."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2011-01-25 12:03 am (UTC)It was the last person Dean ever expected to see through the peephole of the motel room door. After he and Sam had gone back to Kripke's Hollow to check out Chuck's house - Becky had called them in a panic and said she hadn't heard from him in days, but the police wouldn't do anything about it - Dean had honestly figured that the guy just did not want to be found. With the Apocalypse giving him enough material to need an assload of therapy, he really can't blame Chuck for just wanting to disappear and unwind.
But there he is, shifting from one foot to the other nervously and looking healthier than Dean's ever seen him. Well, if he didn't count the white "douche suit". With a quick glance over his shoulder at Sam, who's busy typing away at something so fast that it sounds like his fingers are on Viagra, Dean opens the door. "What are you doing here, Chuck?"
"I, uh… I don't really know, to be honest. One minute, I was at home, writing about the day you confronted Death and then I woke up in the parking lot and I look like a televangelist," Chuck says, almost squeaking with fright at the thought of losing time without even getting drunk first. "I think I may have been possessed by… uh…"
Dean raises one eyebrow and pulls Chuck inside because this is one conversation he is not having where civilians might hear him. "Possessed by what? Chuck, you look great. And you don't-" He leans in, sniffs at Chuck's hair, but all he finds is something that's a little bit shampoo and a little bit Chuck himself. "You don't smell like sulfur. What the hell happened?"
Chuck starts twitching again as he looks back and forth from Dean to Sam for a lot longer than he should if he wasn't being possessed by a demon. Or he was and the demon just has really great hygiene. "Uh, I don't know if you'll believe me. And you might want to sit down."
"Oh trust me, after some of the things we've seen this year, I'm willing to believe just about anything," Dean says with a snort. He complies with Chuck's suggestion anyway because hey, can't hurt, right?
A long silence again, then- "God. I… think I was being possessed by God."
"Son of a bitch."