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tzi wrote me a drabble, so I owe her one:
"C'mon, Dean, it's just a damn movie. Why all the drama?"
"Drama? I'm not giving you drama, bitch, I just don't feel like going to see the damn movie."
"Dude, you're always up for a flick. What's the matter, got a hot date tonight here in Outer Bumfuck, Iowa?"
"Good God, have you seen the chicks down at that bar? I'm not into charity cases, man. And I think that skanky redhead is some kind of demon."
"Soooooo?"
"'mnotgonnaseeamovieaboutsnakesonaplane."
"What was that? I didn't hear you."
"OK, bitch, let me spell it out for you. There is no way in hell I am seeing some crap movie called Snakes on a Plane. End of story."
"Not even if Samuel L. Jackson is in it?"
"....let me get my coat. And you're paying for the popcorn, Sammy."
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*applauds*
You totally made me snort. Oh, Dean. You're so easy. *adores* And Sam! You totally know how to pwn! your big brother. AWESOME.
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But I have this image of Dean, after the first 20 minutes of the movie, making a salt circle around his seat ad putting his feet on the seat in front of him. Just to be sure.
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But even more importantly? It's on an AIRPLANE. That's a brilliant connection you made. Only his adoration for Sam Jackson (and affection for Sam Winchester *g*) could outstrip his fear of flying. I mean, an action/horror movie set on a plane? That's gotta creep him out to no end. Heee! And Sam would totally know this. That butt.
Well-played, my dear. Very well-played, indeed. :D