Dec 1, Supernatural, Hots on for Nowhere Title: Hots on for Nowhere Fandom: Supernatural Pairing/Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Garth (Destiel if you squint) Rating/Warnings: Teen Disclaimer:here Prompt:this picture Summary: The sad part is, this isn't even the worst thing they've ever had to do. A/N: Belatedly realized I should credit the title. As with many canon ep titles, it's the title of a Led Zeppelin song.
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“This is completely undignified.” Castiel tugged at a leather strap. “And I do not believe this form of iniquity is in any way a 'perk.'”
Dean glared at him, tugging his antlers into place. No kidding it wasn't a perk. Everything about this plan was the opposite of awesome.
Sam scrunched up his face. “Are we sure there isn't some other way to do this? Wouldn't it have been easier to impersonate security officers to scope the place out?”
“And what would we do with the security officers we were replacing, huh?” Dean snorted. “Stick 'em in the trunk? Look, I don't like this any more than you do, but the only job openings they had were for dancers.”
That would have been bad enough, he thought, but then the boss had to go and insist on “seasonal” costumes.
“Well, I think it's great.” Garth turned around sporting what had to be a red ping pong ball on his nose, a ridiculous grin plastered across his face.
“You would.” Dean sighed. “Let's get this over with, all right? Just … find who's planting the hex bags on the customers, gank 'em, and we get on with our lives.”
Sam made another bitchface at him but opened the dressing room door and headed for backstage. Garth followed, looking way more cheerful than could be normal, even for him. Dean considered searching him for a hex bag, but then dismissed the idea. Where the hell would it be hiding?
“I maintain that this is an inappropriate means of pursuing our objective.” Castiel scowled.
“Got any better ideas that don't involve randomly smiting everyone in the building to catch the bad guy?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “Didn't think so. Now get out there, shake that ass, and find the son of a bitch.”
With one last dirty look, the angel marched out the door as if to his execution.
They'd best find this witch fast. The stupid speedos were already getting uncomfortable.