New Years (Preview)

Started: 19.11.19

Finished: 19.11.25

Words: 1,854


“It’s ruined! Ruined! Why do bad things happen to good people? I’m a good person. Aren’t I a good person? Why? Why must I be punished?”

Dean came out of the kitchen, black smoke billowing out around him as he hurried in the direction of the smoke detector.

“Uh, is every–” the smoke alarm blared, cutting off the younger Winchesters’ question.

Dean took in a heavy sigh and waved a towel in front of it vigorously with both hands. Sam shot a look over to Gabriel before they sprung up, opening all the windows in the living room. Grabbing decorative pillows off the couch, they hustled over to help Dean wave away the smoke. Between the three of them, it wasn’t long before the thick haze began to clear and it looked like they might be able to salvage their evening.

And then the sprinklers went off.

Defeated, Dean scrubbed a hand through his now-wet hair, “Awesome.” Dropping the towel, he snagged a beer from the case on the coffee table in front of the couch. Twisting the cap off, he took a long pull from the bottle before making his way to the front door, disappearing outside.

“For the love of Liza Minnelli!” Cas stomped out of the kitchen, hair matting under the shower from the ceiling. He flicked some sopping hair out of his face as he spotted the two guests. He spread both arms wide, “Are you seeing this? Well, I hope everyone’s thirsty, because apparently? All we’re serving this evening is water. No, no champagne for us. We’re much too good for that.” He scrunched up his face in distaste, “Champagne, so boujee.” He flicked his sopping hair out of his eyes again, “So we’re trying something new. Isn’t that simply fabulous?” He laughed hysterically for a moment and then sobbed. His face crumbling into a pout, he put a hand over his heart, “I can’t. I can’t even. I mean, how am I meant to salvage this catastrophe? This would take more fabulous than the entire cast of Queer as Folk and The L Word combined. I could die. I could just die!”

Shoulders slumping, he ticked the items off on his fingers one-by-one, “Hors d’oeuvres? Burnt to a crisp! Wine? Out of stock. Out of stock. How could it be ‘out of stock’? It’s a ‘wine store’!” He rolled his eyes and then looked down at the floor, “And this. Just look at this. It’s like the last 2 minutes of the sinking of the Titanic in here. That’s it.” He threw his hands up into the air in defeat. “I’m done. I’m cancelling New Years!”


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