The True meaning of Turning Turtle, continued

[amberdreams]

The True meaning of Turning Turtle, continued.

Characters/Pairing: Gen – Sam and Dean
Word count: c1200
Warnings: Extreme silliness.

I blame this on dedicate this to the lovely tifaching

 It started with this silly drabble.

Summary: It's just Dean's luck to meet a witch with a penchant for cute testudines.

Sam was frantic. It had been over an hour since Dean had disappeared. Although the water-witch had been most emphatically dead when Sam had found her, there was no sign of his brother.

At the edge of the lake, Sam ran a hand through his hair, close to despairing. An odd rustling sound in the dead leaf mulch attracted his attention. He moved towards it, more cautious than hopeful.

On its back, its four legs kicking futilely at the air, was a small turtle. With Dean's furious eyes.

Well, crap. Another curse.

Righted, the turtle snapped angrily when Sam laughed.

Sam carefully lifted Dean out of the cardboard box, and ignoring the glare in his beady green eyes, placed him on the shiny white table.  When Dean immediately started to pump his stubby little legs in a bid for freedom, claws skittering on the smooth table top, Sam placed a heavy hand on Dean’s shell, stopping him dead.  Dean hissed angrily and snapped his beak, craning his wrinkly neck as far as he could out of his shell but unable to reach his brother’s tantalising pink flesh.

“Feisty little fellow, isn’t he?”  The hot veterinarian smiled as she pushed her glasses up her rather pert button nose.

Sam was hard put not to laugh as Dean forgot about his desire to escape and frankly ogled the attractive vet.  If turtles had possessed eyelashes, Dean would have been batting his.

“Yes, you were quite correct when we spoke on the phone, Mr Smith, this is a fine specimen of terrapine carolina – a Florida box turtle.”  

Dean somehow managed to give his turtle face a look of self satisfaction at being called a fine specimen, and Sam could almost hear his brother’s smug tones - See Sammy, irresistible to the chicks even when I’m a stupid turtle.

Unfortunately for Dean, his happy bubble was burst almost immediately when the cute vet took a firm grip on his carapace, turned him upside down and started poking at his nether regions.  “Just checking to see if it is a male,” she explained. Dean flailed his legs frantically.

“See here where the carapace meets the plastron (the belly), here at the base of the tail..,” she trailed off when she noticed Sam was blushing, and laughed again. “Ok, I won’t embarrass you further, but he is definitely a male.  And you do need to be aware that sometimes the male organ can prolapse, it’s quite normal but you have to keep an eye on it because if it doesn’t retract by itself, you might have to bring him in to see me.”

By now Sam was bright red at the thought of keeping an eye on his brother’s member, and Dean was clearly trying to pretend he wasn’t there at all.  Which was a little difficult when you are an eight inch long box turtle being held in mid air while a very pretty woman pokes and strokes your few soft vulnerable soft parts and talks about your reproductive organs with your kid brother.

Thankfully, the vet finished her inspection and placed the mortified turtle back onto the table.  Dean promptly discovered that he could retract not only his member thank you very much, but all his movable parts.  He managed to make the most of his hinged plastron and locked himself into his shell to sulk for a bit after the humiliation he’d just been put through.  They don’t call them box turtles for nothing, you know.

“He really does have the most extraordinary eyes.  Most male turtles have red eyes, and the females are usually yellow, so it’s very unusual to find one with green irises.  I wonder if he’s some sort of sub species…and all those scars on his shell and his belly, he looks like he’s been in the wars. So where did you say you found him again?” 

“Erm, I didn’t.”

Sam thought it was probably time to beat a hasty retreat, as the vet was showing a little too much of an interest, and would probably start asking even more awkward questions if he lingered.  Added to which, Dean’s shell was rocking slightly at the compliments, as if he was thinking about emerging again, so there was no time like the present.  Sam was getting a little tired of being glared at.

He grabbed the leaflets she’d put together about feeding and caring for your testudines (oh no, there’s Dean’s voice in his head again, making dirty jokes about testicles and testudines), and taking advantage of Dean’s temporary self imposed confinement, Sam tucked his big brother back into his cosy t-shirt filled box.  Distracting the vet with his best innocent Sam-smile he made his exit, smooth as silk.  Dean would have been proud.

“Come on Dean, the book says you love worms,” Sam pleaded, dangling the revolting pink wiggling creature in front of Dean’s hooked beak.  Dean just stared back at him with a horrified expression that clearly said you must be fucking joking and don’t even think about giving me that lettuce out of your burger either. 

Funny that with all the expressiveness that Dean was managing to wring out of the immobile turtle face he hadn’t managed an apologetic one when his inch long claws had raked Sam’s hand earlier when Sam had made the mistake of offering Dean a handful of blueberries that weren’t in a pie.  The reptilian son of a bitch had drawn blood too.

Sam screamed.  Dean scrabbled at the covers, tearing holes in the sheets, clearly shocked by the noise.  Sam growled as he untangled Dean from the covers and dumped him unceremoniously into his cardboard box.

Finding a turtle in your bed would have made anyone antsy.  And who knew turtles could climb?

Twenty-four hours later, the curse had finally worn off.  Dean was making up for lost time, stuffing the fourth burger into his mouth and continuing his diatribe at Sam.  It seems turtles have an uncanny ability to hold grudges.

“And don’t think I’ll forget you sticking me on my back so I couldn’t move,” Dean pointed accusingly at Sam with a ketchup soaked fry, eyebrows raised in outrage. “Three times!”

“Yeah, well.  You kept trying to follow me out of the door and I didn’t want you to get run over in the parking lot.” Sam retorted.

“Dude, just because I was a turtle didn’t make me incompetent!”

“No, just incontinent!”

“That was just that one time, and okay maybe I shouldn’t have drunk your beer…but you shouldn’t have left it lying around.  What the hell do turtles drink anyway?  Which reminds me, you used my favourite Zeppelin t-shirt as bedding for an incontinent turtle.  Man, what were you thinking?”

Before Sam could even draw a breath Dean powered on, mouth full of half chewed burger bun.  It was not pretty.

“And you totally cock-blocked me with the pretty Vet, dude.”

“Oh yes, Dean, because women find tiny prolapsed turtle penises irresistible.”

Dean hunched his neck and suddenly Sam was having turtle-deja-vu.  Then he caught the twinkle in those atypical distinctly non-reptilian green eyes.

“Dude, do not underestimate the potency of the testudine testicles.”

Sam’s head made a dull thunking sound as it hit the table.