Full Frontal Nerdity

SIGH. You have my permission to delete this if it truly sucks and I will try again.


The metallic sounds of the latches being opened and shut, the squeak of a hinge and the snap of a lock and key sliding into place like clockwork, fit of hand in glove.

It's certainly pretty to look at, ornately designed with images of golden flowers running up and down dark-blue jade. And it's big, seven foot high by four, maybe five feet wide. Deceptively so, the angles of the glossy frame hiding the true depth of it. From where Sam sits, it looks like it'd be no bigger than your average closet or wardrobe.

Rattling back and forth on the ground and a shout of "Aha!" from within before the sound of another latch releasing.

"There! I think I got it–ah crap it's another false back," Dean says and Sam sighs heavily, shifting his head to his other hand so he can check his watch.

"It's been almost an hour, Dean. Can I please just break it open already? You can't have enough air in there right now either."

Dean thumps against the side of the closet, and it shakes with the weight of him, at least that's what Sam imagines, Dean throwing himself against it in defeat. "Sam, then The Amazing Mumble will know we were investigating him!"

"The Amazing Mumbo," Sam corrects. "Definitely a lack of oxygen to your brain."

"Whatever, we can't leave behind any traces," Dean says, and Sam hears him working on the locks again.

"Except when he finds you trapped in his closet."

Dean pauses, "It's a surprisingly large and complicated closet you know," he says, and Sam can almost hear the pout in his tone.

Sam sighs and shifts his head to rest on both of his hands as he draws his legs underneath him, and watches the closet start to shake and rattle again.

"Gah!" Dean shouts and Sam perks up immediately.

"What's going on?"

"Shit, there's a trapdoor. I lost part of the floor in here."

Sam rolls his head back. "That's it, I'm getting an axe."

"Luckily, I have this hook-thing to hold onto, so I probably won't fall. I think I can kick it back into place–" Dean says and just as Sam's about to make a run for the Impala, the doors swing open, the entire apparatus coming apart and the sides falling flat on the floor.

And Dean trips over his jacket and jeans piled on the floor, (it was getting hot in there, he had to strip down to just a t-shirt and his underwear, really), tumbling right into Sam's arms; he looks up, and smiles.

"Told you I could do it."

Sam raises his eyebrows. "All without the aid of your pants."

Dean realizes how close his lips are in the direction of Sam's chin. "You need to stop talking about me without pants."

Sam's mouth eye-level to Dean, wide smile of teeth and tongue flicking out to wet his lips. "You're the one not wearing, things."

Dean looks over his shoulder. "Yeah, we maybe should get those, things." He straightens himself up and turns to pick up the clothes he discarded in the pile of aluminum and plaster that was The Amazing Mumbo's disappearing cabinet. But when he turns around Sam's there and he tosses Dean's clothes over his shoulder with one hand, the other pulling him close for a kiss.

Sam's hand runs underneath Dean's threadbare shirt, and he makes a sound, pulling away from the kiss. "Your back is all sweaty."

"It was hot in there," Dean explains, blinking slowly and almost swaying on his feet, and who knows what he does exactly, probably steps on the wrong hinge and the cabinet pulls itself back together before either of them realizes what's happening and–

Locks itself shut.

Dean breathes out. "So, what do we tell Gumbo–"

"Mumbo."

"–Mumbo, when he finds the two of us trapped in here in our underwear?"

"You're not getting me out of my pants, Dean."

"Well how the hell else am I supposed to get into them, then?"