The “Princess” and The “Frog”
For @i-dont-know-how-to-write ‘s meet-cute challenge.
“Oh, my God!” Charlie squealed. “You look so hot!”
You laughed. “Thanks? I wasn’t really sure what to wear, so I just grabbed my old prom dress and, uh, I guess I’m a… princess?”
“Love it!” Charlie pulled you into her home, leading you into the crowd. “And we don’t have one here yet.”
You looked around at the party guests. You saw a lot of typical costumes—skeletons, ghosts, Frankenstein’s monsters, vampires. You saw some ‘pop culture’ costumes—comic book characters, movie and TV characters. You recognized some of the people underneath their costumes, but there were a lot of faces you didn’t know.
You tried to enjoy the party but after a while, you grew overwhelmed. You made sure no one was watching before slipping out the patio door.
You took a few deep breaths, inhaling the crisp autumn air. The air was cool but it felt good on your skin. You looked down at the dress; you’d had to do some altering to make it fit, but you still liked how it looked on you.
“Now if only I had my Prince Charming,” you said with a slight twirl of your skirt.
“Prince Charming, eh?”
You turned back towards the house, expecting to see one of the guests.
You were alone.
“Must be the Halloween spirits,” you said to yourself, sitting on the bench in Charlie’s backyard.
“No spirits,” the voice said again.
You looked around; still alone. “Okay, seriously, Charlie, what’s going on?”
“Name’s Dean, not Charlie.”
You felt something brush against your skirt. Looking down, you saw a green blob rustle against your dress before hopping up to the bench next to you.
“Okay, that Jungle Juice must’ve been stronger than I thought,” you said, looking at the frog. “It’s got me thinking frogs can talk.”
“I can, Princess.”
You jumped up in surprise, nearly tripping on your skirt. “What the hell?!”
“Easy, Princess. I can explain.”
“Nope,” you said, gathering your skirt and heading for the door. “Nope, nope, nope.”
“Wait!” The frog hopped over to you, stopping in front of you. “Please, let me explain.”
You looked through the patio door; the party was still in full swing, but you didn’t need someone looking up and seeing you talking to a frog. You headed back to the bench, turning your back to the house.
The frog hopped up on the bench next to you, peering up at you with those weird yellowish eyes. “Okay,” the frog said. “So. My name is Dean.”
“I wasn’t always a frog. I used to be human. An important one, if I do say so myself.”
“Yeah. My dad, brother and I own a law firm. Winchester—heard of it?”
“God, of course, you’re a lawyer. Gone from one slimy creature to another.”
“It’s not slime, it’s mucus,” Dean said indignantly.
Dean huffed. “Anyway. I was this high-power lawyer, right? And apparently one of my clients was a witch and she didn’t think we won the case correctly and she…” The frog indicated at its body, a surprisingly human gesture. “Did this to me.”
“So, what you’re saying is that witches exist and one turned you into a frog on Halloween because you didn’t win her a big enough settlement?”
You shook your head; how had you gotten to this point where you were listening to a frog?
“Look, I think we can help each other.”
You peered down at the amphibian. “How?”
“You remember that old fairy tale? The Frog Prince?”
You didn’t like where this was going. “Uh-huh…”
“So… you kiss me, I’ll turn back into a human.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“My brother’s single.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Hey, you’re the one who said you wanted a Prince Charming. He’s the closest you’ll get.” Dean paused. “I can also pay you.”
“I’m not a prostitute.”
You sighed. “This… won’t get out, will it? You won’t tell anyone?”
“Sweetheart, I don’t want to tell anyone about any part of this. It could ruin me.”
You held your hand out, letting the frog hop into it. You took a deep breath, shut your eyes, pursed your lips, and…
Your body felt cold once your lips met the frog’s. It also felt like someone was squeezing you in a giant hug. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself shrouded in darkness.
You managed to scramble out of whatever was trapping you, finding yourself on the bench. Everything seemed normal.
But Dean the frog still sat in front of you.
“Oh, shit,” he said.
“What?” You looked around.
And then down.
“What the hell?!”
“Calm down,” Dean said, hopping over to you.
“Don’t touch me! You did this to me!” You looked down at your webbed fingers, your green skin. “God, and here I was worried about getting warts. But no, I turned into a fucking frog!”
“It’s okay. We can work this out,” Dean said.
At that moment, the patio door opened. “Y/N?” Charlie called. “You out here?”
“We need to go,” Dean said, hopping off towards the bushes.
“But… what about Charlie?”
“She can’t help us. The fewer people involved, the better.”
You followed after Dean. “But what about my dress? What if she sees it laying there and thinks I was abducted or dragged off and raped?”
“She’ll probably just think you had too much to drink and decided to streak through the neighborhood.”
“Please. She’d never think that about me.”
Dean looked back at you. “No?”
You opened your mouth to argue but closed it. “College was a weird time, okay? And it only happened once or twice.”
“I don’t need any judgment from you, Froggy.” You looked around; Dean was leading you through a residential neighborhood. “Where are we going?”
“I, uh… have a friend who may be able to help us.”
“Yeah, he’s, uh… well, he’s kind of this voodoo guy.”
“He swears by it.”
“You know a voodoo guy and instead of going to him in the first place, you made me kiss you and turned me into a frog?”
“Can you blame me? Would you go to a friend in frog form? It’s embarrassing. Besides, you…”
“What about me?”
Dean quickly turned away. “Nothing.”
“All right, this is his place.”
The two of you sat on the porch, staring up at the door. It looked like a completely normal house (even though it stuck out by not being decorated for the holiday), not at all what you thought a voodoo… person would live in.
“Okay, I’m gonna hop up and ring the doorbell and then we’ll be fixed.”
You watched as Dean jumped in vain, constantly missing the doorbell.
“What the hell is this?” a scruffy faced man said, opening the door. He peered down at the two of you. “Frogs? Well, I’m not exactly craving frog legs, but how can you deny a meal when it shows up at your doorstep?”
You started to jump away in fear, but Dean stood his ground. “Crowley! It’s me. Dean.”
“Dean? Dean Winchester?”
“Look, man, I need your help.” Dean glanced over at you. “We need your help.”
Crowley crouched down, picking Dean up. “What have you gotten yourself into?”
“It’s a long story. Can you change us back?”
“We can try.” Crowley’s other hand darted out, grabbing you around your midsection. He carried the two of you into his house, setting you on his kitchen table.
“Um… are you sure we can trust this guy?” you asked, looking around at all the weird and slightly dangerous items strewn around Crowley’s kitchen.
“Best voodoo man I know.” Dean paused. “Well, he’s the only voodoo man I know, but still.”
“So,” Crowley said from the stove, throwing unsavory looking (and smelling) ingredients into a pot. “What happened, Winchester?”
“A witch turned him into a frog because he didn’t win her case the way she wanted,” you interjected. “And then this slime-ball said if I kissed him, he’d turn back. But instead, I got roped into this bullshit.”
“Mucus, not slime,” Dean argued.
Crowley turned back, staring at Dean. “Since when did your dad let you back into the firm?”
Dean croaked slightly. “I…”
“What do you mean, let you back in?” you asked. “You said you were a lawyer.”
Dean sighed. “I was. But…”
“I was never in the law game, all right? I never got the thrill of winning a case. My dad did, my brother did. But I… I wanted something different. So I stopped putting in effort and my dad let me leave.”
“More like he fired you,” Crowley said with a smirk.
“Shut up, Crowley.”
“You son of a bitch!” You lunged at him, fingers dying to wrap around his slimy throat.
“Hey, whoa, easy!” Dean hopped backward, nearly falling off the table. “Look, I’m sorry I lied, but if you remember, I told you I’d introduce you to my brother. He’s the high-powered lawyer, not me. I’ll still introduce you, I promise.”
“She’s not mad about the introduction,” Crowley said, stirring the pot. “She’s mad that you lied.”
Dean looked over at you, sheepishly. “Sorry.”
You gave a slight nod. “I just want this to be done with.” You glanced at the man at the stove. “Are you sure this will work?”
“Well, usually I’m doing the opposite, turning people into less than desirable creatures, but I don’t see why it won’t work.”
That was less than comforting but you really had nothing else to cling to. Crowley finished up his potion before bringing two shot glasses over to the table.
“All right, you two. Drink up.”
The smell was unholy but you were already sick and tired of the slime (ahem, mucus) on your skin. You grabbed the glass with both hands and tipped the potion back into your throat.
“Whoa,” Dean said. “You sure you only streaked a few times?”
Crowley bid you two adieu (after rubbing a balm on your backs that would allow you to slip into your homes under the door). He said that the potion should kick in by morning; Crowley would send one of his shadow friends to check in on you. If you weren’t back to normal, he’d swing by and try option B.
You and Dean sat on the sidewalk in front of Crowley’s house. “Well… this is certainly a Halloween I’ll remember.”
“Look, I’m sorry. Really. For… everything.”
“It’s… fine. But you better pray that Crowley knows what he’s doing. If we’re not back to normal in the morning, I will hunt you down and plop you in the fryer myself.”
Dean chuckled. “Deal.”
As you hopped away, he called after you.
“Look, for what it’s worth… you looked really pretty in that dress earlier.”
In the morning, you woke up in your bed and in your human body.
For whatever reason, you felt the need to check in on Dean. You hoped he was back to normal. So you pulled on some clothes and drove to a location you’d never imagined you’d be at.
“Welcome to Winchester Law,” the secretary said when you walked in. “How can I help you?”
“Um, I need to see Dean.”
“Dean? Dean Winchester?”
“He no longer works here.”
“Well, yeah, I’d heard that, but I was hoping you could tell me where he lives?”
The secretary gave you a strange look. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t divulge that information.”
“What information?” A tall man with dark hair stepped up.
“She’s looking for Dean.”
“What do you want with my brother?” the man asked. His tone wasn’t accusatory but you could tell he was wary of what your answer might be.
“I just… need to see him. We had a mishap last night and I–”
“Mishap? What happened?”
“It’s not that big of a deal. But I just want to make sure he’s okay.”
The man studied you for a few moments before nodding. He reached over and grabbed a post-it from the secretary’s desk, scribbling an address and a phone number on it. “If he’s not home, please call me. He’s got a few hideouts; I’ll help you search for him.”
“Thank you, Mr. Winchester.”
“Please. Call me Sam.”
You pulled up in front of the address Sam had given you. It was a decent home, the lawn was well kept. You stepped up to the front door, ringing the bell. You were about to ring it again when the door opened.
“Well, I see the potion worked.”
The man in front of you was… tall, well-built, muscular. His eyes were the same green his skin had been last night. His sandy hair was sleep-tousled, sticking up at odd angles. It was an odd contrast to the well-dressed brother you’d met earlier.
“How’d you find me?”
“I went to your law firm. Well, your family’s law firm. Your brother gave me your address.”
Dean nodded. “So much for my promise to introduce you to your Prince Charming.”
You shook your head. “It’s… he’s not my type.”
The air between the two of you was still, awkward.
“Well,” you said, taking a step back. “I just wanted to see if you were still slimy, and now I see you’re not, so… I’ll be on my way.”
As you stepped down the porch, something occurred to you. Turning, you saw Dean still watching you. “Hey, you never did tell me what exactly happened.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you said a client turned you into a frog because you didn’t get the settlement. But Crowley said you got fired. So how exactly did you get turned into a frog?”
The corner of Dean’s mouth rose slightly, his green eyes sparkling. “Can I tell you over a cup of coffee?”
Your heart fluttered slightly. Was this a date? “So long as it tastes better than whatever it was that Crowley gave us last night.”