Prank War! By DeansBabyBird.
This little bit of nonsense was written for the April Fool's day challenge on the Supernaturalville UnGen site. I hope it maybe makes you smile and that goes for you two Kripke, the owner of these lovely boys!
It was a cold, dark night. The moon shrouded by cloud and the wind howling through the trees that lined the dirt track. The headlights from Bobby's truck picked out the weaving branches of the bare trees, creating eerie writhing shadows, as he prowled carefully along the rutted surface.
"Dammit, Dean, where the hell are ya?"
He muttered under his breath, as he steered around another deep pot hole, the wheels squealing for traction on the icy surface. He continued on, his anxiety mounting, and was relieved to have the beams finally pick up the reflective surface of the Impala's tail lights as she sat silently at the side of the track.
He drew to a stop and climbed from the cab picking up two blankets from the seat and slowly shaking his head in disbelief, as the Winchester brothers emerged from the cover of the scrubby bushes and hopped over the icy ground to greet him.
Bobby watched silently as the boys sheepishly accepted the worn blankets and hurried to wrap themselves in their much needed warmth, chattering out their thanks as they did so. His eyes scanned around and he took in the pile of gear by the trunk of the Impala and, a little further away, the debris of a recent small fire with the remnants of a Cat boot smouldering in its dying embers.
"So boys."
His amused dark green eyes were beginning to enjoy the embarrassment radiating from the shivering brothers.
"I'm assuming you two have a logical explanation for why you stripped down to your shorts and burned your clothes in the middle of a forest in sub zero temperatures?"
Sam opened his mouth to speak but Bobby raised his hand, silencing him.
"Don't tell me; it's gotta be another of the legendary and puerile Winchester Prank Wars huh?"
He tossed the spare keys for the Impala towards Dean who wriggled a hand from inside his blanket shuffling from bare foot to bare foot as he caught them.
"Get in the car ya Idjits. You can fill in the details back at my place. I can't wait to hear this one!"
SNSNSN
Dean stood before the roaring fire still clutching his blanket around him, grateful as the feeling slowly returned to his frozen limbs. He smiled apologetically at Bobby as he took the steaming mug of coffee and wrapped his tingling hands around it.
Bobby handed the second mug next to the similarly muffled Sam, and then moved to sit in the chair furthest from them.
"God, you boys stink!"
The brothers glanced at each other, a remarkably similar expression of softly offended outrage on their faces. It was, however, true that now they were in the warmth clouds of noxious fumes were rising from both of them to hover like a putrid pall over the proceedings.
"Sorry, Bobby."
Dean mumbled around a mouthful of scalding coffee, as he shifted from the fire and pushed a scowling Sam along the sofa to make room for him to sit.
"So then."
Bobby settled back and sipped his coffee.
"Where do you want to start? With your shaved eyebrow, Sam? Or maybe the fact that you set fire to your own boots, Dean?"
Dean self-consciously ran his hand through his short spikes of dirty blond hair and glanced in a less than friendly fashion at his brother. Sam for his part raised a nonexistent eyebrow indicating that he should make a start.
"Well, Bobby, it all began a week ago"
Monday Night.
Dean awoke to a noise that suggested a pro wrestling team were using the small floor space in the dingy motel bedroom for a training session. He reached for the light switch with his left hand as his right gripped the leather bound handle of his hunting knife.
"Sam? You OK?"
Sam sat on the stained carpet, rubbing at an impressive bump on his forehead, Dean's boot in his hand.
"Jeeze, Dean! Are you trying to kill me? Can't you put your stuff outta the way?"
Dean cooed at his brother.
"Awh, wassamatter? Diddums fall down then? Did the nasty beer he drank make him all wobbly?"
Dean smiled, to Sam's increasing irritation, as he groaned his way up from the floor.
"Let's face it, Sammy, if didn't have such gangly giraffe legs you'd have more control over them and be able to avoid my stuff when you're staggering about drunk."
"Yeah, yeah, Shorty!"
Sam hiccupped out as his stomach lurched and he dove for the bathroom, reaching the porcelain just as the Bud made an unwelcome return visit.
"Lightweight"
Dean laughed as he turned out the light and rolled onto his stomach drifting quickly back to the deep sleep that numerous beers had induced.
Tuesday Morning.
"I don't believe you would be so damned thoughtless, Sam!"
Dean's voice was indignant, his emerald eyes flashing with piss and vinegar, as his happily laughing baby brother and his gigantic headache rolled on the bed in poorly contained mirth.
"They are the only boots I have and now they are gonna leak like a sieve and its freaking raining torrents outside."
As he spoke, Dean pulled at the tightly held boot as it stood in military precision next to its companion where Sam had nailed them to the floor.
"Well you should have kept them out of my way!"
Sam giggled, tears rolling down his face as Dean strained angrily to pull his ventilated footwear from its captivity.
"I've got a lump the size of an egg on my head where I tripped over the damn things."
"Oh and that's got nothing to do with the dozen Buds you downed last night?"
Dean was crouched leaning back with all his weight, both hands on the offending boots as he spoke.
"No. It was that you left your boots in the middle of the floor..."
The nails gave suddenly, depositing Dean heavily on his ass on the hard floor, and Sam convulsed into further paroxysms as Dean muttered.
"Bitch!"
"Jerk!"
Sam retorted, holding his splitting head.
Wednesday Morning.
Sam stared into the steamed up bath room mirror and gasped in shock.
"Dean!"
He wrenched the door open; striding out of the bathroom clasping the towel about his hips, his wet hair dripping down his back.
"Sam?"
Dean smiled sweetly from the bed where he sat tying up his perforated boots.
"You shaved my eyebrow off?"
Well, bro, I had to check out that lump on your head. I mean after your near fatal fall over my carelessly placed and, I might add, ruined boots. I hadda make sure it didn't need suturing and your eyebrow was in the way so..."
Dean smiled his 1000 kilowatt smile as Sam spluttered his annoyance.
"You realise this means war don't you?"
"Bring it on, Sammy. Do your worst!"
Dean taunted as he reached for his other boot whilst the rain ran down the motel room window.
Thursday Morning.
Dean lay on the bed his boredom levels peaked but too apathetic to do anything about it. He looked across at Sam who was intently glued to the laptop. He reached for the last few M&Ms in the big bag at his side and selecting the blue one, his favourite, fired it at the upright lid of the PC.
The candy missile careened off the machine making Sam start from his studies. He glared briefly at Dean, who smiled back an utterly unbelievable look of innocence, before resuming his research.
Dean weighed the remaining yellow against the red and decided the red had more ballistic merit. He sighted and launched the little candy bullet right onto the keyboard.
"Yahtzee!"
Dean tossed the final piece of ammo high into the air, catching it in his open mouth and sucking it noisily as Sam slammed the lid of the laptop down.
"Dean. I'm trying to research this damned job. It's not your routine salt and burn; she was a witch you remember? You want to be safe don't ya?"
"Ok, Princess. Don't get your panties in a bunch!"
Dean scooted to the edge of the bed and rose, popping his spine as he arched and stretched.
"You could help you know?"
Sam gestured to the numerous books showing protective runes and sigils that lay scattered amidst the candy wrappers on the bed.
"Nah,"
Dean yawned.
"That's your territory, Geek-Boy. I'm the muscle remember?"
He raised his T, showing rock hard abs to his brother, as he fluttered long curling eye lashes.
Sam rolled his eyes, his irritation at his older brother's childish antics peaking.
"Well then do something productive, go get us some dinner!"
"Can't bro."
Dean pouted.
"My boots are still soaked!"
He gestured towards the steaming footwear in its upturned position on the radiator.
Sam frowned, hoisted on his own petard! He shook his head in defeat as Dean grinned in victory.
"OK, Sammy. I get it; I'm bugging ya."
Sam nodded enthusiastically.
"I'll go shower, and then I'll borrow your freaking ginormous sneakers and go snag us some food. OK?"
Dean slipped out of his Jeans as he spoke and tossed them with his T-shirt on the bed.
SNSNSN
Dean exited from the bathroom and slid his foot into his jeans.
"So, what do ya wanna eat, Sa..."
The words died on his lips as he took in the multi coloured symbols spray painted all over his jeans and Sam looked up from the table, where he sat surrounded by their entire collection of paint aerosols.
"Just wanted you to be safe, Dean..."
Sam smiled with a devilish wickedness.
"Smartass!"
Dean kicked off the offending hippy chick garment and reached for his duffel.
"That's new jeans as well as new boots you are gonna buy me, Dude..."
He eyeballed his smug brother as he rummaged in his bag, the superior look on Sam's face making him slightly uneasy, as he seethed.
"Until then, I'll just wear my other jeans..."
Dean pulled out the two other pairs of jeans which constituted his entire remaining wardrobe and hissed as the similarly grafittied denim offended his eye.
"You didn't?"
He looked over at his brother, and his innocent guileless face.
"Just wanted you to be safe, Dean. You're always saying how precious your ass is..."
The older hunter rose from the bed and snatched up Sam's duffel, his face a picture of whipped pride.
"Well then I'll just have to borrow yours, Sammy-boy"
Dean waved Sam's best jeans in his face as he grabbed his boots too and retreated to the bed to get dressed, and Sam watched with amusement as he breathed in, struggling to fasten the slightly too small jeans.
"Better not get any donuts for dinner there, Dean."
Sam murmured as he watched his brother lace up boots at least three sizes too big for him.
Dean stood and looked at himself in the mirror. The jeans were snug to say the least, his stockier frame tensing the denim to resistance point. And there was at least 5 inches of leg rolled up at the ankle. This coupled with the oversized boots gave the impression that Dean was playing dress up in his Papa's clothes and he wailed petulantly.
"Sam. I can't go out like this. I look like a big kid"
Sam laughed then.
"Well, Dean you act like one so best you dress the part too."
Friday Night.
The grave was a bitch to dig out; each shovel full of earth was chiselled from the frozen surface soil, making them sweat despite the sub zero temperatures. Once through that though the earth became marsh, turning to a disgusting mixture of mud and soupy grave liquor as they approached the casket lid.
The stench was overpowering, making both Sam and Dean gag as they hefted shovel after shovel of viscous slop over the grave sides, liberally coating each other in their haste to finish and get the hell outta there.
Dean balanced precariously; keeping his weight carefully towards the outer rim of the coffin as the scraped the thick browny green organic 'gravy' from the obviously well rotted casket lid. The muck covered his jeans, blotting out the spray painted native art courtesy of Sam.
"God, Sam. What is that stink? I've never smelled anything like it. It's unholy!"
Sam coughed, his eyes watering.
"Well she was a witch, Dean."
"Yeah, well, she freaking smells like one!"
They worked for another few minutes, trying desperately to clear the river of slime from the casket so they could work out where was the best place to try and lift the lid. The freezing ooze seeped disgustingly into the perforations Sam had so kindly fashioned in Dean's boots; as the older hunter teetered from precarious foothold to foothold, and he felt tiny, gritty particles of debris grind between his wriggling toes. He didn't want to contemplate what the particulate matter actually was, the thought of' witch soup' filling his boots making him nauseous, as he turned gingerly in the confined space to face his brother.
"My boots are full of this foul muck, Sam. I'm gonna get trench foot of something."
Sam laughed.
"Don't be such a wuss, Dean. No one will notice over the usual stink of your feet..."
Dean growled dangerously as he reached up to the side of the grave, grabbing the crow bar and tossing it to Sam.
"Just for that, you get to bust through the lid."
Sam frowned as he caught the cold length of metal in his freezing hands.
"And don't raise your eyebrows at me! Oh, I forgot; its eyebrow, singular, isn't it?"
Dean giggled putting a finger to his own brow and wiggling it up and down.
"You are so childish, Dean."
Sam fumed as he bent forward digging the crowbar into the soggy wood, tearing at the lid with all his considerable strength as he muttered.
"You're supposed to be the older, responsible brother..."
The coffin lid crumbled at the first touch, sending both brothers pitching as their foothold on the slimy wood tilted. Sam's few extra inches meant he could get some purchase on the filthy grave walls; and he righted himself just in time to watch Dean, a look of horror on his pale face, slide unceremoniously feet first into the putrid, foot deep bath of mud and organic detritus.
"Awh crap!"
Dean sat in his 'hip bath' casket, freezing cold goop covering up to the waist, his shovel still clasped in his hands as Sam finally steadied his feet on the reasonable stable casket sides.
"Yup, Dean. It sure smells like crap alright."
Sam grinned widely and Dean found himself smiling in spite of his situation. He drove the shovel blade into the grave side and held his filthy hands up to his brother.
"Well,pull me out then, seeing as it's your fault I'm in here."
Sam pulled his hands away from Deans grasping fingers in mock disgust.
"So how do you figure that, Dean?"
Dean shifted in his 'tub', his butt making squelching noises in the ooze.
"Well if you hadn't ventilated my boots, they wouldn't have filled with this slop."
"And so?"
Sam crossed his arms over his chest, as Dean followed his perverse line of reasoning.
"And so each one wouldn't have weighed a tonne knocking my panther-like agility off whack, and landing me on my ass in here."
Sam laughed out loud then, pointing a shaking finger at his recumbent sibling.
"Panther like?"
Dean's face darkened a little with the mounting laughter.
"Yeah panther like, Sammy. I'm well known for my cat like grace..."
Sam's laughter intensified.
"Oh yeah, Dean, the way your damned short legs slid out from under ya was so cat-like..."
Sam didn't get the rest of his observation out as Dean smiled sweetly and kicked hard against the end section of the rotted casket, effectively destroying Sam's tentative foothold, and tipping him headfirst, long arms flailing, into the casket alongside his older brother.
They had finished up the job in virtual silence; apart from the gagging noises as the stench from the grave lessened but the equally bad aroma from them increased, as they worked up a sweat filling in the plot. Their task successfully completed, they gathered their equipment and draped their abandoned jackets over their arms not wanting to put them back on over their foul clothes. Then they headed wearily back to the Impala, each of them dreaming of long, hot showers.
"God, I can't wait to get in the car and back to the motel..."
Sam groaned, his long body aching, as Dean looked at him like he was insane.
"You think you're getting into my baby with that crap all over ya?"
Dean waved his agitated hands in the direction of the psychedelic snot fest that was his own and Sam's attempt at Winchester sartorial elegance and Sam had to admit Dean had a point. They smelled suspiciously like a cross between road-kill and over-ripe French cheese!
"So what do you propose, Dean? I don't see a shower and all our clean clothes are back at the motel..."
"well you ain't getting into my baby smelling like you do..."
Sam snarled.
"Oh and I suppose you smell like a freaking rose garden do you?"
They stared each other down for a moment, the air between them crackling with a week's worth of 'prank war' passion, until Dean ground out through gritted teeth.
"Strip."
"What?"
Sam said incredulously as he watched his brother toss his jacket onto the trunk of the Impala and began to pull off his boots as he unfastened his grafittied jeans.
"You're serious?"
The scowl told him that Dean was totally serious.
"It's at least minus 5 out here, Dean."
Sam moaned as he pulled his T over his head.
"Well then strip fast, Princess."
Dean grumbled as his shirt joined the pile of clothes and he rummaged in the duffel emerging with a can of lighter fluid and matches in his frozen fingers.
"What are you gonna do with them?"
Sam watched as Dean doused the clothes including his mud filled Cat boots with the flammable liquid.
"Well, Sam, I figure no amount of washing is gonna possess me to wear clothes that smell this bad ever again..."
Whoosh! He added a match to the pyre.
"And as you're gonna buy me a whole new spring wardrobe to make up for what you did, then we might as well put these disgusting rags to their rest."
They watched as the small pile of fabric burned to sooty ashes, warming their hands, amongst other bits, on the flames, before turning for the car.
"Gimme the keys, Sam."
Dean held his hand out as he wriggled into his jacket pulling it about his upper body, his muscular legs sticking comically out from underneath the leather coat.
"I don't have then."
"Yeah you do. Don't you remember? We forgot the crowbar and you came back to the car for it?"
Sam nodded.
"Yeah, but I put the keys back by your jacket when I came back."
Dean grimaced then and Sam continued.
"Yeah, by your jacket that was right by the mound of earth that we just dug back into the grave...
"So, Sammy, let me recap."
Dean shuffled from bare foot to bare foot as he spoke the frozen ground biting his tender skin.
"We are half naked, in the middle of nowhere. We smell like 10 year dead skunks and we are locked out of our only means of transport because you put the keys down in the pile of gunk we just dug back into the smelliest grave I ever crossed shovels with. Does that about sum it up?"
Sam could feel laughter building in his chest, but Dean's volcanic jade eyes cautioned him to hold it back.
"Well...um...yeah, Dean. That's about the measure of it."
"Crap!"
Dean kicked his foot at the ground in frustration, only to then grab his bruised toes and hop around on one foot groaning.
"Hey, Dean, we can break into the Impala, you've heisted loads of cars..."
Dean put his foot gingerly to the floor and limped to Sam's side.
"Yeah, but not 'the baby', Sam. She's locked down tighter than Fort Knox. Can't have any freakster who fancies her getting in. She's a no bust, Sam."
Sam nodded, remembering all the 'added security features' Dean had lovingly installed when he had rebuilt the old Chevy. He sighed and looked around as Dean unconsciously trailed his hand affectionately over the shiny black body work. Sam saw what he needed and stooped to pick up a fairly hefty rock, weighing it in his hand as Dean looked at him suspiciously.
"What you gonna do with that?"
Dean put his hand out, resting it against Sam's chest as he attempted to approach the car.
"It's the only way, Dean. We're gonna freeze our pant-less asses off out here and the only way in to the car is to smash..."
"Over my dead freaking body, Sammy"
Dean shoved his huge baby brother away from his muscle car.
"So what do you propose, Dean? Just how in hell are you gonna get us outta this mess?"
Dean palmed his cell phone and dialled as he said.
"It'll be humiliating, Sam, but for my baby it's worth the humiliation..."
SNSNSN
Bobby nodded and leaned forward to place his long empty coffee mug on the table before him, only to lean urgently back as his nose got in stench vicinity of his seated guests.
"So that's more or less what happened. Huh, Sam?"
Dean looked over at Sam and he nodded.
"Yup, if Dean hadn't deliberately left his boots in the middle of the floor then none of this would have happened..."
"Hey, shit for brains, if you hadn't been out of your face on beer that you can't take..."
"Boys!"
Bobby's stern voice cut through the heat of the room and the brothers looked at the older man.
"Enough already. You're supposed to be grownups for God's sake. I swear you're worse now than you were when you were kids. When the hell are you gonna grow out of these 'prank wars'? One of these days one of you is gonna get hurt as a result... "
"Sorry, Bobby."
Dean and Sam chimed in unison trying to look contrite, as they elbowed each other for space on the sofa.
Bobby rose and gathered their mugs, giving them a wide berth to defend the sensitive lining of his nose.
"Shower now, the pair of you or you sleep in the shed."
They were on their feet in seconds, Sam's longer legs again giving him the advantage as he sprinted to get to the hot water first. Dean stamped on the trailing edge of his brothers blanket, effectively pulling Sam off his feet, leaving him lying in a strangled heap on the floor as he climbed over him and to victory in the race for the bathroom.
He smiled a smug smile.
"Cat like grace, Sammy"
"Yeah, yeah, Dean. This is so not over "
Sam responded breathlessly from his sprawl on the floor.
Dean turned to retort but was cut off by a shout from Bobby.
"Boys! Enough."
Dean's silently mouthed retort burned Sam.
"Bitch!"
And Sam's none too subtle gesture reinforced his answer.
"Jerk!"
Ends
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