Shenanigan

"Dean," Twenty-six year old Dean Winchester spun around to look innocently at his younger brother.

"Yes?"

"What the hell are we doing here?" The younger Winchester asked in a tight voice from the back seat of the '67 Chevy Impala; strong aggravation was beginning to sink heavily in the pit of his stomach.

"Getting some beers and phone numbers," Dean answered easily as he pulled into a parking space that suited him well enough.

"You've got to be kidding me," Sam replied through gritted teeth as he watched his brother smirk at him from the rear-view mirror.

"You know Sammy…" Dean started as he proceeded to open the door of his car and climb out. "You ought to be thankful."

"Why's that?" Sam demanded as he attempted to climb out of the back seat and slam the door.

"Well, you're the one who put Peroxide in my shampoo, super-glued my hand to a steaming cup of coffee, and used a little Nair in the liquid-soap. And my punishment for you is that I'm taking you to a bar? So you can get hooked up?" Dean scoffed as he started to walk in. "Man, you ought to love me!"

"Really, Dean?" Sam smirked as he followed his brother inside the small, run-down, beer stop; wondering if his brother even bothered to read the name of the place. Or the words under the name of the place.

"Yep," Dean nodded lightly as they walked in, quickly walking up to a small table and sitting himself down. "Not so bad, is it?"

"No," Sam shook his head; silently giving himself a secret high-five as he watched various men and women browse about. "Not at all."

"So…" Dean looked admirably at his brother. "See any chicks that interest you?"

"Not really," Sam bit his tongue in the process of answering his brother. He could have really made a sarcastic comment at that one. "You?"

"Oh- yeah," Dean gave his all- out grin as he nodded his head happily to the left. Sam glanced over to see a leggy, long haired blonde and smirked.

"Great legs," Sam muttered to himself as his brother got up and paced over to the girl.

"Can I help you?" Surprised, yet knowingly, Sam looked up to see a waitress; with long; rather thick brown hair, a mini-skirt, and a horrible after shave standing in front of him.

"No," Sam paused and looked over at his brother who was fretting nervously with the golden- haired bar-hopper for confirmation. "I have a feeling we'll be going soon."

"Too bad," Sam felt an uncontrollable shiver go up his spine as the waitress gave him a once over and walked away.

Once again looking at his brother; Sam chuckled as he saw Dean's eyes widen and then receive a frightened look.

"So?" The younger Winchester asked as his brother, five seconds later, made his way back to the table. "How'd it go?"

"Man," Dean paused, and bit his lip; his green eyes were still wide as saucers as Sam tried to restrain himself from laughing hysterically. "Let's just get out of here," Dean finally finished in a desperate tone.

"Ahhh…" Sam frowned in mock- sorrow. "Why Dean, Couldn't get her phone number?"

"No," Dean now glared at his brother and then glanced at the blonde who was now facing their table; grinning at them. "Dude…"

"What?" Sam asked; trying to make himself sound engrossed in what his brother was going to say.

"She…isn't a she."

"Oh"

"She's a man," Dean looked away from his brother and glanced at everyone in the bar. "They all are."

"Oh, wow."

"I just don't understand why there wasn't a sign…"

"Dean?"

"What?"

"You had to know this was going to happen one time or another," Sam said sincerely as he got up from where he was seated and started out the exit; his brother, quickly following him.

"What?" Dean stammered and turned to look at his brother opening the door to climb into the back seat of the Impala.

"Well…" Sam paused before he struggled to get back in the car. "With all the bars that you go to and all," The twenty-two year old looked up at his brother again. "And with your really, really blonde hair."

"Shut-up," The twenty six year old stammered again as he unconsciously lifted one hand up to rub through his hair.

"And, Dean," Sam piped up from the back seat as his brother gently slammed the door.

"What?"

"Did you even bother to read the name of the bar?"

"No," Dean frowned and turned his head to look at the billboard; his eyes widening as he read the seven big, bold letters. Dickies.

"Shit."

"Score - four for Sam," Sam muttered under his breath; shaking his head as Dean stepped on the gas – heading for another bar…making sure this time; that it was straight.