Author's Note: Just something short I wrote the other day. Let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: Not mine...
Summary: John's just finished a hunt and calls to check on his boys. What kind of trouble have they gotten into this time? Weechester oneshot.
John settled himself in the car with a sigh, closing the squeaky door carefully. He looked in the mirror and touched the bloody bump on his head with a wince. Ouch. He didn't think it was bad enough for him to have a concussion though. He downed a couple of Tylenols and pulled his cell out of his pocket. He hit speed dial #2; Dean's number.
Ring.
Ring.
Ri- "Hey dad –" Dean broke off and there was a scuffle. John tensed, listening carefully.
"Dean?"
"Hi dad!" came a cheerful voice.
John smiled wryly. "Hey Sammy. What happened to your brother?"
A guilty pause. "Nothin'."
"Sam." He warned.
There was a quiet giggle. "Nothin' dad. He's fine." John opened his mouth to tell Sam to put his brother back on when he heard Sam yelp. "Dean! Gimme back –"
"Dad? Sorry. Sam's being…" muffled cursing. Son of a bitch! SAM! "… a brat today," 'm NOT a brat Dean! Shut up!
John chuckled to himself before shifting from hunter into parenting mode. "Tell him to behave himself Dean. Listen –" John was cut off as Dean spoke.
"Sam! Dad says to cut it out and behave!"
Let me talk to him Dean!
"Sam, don't you dare – OUCH! Jesus Sammy, quit," the sound of flesh on flesh, and something crashing to the floor. "pinching me! You're such a freakin' girl!" Ouch! Dean!
"DEAN!" John bellowed into the phone.
"Sir, sorry sir," the boy was panting. Dad! Dean's standing on the table! Dean's standing on the table! "No shit I'm on the table Sam! Quit tryin' to grab the phone and I wouldn't have to!"
"Listen, tell Sam I'll talk to him in a minute. And get off the table!"
"Sure dad… Sam! Dad says he'll talk to you in a minute." I don't believe you! You're going to hang up on him! "Sam, I'm not. He'll talk to you in a minute!"
"Put him on the phone Dean."
"What?"
"Put him on the phone!" John rubbed his head tiredly, listening as he heard Dean jump down and pass Sam the phone.
"Hi dad!"
"Sam." John's tone threatened trouble.
"Yeah…?" Sam was quiet now, knowing he was treading on thin ice.
"I will talk to you when I'm done with Dean. Now give him the phone and go sit quietly on the bed."
"Umm…. Can I sit on the couch?"
"What? Why? Just sit on the bed Sam!" John said exasperatedly.
"Umm… Okay. I guess. I'll try…" Sam, don't say anything yet! I'll tell him! Give me the phone! "Fine! But I'm talking to him after!" John could hear the pout in his voice.
"Dad,"
"What's wrong with the bed Dean?" John demanded.
"Umm, well, you see sir, I uh, Sam was…" Dean trailed off.
"Dean."
"Yeah. Um, Sam was being obnoxious again," I'm NOT obnoxious Dean! And I'm not a brat either! It's your fault anyway, you started it! "so I bought him some markers to play with. So he'd have something to do. And, well, he tried to draw on my face, so we, uh, we started fighting… Sort of."
John sighed. "Spit it out Dean. What happened to the bed?"
"Well, Sam got mad and he stole my car magazine, so I chased him for it and – Sam! Dad told you to stay on –" Gimme the phone Dean! You're trying to get me in trouble!
There was a muffled thunk. Jesus Sam, you probably just broke the phone!
Nu-uh, you were holding it, you dropped it.
"Dean did it dad! He jumped on the bed and there was a big CRACK and then it fell down and broke! It wasn't my fault!" Sam! What the hell? You forgot to mention that you were jumping on the bed when I tackled you! Now gimme back the phone!
"Were you jumping on the bed Sam?"
Silence.
"Sam."
"Maybe. A little bit. Sorta."
"Uh huh. Okay. Here's the deal. Put me on speaker."
"Yes sir." A button was pressed. "Okay sir."
"Sam. Dean."
"Yes sir!" They chorused.
"Fix the bed. If you can't fix the bed, I'll do it. If I do it, neither of you will sit for a week. Are we understood?"
"Yes sir…"
"Yeah dad…"
"Good. Now behave yourselves. I'll be back tomorrow." John hung up the phone and rested his head against the seat, closing his eyes.
SPN SPN SPN
Click.
The ominous sound had the boys looking at the bed, and then each other, in dismay.
"We are so screwed."