Bobby thought he would be used to anything Sam and Dean came up with when they were in his care. He had know them longer than he could remember ever since their daddy had shown up on his doorstep with a shy-looking older boy, and a younger one that clung to his brother. But that was before they got old enough to do real damage to each other, and have lasting arguments. Shaking his head in mild irritation, he looked at the whipped cream Dean was carefully painting around Sam's head as he slept. His soft snores, the only sound in the room, apart from the rustling of pages.
"Dean, may I ask what you're doing?" Bobby groused. They were in the middle of a hunt for a Wendigo, and he did not need to be disturbed from his important research.
Dean shrugged. "Bobby, I am shocked at you. This is a time-honored tradition." The fifteen-year-old grinned as Sam stirred. "It's April Fools!"
