Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own the show, the boys or the network. If I did, season 4 wouldn't have been so depressing. This fic only came to life because I felt compelled to put the boys in ridiculous outfits. Anything to cheer me up.

Another warning: Vague spoilers for season 3. This story contains curse words and dangerous nonsense.

I'd like to thank my wonderful Betas: Jennifer & MagicianMana, although I was kinda eager to post this so if you spot mistakes that's because I couldn't wait.

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Sam heard Dean fumble with the keys, heard the familiar clang of metal on metal, but that wasn't what roust him out of bed.

He swore he'd heard Dean's heavy footsteps ever since he'd set the boots on the first step of the creaky staircase. It was nice not to be staying in a motel or the car for a night, but what had been a cozy-looking place from the outside rapidly turned out to be more of a haywire memory of better times with some dust bunnies sprinkled on top of it.

Seeing as the owner usually had the place to herself, she probably hadn't found it necessary to do anything about the condition the building was in. She hadn't wanted to have subtenants since her husband had died; he'd been the one to do all the renovations and she didn't feel up to dealing with lodgers anymore. This and much more than he'd ever wanted to hear was found out by Sam while she waved Polaroid pictures at him, some of them so devoid of color you couldn't even make out the faces of the photographed.

Dean had excused himself thirty minutes into the ordeal by telling the old lady he would have to head out for some serious investigation.

Sam had huffed and crossed his arms, which, at least to everyone able to understand Sam-and-Dean speak, signaled blatantly that he knew full well the only thing Dean was going to investigate would be the bottom of a series of beer bottles.

Apparently Dean was back, trying to drunkenly sneak back in, what with stealth being his middle name and him being 'velvety smooth'. Since Sam was awake already he was going to take his sweet time listening to Dean cursing under his breath while entangling his fingers in what had to be Dean's attempt at key-origami.

"Sam? I know you're in there, man! I'm so going to kick your ass!"

Sam chuckled, propping his chin up in his hands, and shot an amused look at the door. "Yeah? How are you gonna do that?"

"I'm serious, Sam. Don't think I can't!"

Sam sighed, pulled back the duvet and sat up. The damn parquet floor wasn't just loud, it was also cold. He made a beeline for the door, yanked it open as fast as he could –

and almost fell as he suddenly had an armful of Dean, who had been leaning against the wing.

Dean smirked up at him, always the cocky son of a bitch, and fucking winked as Sam pried him off. "I woulda had it open in a minute there…"

Sam scowled and shuffled over to his bed, burying himself under the blankets.

"Whatever Dean, just shut up and lemme sleep."

Sam's feet were back to normal and he was almost drifting off by the time Dean came out of the bathroom. Other people fell right into bed when they were this drunk but not Dean.
Dean brushed his teeth, flossed, gargled… He couldn't get a key in a hole, but he managed to floss.

"Hey Sam? Are you asleep?"

Sam groaned and tucked the blankets over his head.
"Yeah, Dean, I'm asleep. No use talking to me."

He heard Dean settling down in his own bed, the rustling of the comforter, the inevitable drunken pillow plumping – yeah blame it on the pillow that the room is spinning- the eventual contented sigh and then… blissful silence.

"Saaaam?"

For god's sake! "What, Dean?"

"Let's do Halloween this year."
"Are you high?"

The real question was what if he wasn't. What if this was another one of I'm-not-as-think-as-you-drunk-I-am-Dean's irrevocable plans?

"Sorry, Mr. Crankypants, didn't know having fun was a breach of the peace."

Sam sighed. "So now we do Halloween all of a sudden?"

"What's the matter Sam, afraid there's gonna be clowns?"

"Hilarious."

"I mean, why shouldn't we? We're old enough to tell the real monsters from the Adam's family I guess. Although that zombie chick was kinda on the border line there."

Sam bit his lip and nodded, feeling awkward all of a sudden.
The last Halloween he'd celebrated was with Jess and he still remembered what she'd said to him when he asked her what he'd do without her. 'Crash and burn.'
He heard Dean turn to his side and could feel his brother's stare on him more than see it.

"I'm thinking we could do Halloween just once. I get to pick your costume, you pick mine.

"Forget it, Dean."

"So you're too chicken-shit to take me up on it?"

"No, I just don't do Halloween. And you don't either. But if you really wanna go, why don't you find yourself a girl, or you know what, find two girls and have 'em go as the Doublemint twins or whatever you're into. Just don't involve me."

"So you are too chicken-shit."

"If I say yes, will you let me sleep?"

Dean turned to his belly, a sure sign that he thought he'd won the argument and was going to get some sleep soon.
"A hundred bucks you won't wear it."

This was a lost case and he should have seen it coming. There was no reasoning with Dean when he was like this, but then again Dean never really listened to reason – he usually just turned up the volume and sang along.

"I could always pick something uglier."

"I doubt that, Sammy. But I'll count that as a yes."

Sam huffed and finally went to sleep.

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