Disclaimer: I do keep them in a small space for safe keeping, but only in my mind. :(
For Skysalla, who wanted the boys to fight and shove each other into walls. This was... close enough, I guess.
"This," Dean said, punctuating his words with a jerk of his shoulder to the right, "is all your fault."
"No." Sam grit his teeth and shoved back, having as much—or as little—effect as the initial shove, but feeling better for it anyway. "It's not."
"Oh yes," Dean said, wiggling until he could work his arm up to cross in front of his chest to get his elbow into play,"it is."
Sam grunted, but instead of retaliating in kind he reached down and grabbed a pinch of the skin on his brother's thigh. With a vicious twist, he repeated, "No. It's not."
Dean hissed and grabbed the offending hand, bending the wrist joint backward until Sam's back arched, his shoulders grinding into the wall behind him. He started to hunch down in a vain effort to escape the pressure, stopping only when his knees hit the wall in front.
"OW! DEAN, STOP!"
"You gonna man up and take the blame for this?" Dean asked, merciless in his continued torture.
"I am perfectly willing to accept responsibility for anything I do wrong," Sam grit out, eyes narrowed.
Dean started to grin and Sam almost left it at that, knowing how his brother would take that implication. But he decided that the temporary—if excruciating—pain of a broken wrist was completely worth not giving in.
"Except this isn't my fault. So, no, I will not be taking the AH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH! DEANDEANDEAN—"
Reflex had his foot curling around his brother's ankle and hooking sharply toward himself.
A flare of agony in Sam's wrist accompanied the maneuver until Dean let go to brace himself and try to stop his fall. He failed and ended up scrunched into the bottom of the very narrow shaft they were trapped in, his feet flat on the floor, his legs folded up into his chest, his butt inches from the dirt, and his back pressed into the shaft wall.
With the slick sides around him, there wasn't any way he was getting up on his own. Not that it stopped him from grabbing Sam's pant leg and trying to climb his way back up.
Sam twisted his wrist to stretch it after the brutal wrenching it had endured, then put the attached hand on Dean's head and pushed down, effectively overwhelming the little force Dean could exert from that position.
"I am going to kick your ass so hard they're gonna have to do a tonsillectomy to get the boot out," Dean said when he stopped struggling.
Sam smirked and looked upward while his brother was unable to distract him with pointless blame-throwing and—
"Dammit, Dean, stop!" he snarled, jerking his leg away and shuffling his feet to the side to put as much distance as he could between Dean's hands and the hair on his calf.
"You stop," Dean muttered.
Sam rolled his eyes, but refused to acknowledge that sad excuse for a comeback.
There was a blessed fifteen seconds of silence before, "Have you figured out how to get us out of here yet?"
"Not yet, but—"
"I mean, it's only fair, considering it's your fault we're down here."
Sam stared at the wall in front of his face, then looked down. "Do you want to be left here? Because that can be arranged."
Dean responded by placing his fingers just above Sam's kneecap and squeezing.
"WAUGH!" Sam said and almost tipped over as that knee flexed and shoved all of his weight to the other one.
He only stopped himself from landing on Dean by lifting the hand formerly on his brother's head and planting it on the wall, wincing when the abused wrist protested this new source of awkwardly-exerted stress.
"If I crush you, you will have no one to blame but yourself," Sam informed his sibling.
Dean raised a hand in a one-fingered salute.
Sam's lips pressed together until they were white. "I'm leaving you here," he announced.
Dean wrapped both of his hands around Sam's left ankle. "Just try it, Bitch."
"Just try and stop me, Jerk. I will knock your ass out without a second thought."
Dean's eyes narrowed. "I'll haunt you."
"That threat would be more effective against someone who doesn't know how to get rid of a ghost."
"I'll..." Dean's eyes unfocused as he sought the perfect retort.
Sam smirked, but stayed quiet lest he interrupt the process. It was quiet. He'd take it.
He then looked back up just in time to get hit in the face with a pile of rope at the same time that Dean punched him in the calf in lieu of a verbal riposte.
"BLURK!" he informed Dean, but the point didn't really get across until the excess rope cascaded down and landed on the older brother's head.
"Waah!" Dean replied and twisted his head to be able to tilt it back further. "Bobby?" he called.
"Are you idjits done seeing the sights or should I come back later?"
The mish-mash of accusatory babble and overlapping arguments echoed up the shaft and Bobby nodded. "I'll come back later then."
"NO!" two voices agreed. Bobby's withdrawal halted.
"You ready to stop messing around then? We are on a hunt, if you boys can remember back that far."
Sullen silence didn't give the most eloquent voice to their feelings on the subject, but it would have to do lest they say something else that would earn them a longer stay in this forgotten gopher hole of Hell.
"Praise be, they can shut up," Bobby sighed to the heavens.
Sam bit his tongue and wrapped the rope around his waist.
"Hey!" Dean protested.
"It's gonna take both of us to pull you out, Dean. You're stuck but good."
"You just want to abandon me here," Dean said, crossing his arms and canting his head down in as much abject misery as he could project in his current position.
Sam rolled his eyes and tugged on the rope. "Okay, Bobby, ready."
It was five sweaty, exhausted minutes later that Sam was throwing an arm over the edge of the shaft and hauling himself out with Bobby's hands gripping his shoulder and waist. They collapsed on the ground and panted up at the bruised evening sky for a moment.
If he'd had the energy, Sam would have counted down on his fingers to the, "Sam? Bobby?" that drifted up. Sam turned his head and saw Bobby's eyes close, mouth tightening.
"Next time, I'm taking a vacation to Australia. And I am not giving you the number to my hotel room again."
Sam's lips curled and he laughed and pushed up, slapping Bobby on the shoulder.
"Help me get him started and you can rest again. I just need help getting him unwedged."
Bobby's gaze settled on him. "How the hell did your brother get stuck like that anyway?"
Sam coughed and coiled the rope to toss down again.
"He pushed me!" Dean called. "He totally did it on purpose!"
Sam scowled and dropped the rope, smiling when he got a confirmed hit on his target with a not-so-soft, "Son of a bitch!"
Bobby rolled his eyes, resettled his cap, and set his feet. He wrapped the rope around his forearm and palm and said, "You boys best save the rest of your pranks for after you leave my house or you will regret it."
Sam nodded, eyes wide. "Of course, Bobby. We'd never—"
"Save it, kid. I was born at night, but it wasn't last night."
Working together they got Dean up in half the time it took to rescue Sam and after a few seconds for him to stretch out kinks and work stiffening muscles, Bobby started back toward the cars.
"Uh, Bobby?" Sam said.
"What?" Bobby didn't stop walking.
"The ghost—"
"Is taken care of. Not all of us were busy finding more trouble than we could handle."
Sam and Dean exchanged a look and Dean shrugged, then started after Bobby.
"It was Sam's fault," he said.
Sam gave a cry of injured protest. "It was not!"
"Was too."
"I was following the map!" Sam said, catching up to his brother quickly and driving a flat palm against his brother's shoulder, forcing his stride off to the side briefly.
Dean snorted. "You sure you had it right-side up there, Columbo?"
"It's Columbus, Dean. Colombo was a TV detective in the eighties. Columbus was an explorer."
"So you're a crappy detective and a crappy explorer. That only proves my point."
He should have left it at that. But he couldn't.
"Columbus discovered America and the West Indies, Dean. He wasn't a crappy explorer."
"He thought he was in the East Indies, Sam. He was off by half a world. That's pretty crappy exploring in my book."
Sam's lips thinned again and Dean smirked.
"You're a jerk."
"And you're a bitch," Dean happily replied, slapping his brother on the shoulder. "Dibs on first shower."
"What? You— But—" Sam snarled wordlessly and stalked past his brother, yanking open the door and slouching into his seat.
Dean slid in with easy grace and Sam promptly informed him, "I hate you."
Dean chuckled and started the car. "It's okay. You're jealous. I get it. Hard not to be with a big brother as awesome as me."
Sam fixed a glare on his brother and let that stand as his final word on the matter. Dean grinned and pulled onto the road following Bobby's truck and Sam silently plotted in the seat next to him.
They'd stay at Bobby's tonight probably, then leave in the morning.
And when they crossed under the welded arch of the junkyard? Oh it was on.
Review plz&thx