AN: Happy Birthday Worm!
You asked for this as well. It's pretty offensive, I guess. I hope the Mormons don't find and slaughter me!
WARNING: Here be Wincest. And the boys are desecrating a temple of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, so on the off-chance you're a member, you really want to step away now.
As this work is a gift for my usual beta, it has not been beta'd.
Part 2 - Pie and Beer Day
"Pie and Beer Day, Sam!"
"It's Pioneer Day, Dean. The Pie and Beer thing is just counter-culture, it's not really real."
"It's real to those counter-culture folks. Come on, Sam. This holiday was, like, tailor-made for me. I don't wanna work, I wanna Pie and Beer. ALL DAY." Dean was pouting again. He'd been doing that a lot the last few days, and Sam was finding it equal parts annoying and distracting.
"You heard what Greg said," Sam reminded his brother patiently. "People are going to be out celebrating. It's a good time to get some of that Mormon holy water."
"I think Greg is full of shit."
Sam actually agreed with Dean. "But let's not take the chance. Just in case. Anyway, it'll be kind of cool to get to see the inside of a temple."
"You mean we're doing this as some sort of… some sort of Sam-research thing? Just to satisfy your curiosity."
"Well. Yeah… but also to cover all our bases. It won't do any harm to add Mormon bapitsmal font water and Salt Lake salt to our toolkit this time. And it would do harm if Greg was being straight with us and we didn't get the stuff."
"But Pie and Beeeeer, Saaaam."
Sam huffed. "Dude, how old are you? You've been whining and pouting practically non-stop this week."
"Not true. I wasn't doing either when we got home last night and I had your—"
"Anyway," Sam interrupted abruptly. "We can't be at the temple all day. It would be best to break in late at night. Maybe while the fireworks are going off. We need to find a temple close to a fireworks show…" Sam took his laptop out of its bag, getting ready to set up for some research at the little table in their motel room.
Dean brightened up. "So we can have some Pie and Beer Day?"
"We can have some Pie and Beer Day," Sam smiled fondly. "Just don't overdo it. You won't be any good to me overfed and drunk."
Dean picked up his keys and wallet, walked over to Sam, bent down and gave him a loud kiss, before continuing out the room. "You're so good to me, Sam. I'll bring everything we need back here so you don't miss out."
"You do that," Sam said, but he was already focussed on the laptop screen.
"Dude. How many temples are there in Salt Lake?" Dean was sitting on the bed, scraping up the last of the Pecan Pie with a spoon, while Sam was explaining how he'd chosen the perfect temple for them to break into.
"A lot. You don't even want to know. Like, you know how if you have more than one cat, you're supposed to have one litter box per cat plus one extra?" Dean looked at him blankly. Sam shook his head, "Anyway it looks a little like that. Just… there are a lot of temples."
Dean brought Sam the last slice of Coconut Cream pie, and sat down at the table. "So which one are we hitting?
"Well, there's going to be a fireworks display at this recreation park, a block or so away from the Jordan River Temple, so I reckon that's a good one to try. The show starts at 9pm, and we should have about thirty minutes or so, where everyone within sight of the display will more than likely be looking at it." Sam sat back in his chair and had a forkful of pie. "It's only a twenty minute or so drive from here."
"So we leave at about eight, gives us plenty of time to scope out the place. Perfect. In the meantime we still have some…" Dean was rummaging among the empty boxes of pie, "Key Lime, Sugar Cream and Mississippi Mud." Dean looked at the pie debris surrounding him. "Dude. Who ate all the Cherry Pie?"
Sam snorted. "That would be you."
"Oh." Dean looked crestfallen.
They were both a little awestruck when they pulled up to the Jordan River Temple. The night was dark, but the temple was illuminated with floodlights and the building shone like a beacon. It was an impressive structure. It looked like a large, square, two-tiered wedding cake, and rising from the center was a single, tall spire. Everything about the building was majestic and imposing. And beautiful, in a very geometric sort of way.
Dean gave a long, low whistle. "You don't ask much, Sam."
Because Sam had special computer powers, he'd found out (Dean had no idea how and had stopped asking those sorts of questions a long time ago) that there was a security system, and also that he would have no problem hacking it. There were apparently always people in the temple—some combination of elders, bishops, counsellors and a lot of volunteers, not to mention the worshippers—but the staff contingent would be low on Pioneer Day and there shouldn't be any services going on. That's what they were hoping for, anyway.
The fireworks started at nine on the dot. To be honest, Sam and Dean hadn't had much opportunity to see fireworks displays in their lives. Sure, they'd seen plenty of things blow up, but that wasn't really the same. The various colors and patterns, and the way the different fireworks were used together to create a spectacle, wasn't something they'd ever seen before, certainly not on this scale. It was five minutes into the show before they could drag themselves away from the sight.
They sneaked past the striking fountain at the entrance to the temple—also lit up, making the water sparkle like diamonds—and carefully worked their way around to the back, to the service entrance Sam had identified as their way in. They walked through what looked like some sort of storeroom, and came to a small staircase leading into a dark hallway. At the end of that was a door. And stepping through that door felt like Dorothy waking up in Oz.
From the dark dinginess of the storeroom they stepped into a room that was all brightness and light. And white. There was a lot of white.
Sam said that the room was one of the endowment rooms. Dean just nodded, not knowing—or really caring—what an 'endowment room' was. He figured it was probably where the secret handshakes were taught, fatted calves sacrificed, that sort of thing. There was even what looked like some sort of altar in the front of the room, with rows of light-grey upholstered chairs leading away from it, like a small, fancy auditorium. But he couldn't get over how clean and… well, sterile everything looked. Dean felt the need to take off his boots because he was sure he was leaving mud on the pristine carpet.
As quietly as they could, they made their way through the room and peaked out of the exit door. This door led into another hallway, as bright and immaculate as the endowment room had been. Sam took point, making sure that no-one was around, and Dean followed him in a kind of a daze. He didn't think he'd ever seen this much clean in his life. It made him feel a little uncomfortable to tell the truth. The more he saw of the interior of this temple, the more he hoped that he was leaving mud on the carpet. He wished he had some gum that he could chew and stick to the walls or under the small tables scattered along the hallway. This place needs some sullying, he thought to himself.
And a small grin began to spread over his face as the edges of a plan started to come into focus.
He was pulled out of his thoughts when Sam suddenly pulled him into some kind of closet and held his finger to his lips. The door was open just a crack, and Dean watched as a very old man, in a very old, but well-kept suit, shuffled past the door concealing them and onwards down the hallway. The man looked half-asleep and Dean wondered what he was doing here. He was dressed too smartly to be a janitor. Dean didn't know that much about the management organization of the church, but this guy didn't look like he belonged in that particular club. Maybe a volunteer? Maybe he was just coming to give his daily confession… wait, Mormons didn't do confession, did they? The old man had turned a corner and Sam was already moving so Dean gave up his pondering and followed his brother.
They walked a little way further down the hallway, turning left and then right and then continuing straight for a few minutes before Sam whispered, "Okay, here we go." He pointed to a small sign with gold lettering next to an imposing wooden door, that read 'Baptistry,' and quietly opened it and looked inside, before pulling Dean in after him.
"Holy hell!" Dean tried to keep his voice down, but the room was something else. They'd stepped out onto a small platform, overlooking a large round pool of water which was designed to look as though it was being carried on the backs of a circle of at least ten… well, Dean assumed they were bulls. The whole structure looked to be carved out of white stone. And on the opposite end of the room was some sort of viewing area behind glass, filled with white benches… for the spectators? It creeped Dean out a little.
Sam gave him an annoyed look, before making his way towards the pool of water, and kneeling down to fill a couple of bottles.
"Dude, what is with all the white?" Dean whispered.
"Probably has something to do with purity, same as in any religion," Sam whispered back.
"Sure, but… there's just so much of it." Dean knelt down beside Sam to help. Four bottles should be enough.
"I dunno, man. Mormons are weird," Dean said softly as they stuffed the filled bottles into the duffel bag they'd brought with them.
"Why'd you say that," Sam asked, standing up. Dean gave him a pointed look and spread his arms out to indicate everything around them. "Okay, why'd you say that specifically," Sam corrected.
"It's just, these rooms. They're so clean and fresh and bright and clean. It ain't natural. And like, did you know that Mormons believe that Michael came to Earth as Adam? Michael, dick angel, the 'father' of us all." Dean shuddered. "And they believe that Noah was Gabriel. Gabriel dude! The porn-angel. These Mormons don't know shit about angels." Dean was walking toward the doorway, but stopped when he realised that Sam wasn't beside him.
He turned around to see his brother staring at him in astonishment.
"What? I read," Dean said smugly, turning back around.
They stepped back into the hallway and Sam shut the door carefully behind them, and then made to turn toward the direction they had come from.
"Wait," Dean whispered, pulling on Sam's arm to stop him.
"What?" Sam turned back around, looking a little alarmed. He thought maybe Dean had seen someone. Or worse, that someone had seen them.
"Where do you suppose the Celestial Room is?" Dean asked, as casually as he could.
"How did you... " Dean gave Sam a look. "... right, you read. I don't know. Why? Dean, we have to get out of here."
"I have an idea." He had an awful idea. Dean had a wonderful, awful idea. Well, he thought so anyway. Sam wouldn't be keen to go along with it, but Dean could distract him into it. Dean could make sure Sam had no choice but to go along.
Sam shoved Dean up against the wall the moment they tumbled out of the service door, and kissed him hard, pushing his tongue into Dean's mouth and tasting himself there. He groaned.
"I swear you're going to get us both killed one day," he was still breathing heavily. They both were, and Dean was trying to get his laughter under control and failing rather badly.
"Dude, did you see his face? I hope we didn't give the old guy a heart attack or something. He couldn't even find words, did you see? He just stood there stammering, pointing at you the whole time you were trying to get your jeans back up. I don't think I've ever laughed so hard in my life." Dean tried to catch his breath.
Sam shook his head. "I've never seen anyone go so red in the face. I think that happened when he saw your spunk all over that couch. I hope he doesn't have to clean that up. I feel a little bad about that. Kind of glad I, er, came… elsewhere."
"Mmm," Dean licked his lips and wiggled his eyebrows, and Sam rolled his eyes at his ridiculous brother.
And then they heard the alarm go off.
"Old guy must have gone for the panic button," Dean chortled. "Oh man, this was the best night."
They ran for the car, which was parked a ways down the street, under a broken street lamp. Once they were in, the duffel thrown onto the backseat, Dean tucked himself away properly, still giggling, and started the engine. He pulled away from the curb quickly, but not fast enough to draw attention.
"So, are you happy with our 'sullying' of the Celestial Room, Jerk?" Sam asked with fond exasperation.
"You betcha, Bitch. Place needed some sullying." He grabbed Sam's hand and kissed his knuckles, before saying, "and there's no one I'd rather desecrate important religious places with than you."
Sam rolled his eyes again. Dean really was going to be the death of him.