A/N: A bit more swearing in this one than in the others, just so y'all know.
Princess Pink and Dean Don't Mix
California
May 2005
The Impala idled quietly, seemingly unnoticed by the group of people crossing back and forth over the apartment building's lawn, carrying boxes in from various cars and trucks. Dean made sure he'd parked far enough away to remain undetected, yet just close enough to easily identify who he was studying.
But then, he could have recognized Sammy from a mile away. He always knew instinctively where his brother was as if they had some…connection neither could explain. It had been there between them for as long as Dean could remember, even when Sammy was just a baby. Sam's recently finished four years at Stanford hadn't seemed to diminish that bond in the slightest.
Dean sat forward in the seat, crossing his arms on top of the steering wheel as he saw Sam reappear from the apartment building to grab another box from a silver Saturn. A small grin crossed his face as a petite blonde stopped beside Sam with a coy grin, obviously teasing him about something.
She was easily pushing around 6 feet, Dean's height, great body poured into a snug tank top, long legs hugged by frayed denim shorts only a few inches longer than the famed Daisy Dukes. And she obviously had Sam eating out of her hand.
"Sammy, you dog." Dean murmured, his grin widening as the girl pulled Sam down into a kiss before leading the way back toward the apartment building, "You are out of your league, baby brother."
As if Sam had heard him the younger Winchester stopped outside the door and glanced around, his gaze seeming to settle on the Impala. Dean tensed. If Sammy knew he was here…suffice to say Dean would get an earful. Sam hated being checked up on 'like a disobedient child'.
After a moment Sam looked away, wandering back into the building, and Dean relaxed, deciding it was time to make his exit. He only hoped he could get past the apartment building without being caught. He really had no other way to go, given there was a dead end on all other sides.
Shifting into drive he slowly inched the car into motion.
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While Jess and her family made sense of the jumble of boxes piled in the center of what would soon be the living room floor, Sam set the box he'd just carried in on a small table beside the open window and leaned on the window sill. Four years away from hunting hadn't affected instincts gained in almost ten years of hunting since he'd first held a .45 at the age of nine.
He was being watched. And he knew who was watching him.
Dean was out there, hiding in the wings. They hadn't spoken to each other since their last big fight almost two years earlier, but Sam knew his brother was close. He'd been hanging around for a couple days now, always just out of sight, emitting some sort of beacon that only Sam could detect. Though, once or twice Sam was positive he'd caught a glimpse of the tail end of a black Impala as it rounded a corner out of sight.
Realistically, he knew Dean wasn't the only person in the world, in California, even, who drove a Chevy Impala. Yet he still knew without a doubt that it was his brother driving away.
He would never admit it aloud, but he actually liked being 'checked up on', though he would insist until the day he died that he was grown up and didn't need to be babysat. It just felt good knowing he was still loved, that he hadn't fully burned all his bridges with his family. At least Dean still cared whether he was alive or dead.
But still, he couldn't let Dean think he'd gotten away Scott free. Reaching into the box he'd set on the nearby table he located the small pouch of homemade paint balls. Jess would kill him when she learned what he'd used to make them the day before, having no paint, but he figured he'd deal with that when he came to it.
He'd just turned back to the window when he saw the Impala pass the apartment building. Grinning he took careful aim, momentarily glad that he and Jess had yet to replace the previously broken screen on the window, and threw the paint balls as hard as he could, taking immense pleasure in the distinctive 'clink' as they impacted, one on the windshield, one dead center on the gleaming black hood. The squeal of tires as Dean slammed on the breaks was simply an added bonus.
Sam was leaning partly out the window when his brother threw open the driver's side door and got out, glaring up at him, and yelled, "Bitch!"
"Jerk!" Sam shouted back, oblivious to the sudden silence in the room behind him.
"You are so gonna get your ass kicked for that, Sammy." Dean continued.
"It's Sam." Sam responded, biting back a grin, "And I look forward to it."
"You won't know when, Sammy." Dean said, moving to get back in the car, "But I'll be back."
"As I said," Sam muttered with a chuckle as Dean drove away, "I look forward to it."
As the Impala disappeared around a corner Sam turned away from the window, still chuckling. When he came face to face with the questioning looks shot his way by Jess and her parents, Rob and Diane, Jess' brothers having left a while ago to get food, he froze, almost like a child caught raiding the cookie jar.
"What?"
Jess shook her head, motioning to the window, "What was that?"
Sam gave a small laugh, "Well, that's kinda a funny story. You see, my brother has been hanging around the last couple days keeping an eye on me. You know, classic, overprotective older brother."
"So you threw…paintballs at him?" Jess asked.
Sam smiled, "Uh…"
Rob suddenly chuckled, coming to an accurate conclusion and asking, "Is he the kind who treats his car like it's a family member?"
A nod was Sam's only reply and Rob gave a slightly sinister laugh, "I have a brother just like that and I've wanted to do something similar many times."
Diane shook her head and met her daughter's gaze, "Come, Jess. I'll help you start unpacking the dishes while they have their male bonding time."
Jess mirrored her mother's headshake as they made their way to the kitchen, "Are all men this way?"
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John literally jumped in his chair when the front door suddenly flew open, hitting the wall with a crash, and Dean stalked in fuming, mumbling to himself furiously. The only snatches the elder Winchester was able to catch were the more forcefully spoken words.
"…little…pink…my car…bitch…ass kicked…"
"Dean?" John asked hesitantly, not sure if he really wanted to attract the fury to him, but too curious to resist, "What happened?"
Dean stopped dead in the center of the kitchen, arms crossed, and met his father's gaze, "I drove by to check on Sammy and the little shit threw paintballs at my car. Not just any paint either…Pink. Prissy…pale…Easter bunny pink!"
A grin pulled at John's mouth as he watched as his son walked over to the sink, grabbed a bucket and soap from underneath it, and filled the bucket with water, mixing in a somewhat excessive amount of soap. Bucket full of foamy water, Dean shut the faucet off with a bit more force than necessary, hefted the bucket, and walked back out of the house, still mumbling curses under his breath.
Not above laughing at his son's misery, John moved from the chair to the window and used his fingers to pull back the blinds and watch as his son furiously scrubbed at the car. In truth, John was almost wincing at the sight of the classic car covered in pink, but his amusement at Dean overrode that. For several moments Dean scrubbed at the pink stain to no avail before furiously throwing the sponge into the water and splashing himself in the face. John had to actually clamp a hand over his mouth to avoid bursting out laughing at the look on Dean's face when the water came up in his face. Dean furiously patted his pockets a couple times before rolling his eyes and stomping into the house.
Stopping just inside the door Dean glanced around almost frantically for a moment before stalking back to the sink to pick up his phone. John stayed at the window, leaning carelessly against the wall, trying not to laugh.
"Not working?" All he got was a glare so he continued, "We may have some paint remover in…"
"I'm not using paint remover!" Dean shouted, looking decidedly horrified.
John merely shook his head, giving into the need to smile as Dean dialed and put the phone to his ear. The muffled sound of ringing reached John's ears. Once. Twice. Three times.
"Sammy, answer the damn phone," Dean growled, impatience written across his face in bold neon.
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Sam irritably glared at his ringing cell phone, knowing who would be on the other end, but also simply wanting to join Jess in the shower. Sighing, he resigned himself to the fact that listening to Dean rant was the price for his earlier prank.
After the fourth ring, Sam finally picked up the phone, hit talk, put the phone up to his ear, and…
"How the fuck do you get this shit off!"
Sam winced as he held the phone an arm's length away, his ear ringing from Dean's shriek, before hesitantly putting the phone back to his ear, "I love you too, Dean…try nail polish remover."
At the Winchester's house, John watched as Dean paused and got an incredulous look on his face and replied to whatever Sam had said with, "Dude, you own nail polish."
That dumbfounded statement was finally John's breaking point and he burst out laughing, his side in actual pain because he was laughing so hard.
Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's comment and then narrowed them as he heard hysterical laughter coming from the other end of the phone, "Dad's actually home?"
Dean glanced over at his father, "Oh, you mean the laughing jackass over in the corner…yeah, he's here. And you never said what you were doing with nail polish."
"It's not mine, dumb ass," Sam replied, his mind not registering the fact that the bathroom door had opened and Jess had stepped out, "It was Jess'…a pretty pale pink just for you."
"You used my Princess Pink nail polish to throw paintballs at your brother!"
Sam's head whipped around toward his girlfriend, his face adopting a deer-in-headlights look as his eyes met her stern gaze, "Uh…."
Dean chuckled on the other end of the phone, speaking in a sing-song tone, "Sammy's gonna get bitch-slapped."
John, still chuckling slightly, raised an eyebrow at his son's comment.
For Sam, the comment was the kick in the butt he needed to respond to his girlfriend, "Jess, I can explain…I…I'll buy you some more," he responded sweetly, unknowingly adopting the puppy dog look that no one in Sam's life, Dean, Dad, or Jess, could resist.
However, Jess maintained her stern look and said coolly, "Sam, get off the phone."
"I…I'm talking to Dean," Sam responded to Jess.
To which Dean promptly, and decidedly cheerily, replied, "I can call back later."
Jess' response was to repeat a little more firmly, "Sam. Get. Off. The. Phone."
"I…I don't want to," Sam half squeaked.
Jess narrowed her eyes, and adopted a tactic that would capture any man's attention…even Sam's. She unwrapped and dropped the towel she was wearing.
The result was exactly what she'd expected…Sam's mouth dropped open and his eyes widened in appreciation.
Meanwhile, Dean was confused when Sam didn't respond and started trying to get his attention.
"Sam?"
"Sam!"
"Sammy!!!!!"
"Uh…"
Dean suddenly got a slow grin on his face that John instantly recognized and Sam would have rolled his eyes at if he could see it, "She's naked isn't she."
"I'll call you back," was Sam's reply as the phone suddenly went dead.
Dean pulled the phone back and stared at it with the same feral grin as he shut it off, "Sam-my!" Dean replied in crude, two-toned appreciation.
"What?" John asked still close enough to Dean to have heard the entire part of his eldest son's conversation.
"Sammy is gettin' laid," Dean replied.
John snorted. "Lucky bastard," he said, as he headed toward the back of the house and his bedroom.
Dean heaved a somewhat envious sigh as he clearly pictured Jess as he'd seen her only hours earlier in his mind's eye, "Lucky bastard, indeed. That girl had legs made to wrap around a man's waist."
As he turned to go back outside to his car he paused, turning back to face John where he'd stopped in the doorway to the hall, "Dad, do we have any nail polish remover?"
"Yeah, Dean." John replied sarcastically with a nod, "I keep it in my purse next to my favorite lipstick and blush."
Letting the sarcasm roll past Dean released another sigh, "Maybe Jennifer has some."
"Jennifer?" John asked, "Didn't you have a date with a girl named Kelly, last night?"
"No," Dean replied absently, searching for his keys as he realized they weren't in his pocket, "Last night was Rachel."
"What happened to Kelly?"
Dean met his father's gaze with a cocky grin, "She's tomorrow."
"God, Dean!" John half moaned, "You're like a walking hormone."
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Morning dawned with sunlight streaming though the window, across Sam's face, pulling him from a deep sleep. Sighing he stretched, his hand sliding over the bed beside him, telling him Jess was no longer in bed with him. Sitting up he saw the note on her pillow saying she'd gone grocery shopping and she'd be back soon.
Stretching more fully, now that he was sitting, Sam debated jumping in the shower, shifting to stand just as his phone rang. Picking it up, he answered with a yawn and a drowsy, "Hello?"
He clearly heard the grin in his brother's voice when Dean drawled, "Hard night, Sammy?"
An answering grin crossed Sam's face, "I wanna get bitch-slapped like that more often."
Dean chuckled, putting a slightly teary lilt to his voice, "My Sammy's finally a man."
"Shut up, Dean." Sam drawled.
"Alright, alright." Dean relented, "Oh, by the way, Sammy. You're lucky the nail polish remover worked."
END