Author's Note:This idea was courtesy of sammy's3494girl. I hope it lived up to expectations, and feedback is always appreciated(:

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The prank war had pretty much fizzled out after Sam had gotten chewed out by John for lining Dean's pants with superglue. It didn't really restart until two years later, when Sam was sixteen and had enough muscle packed onto his tall, lanky frame to pass for an adult, maybe even better than Dean could at age twenty. Sam was stronger, smarter, and better at getting his way than he had been two years before. Dean could never say no to Sam, not when the younger Winchester laid it on thick with puppy dog eyes included.

And that was how Sam had come to be accompanying Dean, who usually preferred solitude when he worked his manwhore magic, to a bar while their father left them behind on another one of his crazy attempts to avenge Mary. Sam was patient, and had bided his time well while they traveled from state to state, town to town, rundown motel after rundown motel. The elder Winchester was trying to charm the hell out of the bartender, and by the coy smiles and flirtatious winks he was getting, Sam judged that Dean was doing a hell of a job.

When Dean was on his fourth beer, Sam was still toying with his first, courtesy of a cute blonde on the other side, who had waved and winked sweetly when he'd looked in her direction. Well, she would've been cute if she wasn't wearing a dress that was too short, too tight, with a neckline that plunged too much, not to mention all the makeup caked on her face. She screamed cheap and easy and the fact that she was hitting on him made him faintly nauseous.

Sam glanced back at Dean, then grinned maliciously. It was time for him to make his move. He downed the rest of his beer and left the bottle, watching as the bartender leaned over into Dean's personal space, smiling and whispering in his ear. Sam sat down next to Dean, carelessly throwing an arm over his brother's shoulder. "Sorry about being late, sweetheart," he said, with a completely straight face. The bartender's eyes betrayed her shock.

Dean pulled back. "What the hell?" he demanded, raising an eyebrow. Sam glanced apologetically at the bartender. "He gets so cranky when I'm late," he whispered to her, as if it were a big secret. "Sam, what the hell are you talking about?" Sam shrugged wearily. "So demanding, but I love him." The bartender backed up slowly. "All right. I'll just..be over here, if you need anything else," she murmured, gliding away with her full hips swaying in time with her silky, dark hair. She was gorgeous, that was for sure, and Dean was going to be furious. The thought made Sam grin happily.

Dean glared murderously at Sam, downed his beer, snatched his younger brother by the arm, and dragged him out the door of the sleazy bar. "What the hell is your problem, Sam? Did you see that chick?" he demanded, shaking his brother sharply. Sam shrugged. "Yeah. She was out of your league anyways, Dean." Dean punched him. "Obviously not, idiot, because she was this close to taking me back to her place," he snapped, holding his forefinger and thumb about half an inch apart.

"You, Samuel Winchester, are an asshole," Dean sniffed, crossing his arms sulkily as he strode towards the Impala. Sam hurriedly got into the passenger's seat, not sure if Dean was annoyed enough to make him walk. It had happened before. Dean sulked the whole way back to the crappy motel of the week, then flopped down on his bed the moment he entered the room. Sam sat down on the edge of his, content. The day had gone perfectly. "You are such a cock block, Sammy. You're dead for that," Dean said, voice muffled. Sam grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that," he whispered to himself gleefully.