A Moment with My Brother

Mega-Death 3000

Ah good.

They, my boys, are all assembled in the library as I'd hoped and I can at last address the matter that has become of dire, total and absolute import in my otherwise pretty damn fine Bunker existence.

I stride confidently to the head of the table and woohoo, my sci-fi/space-pirate/cyber-chick costume has had the desired effect and their attention is silently and solidly on me.

It's the eye-patch I think...or maybe the fact that the purple pants are more or less sprayed on that never fails to charm either the chappies or the chickies for that matter.

So, we stare at each other for at least ten seconds. I find ten seconds is a good length of time for confused awe to develop into burgeoning adoration. Nine seconds doesn't really cut it, whereas eleven tips the very nervous into unattractive dithering.

So as I said, they, Dean, Sam, Cas and Kevin, are all intent on me and exchanging looks that are so sufficiently bemused as to tell me I have every chance of landing my message in their manly, testosterone-clogged, frontal lobes. (Brain-lobes, I mean. Get your mind out of the gutter!)

I draw my Mega-Death 3000 and casually lock and load one of the pretty pink foam bullets.

The boys exchange looks.

Cas is stoically confused. His head cutely tilted like a ruffle-coated pug puppy who heard the word walkies.

Sam is meaningfully concerned, as is Sam's way but intent on steadying Kevin who, in turn, is notching up his GAD score to seven (Oh crap, now you look confused. Have I lost ya? GAD...you know...General Anxiety Disorder score of 7...moderate anxiety.)

And Dean?

Dean looks playfully amused, his full (he could model for JuveDerm with that mouth) lips upturned into a smile that is all cocky challenge.

I focus on Kevin. It's not really fair of me to be honest as he's the easy hit in terms of my capacity to induce terror, but I don't have all night for this as there's a re-run of Fargo (gotta be in my all time top 10 movies) on in a hour and I need to cajole Dean to make us fresh popcorn again if I am to gain maximal enjoyment from the wood-chipper scene.

"Pick a body part, Tran."

My face is implacable and his dark, bambi-soft eyes skitter nervously round his boyish brethren.

Cas racks up the puggle-tilt and I worry he'll screw his gimbal lock for good but I don't weaken even in the face of Sam's disapproving flicks his Pantene-sleek bangs.

And Dean?

Dean snorts derisively so I call...'left solar plexus!' and let him have it.

A pretty-pink, Mega-Death 3000 to the gut sees his cocky bravado turned to wounded, winded, bent-over-doubled moaning and now I am sure I have their attention.

I repeat my request.

"Body part, Tran..."

But he's escalated to double figures now. GAD of maybe fifteen plus - severe anxiety, and he couldn't verbalize to save his soul.

So I swing the muzzle of the bright, lime-green and orange terror inducer toward our erstwhile angel.

"Clavicle!"

And I ping him good and hard in the shoulder.

"'Patella!"

And Sam curls meaningfully over his throbbing knee.

I halt then and blow away the imaginary wisp of smoke from the Mega-Death's barrel as four pairs of watering (and I never even plugged Kevin) eyes remain rooted on my Swarovski encrusted eye-patch.

"So boys..."

I place the bebe-gun on the table and sweep from the other holster my Classic Custom 45.

"Does anyone doubt my ability to hit whatever I chose to aim at?"

They're quiet and still and so I slowly polish the side of the slide to it's pristinely perfect mirror-shine on my skin-tight spandex and that seems to convince them, if they weren't already.

"No..nope...no..."

They mumble softly and I smile, rewarding them for being good, obedient boys.

"Groovy. So then..."

I look them, one at a time, directly in the eye.

"You'll understand, that if I have to tell you once more, that if any one of you goes in my bathroom again and leaves the seat up on my toilet when they pee..."

I pause and allow then to squirm under my intense, dominating scrutiny.

"I will not hesitate to shoot him in a place that means he will need to sit down to pee in future."

You can hear the collective rustle of their male reproductive gear 'retracting for take off' and I smile a smile of pure feminine superiority.

"Are we clear?"

Cas nods just once, his ice-blues swearing allegiance to my cause.

Sam shift uncomfortably, his ernest face awash with possible guilt and nods similarly.

Kevin hiccups a GAD level 19 affirmation and shifts unconsciously closer to the larger Winchester for protection.

And Dean?

Dean rubs meaningfully at his bruised belly, little flashes of tight abs peeking from beneath his shirt as his hand pats and swirls. He's frowning and I'm suddenly worry I've not done enough to command his fealty.

I shift the 45 to both hands, a la Charlie's Angels and tilt my eye patch up and his frown turns to his famous, 'charm-the-birds-from-the-trees' smile as he tips me a first-finger-to-quirked-eye-brow salute as he drawls.

"Yes Ma'am. Ten-four that!"

Ends