Prank Wars
It Begins
“Dean! You are a dead man!” Sam Winchester shouted, furious. His older brother flashed him his infamous shit-eating grin and Sam nearly lost it.
“It’s on like Donkey Kong, Sammy.”
Ever since he could remember, the Winchester brothers had pranked each other for once week each year. More than once, these pranks had resulted in a trip to the emergency room but Sam and Dean were a little too apathetic after all the fun to care.
Sam had been bald for a month after Dean had put Nair in his shampoo. Dean had convinced the whole of Sam’s middle school that after dark, Sam put on girl’s clothes and asked to be specifically called Samantha. More than once, Sam had put laxatives in Dean’s breakfast.
Now, however, Dean had taken the cake. And then eaten the cake, and gotten another one.
He had burnt all of Sam’s available clothes, and replaced them with pink. A lot of pink.
“I am going to kill you,” Sam growled. “I am going to cut you up into little pieces and eat you for lunch.”
Dean just smirked some more.
Of course, Sam would never really kill his brother—but Dean could end up severely injured. Then again, when the week was at it’s end, they both could be. There was only one rule to the game—no prank was allowed to result in death, for obvious reasons.
“I will get my revenge, Dean,” Sam hissed, almost sadistically, pulling on a pink shirt. “And it will be sweet.”
“Sure, Plato. You were the one who was dumb enough to let your entire wardrobe be turned into a tranny’s dream closet. Or a pre-teen girl.”
“Shut up, short bus. Before I shoot you.”
Dean just smirked. Again. He picked up his leather jacket and padded to the front door of their cheesy motel room. Undoing the chain, he turned the knob and the door flung open, nearly knocking him over. This wiped the smile off of his face and onto Sam’s.
“What are you waiting for? Let’s go!”
Sam lept from his bed, desperate to get out the door and into the car before anyone could take a peek at his blindingly girly ensemble. Sam Winchester was a lot of things, but feminine was not one of them.
Dean took his time unlocking the Impala, Sam growling at him to hurry up the entire time. “Come on, Dean. And also, you realize people will think that you are my overly butch boyfriend?”
“Ah, such a small price to pay to watch you squirm.” Dean finally relented, unlocking the car. Sam jumped in, almost hitting his head on the roof on his way in. Dean just laughed.
The Chevy took off towards the diner. Anybody who looked into the window would be met by a comical sight. Dean blasted Grand Funk Railroad all the way to the parking lot, where he pulled up. Desperate to escape and momentarily forgetting about his new outfit, he sprinted onto the sidewalk.
Dean opened his door and walked as slowly as he could to the door. He opened it, ringing a bell. A few people looked and snickered at Sam who was trying to hide behind his brother. He had a murderous expression on his face.
They walked to a table. A waitress, perhaps looking too happy, walked up to them. She was in her twenties. “What can I get you boys?”
“Could you get me a short stack with a side of bacon, sweetheart?”
“Nothing for me, thanks,” Sam said sourly.
“Lovers tiff?” She stage-whispered to Dean.
“Yeah, he’s just a little grouchy since I stayed up a while last night and he had to sleep alone.”
She nodded understandingly while Sam glared straight ahead. “I understand. My boyfriend was the same.”
She strolled off to get breakfast. Dean ate quietly while Sam tapped away at his laptop. When Dean was done, he stood up. “Just gotta take a leak, Sammy.”
“Too much information, Dean.”
Dean chuckled and walked to the toilet. Not five minutes later, he was back. “That waitress told me to give you these. She said they were on the house,” Sam said, handing Dean a small, brown packet. It had no label on it, but inside were little chocolate drops. “I think she likes you.”
“Too bad I’m taken,” Dean jested, popping a handful of drops into his mouth. He finished off the packet quickly. As they were about to leave, Dean’s stomach made a terrible rumbling sound. He doubled over.
“Sam… were those one hundred percent chocolate?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Sam replied, plastering on his don’t-blame-me-I’m-innocent expression. “Ask the waitress. What was her name again?”
Sam let out a peel of laughter as Dean sprinted for the toilet.
“It’s on like Donkey Kong, Sammy.”
Ever since he could remember, the Winchester brothers had pranked each other for once week each year. More than once, these pranks had resulted in a trip to the emergency room but Sam and Dean were a little too apathetic after all the fun to care.
Sam had been bald for a month after Dean had put Nair in his shampoo. Dean had convinced the whole of Sam’s middle school that after dark, Sam put on girl’s clothes and asked to be specifically called Samantha. More than once, Sam had put laxatives in Dean’s breakfast.
Now, however, Dean had taken the cake. And then eaten the cake, and gotten another one.
He had burnt all of Sam’s available clothes, and replaced them with pink. A lot of pink.
“I am going to kill you,” Sam growled. “I am going to cut you up into little pieces and eat you for lunch.”
Dean just smirked some more.
Of course, Sam would never really kill his brother—but Dean could end up severely injured. Then again, when the week was at it’s end, they both could be. There was only one rule to the game—no prank was allowed to result in death, for obvious reasons.
“I will get my revenge, Dean,” Sam hissed, almost sadistically, pulling on a pink shirt. “And it will be sweet.”
“Sure, Plato. You were the one who was dumb enough to let your entire wardrobe be turned into a tranny’s dream closet. Or a pre-teen girl.”
“Shut up, short bus. Before I shoot you.”
Dean just smirked. Again. He picked up his leather jacket and padded to the front door of their cheesy motel room. Undoing the chain, he turned the knob and the door flung open, nearly knocking him over. This wiped the smile off of his face and onto Sam’s.
“What are you waiting for? Let’s go!”
Sam lept from his bed, desperate to get out the door and into the car before anyone could take a peek at his blindingly girly ensemble. Sam Winchester was a lot of things, but feminine was not one of them.
Dean took his time unlocking the Impala, Sam growling at him to hurry up the entire time. “Come on, Dean. And also, you realize people will think that you are my overly butch boyfriend?”
“Ah, such a small price to pay to watch you squirm.” Dean finally relented, unlocking the car. Sam jumped in, almost hitting his head on the roof on his way in. Dean just laughed.
The Chevy took off towards the diner. Anybody who looked into the window would be met by a comical sight. Dean blasted Grand Funk Railroad all the way to the parking lot, where he pulled up. Desperate to escape and momentarily forgetting about his new outfit, he sprinted onto the sidewalk.
Dean opened his door and walked as slowly as he could to the door. He opened it, ringing a bell. A few people looked and snickered at Sam who was trying to hide behind his brother. He had a murderous expression on his face.
They walked to a table. A waitress, perhaps looking too happy, walked up to them. She was in her twenties. “What can I get you boys?”
“Could you get me a short stack with a side of bacon, sweetheart?”
“Nothing for me, thanks,” Sam said sourly.
“Lovers tiff?” She stage-whispered to Dean.
“Yeah, he’s just a little grouchy since I stayed up a while last night and he had to sleep alone.”
She nodded understandingly while Sam glared straight ahead. “I understand. My boyfriend was the same.”
She strolled off to get breakfast. Dean ate quietly while Sam tapped away at his laptop. When Dean was done, he stood up. “Just gotta take a leak, Sammy.”
“Too much information, Dean.”
Dean chuckled and walked to the toilet. Not five minutes later, he was back. “That waitress told me to give you these. She said they were on the house,” Sam said, handing Dean a small, brown packet. It had no label on it, but inside were little chocolate drops. “I think she likes you.”
“Too bad I’m taken,” Dean jested, popping a handful of drops into his mouth. He finished off the packet quickly. As they were about to leave, Dean’s stomach made a terrible rumbling sound. He doubled over.
“Sam… were those one hundred percent chocolate?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Sam replied, plastering on his don’t-blame-me-I’m-innocent expression. “Ask the waitress. What was her name again?”
Sam let out a peel of laughter as Dean sprinted for the toilet.
♠ ♠ ♠
I really, really liked it. Hope you did too.