This goes out to my friend Megs who described Sam as…

…and I quote…

Sam is like a cute bunny!

Well, I couldn't ignore something like that...

This one is totally spoiler free :)

And the next chapter of Pictures on the Wall will hopefully be up next week. Midterms are a never-ending cycle of woe.

Disclaimer: Property of Kripke and Friends. Probably better for Sam’s ego that way…

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Sam’s Adventures in Babysitting. Also known as The Night Dean Almost Choked to Death on Laughter.

Run Rabbit

Babysitting.

Babysitting little girls.

It sounded easy, huh? After all, how could two tiny children (who barely reached Sam’s thighs, by the way) be any trouble, especially when they were just so darn cute?

Sam had forgotten those lessons about underestimating the enemy and now he was paying the price.

Dean was in danger of asphyxiation, the sight of Sam’s…ah… condition too much for him to take.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam muttered as he headed for the bathroom.

Dean’s replies were lost to the painful gasps of too much laughter.

Was it Sam’s fault that he couldn’t say no to an offer to baby-sit the motel owners’ daughters for 50 and a free breakfast? Was it his fault that the two little girls, both below six, were just too darn adorable to say no to?

Sam heard his brother fall off the bed with a loud thump, his laughter still not dying away.

“It’s not that funny.”

“Yeah…! Yeah…!” And that was all Dean could splutter out through his choking laughter.

Sighing, Sam retreated into the bathroom and regarded his makeover in the mirror…

Face paint…

…headband with ears…

A carrot glued (yeah, glued) to his hand…

…Sam had been turned into a bunny rabbit by preschoolers because they could wield better puppy dog eyes than he could.

There was a single small mercy, Sam thought with a sheepish grin. At least the false buckteeth hadn’t stayed in place.

The door crashed open. Dean, tears of hysterical laughter streaking his cheeks, held up his phone in a hand that barely had the strength to do so and snapped a rapid succession of photos. Then the phone clattered to the ground and Dean sank with it, clutching the door and laughing uncontrollably.

“…It’s not that funny…” Sam huffed, knowing it was useless.

Dean swallowed a few laughs so he could say, “I feel like I’m gonna puke but why, Sam, why don’t I care?”

“I can hardly imagine.” Deadpan.

Dean was wheezing, his face pinched with agony yet alight with glee all at once. “Can’t…breathe! But… so… totally… worth… it!” And Dean found the strength to lift his camera-phone and snap another few photos. Then he finally crumbled to the floor, a shaking human lump on the verge of laughing himself senseless. Dean’s sniggering was more like a death rattle, guttural and sounding like pain rather than amusement, but he still didn’t stop.

“You sound demented,” Sam commented.

Dean didn’t have the breath to shoot back the obvious retort. He was just flopped over on his belly, helplessly quivering, pounding the ground with his fists.

And to think he was an adult...

At least he was happy. There was that…

…Sam groaned. Oh who was he kidding with that chick flick crap? He’d been bunny-fied by little kids. Dean wasn’t happy. He was sadistically amused at his brother’s pathetic situation.

Yeah, that sounded about right.

Sam just got to work cleaning himself up. The face paint washed off with ease, his whiskers and bright red nose fading away. The carrot tore off a few layers of skin, leaving his palm sore and smarting, but at least the hand was usable again.

The bunny ears though? Problem. The girls had wound his hair around the headband and pinned it in place. Sam couldn’t see well enough to extricate the offending head ornament.

“Dean?”

His brother was sucking down great lungfuls of air, apparently doing his best to calm down. He was still face down, the occasional burst of laughter breaking out, but apparently he had exhausted himself beyond the worst of it.

“Dean, I really need a hand here.”

And again, Dean skipped the comedic opportunity. It looked like he had enough work on his hands trying to simply sit up.

“Dean…”

Holding himself off the ground with arms that trembled, Dean said, “Stop whinging. It’s unbecoming.”

“…Unbecoming?”

“Well, if you wanna look like the White Rabbit I figured I should… talk… like… him!”

And that sent Dean crashing back down, cackling like the Wicked Witch of the West.

Sam slapped a hand to his forehead. Knowing words won’t going to end this any sooner, Sam just stepped over the pile of flesh and clothing that was his brother and plonked himself down on his bed. “I could really use some help.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Oooookay.” Dean was crawling and giggling…

“Yeah, giggling Dean, because if I’m a bunny right now, you’re acting like a hysterical teenaged girl.”

Dean’s eyes were still shining with tears and his face was flushed as he grinned at Sam. “Whatever dude. At least I don’t look like I’m trying to be one.” When oh when had he last been given the chance to laugh this hard at his brother? Too long. It had just been way too long. Dean stumbled to his feet, crashed onto the bed and peered at Sam’s head. “Wow.” He gave a whistle. There had to be hundreds of hairpins matted into Sam’s hair. “How the hell did they reach up here to do all this?”

No reply.

Dean’s snickering was far too suggestive. “That bad huh?”

“I’m not telling you because I think you’ll bust a lung.”

“Oh I think I already did that.” Dean wiggled his fingers before diving in, whipping the pins out as fast as he could.

“Ow!”

“Aw, whassamatter Sammy?”

Sam just glared at the wall. Maybe he’d develop the ability to burn holes through things with his gaze alone…

…And maybe Dean would never mention this incident again…

Sam sighed. He lost at life.

The weaved pins were an incredibly complex network. Dean raised an eyebrow. “This is… this is impressive work for kids…”

“Yeah, yeah. Whate-ow!”

“You know, it might be easier to cut all this out…”

“No. No way. Don’t you freakin’ dare Dean!”

“And what are you gonna do? Poke me with your ears? Jab me with the carrot?” Dean laughed… and carried on.

“Shut up!” Sam’s elbow jabbed Dean sharply in the ribs.

Dean grunted. “If I wanna cut your hair, I can cut your hair.”

“No you – OW!”

Before Dean could finish, there was a knock on the door. Sam shot into the bathroom, closing the door and locking it too. Laughing at his brother’s sudden shyness, Dean scrubbed his face dry with his hands and then opened the door.

“Oh, hey Mrs Mason,” he said loudly enough for Sam to hear.

“Hi. Um, here,” she held out an envelope. “There’s Sam’s money. There are also a few pictures in there.” She grinned and winked. “The girls are good with the digital camera and I printed a few off. The girls wanted Sam to have some too.”

Dean’s grin went beyond sly. He opened the envelope and quietly said, “Photos huh?”

Dean’s intentions were lost on Mrs Mason. “I hope the girls didn’t cause him too much trouble.”

“Oh, your kids are fine. Sam’s fine.” Dean pulled the pictures free. “He said your little girls were adorable.” He flipped through the photos. “Artistic.” Dean smirked and bit his lip hard to keep the laughter back. “Ingenious.” He coughed, although it was suspiciously squeaky. “He said he’d babysit them again any time you need him to. For free. He wants to be a puppy next time…”

Mrs Mason raised an eyebrow.

Dean had to get rid of her, quickly. His control was slipping. One hand on her arm, he pushed her back, all the while saying, “Well, I’ll send him over later so he can thank you properly. I’m sure he will, my brother’s real polite and maybe too kind for his own good because hey, he let two little girls turn him into a bunny and isn’t that just the funniest damn thing that ever happened to a guy his height. Okay! Good night!”

Dean just about got the door closed before he sank to the ground, as hysterical as he was before. His entire body trembled like jelly. His ribs hurt like they were all cracking and he was pretty sure every muscle in his stomach was pulled, but what did it matter?

Photos! He had so many photos! Camera pictures and paper ones too…

…But not for long. Sam emerged from the bathroom, saw the glossy photographic evidence shining between his brother’s fingers and made up his mind. Plucking the pictures out of Dean’s limp hand and burning them was easy. He’d go for the ones on the cell-phone later…

If only freeing his head of the bunny ears was as simple. Alas, in the time it took, Sam lost a lot of hair and even more patience in the process.

And Dean never once stopped laughing, not even when 2am rolled around and Sam was finally free. Dean even saved the bunny ears from the trash, packing them away reverently.

“One day Sammy,” Dean said in a sagacious tone, “you may need them.”

“You’re never gonna forget this, are you?”

Dean didn’t have to speak. He just smirked.