Title: Bored Games
Genre: General/Humor, brotherly fluff, some Sam whumping
Rating: T for language
Summary: Uh Dean and Sam are really bored, nonsense ensues. That about covers it.
Disclaimer: The awesome Winchester brothers Sam and Dean do not belong to me nor does the universe they inhabit. I'm writing this story for fun and am making absolutely no profit of it whatsoever. The song used in the story is "Eat It," by Weird Al Yankovic, and there's a brief mention of "The Jerry Springer," show, these last two things do not belong to me either and I'm making no money off their use.
Dean looked out the window again. He couldn't believe he was actually following directions from the local news and staying inside his home, err motel room and out of the rain when he could be out killing things. Since when did he care about flash flood warnings anyway? Oh yeah, he didn't. It was Grandma Sam who cared about that sort of thing. Dean glanced at Sam. The 23-year old was a damn fine hunter when he wasn't being strangled by something, but God could he be boring, adhering to as many rules as was humanly possible in any given situation. Dean always wondered how someone like him could have a sibling like Sam. It just didn't make sense. He was contemplating this puzzle when Sam spoke.
"Yeah." Dean stared at his brother. Sam was sitting at the table with his notebook computer. Dean figured he was probably on some news site like CNN or National Public Radio's Web site, something retirement age like that. Dean thought of how incredibly cool it would be to catch Sam on some porn site and how much fun it would be to torment him relentlessly about it, but as of today that had yet to happen. Dean sighed. "What's up old fart?" He spoke rather loudly.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Sam shot him a cold look.
"I'm bored as hell. That's what." Dean spoke in frustration.
"You're skills of observation astound me little brother."
"Shut up or I won't tell you my ideas for not being bored anymore."
"Any idea from you will only make things worse." Dean sighed.
Sam closed his computer. He stood up and headed to the door.
"And where do you think you're going young man?" Dean said obnoxiously blocking his exit.
"To the car, I'll be back in a minute." Sam shook his head and shoved Dean out of the way.
"Sure, fine, whatever." Dean mumbled.
His brother as promised returned in a minute, well 81 seconds to be exact.
"You're late." Dean said sternly still watching the seconds hand on his watch.
"So sue me." Sam replied. "Hey I found us something to do."
"Yeah, what's that?"
Sam opened a tattered shoe box.
"What the? I thought dad threw all these tapes out." Dean said surprised.
"He did." Sam smiled. "I grabbed them before he put them in the dumpster."
"Ah man. This is awesome." Dean beamed looking through old cassette tapes from their childhood and blank ones too. He picked up a tape and started to laugh. "Tell me there's something to play this with?" Dean pleaded looking at Sam. Sam pulled out a small black tape recorder and some head phones. Dean looked at the items approvingly. "I love you man." He sniffled, patting Sam on the shoulder. He yanked the tape recorder and headphones out of his brother's hand and checked to see if there were batteries in the back of the recorder, fortunately for him there were. He put on the headphones and fast forwarded through the songs.
"Hey Sammy." He called out a couple minutes later. He started to sing "How come you're always such a fussy young man? Don't want no Cap'n Crunch, don't want no Raisin Bran. Well don't you know that other kids are starving in Japan, so eat it, just eat it."
Dean sang as loud as he could. He jumped onto one of the beds and started to bounce on it, pointing to the other bed for Sam to do the same. Sam looked at him like he was crazy, but then he jumped on the same bed as Dean. Dean took out the headphones and turned the volume up as far as it would go on the little player.
"You better listen, better do what you're told. You haven't even touched your tuna casserole. You better chow down or it's gonna get cold. So eat it." They both belted out. "Just eat it. Get yourself an egg and beat it." They pointed to each other, and jumped back and forth on the two beds in the room laughing. They picked up two pillows and started beating each other senselessly with them
Twenty minutes, three pillow fights, and five Weird Al Yankovic songs later Sam and Dean sat next to each other on Sam's bed, the little tape recorder held between them.
"This is Sam Winchester here and you are listening to K-Krap Radio." Sam spoke into the tape recorder. He handed it over to Dean who sang their patent K-Krap jingle.
"We are here today talking to a woman who has a most incredible story to tell.
"That's right." A very high pitched Dean giggled.
"So tell us what happened that was so, well incredible." Sam asked.
"I got laid." Dean said dreamily. "By this fucking hot Ghost Hunter by the name of Dean Winchester. Best fucker in all the land. How incredible is that?"
"I've heard of this Dean Winchester, and that's not very incredible at all, but ok." Sam laughed.
"Don't you go dissing my man, because he will so kick your ass." Dean threatened playfully still using his girl voice.
"Jerry. Jerry. Jerry." Sam hooted into the tape recorder. I sell myself on the streets to support the crack habits of my fifteen cats."
"Paternity tests revealed. Out of these thirty men who's my baby's daddy?" Dean asked into the recorder.
My father raised my brother and me to hunt ghosts." Sam said. He was quiet for a moment then turned to Dean. "Dude, dude, we could so be on the Jerry Springer show." He said excitedly.
"Shut up man." Dean said turning off the tape recorder.
The brothers looked at each other for a moment.
"Ok my turn for a game again." Dean smiled wickedly putting the tape recorder down.
Sam shook his head. His brother's games usually involved some amount of physical pain, like the pillow fight they had just had, in which at one point, Dean's pillow wrapped around Sam's ankles causing Sam to fall backwards, and knocking the wind out of him.
"Rule number one, fair but firm." Dean smiled. He clenched his fist and put it out towards Sam's hand. It took Sam a minute to remember the game. He clenched his fist and hesitantly touched his knuckles to his brother's.
"Who's first?" Sam asked, but Dean didn't give an answer instead he raised his fist and smashed Sam's knuckles with his own.
"You've gotta pay attention college boy." Dean laughed.
"Fuck. That hurt Dean." Sam cried. He raised his fist to hit Dean's knuckles back but Dean pulled his hand away in time.
"My turn little brother."
"Damn." Sam said with wide eyes. He tried to pull his fist away but Dean smashed his knuckles again.
"Knuckles bleeding yet there kiddo?"
"You wish." Sam said blowing on his knuckles when Dean wasn't looking. He raised his fist and almost got Dean's hand, but apparently the four year lax in his hunter training was finally starting to catch up with him. It was no wonder he was the one who usually needed the rescuing. Dean's reflexes were incredibly fast. He saw every move Sam threw out at him coming. Sam didn't get Dean's knuckles not even once.
A few minutes later Sam's knuckles started to bleed. He was grateful that even the sight of a little blood on him was enough for Dean to put a stop to the game.
"Hope I didn't hurt you too much there tiger."
"I'll survive." Sam said in frustration. There had to be a game like this that he could beat Dean at.
"Dean what about that slapping game?"
"What slapping game?"
"You know the one where you?" Sam started to gesture with his hands turning his palms up and down.
"You mean the chick version of bloody knuckles?" Dean said watching his brother's palms.
"The chick version? Well I never thought of it as that." Sam blushed. He had always liked the game.
"Yeah dude it's totally the chick version of bloody knuckles, way easier far less brutal."
"I don't know it could get pretty brutal."
"No it can't."
"Well lets play and find out."
"Dude I've only played the game with girls, and trust me it blows, no fun at all."
"Are you afraid of playing it?"
"Then lets go." Sam baited Dean. "And this time I'm starting."
Dean looked at the eager expression on Sam's face and then at his brother's still bleeding hand. When was the kid going to learn his lesson? Dean wondered. He looked at Sam. He had his hands out, palms up.
"All right you're asking for it." Dean chuckled. He put his hands slightly above Sam's, palms down.
"I don't know Dean I'm pretty good at this game."
"Yeah, we'll see in a minute."
Sam brought his hands up to smack Dean's, but as in the other game Dean retracted his hands in time. They switched positions and the sound of hands being smacked hard echoed through the motel room.
"Ow." Sam cried minutes later as his brother smacked his hands for what felt like the hundredth time. Sam had gotten Dean a few times, but not nearly as much or as hard as Dean had gotten him."
"Care to surrender." Dean asked looking at Sam's hands which were all red and probably tingling like crazy.
"You told me you didn't like this game. You told me you only played it with girls and that wasn't very often." Sam started to whine.
"Yeah well I lied. You really think I would admit that I like the chick version of something better than the original and that I'm better at it? I told you I didn't want to play."
"I hate you." Sam cried. He turned on the bathroom sink and put his hands under the cold tap water
Dean laughed at him. "Poor Sammy got his hands slapped."
"Shut up Dean." Sam breathed heavily.
"Ah come here. I'll kiss your hands and make them all better."
"I said shut up." Sam yelled. His face was about as red as his hands.
"You know you're really a poor sport." Dean said seriously. "You were the one who wanted to play in the first place."
"You started it with that stupid Bloody Knuckles game."
"Yeah, and we could have ended it there. Face it Sammy you're just a glutton for punishment."
"Are too. It's all a part of that guilty conscious thing you got going there. Punishment makes everything all better. Doesn't it Sam?" Dean taunted.
"Well shit you're one to talk Dean. How about your own guilty conscious? And then all of your abandonment issues?" Sam turned off the sink. He dried his hands and stormed to the door.
"Where the hell are you going?" Dean yelled.
"Like you care?"
"Fine. You better be back in an hour though or when you return I'm beating your ass."
"I don't know Dean. That sounds an awful lot like punishment. I might like that." Sam smirked walking out into the pouring rain. Dean slammed the door behind him.
"Bitch." He growled.
Sam did return within the hour. He actually came through the door in about forty seven minutes, not that Dean had been paying attention to the digital clock on the table across from him or anything though. When Sam walked into the room Dean glanced up from the magazine he was reading but didn't say anything.
"Dean I'm uh. Well I ah."
"You're sorry?" Dean grumbled.
"Yeah. It's like you said I'm a bad sport."
"Yeah, well, everything I said was mean too. You have whatever issues you want."
"Ditto. Look it's still raining pretty hard out there. We might be stuck in here for awhile. "I found us something else to do."
"What now?" Dean asked curiously with a smile.
Sam pulled out two large jars of hot peppers from a plastic grocery bag. "Bet I can finish this jar of peppers before you can."He challenged.
"Bring any milk?" Dean said never being able to turn down a challenge.
"You're on." Dean laughed. He grabbed a jar of peppers. He could beat Sam at this game too but would let him win.
Ok, that's about it for now. I sure hope you all liked it. Thanks so much for all the positive reviews on my other story "Getting What We Want," and if you're so inclined, do drop a review on this story too. Take care.