A Moment with My Brother
Prank Wars - Moose Call
"Deeean! Goddamn you!"
The distant call of the 'alces alces', the furiously-angered North American moose resonates deafeningly through our usually placid and peaceful bunker and because we are all at a warily constant, 'DefCon 3 - round house' status we scramble like a well-oiled machine and present ourselves with military precision in the library where our prank war initiator, Commander Dean, is currently residing.
He's is seated at the big table surrounded by small and costly looking little cogs and fly wheels and springs and shit. He's dismantling or maybe re-mantling (Is that a word? It may not be a word but ya know what I mean.) a big-ole clock he's no doubt found somewhere in the vast acreage of the MoL residency. He looks up as we all skid to a less than elegant stop and his face is amused but a tiny bit confused as Kevin, Cas and I watch him and await the arrival of our resident, and seemingly, effervescent elk
The strangely innocent words are just out of his mouth as Sam's huge feet carry him in from the direction of his bedroom and from the stomp in his stride and the fire in his eye, it's clear to see that he's pissed!
"This is just damn-well low, Dean...I know you delight in being a dick but this is just so not funny..."
He's carrying a fist-full of crumpled denim in each hand and as Dean raises a bemused eyebrow, Sam throws the jeans onto the table, scattering the tiny, tic-toc puzzle-pieces to the corners of the room.
Dean yells back and goes to rise but Sam has closed the gap between them and towers threateningly over his 'forced to remain seated', big brother.
"Be careful of the clock, can't ya?"
"The hell with the clock..."
Sam growls, grabbing at the cloth, pulling it along the table and flinging it carelessly into Dean's lap. The remaining nuts and bolts and balance wheels skitter to the floor and Kevin moves nervously to go gather the treasures. Sam's glance and louder growl however help him see the error of his ways and he stills, stepping a 'seeking-for-comfort' pace closer to Cas and they both work on perfecting their blend into the wall-paper personas.
"You know I don't have any other jeans and we sure as hell don't have any money for new ones..."
Sam spits and Dean's face is an adorable mixture of amusement, mixed with a health dollop of 'what the hell are you talking about? and just a hint of appropriate concern. Well let's face it, that much Moose monstering up in ya face would worry anyone who wasn't totally impervious to intimidation.
He barely gets the word out before Elk-Boy snorts and, stepping back tugs and pulls at the leg of his sweat pants as he glowers at his corralled sibling.
"Even my sweats, Dean? Come on, man. A joke's a joke but this is just...puerile!"
Our collective glance goes to the offending garment and thus we also take in the unnecessarily exposed ankle and inch or two of shin. It's a less than butch, "Golden-Girls', capri-pant sort of look and though Sam has a pretty calf we are all left in no doubt that it's not a look he's chosen for himself.
"And they're all like this, I don't have a descent pair left thanks to you..."
Sam rants, grabbing an example of the ruined denims from his brother's lap and holding the offending articles up so we can all see that his formerly moose-length pants are now better suited to the less than towering Prophet Tran's stature.
"Wasn't the damned garlic candy enough? I've promised never to take your chocolate again, haven't I? Why'd ya have to go do this?"
Dean's trying to get a word in edge-wise but the younger man is on a role and buts in over him.
"No! I don't wanna hear your excuses. You've gone too far this time."
Sam turns dramatically on his heels and storms from our presence, his truncated pant legs flapping at mid-calf length which kind of detracts from the dignity of his withdrawal and we let out a breath we have collectively been holding and stare uncomfortably at each other.
Dean hoists the abbreviated strides from his lap and places them delicately on the big bunker table top and ushers us all to our seats. It's a bit like Camelot as we gather at the round (well technically it's not round but don't be a slave to your over literal tendencies!)
"Who do I have to thank for that?"
For a moment we're all a bit too sheepish to speak...Well, Dean can be fairly intimidating himself when he does his disappointed parent thing. Yeesch! I'm not even gonna get into the psyche of what that could possibly mean!
But after a moment or two, there's a sorta soft, but distinctly gravelly cough.
Dean turns to face Cas, his eyes widening incrementally with surprise as the former angel squirms and shuffles.
Dean's eyebrows are raised in that impossibly high arch that denotes an adorably innocent level of wonder at the antics of the newly welcomed to humanity and Castiel sighs in 'bang to rights' resignation.
"It was me, Dean. I admit it and I apologize that Sam interpreted my rash actions as yours."
Dean puts his hand to his face in bemusement but his eyes sparkle with amusement.
Cas does not respond immediately but chances a brief glance my way. I retain my neutrality and keep to my poker face.
"Did you just wanna join in the prank war?"
Incredulity colours Dean's voice. This is so un-Cas-like and we all know it. Hell, I can see Dean's not even convinced that Cas get's the concept of the jolly jape campaign.
Cas stalls and he's looking a bit nervous, shifty, unsure...hell, spooked!
And I can't bear it any longer and crack.
Those green as a forest morn eyes swivel to mine and I smile guiltily.
Dean's voice has a little growl to it and it's my turn to squirm a little.
"Something you wanna say?"
"It wasn't Cas..."
I glance at the once-celestial-waveform and he smiles in relief as I press on.
"Well, it was in that he did the sewing, (No needles for me, I'm not domestic-goddess material!) but the idea was mine."
Dean 'hmms' and side-eye's his newly-human bud before looking back to me.
"Pay back for the slushie?"
I nod enthusiastically and he smiles a bit, though he sorta pretends not to.
"Don't worry. I'll 'fess up and tell Sam it was me."
I grin and Dean chuckles out.
"He knows you can't sew a stitch, he's gonna know Cas was in on it too."
I nod, recognizing the truth of it and I turn to face my unwitting accomplice.
"Sorry Cas, should-a told you what you were getting into."
The blue eyed man looks seriously at me and head-tilts first me, then Dean, then back to me.
Then he surprises us all.
"I believe the appropriate term here, Charlie is...Bring it on!"