Chapter Text
Hell hath no fury like a man whose favorite books have been destroyed.
Or something like that.
He knew it would happen. Well, knew that something was going to happen after what he pulled yesterday, but this? He certainly did not expect this.
Sam and Dean have been having a prank war, again. It started from a simple mistake. Sam accidentally threw out his big brother’s leftover pie, but he really wasn’t the one to blame, as the thing’s been there for nearly a week now, and he was pretty sure he actually saved the man from a few days of nasty diarrhea. Dean, on the other hand, did not see it that way at all, and the next day when Sam sat down for breakfast, he couldn’t quite get up afterward from the glue keeping his ass stuck to the chair.
After that, things escalated pretty quickly. They pranked each other every day, sometimes twice, even three times per day, the pranks ranging from stupid and childish, to far-fetched and with lasting effects. It has been going on for one week now, and after Dean snuck into his room, cut off a piece of his hair and super-glued it above his lips, Sam got so pissed he made the mistake of attacking his brother’s baby.
When he scratched the side of the Impala with a screwdriver, he didn’t think of the consequences, at least not all of them. Imagining Dean’s shocked frustration made him smile like a kid who knew he was doing something bad, his mischievous grin only widening as he scraped at the glossy black paint until he had “I am an idiot” written on the side of the car in big, ragged letters.
Hearing his brother scream his name from the garage, sounding as if he was going to have a heart attack, was one of the most hilarious things ever, and Sam knew he didn’t regret his decision to ruin the car.
At least, he thought he didn’t.
Today, as he walked into the bathroom to take a piss, he didn’t get further than four steps. Books, his all time favorites which he’s been planning on reading for so long, were floating in the tub full of water, completely soaked. They were all immersed in water, some sitting at the bottom of the tub while others stayed on the surface, surrounded by ripped out pages that tore when Sam lifted one of them out of the water, a piece of paper staying between his fingers while the rest plopped back into the tub, too frail and heavy with water.
He stood there for a long while, eyes wide and unbelieving, watching the sight that belonged to one of his nightmares instead of reality, but was quick to snap out of his daze when he heard the amused chuckle coming from his left.
Head whipping around, his eyes instantly narrowed when he spotted Dean. He stood leaning against the door frame, arms crossed in front of his chest and smirk stretching his lips as he watched Sam, who was having a hard time staying in place. “I see you found our new aquarium. How do you like the fishes? Did I choose well?”
“You asshole,” he spat, furrowing his brow as he pointed at the drenched remains of his books. “They were all original versions. Some even had autographs from the author, authors that are long dead!”
“Oops.” Dean shrugged nonchalantly. “I guess payback’s still a bitch.”
“Dean, you ruined my books! I only scratched the car, didn’t render it completely unusable!” Sam countered, nostrils flaring as his frown turned into a glower.
His brother snorted. “Same thing. You go for something close to my heart, it’s obvious I’ll do the same. Deal with it.”
“But not to this extent,” Sam growled, but his brother wasn’t listening anymore, just waving a hand dismissively and pushing himself away from the wooden frame.
“Aw, go and sulk in another corner, Samantha,” he sneered, raising an eyebrow at the other. “But if you’re that butthurt, why don’t you give up? Accept your defeat, and admit that I’m the Prank King.”
Sam shook his head incredulously, rolling his eyes. “You know what? I will stop. I will take the mature approach and put an end to this before things get even more out of hand.”
“You mean you’re gonna chicken out, too afraid to find out what I’d do next,” Dean corrected him mockingly, chuckling when Sam shot him a glare. “No, that’s fine. I can completely understand.”
He was pretty sure his eyelid twitched. “Get out,” he barked lowly.
Dean raised his hands in mock surrender and backed away. “As you wish. Loser.”
He both saw and heard his brother laugh before the annoying, smug sound got muffled as Sam slammed the door shut, then turned around and wandered back to the tub, beginning to fish his poor books out with a heavy heart.
His brother was going to pay for this. He knew he said he was going to stop, and he might have meant it, a bit. Sam was going to stop with the obvious pranks. He needed something better to avenge his books, something cunning and sneaky, so that Dean wouldn’t realize he was being toyed with until the very last moment. He wanted to prolong the man’s misery, make a fool out of him, and for that, he needed him unsuspecting, with his guard down.
It was time to be the little brother, but with a hunter’s efficiency and mercilessness.
—
It took him five days to come up with the perfect revenge plan.
There were many things Dean liked doing. Eating, driving around in the Impala, watching porn or drinking, cleaning the guns to clear his mind, and watching movies, even old cartoons. So many ways to get back at him, so many possibilities, all of which turned into useless ideas when he noticed something while they were out on a job.
His brother was on a dating website.
Sam was surprised to find something like that out, unable to stifle his laugh when he read aloud Dean’s screen name, which was “Impala67”. It was pretty unbelievable, ridiculous even, but it seemed to be working for his brother, as he already had one woman ready to hook up with.
After that, the knowledge kept nagging him for days, along with a devious plan that was already forming in his brain without his knowledge, and before he realized, he was sitting on his bed, door to his room locked just in case, and staring at his phone with a slight feeling of unease.
Dean would never expect it. He thought long and hard about it, and came to the conclusion that this was most probably the best chance he’d get at pranking his brother. The plan was easy enough—create a fake profile, pretend to be a woman who’s interested in Dean, set up a meeting, then reveal his true identity. So basically, he was going to catfish his brother.
Perfect.
He did have to wonder if he was going a bit too far with this one, though, but then quickly reminded himself that all was fair in love and prank wars. Still, sitting on his bed and staring at the screen of his phone, Sam was beginning to have second thoughts. He had never been on a dating website and knew crap about them, and he also wasn’t sure how hard it’ll be to fool Dean, trick him into believing that Sam was a woman. Ah well, he’ll just cross that bridge when he gets to it.
“Alright, let’s do this,” he mumbled to himself, finding the website he remembered his brother was on fairly quickly.
Next, he needed a name. Two names, actually; one for his username and one for his real-fake name. Wanting to be a bit daring, he chose “Samantha Upton” as his female alter ego, a sly smile crossing his face as he typed in the name. His unease was slowly fading and vanishing, replaced by the excitement of what he was doing, of what he was going to do. After some more thinking, he settled on the screen name “SweetDevil”, knowing it sounded totally cheesy, but he could just see his brother being into it. For his age, he picked 33. Location was Austin, Texas. He was seeking men, his status was never married; however when he got to the “about” part, he wasn’t quite sure what to write.
He needed something that would make Dean interested. What kind of women did his brother like, in the first place? He guessed probably the mature, gorgeous ones, that didn’t mind getting a bit frisky and naughty at times.
Sighing, he reluctantly typed in “Looking for a good time with men who know what they’re doing. One night you’ll never forget. If you think you’ve got what it takes, message me,” then shook his head, an embarrassed laugh forcing its way out of him.
God, what was he doing?
No, he couldn’t back out now. He had to think of his poor books, may they rest in peace. He had to avenge them, no matter how uncomfortable he felt as he saved the information and created his dating profile.
Then felt even worse when he realized he needed to upload a picture.
There was a little question mark inside a light blue cube at the top of his profile, Sam remembering with dread that, yeah, dating sites usually required the user to post a picture of themselves. Crap, he forgot about that.
Frowning at his phone, he tried to come up with something, but honestly doubted he could just find a random girl who’d let him take her picture. He could always steal one from the internet, that much was true, and that would be easier, too, but the only problem with that was that it would raise the possibility of Dean—or maybe even someone else on the site—finding out he was fake. And he couldn’t have that. Maybe he could take a picture of himself? Just a part of his body, something that wasn’t too hairy or masculine, and definitely not his face. Yeah, that seemed like a good idea, if only he had a body part that didn’t scream “I am a male”, which he did not have. Or maybe…
His waist was pretty slim. Sam has noticed it many times before, during showers or when he looked at himself in the mirror. However he couldn’t just take a picture of his waist, as that was not only weird, but still too risky. Anybody looking at a picture of his damn waist would be able to guess that he was a guy, so he needed something more. Something that would convince anyone he wasn’t who he was.
He pocketed his phone and exited his room, trying not to think about what he was doing as he snuck into the garage and got into the car, then drove to the shopping center he knew wasn’t too far from the woods where the bunker was hidden behind a swarm of trees.
When he got back, his whole face was a deep red, but thankfully Dean didn’t even realize he was gone, so he didn’t have to come up with a fabricated explanation as he speed-walked back to his room with a plastic bag in his hand. Once inside, he let out a deep breath he’s been holding in, before walking to his bed and pouring the bag’s contents onto the blanket.
A loose, short pink skirt, and a tight, white blouse. Buying them made him feel like some angsty teenager shopping for a pack of condoms, and even though the cashier seemed to believe him when he said he was just buying birthday presents for his girlfriend, he himself knew he was lying, and that was enough to have him flooring the gas pedal.
He reluctantly got out of his clothes and pulled the ones he bought on, feeling a bit—no, scratch that, very—odd standing around in a skirt, but this was essential for his plan to work, so he swallowed his pride and channeled his inner female as he took some pictures. They came out better than expected, showing his waist and a bit of his hip from the side, Sam posing in a way that no suspicious tent could be seen around the front of the skirt. He then picked out the best picture, added a nice little filter to make it even more alluring, before finally posting it.
He did it. He created the profile. Now all he had to do was write to his brother, and see where it would go from there.
Getting out of the female clothes and hiding them at the very bottom of his drawers, Sam put his normal clothes back on, before flopping down on the bed. He lay down, bracing himself as he took a few deep breaths and searched for Dean’s profile, finding it pretty soon, then clicked on “Options”, and “Send a message”.
His thumbs hovered over the phone, hesitant. This was it. He could still back out now, think of another way to get back to his brother. But why should he? Dean deserved it, deserved this, and Sam couldn’t let his nervousness stop himself. He already embarked on this journey, and honestly, he was kind of curious how his brother would behave while chatting with him. Well, with Samantha.
So, with his resolve strengthened, he thought about a good conversation starter. Should he be bold? No, he can’t move things too fast, ask to meet up right away. That would be too risky. Maybe a simple greeting would suffice. What would he write in a situation like this? Or more importantly, what would a woman write? He was over-thinking this, he realized, so in the end, he decided to just go with something neutral and friendly, quickly writing it down and pressing send before he could’ve changed his mind.
“Hey, I saw your profile and you caught my interest. Also, nice car.”
He reread the message, and nodded to himself. Mentioning the Impala was a nice touch, he had to admit, something that would hopefully help him gain Dean’s trust easier and get the conversation going. But that was it for now. He did his part, put out the bait, and it was up to his brother if he was going to take it or not.
And for Sam’s entertainment, he really hoped that he would.