Title: Remember That Time With The Fish
Author: The Artful Dodger / dodger_sister
Category: Episode Coda, General, Humor
Characters/Pairing: Dean, Sam, Ed & Harry with mention of John & Bobby
Warnings: Mild Language and Marijuana Smokage
Spoilers: 1.17 ‘Hell House’
Summary: Sam and Dean reflect on past pranks. Harry wants to know what the hell that smell is.
Word Count: 1,397 words
Date Written: 02/17/2010
Disclaimer: “Supernatural” belongs to Eric Kripke and The CW. I don’t own these characters, at all. This story, however, is all mine but I, sadly, make no money off of this.
Feedback: Bring it. dodger_sister / TheArtofDodger@comcast.net
Author's Notes: Just a little humor because it’s fun to think about the Sam and Dean prank-fests of the past. And because Harry and Ed kill me.
Dedication: For The Cousin, who also happens to be my wonderful, awesome friend. It’s her fifteenth birthday and she has jumped feet first into the Supernatural-love. Dude, enjoy! Love you!
“You know,” Sam said about two hours out of Richardson, “Dad really hated that prank stuff when we were kids.”
Dean chuckled, grinned at his brother. “Yeah, he did. Drove him nuts.”
Sam shook his head. “Remember when we called a truce the last time?”
Dean nodded. “Uh-huh. Worked together to get back at the moron who owned that truck-stop. Ass threw us off the pinball game just because we were beating his high score.”
“Yep. I must say, your payback was delicious.”
“Why, thank you, Sammy. But you did all the work. Rigging up that jukebox to only play that Don Henley song over and over again.”
“Your idea, Dean. I just did the wire work.”
They were silent for a moment and then Sam said, “Every time I heard that song come on the radio, I started cracking up. Drove Jess crazy cuz I never did explain that.”
Dean glanced over at his brother and was relieved to see that the mention of Jess’ name hadn’t wiped the smile from Sam’s face. “That guy kicked the shit out of Dad for that,” Dean said. “Well, he tried anyway. No one ever really kicked the shit out of Dad unless he was way outnumbered.”
“Of course, Dad was still pissed as hell at us for causing trouble like that. Remember?”
“Yeah, that was an original punishment. Dropped us at Bobby’s and I thought how we had actually gotten off without any anything that time, until Bobby made us paint the entire outside of his house.” Dean paused, shook his head. “Dude, that sucked.”
“What?! It didn’t suck for you! It sucked for me, Dean. You held me down and painted my face and I had that horrible rash for a month!”
“Yeah,” Dean said, pride in his voice, “That was fun.”
Sam whacked his brother on the back of the head.
Dean chuckled. “Dad never did make us fix that jukebox before we bailed though. Think he thought it was kind of funny.”
“Still had to paint Bobby’s house,” Sam said with a grumble.
“Probably would’ve had to do that anyway.”
“Dude, what is that smell?” Harry asked and sniffed the air. “When was the last time you cleaned this car?”
Ed looked over at his friend, shrugged. “I’ve never cleaned this car.”
“That is so gross.”
“You were kind of evil when you were a kid.”
Sam sat up, having almost been asleep and looked at his brother. “Huh?”
“I was thinking about pranks.”
“I mean, sometimes they weren’t the best in genius ability there, geek-boy, but they were always evil.”
“Thank you…I think.” Sam said and yawned.
“Remember when I was fifteen and I went to that kegger and when I came back, you had jacked up the room door?”
Sam grinned sleepily at his brother. “Yep. I do remember that. Dad was home and he heard the door rattling and rattling and…”
“Okay, not that funny, Sammy. He opened the door with a shotgun pointed at my head. He could’ve killed me.”
“From what I remember, he did kill you,” Sam said and settled back down in his seat.
Dean reached over and nailed his brother in the arm as hard as he could from his position behind the wheel.
“Seriously, man, what the hell is that?”
“Maybe it’s you.”
Harry sniffed at himself, sniffed his armpits one at a time. Then he leaned over and sniffed at Ed. When he reached to lift Ed’s arm and get access to sniff underneath, Ed shoved him hard and Harry fell back into his own seat.
“Dude, not okay behavior. Are you stoned?”
Harry looked around the car. “No, but where did I put the pot?”
Sam fell asleep, wondering where their dad was at that very moment and he woke with a pleasant memory in his head.
“Hey, Dean,” he said and straightened up in his seat. “Do you remember the time Dad made you walk for like six hours along the highway that day?”
“That was awesome.”
Dean reached over and pinched Sam on the neck.
“Was not awesome, Sam.”
“Hey, you’re the idiot who told me the 5-0 were there and made me climb out the bathroom window.”
“Okay, that was awesome.”
“I didn’t have any pants on, Dean!”
Sam grabbed a finger on Dean’s free hand and bent it backwards. The car swerved just a little and Sam let go.
“How was I suppose to know you were gonna crawl in the back of someone’s car and hide there until Dad came and got you?” Dean paused, remembered something and laughed. “Or that the car owner was going to show up while you were in there?”
“I was nine years old, Dean! And you’re lucky the cops didn’t end up on our ass for real after that.”
“Lucky?!” Dean exclaimed, “Dude, I walked for six hours! It started raining. It got dark. I mean, dude!”
“You know what Dad always says,” Sam reminded him with a smirk.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbled, “The boy who cries wolf gets eaten by said wolf all alone on the hilltop.”
“Was a pretty good day for me,” Sam said and in his head he remembered a consoling John taking him to mini-golf and a movie before settling down to work while Sam cleaned out the car, organized the trunk and they both had waited for a cold, tired and very wet Dean to trudge up along the roadside.
“Thought the pot smell might cover it up a little,” Ed said from the driver’s seat that was tilted back while the car rested on the side of the road.
“I can’t smell it anymore,” Harry told him.
“That’s because you’re wasted.”
“Hell to the yes I am. Wait…yeah, I can still smell it too. And yes, I am.”
“You know, Sammy, usually you are pretty lame.”
Sam punched his brother in the arm.
“Hey, now I’m paying you a compliment here,” Dean protested and rubbed at his arm.
“You are pretty lame is not a compliment, Dean,” Sam said and punched his brother again, for good measure.
Dean punched him back.
“I was just gonna say, in relation to this whole prank thing…”
“What?!” Sam shouted. “This time around you started with a spoon in my mouth. You’re the lame-ass here, Dean-O.”
Dean chuckled. “I took a picture of you with that spoon in your mouth too. Just for the record.”
“I know,” Sam told him. “I already deleted it from your phone.”
“What?” and Dean scrambled for his cell, flipped through the pictures and cursed. “Dammit, Sammy, a guy’s gotta have something to look at when he’s feeling down.”
Sam punched his brother again.
“One more time, Sam, and I’ll pull this car over and we can so go.”
Sam mockingly patted his brother’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Dean. Please, tell me how lame I am so I can feel better.”
Dean grunted, gripped the wheel with both hands, but after a moment of seething and pouting, he finally said, “I was gonna say that calling those dweeb-wads and telling them to come to Hollywood for a movie deal was pretty freaking genius of you.”
Sam grinned. “Not so lame after all, huh?” he said and this time rubbed a smooth pat down the spot on his brother’s arm where he had nailed him earlier.
“Dude, get off me.”
“Oh my god.”
“What? Dude, what?”
Harry crammed himself as far into the corner of his seat as he could. “That’s disgusting.”
“What?” Ed asked again and swiveled his head around, then his body, to see what Harry was staring at.
“Just pull over.”
“Pull over, I think I’m gonna be sick.”
Ed pulled over.
“You know,” Sam said to his brother as they stretched outside the car at a rest-stop, “It wasn’t the most genius of ideas but I bet that fish in their backseat is gonna linger.”
On the side of the road, Harry was vomiting in a ditch. Ed was standing with all the car doors open and poking at something on the floor of the backseat with a stick.
“You get it,” he said to Harry. “I’m not touching that.”
Harry continued to vomit.
“Come on, dude, really?” Ed said and poked at the thing some more.