Fair Warning
by Minx
“Sammy, I’m not telling you again,” Dean growled, shooting his little brother a brittle scowl and giving the boy’s left leg a rough shove. “Keep your stinky feet on your side of the bed or I’m gonna beat your ass.”
Twelve-year-old Sam Winchester grinned wide, ignoring the older boy’s threat. Instead, he gave Dean an insolent shrug of his shoulders before settling back on the bed the two were sharing as they watched TV. He glanced down at his sock-covered feet, wiggling them, and then risked a quick glance over at Dean, a devilish glint in his dark green eyes.
John had left the boys in the dank Alabama motel room four days ago, telling them to stay put until he returned from his hunt. The order had proved to be a difficult task for the boys. Sam had finished the book he’d brought with him by the end of the second evening and the deck of cards someone had left in one of the nightstand drawers was missing a jack and a couple of eights, so poker or any other type of card game was out of the question, and Dean had forgotten to grab any other games from the car before his dad had left. Things had gone down hill when the rain had started up the afternoon of the second day. It had been a constant downpour and didn’t look like it was going to let up any time soon. That meant Dean and Sam were pretty much trapped inside the boring, drab motel room with nothing more to do than watch television and get on one another’s nerves.
Dean had found a Stallone marathon on one of the cable channels and was now laying prone on the double bed, pillow tucked under his chin, watching intently as Rambo took down another guerilla fighter on the fuzzy TV screen. Sam hated Rambo and had refused to even consider wasting his time watching the movie with Dean, but boredom had set in rather quickly, and Sam had relented. With a put upon sigh, he’d climbed onto the bed beside Dean, his head propped on a pillow against the headboard, his feet near Dean’s head. Sam’s eyes had glazed over within ten minutes of watching the show.
It wasn’t too long after that Sammy decided it might be fun to slip his sweat-socked feet as close to Dean’s face as possible to see how long it took his brother to complain. Dean put up with the smelly invasion at first, but as Sammy kept inching his toes closer to his offended nostrils, Dean decided to take evasive action. He smacked Sam’s leg hard and shot his brother a dirty look. Sam feigned innocence and quickly moved his feet away, mumbling an embarrassed apology. The second time, Sam ‘accidentally’ poked Dean in the ear with his big toe, eliciting a salty curse and a notification of possible retaliation from Dean. Sam stifled a giggle and pulled his foot back once again. The third time Sam let his feet stray, Dean delivered a dire warning of what would happen should there be a fourth time and had followed up his ultimatum with a sharp pinch to Sam’s upper thigh to show he meant business.
Dean now watched from the corner of his eye as Sam’s foot slowly crept toward the side of his head once again. The little brat was going to find out the hard way this time, Dean thought, as he slowly slid his hands from around the pillow he was clutching, readying them to move quickly. He’d already warned Sam three times now to keep his feet to himself, and enough was enough.
Dean waited patiently, pretending to be wrapped up in the movie while Sam made his move. It didn’t take long. Dean’s eyes narrowed and he tensed slightly when he felt Sam’s foot tentatively poke him in the jaw. That’s all it took. Dean sprung from his prone position so fast that Sam didn’t have time to react other than to let out a surprised bleat of terror. One minute Sam was playing footsie with Dean’s chin, and the next, he was flipped face down on the bed with his arm pinned behind him, and Dean’s knee digging into his back.
“Lemme go, you jerk!” Sam hollered into his pillow as he struggled against Dean’s hold.
“Nuh uh, Sammy,” Dean replied smugly. “I warned you I’d spank you if you didn’t quit sticking your freakishly large and smelly feet in my face, so now, you’re gonna get it.”
Sam let out an indignant shriek of protest as Dean started spanking him, hard and fast. “Dean! Quit!” he bawled, struggling and kicking, the stinging smacks leaving an uncomfortable heat across his butt. “I’m gonna tell Dad!”
“What’re you gonna tell him, smart ass?” Dean snorted as he continued to swat his brother. “That you were being a little bitch and misbehaving?” He smacked Sam’s bottom several times in quick succession. “Go ahead, Sammy, tell Dad. I’m sure the ass beating you get from him will be way worse than what you’re getting now.”
“All right!” Sam whined, seeing the flaw in his logic. “OW, Dean! I’m sorry, okay? OW! That HURTS.”
“It’s s’posed to hurt, dorkface,” Dean chuckled as he stopped the spanking, but kept hold of his little brother. “That’s why it’s a punishment. Duh.” He leaned in close to Sam’s head, a smirk of satisfaction drawing up the corners of his lips. “So, you promise to keep your puke-inducing, ginormous, stink-tacular ape feet away from me from now on?” he questioned.
“Yes!” Sam huffed, his face reddening. He went limp suddenly, thinking in silence a moment. “My feet aren’t that ginormous,” he muttered, his tone carrying a hint of sullen petulance to it. He looked over his shoulder at Dean, a note of concern in his eyes. “They don’t really smell that bad, do they?”
“Sorry,” Dean conceded when he caught the hurt tone in Sam’s voice. “I guess your feet are normal-size for a geek boy such as yourself,” he said, giving Sam’s butt a playful final slap.
Sam yelped and Dean grinned. He let Sam’s arm go and sat back on his heels. Sam slowly rolled over on his side to give Dean a pouty glare.
“As for the smell, Sammy?” Dean continued, smirk giving way to a mock grimace. “Well, let’s just say I’ve smelled garbage fills that were less ripe than your toes.” He reached down and grabbed the threadbare tip of one of Sam’s sweat socks, pulling at it. “Seriously, dude, when’s the last time you changed these socks?” Dean asked in disgust, and Sam just smiled.
THE END
Twelve-year-old Sam Winchester grinned wide, ignoring the older boy’s threat. Instead, he gave Dean an insolent shrug of his shoulders before settling back on the bed the two were sharing as they watched TV. He glanced down at his sock-covered feet, wiggling them, and then risked a quick glance over at Dean, a devilish glint in his dark green eyes.
John had left the boys in the dank Alabama motel room four days ago, telling them to stay put until he returned from his hunt. The order had proved to be a difficult task for the boys. Sam had finished the book he’d brought with him by the end of the second evening and the deck of cards someone had left in one of the nightstand drawers was missing a jack and a couple of eights, so poker or any other type of card game was out of the question, and Dean had forgotten to grab any other games from the car before his dad had left. Things had gone down hill when the rain had started up the afternoon of the second day. It had been a constant downpour and didn’t look like it was going to let up any time soon. That meant Dean and Sam were pretty much trapped inside the boring, drab motel room with nothing more to do than watch television and get on one another’s nerves.
Dean had found a Stallone marathon on one of the cable channels and was now laying prone on the double bed, pillow tucked under his chin, watching intently as Rambo took down another guerilla fighter on the fuzzy TV screen. Sam hated Rambo and had refused to even consider wasting his time watching the movie with Dean, but boredom had set in rather quickly, and Sam had relented. With a put upon sigh, he’d climbed onto the bed beside Dean, his head propped on a pillow against the headboard, his feet near Dean’s head. Sam’s eyes had glazed over within ten minutes of watching the show.
It wasn’t too long after that Sammy decided it might be fun to slip his sweat-socked feet as close to Dean’s face as possible to see how long it took his brother to complain. Dean put up with the smelly invasion at first, but as Sammy kept inching his toes closer to his offended nostrils, Dean decided to take evasive action. He smacked Sam’s leg hard and shot his brother a dirty look. Sam feigned innocence and quickly moved his feet away, mumbling an embarrassed apology. The second time, Sam ‘accidentally’ poked Dean in the ear with his big toe, eliciting a salty curse and a notification of possible retaliation from Dean. Sam stifled a giggle and pulled his foot back once again. The third time Sam let his feet stray, Dean delivered a dire warning of what would happen should there be a fourth time and had followed up his ultimatum with a sharp pinch to Sam’s upper thigh to show he meant business.
Dean now watched from the corner of his eye as Sam’s foot slowly crept toward the side of his head once again. The little brat was going to find out the hard way this time, Dean thought, as he slowly slid his hands from around the pillow he was clutching, readying them to move quickly. He’d already warned Sam three times now to keep his feet to himself, and enough was enough.
Dean waited patiently, pretending to be wrapped up in the movie while Sam made his move. It didn’t take long. Dean’s eyes narrowed and he tensed slightly when he felt Sam’s foot tentatively poke him in the jaw. That’s all it took. Dean sprung from his prone position so fast that Sam didn’t have time to react other than to let out a surprised bleat of terror. One minute Sam was playing footsie with Dean’s chin, and the next, he was flipped face down on the bed with his arm pinned behind him, and Dean’s knee digging into his back.
“Lemme go, you jerk!” Sam hollered into his pillow as he struggled against Dean’s hold.
“Nuh uh, Sammy,” Dean replied smugly. “I warned you I’d spank you if you didn’t quit sticking your freakishly large and smelly feet in my face, so now, you’re gonna get it.”
Sam let out an indignant shriek of protest as Dean started spanking him, hard and fast. “Dean! Quit!” he bawled, struggling and kicking, the stinging smacks leaving an uncomfortable heat across his butt. “I’m gonna tell Dad!”
“What’re you gonna tell him, smart ass?” Dean snorted as he continued to swat his brother. “That you were being a little bitch and misbehaving?” He smacked Sam’s bottom several times in quick succession. “Go ahead, Sammy, tell Dad. I’m sure the ass beating you get from him will be way worse than what you’re getting now.”
“All right!” Sam whined, seeing the flaw in his logic. “OW, Dean! I’m sorry, okay? OW! That HURTS.”
“It’s s’posed to hurt, dorkface,” Dean chuckled as he stopped the spanking, but kept hold of his little brother. “That’s why it’s a punishment. Duh.” He leaned in close to Sam’s head, a smirk of satisfaction drawing up the corners of his lips. “So, you promise to keep your puke-inducing, ginormous, stink-tacular ape feet away from me from now on?” he questioned.
“Yes!” Sam huffed, his face reddening. He went limp suddenly, thinking in silence a moment. “My feet aren’t that ginormous,” he muttered, his tone carrying a hint of sullen petulance to it. He looked over his shoulder at Dean, a note of concern in his eyes. “They don’t really smell that bad, do they?”
“Sorry,” Dean conceded when he caught the hurt tone in Sam’s voice. “I guess your feet are normal-size for a geek boy such as yourself,” he said, giving Sam’s butt a playful final slap.
Sam yelped and Dean grinned. He let Sam’s arm go and sat back on his heels. Sam slowly rolled over on his side to give Dean a pouty glare.
“As for the smell, Sammy?” Dean continued, smirk giving way to a mock grimace. “Well, let’s just say I’ve smelled garbage fills that were less ripe than your toes.” He reached down and grabbed the threadbare tip of one of Sam’s sweat socks, pulling at it. “Seriously, dude, when’s the last time you changed these socks?” Dean asked in disgust, and Sam just smiled.
THE END