Pairing: Dean x sister!reader, Sam x sister!reader
Summary: The Winchester siblings start a little prank war and it escalates quickly
Word Count: 2k
Warnings: None, just some fluff
A/N: Special thanks to @nickiwinchester97 because she encourages me a lot and I love her. And to my dad who (unknowingly) inspired a lot of this :D
It all started out pretty harmless. Dean was annoyed by Sam who had
complained about his unhealthy choice of food, and as soon as Sam went to the
kitchen to get himself some water, you watched your eldest brother rip of a
piece of carton from the pizza box and hide it under a pepperoni slice on Sam’s
It was hard for you to hold back your laughter when Sam came back and
took a bite. He had somehow managed to bite through the carton and was now
munching on it, completely unaware of what he was eating.
Dean watched him as well, and even though he was good at keeping his
game face on you knew he was cracking up on the inside.
In the early morning hours of June 27, 1995, TV news anchor Jodi Huisentruit called in to Mason City, Iowa’s KIMT station to say she overslept and was running late. By 6am, Jodi still hadn’t showed up to work and would no longer answer her phone. Her producer wound up filling in for her role on the Daybreak program, while the station also notified police to check up on her.
When police arrived at her apartment building, they found signs of a struggle near her car in the parking lot. Her car keys, a can of hairspray and one high-heeled shoe were strewn about on the ground. Neighbors told investigators that they heard a scream coming from the area some time after 4am. Another neighbor reported seeing a white van with its lights on parked there around the same time.
Jodi has never been found, and was declared legally dead in 2001. Virtually the only evidence recovered from the scene was an unidentified palm print left on her car. Investigators are still actively working the case and continue to receive tips to this day.
Brenda is not surprised when our agents show up at her door the next morning, though it is possible she’s decided Mulder and Scully are not actually involved with the FBI. She lets them in like she has no choice, and bounces the baby on her hip while she pointedly offers them not a thing to drink. Our agents feel this acutely. They have been watered like prized plants during the duration of their stay, and even fattened up. Southern hospitality is a killing thing, but is there truly a better way to die?
Scully keeps the sunglasses in her lap, trusting Mulder to keep his word and vials of her blood and with everything else she will ever need to trust him with. They sit together on a rather trendy loveseat, surrounded by knick knacks too stylish to be considered knick knacks, by certificates and circuit boards and framed college photos. “How are you doing, Brenda?” Scully asks kindly, as Mulder does something soulful with his eyes.
“You know,” Brenda replies airily. “Answering fan mail. Signing book deals. Enjoying my fame real well.” On the table, there are open envelopes, and just scanning over the letters, it is obvious that Brenda is being sarcastic. YOU SHOULD BE TARRED AND FEATHERED, writes Glenda from Mason City, Iowa, because hatemail is rarely original.
“You didn’t let us in last time,” Mulder points out. “What’s changed?”
At this, Brenda averts their eyes to study her child, a soft and fluffy lump in her cradled arms. “No one ever asked me,” she says, voice tight with emotion. “No one.”
It takes a moment for her audience to recognize she isn’t talking about them, specifically, but everyone. Her fellow residents, the mob, the media. But still Mulder says, “Brenda, we tried. You wouldn’t talk to us.” Slowly, in his careful, hurting way, he pries: “Did you think we wouldn’t listen?”
Something about the way she looks at her child gives him his answer. Something about the way Brenda holds herself, tall and proud but so very wary, clears it all up. I tried the police, Mr. Craig had told them on that very first day, They just laughed. Bill Nye even laughed. Then there are the letters, spread out on the table. Terrible, terrible mother. Rotten. Neglectful.
You should be tarred and feathered.
“Brenda.” Mulder stands up to encourage her to look at him, and when she does, her eyes are shining with tears. “We’ll listen to you, Brenda. We want to help you. Tell us what happened.”
In fat, uneasy moments Brenda considers whether she should trust them or not. Her child makes gurgling noises that seem to make her decision for her.
“Not only did no one ever ask me what the big bird is,” she starts out, a wavering smile gracing her lips. “No one asked me where.”
And she proceeds to tell them more about the big bird.
The ride back to the bunker was very different from
the last time.
You had been discharged from the hospital after two
days, doctors said you’d be on the mend for a few weeks, but they sent you off
with some pain meds and antibiotics. Dean stayed with you the whole time, both
of you staying mostly quiet, lamenting the choices you’d made; neither one of
you bringing up Sam or the fact that he’d left.
Dean sighs when he hears the Continental pull into the motel’s parking lot. He recognizes the squeal of its engine; he keeps meaning to replace that fan belt.
After a moment, the door creaks open. Cas comes in looking grumpy and windblown, and Dean rubs his hand over his face. His head hurts, and the inside of his mouth feels tingly and strange, almost like it itches. He sighs again. He’s in a shit motel outside Fort Dodge, the kind of place where the mattresses have sinkholes in the middle and the water runs rusty for a full minute. He’s down to his last sixty bucks, and the stupid witch skipped town, and now this.
“I got your message, but I didn’t – Dean, are you all right?”
“He can’t talk,” Sam says.
“What?” Cas narrows his eyes at Dean, then turns back to Sam. “What happened? A spell?”
“Yeah. We were hunting this witch – he was running some kind of love spell racket. Heavy-duty revenge stuff, the kind of thing that makes your high school sweetheart walk out on a marriage and kids. Anyway, we got in there, and –” Sam waves his hands around “– he threw something in Dean’s face before we could get a shot off.”
“Do you know what?”
“Maybe,” Sam says. He walks over to the table and opens the musty book they took from the witch’s workshop. “He left this behind, and I’ve been looking through it. After the spell hit, I smelled roses, rosemary, and mint, so I think –” he draws his finger down a page “– I think this is our guy.”
Cas reads it, then looks up at Sam. “So he has to…”
Hull City can this evening confirm that Ryan Mason had to undergo emergency surgery after fracturing his skull in a clash with Chelsea’s Gary Cahill in today’s match. He is in a stable condition and will remain in hospital for the next few days. We wish you a speedy recovery Ryan
On this day in music history: February 29, 1980 - Buddy Holly’s signature horn rimmed glasses are found in the archives of the Gordo County Sheriffs office in Mason City, IA. Thought to have been lost in the plane crash in February 1959 that claimed Holly’s life, they are discovered in a sealed manila envelope in the Sheriffs office in Mason City, IA. The prescription glasses were originally found on April 7, 1959, two months after the crash buried in a snow drift. Holly originally purchased the glasses from his optometrist Dr. J. Davis Armistead in 1957 for $20, who in turn acquired the Faiosa plastic frames while on vacation in Mexico City. They are returned to Holly’s widow Maria Elena, who keeps them until October 1998. The glasses are purchased from her for $80,000 by the non-profit cultural organization Civic Lubbock in Holly’s hometown of Lubbock, TX, and are on permanent display at the Buddy Holly Center along with numerous other artifacts that were owned by the rock & roll icon.
On this day in 1968, the American civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr. made his last speech, the day before his assassination. The Baptist minister from Georgia first came to national attention for his leadership of the Montgomery Bus Boycott in 1955, which attempted to desegregate buses in the city. This event is considered by many the beginning of the Civil Rights Movement, which saw a national effort to end discrimination against African-Americans. King was one of many leaders, but became the face of the movement for his non-violent tactics and powerful oratory. In 1963,
during the March on Washington, King delivered the crowning speech of
the struggle - the ‘I have a dream’ speech. Beyond his role in combating
racial inequality, King also focused on tackling poverty and advocating
peace, especially during the Vietnam War. In April 1968, King visited Memphis in solidarity with striking sanitation workers. It was at the Mason Temple in this city that he delivered his ‘I’ve Been to the Mountaintop’ speech, widely considered one of the finest of his long career. The very next day,
King was assassinated at his Memphis hotel by James Earl Ray. His final speech was remarkably prophetic, as he appeared to acknowledge he would not live long, and invoked the Biblical story of Moses, who led the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt. Moses died before he could enter the Promised Land, though God allowed him to view it from atop Mount Nebo before he died. Though King didn’t know it, he too died before he saw his dream come to fruition, and since his death comparisons between the civil rights leader and Biblical prophet have abounded.
“Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity
has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do
God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve
looked over. And I’ve seen the promised land. I may not get there with
you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to
the promised land.”
The score for The Little Foxes (1941) was credited to Meredith Wilson. Meredith was born in Mason City, Iowa, and had eight music department credits, seven uncredited. Most famously he was the writer of The Music Man. One of his most beloved songs is It’s Beginning to Look A lot Like Christmas.