Work Text:
"Dean. Did you touch my computer again?"
"Nope." Dean shoved a handful of saltines in his mouth and chewed pointedly, eyes wide with innocence. The puppy eyes helped, but Sam knew better. Dean hadn't been innocent since .... ever.
"You did. Don't even try to tell me you didn't. There are pop-ups of big breasts all over this screen."
"Sorry they ain't big dicks, Sammy boy?"
Sam ran his fingers through his hair and thumped his elbows onto the table, then dropped his head into his hands. "Dean. You have to stop visiting those websites. It took me three days to clear the trojans last time."
"Hey, don't blame me for that." Dean turned a page in the journal. "You're supposed to use a Trojan for sex. As you'd know if you ever had any."
Sam cleared pop-ups off the screen rather than answer. Bad enough he had to deal with the gay jokes and the dick jokes and the fart jokes. If he complained enough to get it to stop, Dean would just come up with something else. Better if he didn't have more ammo, because Sam knew damn well what Dean did with ammo. Fired with a cowboy yell and waited to see what fell over. Better not to say anything. Best to just let it go.
"I told you not to touch this again."
"I didn't, man." Dean tossed the journal on the nightstand and dropped a quarter into the slot on the headboard. "C'mon, Magic Fingers. Oooh. Oooh, yeah. Right there." He sprawled on the bed and groaned. "Who needs your computer when I've got this? Twenty-five cents and the world is beautiful. By the way, you're out of quarters for your laundry."
"I can't believe you." Sam cleared another pop-up, and another. Sex and sex and sex. "You're such a child." Click here and win a prize! Touch me and meet your fantasies! Rub my belly and make a wish! "Just stop touching this. And stop looking up porn! And stop lying to me about touching my computer and looking up porn!"
"Oooooh."
Sam spun to shout at Dean. As he moved, his shirt sleeve brushed across the laptop's touch pad, and the pointer arrow slid across the 'rub my belly' pop-up. "Dean, I wish that for just three hours, you'd stop lying to me. To anyone!"
The pop-up chimed and disappeared as a tinny little voice said "Granted!"
Dean stretched and moaned again. "We're hitting the bar tonight, Sammy. You need to get laid."
~~~
"That's the third woman to slap you so far."
Dean slouched onto the stool next to Sam, rubbing the reddened spot on his cheek. "Yeah. Is this a lesbian bar? I understand, you'd rather be among your own kind, but you gotta give a man a shot."
Sam pushed the opening of his beer bottle into his forehead and counted to ten. "It's not a lesbian bar. Maybe you've just lost your touch."
"Bull." Dean turned to the woman on his left, smiled in that way Sam knew he thought was charming, and opened his mouth. "Hey. Great shirt."
She simpered and straightened the low neckline of her blouse, twitching it even lower. "Thanks. It's new."
"It's hot. Shows off your tits. I want to stick my face in 'em."
Slap.
~~~
Dean pretended to buff a spot on the Impala's quarter panel. "Look, I don't know what was going through my head, okay? Just felt like I had to say it."
Sam stared as he balled up the receipt from their purchases. His purchases. "You told the clerk that it wasn't your credit card, your name was not Audie Desbrow, and that you'd stuffed four Snickers bars into your pockets. It was a convenience store, Dean, not a confessional. What the hell, man?"
"I don't know! Didn't plan on saying any of that, but he asked a question and I answered it! Truthfully." Dean slumped backwards over the hood and glared at the sky. "Answered everything truthfully. You got me as to the why. Maybe I'm cursed."
"Cursed with honesty? That's a new one. Why don't we just drive through town with a bullhorn, shouting 'we're here to take your money, steal your women, and shoot some demons'? Since you're feeling honest and all. I wish you'd take this seriously."
Dean snorted and went quiet. After a minute, his hands rose and wrapped into loose fists, then he bounced them in thin air. It took Sam a few seconds to realize he was playing imaginary drums, and he pegged the paperwad at Dean's head. "Could you pay attention for five minutes?"
"Nope," Dean said without missing a beat. "You're bitching, Sam, and it bores me. Besides, you couldn't steal a woman if you tried. Not with that hair."
Sam touched his temple. "What's wrong with my.... Wait, you're bored?" He wrinkled his nose and growled under his breath. "My con man of a brother can't tell a lie long enough even to get a free Slurpie from a gas station, and he's bored. Doesn't care why, can't be bothered, just wants to audition for the Air Instrument Orchestra. Well, that's just fine. How about I just figure this all out on my own, then? Seems to be how everything works all the time anyway."
Dean kicked one foot. "Bada bada boom, and with the bass drum, there's the end, and the crowd goes wild for Dean Winchester!" He rolled to sit up, with his elbows on his thighs and hands dangling loose between his knees. "I didn't say I didn't care. I said you were boring me. I already figured out how this happened."
"Oh, right. You magically know the answer."
"Yep."
Sam waited. Dean smirked. Sam threw up his hands in frustration. "Fine. How?"
"Busty Asian beauties."
~~~
Sam tipped his head over the back of his chair. "Dean. Dean. Dean."
"What? Dammit, let a guy work, would you?"
"You've been 'working' for fifteen minutes. Working does not, in most situations, involve downloading every video on the site. The motel charges by the minute for access, you know."
"And I'm gonna start charging you by the minute for whining. I can't remember where I was when all those things started opening up, all right?" He clicked on a series of links, eyebrows flashing up when a soft moan emerged from the laptop's speakers. "Getting closer. That noise is familiar."
"Yeah. It's what you do with your friend Mister Fingers."
"Magic Fingers." Dean poked at the touchpad. "Wait, here we go. Here we go. Naughty Nanami, double E. She's new."
Sam looked before he could stop himself. "Oh, god, what's she doing with that ... is that an octopus?"
Dean chortled and leaned over the laptop. "That's just the still pictures. You should see the live stream ow." He rubbed the back of his head and glared at Sam. "I'd get up and deck you right now if I didn't have wood."
Sam made a soft gagging noise. "Too much information, thanks."
"Oh, like you're surprised. That's another minute of whining, by the way. I'll give you the bill later." He pushed the laptop around until the screen faced Sam, a dozen pop-ups flashing. "There, bitch. That one. Rub her belly and make a wish. That's what you did. You wished I would stop lying to people. Must have touched that chick while you were pissing and moaning about your computer."
"That's insane."
"The sort of things we see on a daily basis, and you think this is crazy?" Dean leaned back, chair creaking, and took another mouthful of the sandwich he'd set aside once the website loaded. Crumbs of bread hit the laptop screen and keyboard. Sam whimpered.
"My bad." Dean blew the crumbs away and managed to spit more into the keyboard.
Sam jerked the laptop away. "You should come with a warning label."
Dean grinned and waggled his eyebrows, both hands pointing at his groin. "You must be eighteen to ride this ride."
"Oh, god." Sam moved his finger across the laptop's touchpad, brushing the pointer across the pop-up girl's belly. "I wish Dean was back to normal. I wish Dean would go back to the way he was before. I wish I hadn't made that wish."
The ad disappeared with a giggle and a tinny voice saying "That tickles!"
Dean eyed the laptop. "Did it work?"
Sam shrugged. "No idea. That weekend we were in Dubuque, and those red-headed twins wanted to learn more about Stanford, remember that?"
Dean pressed his lips together, eyes wild.
"You disappeared for a couple of hours not long after they did. You claimed you were getting a haircut."
Dean clapped both hands over his mouth.
"You weren't getting a haircut, were you, Dean?"
"Mmph."
Sam slumped in his chair and rolled his eyes. "It didn't work. And you're an asshole."
"Red-haired twins. You can't blame a man for that, Sammy." Dean made a gesture of helplessness, then his expression went as serious as it ever did, which wasn't much in Sam's opinion. "Look, the wish you made. You said it was for three hours, right? So that was an hour at the lesbian bar--"
"It wasn't a lesbian bar."
"Whatever. An hour at the bar, maybe an hour since, so we've got an hour left." Dean got up from the table and threw himself onto the bed. "So we just gotta wait. Do your little nerd things over there. And give me a quarter."
~~~
"Dean, lie to me."
"Your hair blows, dude."
"It does not."
"It looks like a porcupine had sex with a seagull on your head."
"Shut up, Dean, and play with your mattress." A quarter flew across the room.
"Ooooh."
~~~
Sam checked the clock, folded his arms for the sixth time, and stared at his brother. "Dean. Dean. Dean."
Snzzz. "Orange jello, ladies, it's the slipperiest."
He chucked a magazine at the bed. "Dean!"
Snorting, huffing, and flailing. Sam watched until Dean managed to struggle out of whatever perverted dream Magic Fingers had led him to, then pointed at the clock. "Three hours. Tell me a lie."
"You're the handsome one."
"I said a lie."
"You have fantastic hair."
"Lie, Dean."
"Women can't keep their hands off you."
Sam covered his mouth and hid his smile. "I said, lie."
"For god's sake, Sammy."
"Just one little bitty lie."
"You're an asshole, bitch." Dean sprawled across the bed again and stared at the ceiling. "Gimme a quarter."