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avandell2007-06-02 04:48 pm
theladyscribe) wrote in avandell2007-06-02 04:48 pm
Entry tags:
The Internet Isn't Just For Porn (One-Shot)
Title: The Internet Isn’t Just For Porn
Characters: Dean, Jo, Sam
Rating: PG
Word Count: 851
Summary: “It is on, Sam Winchester,” she spits emphatically. “It is on.”
Notes: Companion to The Internet Is For Porn. Sam’s POV on the whole matter.
Characters: Dean, Jo, Sam
Rating: PG
Word Count: 851
Summary: “It is on, Sam Winchester,” she spits emphatically. “It is on.”
Notes: Companion to The Internet Is For Porn. Sam’s POV on the whole matter.
The Internet Isn’t Just For Porn
By the time Jo storms back into the hotel room, Sam has rebooted his computer and deleted all traces of the offending jpeg file. Still, he’s never seen Jo this angry before. Well, except that time when Dean left her to do laundry duty while they tackled a chupacabra in Santa Fe, but that time, the anger wasn’t directed at him. Sam’s pretty sure he’d rather be taking on fifty chupacabras on his own with just a paring knife and a spork than Jo right now.
“You lied to me,” she’s saying, and Sam didn’t think it was possible, but she’s pretty intimidating, even though she’s a foot shorter than he is. “You lied to me. You told me it was Dean who did that, and it was you!”
He holds his hands up and says, “Jo, please! I can explain.”
“Start talking, mister, and whatever story you come up with had better be a damned good one.”
“I was trying to get back at Dean,” he tells her and she scoffs.
“And you do that by photoshopping my head on porn?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Well, see, we have this tradition when we’re on the road and not getting much in the way of leads. We play pranks on each other.”
“And you thought this was a good prank?”
He bobs his head. “Yeah?” Jo scowls. “It wasn’t—Dean won the last round of prank wars, and I had finally come up with the perfect prank: I was going to do the photoshop and print it off and hide it in Dean’s stuff. And then I was going to let you find it and yell at him and…” He trails off when he realizes that Jo is glaring daggers and he’d look like a pin cushion if she could really glare literal daggers. “I was going to tell you, really.”
“Was that going to be before or after you planted the photo?”
He bites his lip. “After?”
“Wrong answer, Sam.” She moves toward him, and he flinches, readying himself for the inevitable slap in the face – or, more likely, punch in the stomach. Instead, she pokes him in the chest. “It is on, Sam Winchester,” she spits emphatically. “It is on.” She stomps out the door and Sam wonders what he has just gotten himself into.
The week following Jo’s declaration is marked by very little hunting and a lot of pranks. Sam can’t figure out how she did it, but Jo changed the mapping system on his computer and now a search for “Houston” brings up a map of Hong Kong. He gets her back with saran wrap on the toilet seat, and she retaliates by replacing his toothpaste with foot cream. Dean sits back and laughs at them both, egging them on by turns but flatly refusing to get involved.
He finally does get involved, though, about a week after Jo and Sam’s prank war started. He walks out of the bathroom, freezes, and turns to Sam. “Sammy, what did you do?” he whispers.
Sam glances up at his brother from where he’s finally getting the map back to sorts. “Dean, you didn’t—” He looks at Dean, watching as his brother’s eyes grow wide. “Oh god, I should have told you!”
“Sam, what did you do?” Dean repeats, and there’s a hint of fear in his voice.
Sam bites his lip. “It’s Icy-Hot, Dean.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I put it on the toilet seat.”
Dean nods once, turns around, and goes back into the bathroom. Moments later, Sam can hear the water running in the shower.
Jo returns from the laundromat while Dean’s still in the bathroom. “Dean got a hot date tonight or something?” she asks. Sam grunts non-commitally. She shrugs and says, “Whatever. Here’s your clothes.” She hands him a duffle of laundry and he unzips it, pulling out all of his socks, which have been neatly folded. And dyed pink.
“Jo? These are pink.”
She peers at his socks intently. “Huh. They weren’t pink when I took them to the laundromat? Whoops. I must’ve missed a red shirt or something.” She smiles sweetly.
Sam takes a deep breath and is about to say something when Dean steps out of the bathroom and grinds out, “No more pranks. Ever.”
Jo frowns. “What happened to you?”
“Ask Sam.”
She looks at Sam questioningly. “Icy-Hot on the toilet seat,” he reveals quietly.
“Ohh.” She turns back to Dean. “I think that was meant for me.”
He glares at her as he seats himself gingerly on one of the beds. “You think?” He huffs. “I mean it, you two. No more pranks, or I’m leaving you both here and I’ll take off on my own, find a couple of sane partners.”
They both hang their heads. “Alright,” Sam says. “No more pranks.” He turns to Jo and holds out his hand. “Truce?”
She looks at him. “No more photoshopping my head on things?” she asks.
He nods. “No more photoshopped porn. And no messing with the maps, okay?”
“Truce then,” she agrees, shaking his hand.
*******************************************************************************************************************
A/N: All of the pranks pulled in this story have been pulled before – I haven’t actually taken part in any of them, but I know many people who have pulled many pranks in their lifetimes. This story is dedicated to the members of Deep Six and to the Pardee Rowdies, who were notorious for their masterful pranks on my college campus.
By the time Jo storms back into the hotel room, Sam has rebooted his computer and deleted all traces of the offending jpeg file. Still, he’s never seen Jo this angry before. Well, except that time when Dean left her to do laundry duty while they tackled a chupacabra in Santa Fe, but that time, the anger wasn’t directed at him. Sam’s pretty sure he’d rather be taking on fifty chupacabras on his own with just a paring knife and a spork than Jo right now.
“You lied to me,” she’s saying, and Sam didn’t think it was possible, but she’s pretty intimidating, even though she’s a foot shorter than he is. “You lied to me. You told me it was Dean who did that, and it was you!”
He holds his hands up and says, “Jo, please! I can explain.”
“Start talking, mister, and whatever story you come up with had better be a damned good one.”
“I was trying to get back at Dean,” he tells her and she scoffs.
“And you do that by photoshopping my head on porn?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Well, see, we have this tradition when we’re on the road and not getting much in the way of leads. We play pranks on each other.”
“And you thought this was a good prank?”
He bobs his head. “Yeah?” Jo scowls. “It wasn’t—Dean won the last round of prank wars, and I had finally come up with the perfect prank: I was going to do the photoshop and print it off and hide it in Dean’s stuff. And then I was going to let you find it and yell at him and…” He trails off when he realizes that Jo is glaring daggers and he’d look like a pin cushion if she could really glare literal daggers. “I was going to tell you, really.”
“Was that going to be before or after you planted the photo?”
He bites his lip. “After?”
“Wrong answer, Sam.” She moves toward him, and he flinches, readying himself for the inevitable slap in the face – or, more likely, punch in the stomach. Instead, she pokes him in the chest. “It is on, Sam Winchester,” she spits emphatically. “It is on.” She stomps out the door and Sam wonders what he has just gotten himself into.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The week following Jo’s declaration is marked by very little hunting and a lot of pranks. Sam can’t figure out how she did it, but Jo changed the mapping system on his computer and now a search for “Houston” brings up a map of Hong Kong. He gets her back with saran wrap on the toilet seat, and she retaliates by replacing his toothpaste with foot cream. Dean sits back and laughs at them both, egging them on by turns but flatly refusing to get involved.
He finally does get involved, though, about a week after Jo and Sam’s prank war started. He walks out of the bathroom, freezes, and turns to Sam. “Sammy, what did you do?” he whispers.
Sam glances up at his brother from where he’s finally getting the map back to sorts. “Dean, you didn’t—” He looks at Dean, watching as his brother’s eyes grow wide. “Oh god, I should have told you!”
“Sam, what did you do?” Dean repeats, and there’s a hint of fear in his voice.
Sam bites his lip. “It’s Icy-Hot, Dean.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I put it on the toilet seat.”
Dean nods once, turns around, and goes back into the bathroom. Moments later, Sam can hear the water running in the shower.
Jo returns from the laundromat while Dean’s still in the bathroom. “Dean got a hot date tonight or something?” she asks. Sam grunts non-commitally. She shrugs and says, “Whatever. Here’s your clothes.” She hands him a duffle of laundry and he unzips it, pulling out all of his socks, which have been neatly folded. And dyed pink.
“Jo? These are pink.”
She peers at his socks intently. “Huh. They weren’t pink when I took them to the laundromat? Whoops. I must’ve missed a red shirt or something.” She smiles sweetly.
Sam takes a deep breath and is about to say something when Dean steps out of the bathroom and grinds out, “No more pranks. Ever.”
Jo frowns. “What happened to you?”
“Ask Sam.”
She looks at Sam questioningly. “Icy-Hot on the toilet seat,” he reveals quietly.
“Ohh.” She turns back to Dean. “I think that was meant for me.”
He glares at her as he seats himself gingerly on one of the beds. “You think?” He huffs. “I mean it, you two. No more pranks, or I’m leaving you both here and I’ll take off on my own, find a couple of sane partners.”
They both hang their heads. “Alright,” Sam says. “No more pranks.” He turns to Jo and holds out his hand. “Truce?”
She looks at him. “No more photoshopping my head on things?” she asks.
He nods. “No more photoshopped porn. And no messing with the maps, okay?”
“Truce then,” she agrees, shaking his hand.
*******************************************************************************************************************
A/N: All of the pranks pulled in this story have been pulled before – I haven’t actually taken part in any of them, but I know many people who have pulled many pranks in their lifetimes. This story is dedicated to the members of Deep Six and to the Pardee Rowdies, who were notorious for their masterful pranks on my college campus.
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Also, if you want more of this sort of fic, click on the roadtrip tag - I've written a whole series of them. /self-pimpage