Dean had just pulled some classic dumbass prank on Sam: duct-taping the nozzle on the kitchen sink. Sam turned on the water and got a face full of cold tap. You laughed.

“Think that’s funny?”

“A little. It was basic.”

“Basic?” Dean scoffed like you just insulted Baby herself. “Please. You wouldn’t last one day in a real prank war.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

He smirked. “Only if you’re brave enough to take it.” That evening, you present him with a slice of warm cherry pie. You serve it to him and he doesn’t hesitate, he just digs in. And then chokes.

“What the hell-”

“Ghost peppers,” you say, all innocent and wide-eyed. “Just a dash. For flavor.”

Dean coughs, slams back a glass of milk, and wipes his mouth like he’s seen the face of God. “You’re gonna regret that.” You wake up the next morning to betrayal in a cup. Your coffee tastes like salt. You spit it out into the sink, gagging, just as Dean strolls into the kitchen looking way too pleased with himself. “Morning, sunshine. Something wrong with your brew?”

“You’re dead to me.”

“You started it, sweetheart.” So while he’s in the shower, you switch out his shampoo with craft glitter gel. He doesn’t notice until it’s too late, and stomps out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later, shirtless and sparkling. His hair, his neck, his eyebrows. He looks furious. You bite your lip to keep from wheezing. “I glow,” he says, deadpan.

“No Edward Cullen, you sparkle” you correct with a wink. From there, it’s chaos. He glues the hairbrush to your hand. You put fake spiders in his boots. He fills your underwear drawer with uncooked macaroni and ketchup packets. You hide the laces from all his boots, he hot-glues your drawer shut in revenge.

Sam tries to stay out of it, but by dinner, he’s had enough. “If one more glitter bomb goes off near my laptop, someone will pay!”

“Noted.” You and Dean grin at each other across the table. “Truce?”