Operation Pimp My Bunker

Operation Pimp My Bunker

A Supernatural story by Carla @curlybean1

A new entry in the second wave of the #SPNWishList fic and art challenge! Carla responded to the prompt: "Sam and Dean redecorate the bunker." Every time I read a sweet story like this, one that gives us a glimpse of Dean Winchester as he could have been... it breaks my heart, but I smile so wide. Enjoy.  -- Jennie

Dean couldn’t help but feel annoyed as he watched Sam pack his bag. He also couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Sam’s last words before leaving the bunker.

“I mean it, Dean. Stay off your leg and get some rest. I shouldn’t be gone more than a week at the most.”

Sam was off to take care of a little werewolf problem somewhere in Arkansas, and since Dean was laid up with a broken leg and a few cracked ribs, Garth was going to be is hunting partner.  Dean hated the thought of his little brother going off on a hunt without him, but Sam was adamant that Garth would have his back just as much as Dean would.

Sam had only been gone a few hours when boredom set in for Dean. He tried to take his mind off of things by listening to music and watching Netflix, but even reruns of his favorite shows couldn’t make him feel any less anxious or restless.

Once his latest re-watching of “The Shining” had finished, Dean found himself looking around at the almost bare walls of his room. Other than the display of weapons and scattered books lying everywhere, the room was pretty bare. They’d been in the bunker for almost three years and Dean suddenly realized how perfunctory and impersonal it all was.

Before he even knew what he was doing, Dean found himself opening the browser on his computer. He really had no idea what he was looking for, so he just typed in the words “home décor” in the search box and let Google do the work. The results that showed up were overwhelming, to say the least.

As he browsed, something familiar caught his eye. The last case he and Sam had worked had been the rather violent ghost of a recently deceased housewife. She had been cremated, so salting and burning her bones wasn’t an option. Instead, they had to figure out just what it was that was tethering her to her family’s home and allowing her to terrorize her poor husband.

It took them almost two days to figure out that her favorite pastime was browsing something called Pinterest and trying out different craft projects. It took them another two days to figure out that she had recently tried her hand at needlework that used actual human hair as thread. Once they figured that out, they were able to locate her handiwork -- made with her own hair -- and quickly salt and burn it.

What caught Dean’s eye now was the familiar Pinterest icon. They had spent several hours looking through the ghost lady’s Pinterest feed and, although he would never admit it, Dean was amazed by all the things he found on the site. Arts, crafts, recipes, puppy photos, landscape ideas, etc….  If any website had ideas on how they could make the bunker feel homier, Pinterest would. Suddenly, Dean found himself smiling. Operation Pimp My Bunker was officially underway.

___________________________________

Almost six hours later, Dean had a few good ideas on how he wanted to redecorate the bunker.  He turned his attention to Amazon and, just a few hours later, he had a Prime membership and almost $300 worth of stuff in his cart. He was amazed to see that almost everything he’d ordered would be shipped to their Lebanon post office in less than a week.

Dean closed the computer and decided to make himself a snack. He grabbed his crutches and hobbled to the kitchen.

He was just finishing his second cheeseburger when his phone rang. With his mouth still half-full, he answered. “Hey, Sammy. Are you OK? Everything good?” He could hear Sam’s loud sigh easily over the phone.

“I’m fine, Dean. Really. I can handle myself, you know. And Garth is here, so...”

“Garth isn’t me,” Dean answered simply.

Sam decided to ignore his brother. “How’s your leg? Have you been taking your medicine?  And remember, the doctor said to elevate it as much as you can in the first few days.”

“I can handle myself, too, Sam,” Dean answered, wisely leaving out the fact that he hadn’t taken his medicine or remembered to elevate his leg at all that day. He didn’t miss Sam’s loud sigh that time, either.

“What have you been up to all day?” Sam asked.

“Nothing really. Working on a little project.”

“What project?”

Dean could hear Sam’s obvious apprehension, but decided to ignore it. “It’s nothing, Sam. Just trying to hold the boredom at bay. You know, it really wouldn’t be that hard for me to meet up with you. My leg feels fine.”

“Don’t even think about it, man. You’re staying in the bunker and you’re going to follow the doctor’s orders. Your leg is broken in two places.”

“Sam...”

“I mean it, Dean. Stay. Rest.”

This time it was Dean’s sigh that was easily heard. “Fine. But I’m gonna warn you, Sammy. I can’t be held responsible for whatever happens when the boredom finally gets the best of me.”

Sam hung up the phone, feeling reasonably confident that Dean couldn’t really get into too much trouble while he was holed up in the bunker. The more he thought about it, though, the more he realized that he was underestimating his brother. And that was never a good thing.

Picking his phone back up, he made another call.

___________________________________

Four days later, Dean got an email notification that his Amazon goods had been delivered. He suddenly realized that he would have to make his way to the post office to pick everything up.  He wasn’t really looking forward to that, since his leg really was hurting him. Not that he would ever admit it.

Fortunately, just as he was trying to figure out just how he was going to actually drive with his right leg in a cast, his phone rang. He smiled when he saw who it was.

“Jody! Hey, what’s up?”

“Dean! Sam called and told me what happened. How are you feeling?”

Dean spent a few minutes catching Jody up on their recent hunt and his freefall down a flight of stairs, courtesy of the angry housewife ghost. He assured her that he was doing OK, but Jody was still concerned.

“I thought I’d come by and check on you, Dean.”

“That’s really not necessary, Jody.”

“I know it’s not, but I’d like to, just the same. Besides, I’m only about 30 minutes away.”

Dean laughed at that. “Why does that not surprise me?” he asked.

“I thought I’d stop and pick up dinner. Need anything else?”

“Actually, yes... Do you think you could pick up something at the post office? I’ll call ahead and let Marta know you’re coming.”

“Sure, Dean.” She was just about to end the call when Dean spoke again.

“Hey, Jody? Do you think you could maybe pick up some pie, too?”

___________________________________

Almost an hour later, the bunker door opened, and Jody walked in, her arms loaded with boxes and bags. Dean slowly struggled to his feet, but Jody immediately told him to sit back down. He knew better than to ignore her when she used her mom voice, so he reluctantly sat and watched as she made her way down the stairs.

After she put everything on the table in front of Dean, she bent down, looked him squarely in the face, and then hugged him. “How are you really doing, Dean?”

“I’m good, really.”

She wasn’t sure she believed him, since she knew Dean Winchester so well. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, though. “When you said you needed me to pick up something, I expected maybe one or two boxes. Imagine my surprise when Marta told me there were at least nine boxes, all in all.”

“Sorry about that,” Dean smiled sheepishly.

“Something you want to tell me, Dean?  Are you opening up an Etsy shop or something?”

“What the hell is Etsy?” Dean asked in confusion.

Jody smiled at the look on his face. “Never mind. I’m going to go up and get the rest of the boxes. There’s pie in one of those bags.”

By the time Jody was done bringing all the boxes in, Dean had already eaten a quarter of the pie. Jody sat next to him and watched as he finished off the few bites left on his plate. “So, what are you up to, Dean? Sam said something about a project?”

Dean felt his face grow hot. “It’s nothing. Just a thought I had.”

“Looks like more than just a thought, Dean,” Jody laughed. “Nine boxes?”

Dean took a swig from the beer he’d been nursing for the last hour. “We’ve been living here for almost three years, but if it wasn’t for Sam’s size 13 shoes by the door, you’d never know that.  This is Sam’s first real home since he was 6 months old, Jody. Shouldn’t it look more like a home?”

“It’s also your first real home since you were 4, Dean.” Jody watched as Dean disregarded her words. “So, that’s what this is? You’re redecorating?”

Dean rubbed his neck, hating the way he could feel himself blushing. “Stupid, right? It’s stupid.”
“No, it’s not. I think it’s a great idea. Can I help?”

“You want to?”

“Yeah. Let’s see what you’ve got in these boxes.”

___________________________________

After almost a full week, the werewolf was finally taken care of, and Sam was more than ready to go home. Even though he’d talked to Dean every night, he was still worried. He didn’t have a lot of faith in his brother’s ability to actually do what was best for himself, truth be told.  Especially if what was best for him meant that he had to be sidelined from doing the thing he loved most in the world.

He figured Dean wasn’t going to be happy that Sam had called Jody, but he really needed someone to set eyes on his brother. Just to make sure that Dean wasn’t lying to him. Jody’s report brought him some relief, even though she wouldn’t elaborate on Dean’s little project, no matter how much he begged.

It was almost 9 at night when Sam finally made it back to the bunker. He parked the Impala in front, finding himself too eager to see his brother to take the time to drive around to the garage entrance. Dean wasn’t expecting him until the next day, so Sam knew he’d be able to surprise him. He also knew he’d probably catch Dean in the act of doing something other than resting with his leg elevated.

From the moment he opened the door, Sam thought something was different. It took him a few seconds to realize that he had stepped through the door and onto a small braided rug.  He also noticed a weird smell. Was that a candle?

Making his way down the stairs, Sam noticed a few other strange things. Another rug at the bottom of the stairs. A potted plant sitting on the small table next to the leather armchair he liked to read in. Pillows on the leather chair. Several candles burning on the bookshelves. He also noticed a framed picture of a moose and squirrel hanging next to the door to the kitchen.

Suddenly, Sam was worried that maybe Dean had hit his head a little harder than they’d thought on his way down that staircase.

“Dean? Where are you? I’m home.” Sam listened for a few long seconds before making his way toward the kitchen. Once he realized that Dean wasn’t there, he made his way toward their bedrooms. “Dean?”

“Sam? I’m in the bathroom.”

Sam turned and walked back down the hall toward the shower room. The door opened just as he stepped up to it, and steam billowed out. “What are you doing, Dean? You’re not supposed to be showering. That cast can’t get wet, remember?”

“Dude, I know how to take a shower without getting a cast wet. This isn’t my first rodeo, OK?”

Sam studied his brother closely, trying to figure out what was different about him. It took him a few seconds to realize that Dean was holding a thick red towel, instead of the thin white ones they usually used. “What’s that?” he asked pointedly.

“What?”

“That towel. It’s red. Since when do we have red towels? And what the hell happened to the bunker?” He could have sworn that Dean blushed at his question.

“It’s nothing,” Dean answered, quickly throwing the towel back into the shower room.

“C’mon, Dean. There are rugs and candles and pillows everywhere.”

Dean moved past Sam, nearly tripping as one of his crutches rammed against Sam’s foot. Sam quickly reached out and steadied his brother.

“I just bought a few things,” Dean said nonchalantly, as he walked toward the kitchen. Sam followed him closely, just to make sure he didn’t lose his balance again.

Once they were in the kitchen, Sam looked around in surprise. There were red placemats settled on the table and a decorative bowl full of fruit sitting in the middle of it. There was also a new clock on the wall. “OK. What the hell is all this?” he finally asked. “Was this your project?”

Sam noticed a strange look pass over his brother’s face. Was he upset? Embarrassed? Hurt?

“It’s nothing, Sam. I just bought a few things.”

“But why?”

Dean ignored Sam’s question and opened up the refrigerator, taking out what was left of a cherry pie.

“Dean...”

“It’s not a big deal, Sam. I just…” He hesitated long enough to grab a fork and sit down with his pie before continuing. “I just thought it should look like someone actually lives here,” he finally finished.

“What do you mean? We do live here.”

“No, Sam. We’ve just been staying here. We’ve never really moved in, you know? Never made the place our own.”

Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He never imagined that Dean would be so sentimental. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he definitely should have imagined it. No one who knew Dean on a superficial level would ever think that he was the type. Those who knew Dean best, though... They knew that he was sentimental to the core.  He just hid it really, really well.

“So, that’s what you’re doing?” Sam asked. “Making it our own?”

“Yeah.”

“With rugs and candles and decorative fruit baskets?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asked. That look of hurt that made him look like a 5-year-old quickly returned.

“C’mon, Dean? Candles and rugs?” When Dean didn’t answer, Sam continued. “Look, man… I love that you want to make this place our own. I do. But, let’s make it our own in the right way, OK? Let’s fill it with the kinds of things we like.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. What do you like, Dean? Cars? Music? Maybe we should get something along those lines.”

Dean’s eyes lit up a little more, and Sam was happy to see it. He’d do anything to keep that light in his brother’s eyes.

Dean’s voice rose in excitement. “Well, when I was looking on Pinterest, I did see this really cool framed picture of the progression of Chevy Impalas through the years. And Amazon had this awesome basketball hoop that hangs over the back of a door. It even has a glow-in-the-dark basketball. Oh, and I saw this AC/DC Back in Black clock on Etsy that would look really cool over the stove.”

Sam burst out laughing. He laughed so hard and didn’t stop until he realized that Dean was glaring at him. “Wait,” Sam finally got out as he gasped for air. “Wait… Pinterest? Etsy? Who the hell are you and what have you done with my brother?!”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.”

Sam kept laughing until Dean finally stood up, hopped over to the sink, filled up a glass of water, and promptly threw it in his brother’s face. Happy that he’d put an end to the obnoxious laughter, Dean returned to his pie. Sam dried off with a new red dish towel and then sat down next to his brother.

“I think it’s a good idea, by the way,” he said as he watched his brother closely. “Putting down roots. It’s not something we’ve really done before, but I think it’s time.”

“You do?” When Sam nodded, Dean agreed. “Yeah, me, too.”

“Why don’t I fire up the laptop and we can look around Pinterest some more. And maybe figure out how to return some of this stuff?”

Dean looked around the kitchen. “We can return everything but the candles, I bet.”

Sam stood up and started gathering up all the things his brother had bought. He could see Dean watching him and was surprised by the look on his face. “Dean?  Do you... do you want to keep some of this stuff?”

“What? No… no… well, maybe... maybe we could keep the Moose and Squirrel print? I really like that one.”

Sam realized that he really liked it, too. “Yeah, we can keep that.”

“Awesome!” Dean rubbed his hands again and grinned at his brother. “OK, let’s get this started.  Operation Pimp My Bunker, take two.”