Coulrophobia (Gen, PG)
Title: Coulrophobia
Rating: PG
Category: Gen oneshot
Word Count: 594
Characters: Sam and Dean
Spoilers: “Everybody Loves a Clown”
Summary: Sam’s got a fear of clowns. Dean’s not going to drop it.
Author’s Note: Crossposted around. Companion fic (only if you want it to be) to Aviatophobia.
Disclaimer: The following characters and situations are used without permission of the creators, owners, and further affiliates of the television show, Supernatural, to whom they rightly belong. I claim only what is mine, and I make no money off what is theirs.
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To be honest, Dean had forgotten about the clowns. He really had, and it was almost disappointing that he hadn’t thought about his little brother’s biggest fear at all during the past months. In his defense, it had been a few years since he and Sam had spent so long together, and it had been even longer since he had first discovered Sam’s clown fear. Back then, he had gone overboard, torturing Sam endlessly until the kid learned how to fight back. After that had gotten nasty and, as usual, Dad had to get involved. Dad, who had made them clean the outside of his truck with a toothbrush.
Now, though, there was no Dad. And while that was a thought Dean was not going to dwell on, he instead set his mind on another all too favorite topic.
At first it was clown socks mixed in with their clothes when it was Sam’s turn to do laundry. There hadn’t been much reaction from that except for a mild, “Very funny, Dean,” snort as they had passed each other outside later that day. After the socks, it was a clown bobble head stuck to the dashboard of one of Bobby’s clanking minivans.
“What is that?” Sam asked disgustedly.
“A new friend. You like him?”
“Get it out of here.”
“Now, Sammy, look how happy he is to see-” And before Dean could finish with his sentence, Sam tossed the bobble head out the window and said nothing for the rest of the ride. He crossed his arms and glowered like a stubborn toddler who had just been told it was bathtime.
Then there was the night Sam awoke at two in the morning to circus music and clowns above his head. He tumbled onto the floor, ending up in a mess of twisted bed sheets and falling pillows, as Dean burst out into maniacal laughter. On the ceiling, a child’s musical mobile twirled aimlessly. “Asshole,” Sam grumbled and crawled back in bed, pulling the covers over his head and leaving his toes pointing out at the end of the mattress.
Finally, one morning while Sam was sitting at the kitchen table and tying his shoes, Dean entered the room with a white grocery bag dangling from his wrist. “I got you something,” he said with a shit-eating grin, and Sam rolled his eyes.
“Grow up, Dean.”
“Aw, c’mon, nothing wrong with a little fun, right? Besides, I got ‘cha something.” He crossed the room and pulled a clear plastic container from the grocery bag to reveal a discounted birthday cake. Across the top in brightly colored frosting, circus clowns danced happily. Dean opened the lid and waved it under Sam’s nose. “Want a piece? Smells good, don’t it?”
Sam, standing up, took the cake from Dean. “Yeah,” Sam said, looking down at the tubby clowns, “it does.”
Dean grinned, and he started to say something with a sarcastic tone to it. Just as he did so, he was met with a face full of cake. He cursed in surprise, and when Sam finally pulled the container away, Dean’s face was a smeared array of blue and yellow frosting with dots of reds and greens. With the edges of his thumbs, he wiped the gunk out of his eyes and glowered at Sam.
Throwing his head back in laughter, Sam patted the side of Dean’s sugary cheek. As he made his way out of the bedroom, licking frosting off his fingers, he smirked. “Boy, that does smell good, doesn’t it, Dean? Smells real good.”
End