Important Note for : The only way to upload new stories is to put them in a small, unrelated category first, then change the category to the true one after the initial post. Very much hoping this works and all the alerts go out correctly.

Author's Notes: Just wanted to write something a little light and happened upon a new show while flipping through the channels called Bridal-plasty. Right before my head exploded, I thought of this. Maybe Sam's glad he missed out on certain parts of that lost year. Just a silly little piece to break the tension I'm sure will be coming in the next episodes.

Hope you enjoy. Please read and review!

Summary: Brotherly bonding over television. Season 6. Crack-ish? OR In which the boys decide there is nothing left worth saving on Earth after watching the E! lineup.

I Don't Like the Moving Pictures

"You look awful."

"Thank you." Dean couldn't help but grin at the little brother sneer Sam threw in.

"Listen, it's just a routine interview. Why don't you sit this one out?" It was a testament to how tired Sam was that he didn't immediately declare he was fine and set about to prove it. Dean threw the remote control at him. "Catch up on some current events."

At Sam's reluctant nod, Dean headed for the door.

"I won't be more than a couple hours."

Dean checked the salt lines one more time and locked the door behind him, hoping Sam would get some rest while he was gone.

After interviewing the family and stopping to pick up a couple files from the police station, Dean finally made it back to the room. He spared a nod at his brother while wrangling the damned tie, i.e. noose, off his neck.

"Thought you'd at least have taken a nap, man."

When no response was forthcoming, Dean's big brother hackles were raised. Abandoning kicking off his other dress show, Dean turned his attention to Sam. His brother was sitting cross-legged on the bed the same way he'd left him staring at the blank screen of the TV glassy-eyed.

"Sammy?" He was already shooting across the small room, his mind chanting at him. 'This can't be good, this can't be good, this can't-'

He stopped short as Sam held the remote out towards him, still not looking at him.

Moving cautiously, Dean took the control and pressed the power button.

On the screen were, what appeared to be, brides-to-be. They all looked like they'd gone a round with Muhammad Ali. Bandages covered one of the girl's heads completely while another one's nose was wrapped as though it's been broken. In some sort of dissociative trance, Dean watched as a list of plastic surgeries appeared next to an excited bride.

Unable to tear his eyes away, Dean collapsed on the bed opposite Sam's. Not a single thought made it through the din of his traumatized mind until a commercial finally broke through. The program's title, "Bridal Plasty", giving his poor brain one more kick.

So thankful was he for the sweet reprieve of a tampon commercial, Dean almost missed Sam's words.

"There's also 'Real Housewives of Orange County', 'My Supersweet 16', and 'Jersey Shore'".

"….Huh."

They sat in silence a few more moments, having no idea what to say.

"…We should've said yes."

Dean barely stopped himself from nodding his agreement and pressed the power button.

The remote spent the rest of it's night where it'd landed, outside in a snow bank, where it could cause no more harm.

Dean was considering salt-and-burning it in the morning. Sam was okay with that.