Changing Channels: MalefliXXX

Sam reoriented himself quickly after yet another 'scene change.'  For better or worse, he was getting used to it.  Of course, everything was different.  He was wearing a short red silk robe... and that's it.  He was in a lavish second-story bedroom that had a large bed and little else.  The dressers were plain and free of knicknacks.  There were no pictures, paintings, or posters on the walls.  The closet door didn't open.  He heard the familiar rumble of a classic muscle car and rushed to look out the window.  It was the Impala, so naturally, Dean was probably here.

Sam left the bedroom and cautiously made his way down the stairs.  The doorbell rang, and Sam only had to cross the living room to answer it.  There was a fire going in the fireplace beyond what looked like a very plush rug.  Sconces and candelabras lit the rest of the space.  He could faintly make out some kind of slow music coming from somewhere.

He opened the ornate door, and the brothers had to take a moment to process what the other was wearing.  Dean was holding a large pizza box and wearing a red pizza jacket, a borderline-transparent white skintight tee-shirt, and snug jeans so low on his hips Sam was worried about a potential wardrobe malfunction.  They exchanged dumbfounded looks for only a split second before the background music blared and they were both able to identify slow melody and low notes of pornographic music.

"Oh, Hell no!" Dean shouted suddenly.  He looked as panicked as Sam had ever seen him.

"Dean, just calm down," Sam tried to soothe his big brother.

"'Calm down?'  'CALM DOWN?!'  We both know what that music is, Sam, and I don't know about you, but I am not playing this role!"

"Just give me the pizza and go.  That should be good enough."

Dean nearly threw the pizza at Sam.  "There's your pizza.  Have a nice day."  He turned around to sprint to his car, but ran smack into the Trickster.

"Now, now, Dean," the Trickster admonished.  "I know you've never had a real job, but you can't make money giving away the merchandise, can you?  Go get the money."

Dean rolled his eyes and scowled, but went back to the open door.  "Money?" he asked grumpily.

Sam checked his pockets.  "I don't seem to have any..." his sentence trailed off as he realized the point of this.  He glared at the Trickster and finished his sentence.  "...money."

"Oh, no," Gabe giggled into Dean's ear.  "I guess he'll just have to find another way to pay you."

"You seem like a stand-up guy.  You can pay me later!"  Dean tried to take off again.

The Trickster caught him easily.  "Nuh-uh.  Not good enough."  The Trickster forcibly stood Dean in front of the door.  "Maybe he can do you some kind of favor, hm?"

"Not interested."

"Play your role, Dean," the Trickster sing-songed.

"No," Dean growled.

"Then, you're gonna be here a long time," the Trickster threatened.

"Fine," Dean agreed.  He stepped into the house, took the pizza and headed to the kitchen.  "Come on, Sam.  Fresh pizza!"

The Trickster huffed.  "You guys are no fun!"  With a snap, they were somewhere else again, and Dean didn't even get any pizza.