Disclaimer:
I don't own Supernatural
It makes me sad.
I asked my mom
I asked my dad.
Even if I sold
My BMWs
It all would still
Be the CW's.
Author's Notes: Just a short oneshot. Enjoy, and please review:)
16-year-old Dean Winchester was frustrated. No, maybe frustrated wasn't a strong enough word. Aggravated, irritated, impatient, and completely pissed off might be better ways to describe it. His twelve-year-old brother looked up from his seat at the table, a slight hint of a smirk crossing his face.
"You okay there, Dean?"
"Just fine," Dean muttered as he opened the oven, promptly burning his hand on the oven rack. "Damn it…!" Sam grinned.
"Okay…" he said. Dean spun around, glaring at his brother.
"You know, maybe if you decided to help, it wouldn't be so bad." Sam shrugged.
"Dad didn't say I had to cook dinner. He said you had to." Dean groaned and took the bread out of the oven, placing it on the table. Sam eyed the charred edges with distaste.
"You burned it."
"Yeah? Well, deal with it," Dean responded, annoyed.
"I'm not eating burnt food," said Sam, folding his arms and staring up at his older brother.
"Then don't eat!" said Dean, grabbing a roll from the plate and biting into it. He smiled, pretending that it tasted great. "This is delicious!" he managed to say around a good-sized bite of dinner roll. Sam rolled his eyes.
"I'm not an idiot, Dean." Smelling a strange odor, he looked up at the stove, where the pot of chili had been 'heating up' for about half an hour. He raised his eyebrows. "Uh, are you sure the chili's not done yet?" Dean's eyes widened, and he dropped the bread that was halfway to his mouth.
"Shit…" He ran over to the stove, opening the lid of the pot. The chili was burnt beyond salvation—black, hardened and stuck to the sides of the pot. He turned to face his brother. "I am never, ever cooking again. Ever." Sam grinned.
"You promise?"
"Yeah. I promise."
---
"No way." Sam was staring up at Dean in complete shock. "Are you serious, Dean?"
"I don't know," said Dean solemnly. He threw a cautious glance at the stove. "Do you think I can?" Sam raised both his eyebrows,
"Honestly? No, I don't!" Dean shrugged. "Dean, you haven't attempted to cook since…" Sam trailed off.
"The chili incident was eleven years ago!" said his brother indignantly.
"You made a promise," said Sam. "Don't you always keep your promises?"
"Dude, it's macaroni and cheese! How difficult can it get?"
"You promised…" Sam reminded him teasingly. "I don't know, Dean. If you break your promise, I'm not sure if I could ever trust you again." That infuriating smirk was on his face again, and it took almost all of Dean's self-control not to punch it off. Sam was enjoying being overdramatic way too much. Dean scoffed.
"You're serious. You'll really hold it against me if I break my promise?" Sam shrugged.
"You could go ahead and make it. It'll just destroy the trust that I've built in you through all these years," he said with mock gloominess.
"Fine. You make it," said Dean, slamming the box onto the table. Sam grinned triumphantly.
"I knew you'd never break a promise."
"Bitch," muttered Dean under his breath. Sam looked up.
"Did you say something, jerk?" Dean shook his head.
"Just make the freaking macaroni and cheese."