Author's Note: Yes, it is meant to be a drabble of some sort. Just something I found in a long closed closet. Um, just something to fill the momentary hiatus while finishing my other story. Hope you like it :)

This is how I show my longing to the good ol' days of the Winchester guys. English is not my first language, and it's not beta-ed. Point is... all faults are mine, and all SPN properties, as we know, are not ours. It's T for the language.

Natural Instinct

"Will you just cut it, Dean? I'm not five!"

"Keep telling yourself that, Little Brother. It might come true."

Sam growled in ultimate frustration. "Screw you!" he spat, then winced, "enough, Dean, or I swear I'm gonna kick your ass…"

"No, can't do," Dean commented while applying butterfly bandage to Sam's forehead, "it's my exclusive right. Sorry, big brothers only."

"You've been hovering over my tiny cut at least for the last hour and bleeding to death yourself!" Sam swatted Dean's hand and raised abruptly from bed. "You won't even let me take a look at it, you bastard!"

"Hey!" The older Winchester was about to stand up himself but never made it. Dean retreated back in back in bed with a suppressed gasp only seconds later. His palm was pressed hard against a bleeding wound on his left side. "For the thousandth times, Sammy, I am the big brother. It's my natural instinct to take care of you."

Almost instantly, Sam's jaw dropped. His face was quick parade of puzzlement, shock, anger, hurt, and eventually… defiance. "Right. So since I'm the younger one, then it's legitimately my natural instinct to rebel against you!"

"Dammit, Sam, you're such a kid!"

"Like I fucking care! You call me that all the time anyway!"

"Quit playing whinny bitch and get back here!"

"Try me!"

"FINE!"

"FINE!"

Sam was up, looking down. Dean was down, looking up. They were panting hard, eyes throwing sharp glare to each other.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

Both were staring at each other still. This time though, deep frowns were deepening on each foreheads.

"Fine."

"Yeah, fine."

Dean stole a glance towards his brother and shrugged. "It's really… fine."

Sam curled his lips and sighed wearily. "I know it's fine…"

He was looking away, and so did Dean. Both just seemed eager to look at basically anything to avoid each others look. An awkward silence followed soon after, until Dean took the initiative to break it. Well, cracked it was more like it.

"Uh… I think I used up the last of our first aid supply on you."

Still looking away, Sam nodded. "Figures. Guess I need to go get more then?"

It wasn't even a question, really. Both Sam and Dean knew it just too well. So, they were somehow down to another awkward silence. Round two.

This time, Sam took his turn.

"Hungry?"

Dean glanced too hastily at his brother, totally unprepared for the sudden puppy-eyes attack. Both Winchesters should know too well what blood lost could cause to someone's gut—and consequently, appetite. Nevertheless, Dean gave Sam the warmest smile he could muster in his current condition.

"I could eat."

At that, Sam was practically beamed. "Sure… okay."

Dean's smile never faltered. "Okay."

"I'll just… run to Walgreen and go grab something at Biggerson later. That ok with you?"

"When did I ever turn some grease down, huh?"

Sam grinned. His dimples decorating his cheeks. "Never, I guess?"

Carefully, Dean eased himself in bed. Tension visibly leaving his body. "Wanna take the impala?"

"Sure."

Dean reached to his jeans pocket, grabbing the key and threw it to his brother's direction without warning. Sam didn't need any though. All he needed was to hear the slightest clink of metal to instinctively catch it in the open air. Dean couldn't help but grinned proudly at the sight.

"Don't forget to grab some pie!"

Sam glanced over his shoulder before stepping out of the motel room. "Be back in five to patch you up."

Dean tsk-ed. "Such a bitch."

Gently, Sam smiled. "Right back at you, jerk."

~ FIN ~