A massive thank you to my beta reader, Jynxedwitch, she's a star ^^
Disclaimer, Supernatural belongs to Kripke [who i thank everyday for creating this show :D]
Oh and i don't know if there are Mars Bars in the US, but i believe that Sam would like them ^^
That's The Way
Sam Winchester slouched messily in his chair, his legs not yet long enough to reach the floor. His dark brown hair was matted and wet, sticking up violently to the side and giving him the off beat look of a hedgehog. An ominous frown was drilled into his childlike, rounded features. His pink bottom lip stuck out aggressively in a pout. The youngest Winchester sat with his arms crossed tightly, staring ferociously at the white coloured wall.
"Hey there, Sammy…" Dean called, hopefully, a hint of almost nervousness in his usually confident voice. He pushed open the front door with his back, arms loaded with groceries. He half shuffled, half fell into the room, off balanced by a large bottle of cola that was clutched precariously between his right elbow and hip. He turned like a gyroscope and fly kicked the door shut with a thud, the move almost landing him to the floor.
"Sammy?" He bellowed again, as he dumped the shopping bags onto the kitchen work top. He rubbed a hand over his face, and grabbed a few escaping apples and tins of baked beans as they tried to make a bid for the floor of freedom. "Oh no," he muttered, absentmindedly, as he caught them. "No escaping for you my friend. You're gonna have a long stretch in the Alcatraz of my stomach…" He placed them back onto the corner and waited a moment to make sure they didn't fall again. "See," he glared menacingly at a light green apple. "You don't even look like a Frank Morris." He smiled, recalling the film he had only just watched a few nights ago, before turning and walking through to the sitting room.
"Sam? You in here? Samm-" Dean stopped as he caught sight of his six year old brother. "Oh hey there Sammy…" The younger sibling locked his eyes onto the elders. Dean swallowed. "How you doing?"
Nothing.
"You know, Sam, it doesn't… It doesn't look that bad… Really…" Dean fidgeted under his brother's piecing stare. He swallowed again, his mouth dry. "It could be worse…"
No it couldn't. A little voice thought, in Dean's mind. Shut up! The elder Winchester mentally gagged it.
"Seriously, I think you look… erm… you look awesome. Really, really awesome. Hell, I'm gonna get my hair cut like that too… It's just so great, I mean, it's brilliant. You know. Everyone loves it. I love it, Dad loves it, Pastor Jim will love it. And when I say love, I mean love… You know?"
Nothing. Just complete silence, Dean could hear his breathing; he tried to tell himself he was not nervous of his brother. It was just from carrying all the shopping home.
"Sam?"
"I LOOK LIKE A DORK!" The younger exploded, the volume of his voice making Dean jump, his heart skip a beat. There is no way a human can be that loud…
Sam's breathing was coming out in little huffs of carbon dioxide, his small face getting red at the cheeks.
"I look so stupid."
"Sammy, you don't look-"
"Yes I do!" His voice was thick. Moisture beginning to form at the corners of his eyes.
"Ok, so you do…" Dean winced as he said it, but he might as well be honest with the kid.
"I know." He sniffed, his face starting to screw up, he bit at his bottom lip, trying not to let out the baby tears.
Oh God, don't cry Sammy…
"Hey," Dean strode over, his long legs taking him to his brother in seconds. "Hey now," He bent down, so that his face was level with Sam's. "It's ok."
Sam nodded, his small white incisors clenched so tightly around his lip, as he tried to hold in his sobs.
He's gonna bite through it in a minute. Dean thought. And I'm got gonna take him to A and E.
Again.
"Come on," he placed his hand on his brother's shoulder and tried to squeeze it comfortingly, like Dad did. Sam breathed in heavily. "I've got some cola…" Dean added, hopefully, raising his eye brows in a rascally manner, his little brother looked up, his eyes shining, but composed. "And a Mars Bar…" Sam licked his lips, tears and hair trauma forgotten.
Man, this kid is a sucker for sugar… Dean waited a moment, before sighing, over dramatically, standing and turning away.
"But you don't want that, do ya?" The elder sibling could hear the shocked silence, almost see, in his minds eye, the look of complete horror crossing Sam's face. "I'll guess I'll have to eat it myself…"
The younger bit his lip, tensing his features; he could not allow this monstrosity to happen.
The elder sighed, again, even more over the top than before, and shaking his head began to walk towards the kitchen, with its faded dark green walls.
"Deaaaannnn! Waitttttttttttttttttt!" The aforementioned smirked.
Good old Sam.
The elder composed himself, and turned.
"I want the Mars Bar." The little boy looked up at him, eyes wide and bright. "I'll eat it. It's ok. You don't have to."
He says it like he's doing me a favour. Dean smirked inwardly.
"Thank Gawd!" He wiped his forehead exaggeratedly. "I knew I could count on you Sammy!"
The younger Winchester grinned wildly and all but ran to the kitchen.
"YAH!! MARS BAR! COLA!! YAH!!!" His brother paused for a moment, shaking his head as he watched him go before following.
"Sheesh, it's only a Mars Bar Sammy…" He muttered under his breath. "Dad really shouldn't have introduced you to chocolate…"
Sam was sat on a wooden chair, pulled in close to the old and battered table; an equally old and battered copy of the Encyopedia Britannica had been placed on the seat, underneath a cushion so that the youngest Winchester could reach the table.
He was clapping his palms expectantly on the wood; the rhythm echoing his excited heartbeat. He beamed majestically at his brother as he entered the room.
Dean let out a breath of a laugh, and gently hit his brother on the shoulder for bashing out a beat against the table. It annoyed the hell out of Dad, and he'd kick Dean's arse (figuratively of course) if next time he caught Sam doing it, and to save his own skin, the little kid squealed that Dean had let him get away with it.
Sam let out a chortle and gave Dean a sneaky grin. The elder smirked, before rummaging in the grocery bags for the Mars Bars he had brought. After fishing one out of the paper bag, he poured some of the liquid from the large two litre bottle of cola, into, what he made sure was a clean, ish, glass; all to the sound of 'Why Are We Waiting', which Sam was bellowing out at the very tops of his lungs.
"Here you go kiddo," Dean deposited the snack down in front of his brother who attacked it like he had never seen food before. If the elder Winchester had not moved fast enough, he was sure that his baby brother would have eaten his whole arm too.
Dean all but fell into the chair next to him, leaning on the back legs, his right foot pushed against the table top to stop himself from falling. He began to flick through one of Dad's old car magazines as he listened to his brother chomp and swallow. Very loudly.
He turned the page, the paper old and full of crinkles were Dean had spilt lemonade over them. Dad had not been pleased. The elder sibling skim-read the words he already knew off my heart, before glaring at his brother, eyebrow raised.
"Sam," the younger turned, eyes wide and innocent. "Eat with your mouth closed, 'kay?"
" 'Kay!" Sam smiled before turning back to his meal. Dean shook his head, about to turn back to the magazine, when his eyes landed once more, on Sam's haircut.
Man, what was Dad thinking… I'm never letting him near my hair.
He breathed out through his teeth and began reading an article on-
"Dean?" His head snapped up to look at his little brother.
"Yeah? You finished?" Sam nodded, his drying hair shaking violently. "Rightie-o." The elder Winchester rose, placing the empty chocolate wrapper in the bin and placing the now not so clean glass carefully on the growing mound of dirty cutlery in the sink.
Hmmm, Dean mused. Maybe I could use it for my science project… New and Infectious Diseases 'R Us, or something.
He scratched at the back of his head and turned to see Sam melancholically poking at the corner of his, well, Dad's magazine.
Dean sighed.
Ok, either this kid's metabolism is slower than a statue or faster than bullet. I thought chocolate was meant to make you happy or something?
"What's up?" He said cheerfully, flopping down next to his kid brother as he did so.
"Nothin'. " Was the mumbled reply.
"Come on, your face looks like a rat's behind." Sam scowled menacingly at him. Dean stuck out his tongue. "Well it does." He cuffed his younger sibling playfully around the ear. "What's eating you?"
Sam huffed out a small breath of CO2.
"Why did Dad have to cut my hair?" Dean snorted out the breath of a laugh.
"Well," he scratched at the back of his head. " 'Cause Dad," he paused, thinking. "Dad, being a smart man, obviously doesn't realise he's no artist." Sam's lips broke into a weak, half-hearted smile. "It doesn't look that bad Sammy."
"Yeah, sure Dean. I'm six, not two." That made the elder laugh.
"Ok smart ass, how about I have a go?" Sam stared blankly at him, causing the big brother to roll his eyes. "How about I try to sort out your hair?"
The young boy paused, a slight frown creasing his forehead, deep in concentration. He bit at his lip, thinking gravely about his deliberation, before looking up at his sibling and, beaming widely, nodded vigorously.
" 'Kay."
" 'Kay? Cool," Dean rose, patting the back of his brother's chair. "Sit properly, alright Sammy." The small boy scampered around to sit perfectly in his wooden seat.
"Alrighty then," the elder Winchester mumbled as he dug into the cutlery draw, and pulled out a pair of slightly rusty scissors. "These'll do." He blew on them to loosen the silvery trail of cobwebs.
Hmmm. He glanced over to his little brother. Maybe I should brush his hair first… He nibbled at his bottom lip, and turned, once more shifting through the draw. After a moment or two, and accidentally putting his fingers is something sticky, he pulled out a fork.
Yeah, that'll do to brush Sammy's hair. He nodded and grinned before turning and standing behind his brother, the fork and scissors clutched in his left, non-sticky hand. He placed his implements on the counter.
"Erm, ok Sammy, I'm gonna brush you hair first, to see if, erm, I can do something without cutting it." He paused, staring off slightly into space and biting, once more, at his bottom lip.
"Er, right, so just… Relax." He coughed gently, and wiped his sticky hand in this brother's hair. Well it wouldn't do to have gummed up fingers while trying to operate scissors now, would it?
Dean picked up the fork and spent, five or so minutes trying to brush his brother's hair up into a Mohawk, to little avail. He soon got bored of that.
Hmmm, I guess I am gonna have to cut it. He picked up the scissors and tried to picture what he wanted to do. I've gotta do my best, don't want Sammy to be even more miserable. He puffed out his chest and took a deep breath before making the first cut.
There was a satisfying sound as the blades closed, Dean grinned. It wasn't hard to cut hair at all. He continued to cut carefully, pausing to check his work after every snip.
Dad would be so pleased when he came back, he'd be really proud. Hell, he might even take them out to eat. Dean hoped they'd get to eat in the Diner they'd stopped in on the way into the town, they had the best burgers he had ever tasted, and they were huge. He had only just managed to hold one in his hands. Or maybe Dad would bring a pizza home, or curry fries; maybe he'd bring both. That would be so awesome. They were, after all, his favour-
SNIP.
Oh for the love of-
"Is something wrong Dean?" Sam asked innocently, beginning to turn.
"No! Nothing! Everything's fine Sam-o, fine, fine and dandy… You just… Erm… You just sit back and enjoy the ride." He laughed nervously.
Oh God. Oh Jesus. Oh Holy Mother Of-
"Is it ready yet?" Dean thought of all the curse words he had ever heard and mentally replayed them.
Loudly.
"Errr, no, not yet Sammy, just stay still." He laughed his nervous laugh once more.
Oh Freakin' Hell!
Ok, ok. He breathed. Let's clam down, and let's think about this. He closed his eyes and lowered is pulse rate, it can't be that bad. Really. He opened his eyes again and grimaced. Ok it can be! It can be!
He swallowed. Ok, it can't get any worse.
He took another deep breath, and started cutting once more, trying to even out the problem. Fix what he had done.
SNIP.
He wanted to scream. But there was no time for that, he had to keep working, keep cutting.
Sam smiled happily through the crescendo of snipping and slicing notes.
After ten minutes, Dean froze, mouth slightly open.
What the freakin' hell have I done. He held the scissors in both hands. There wasn't much else he could do… There wasn't that much hair left to work with.
Damn it, he looked better with Dad's haircut. Dean winced as he thought it. He breathed out, trying to formulate a plan, maybe of he gave Sam the other Mars bar and filled him up on Cola, and made him wear that baseball cap Uncle Bobby had got him for his last birthday. Maybe then no one would notice.
Or maybe-
"Wow!" Dean snapped out of his thoughts, he hadn't noticed that little Sam had got up, and walked over to the small but sufficient mirror in the hallway, dragging his chair with him so that he could stand on it and see. "I look so awesome!"
Dean opened his mouth, forehead furrowed with confusion, then closed it again.
My brother's deluded. I can live with that.
"I look just like you Dean!" Sam jumped of the chair and bonded over to his big brother, wrapping his small arms around his frame. The elder Winchester laughed weakly at his brother's excitement.
My hair doesn't look like that! Does it? He ran an uncertain hand through his hair.
"Thank you Dean." Sam beamed up at him.
"That's er, that's no problem Sammy. Any time." Sam's grin widened, and he hugged Dean tighter before bounding off somewhere, probably to do his homework or something, Dean figured.
The elder Winchester breathed out, and ran a hair over his face before going back to the kitchen, replacing the fork and scissors and sweeping up the dark brown hair that was scattered all over the lino floor.
"That's kid sure is somethin' " He muttered to himself, half smiling. "Definitely got something wrong with him."
He shook his head, so engrossed and cheerful that Sam was happy, even if he wasn't really sure why, that he didn't hear Dad's key in the lock. Didn't hear Sam run to meet him. Didn't hear the snatches of conversation.
"DEAN WINCHESTER!" He heard Dad shout though, Dean swallowed. Yep, he heard that.
Present Day
Sam Winchester slouched messily in his chair, his long legs pushed against the dark carpeted floor. His dark brown hair was long, and slightly crazed because he kept running his hands through it.
A melancholy frown was pressed into his now adult, handsome features. His pink, bottom lip stuck out absentmindedly in a pout. The youngest Winchester sat with his chin resting on his hand, reading an old and battered book, in terrible handwriting, and terrible English. He squinted at the small words, as if commanding them to grow in size.
He half stifled at yawn. The jumped, snapping out of his thoughts as a Mars bar and Coke can was placed, rather loudly on the table, by his brother.
"Hey there, Sammy…" Dean said, quietly, a hint of almost sadness in his usually confident voice.
"Hey Dean." Sam grinned and screeched as his brother sat down next to him, opening a can of his own.
"What ya' readin'?" Dean asked before taking a mouthful of the brown, fizzy liquid.
"Oh, er, it's a book Bobby let me, all doom and gloom and the end is nigh." Sam looked over to the elder Winchester, who was nodding thoughtfully.
"Hmmm, homework." Dean put his feet up on the table. Sam scowled, but only slightly. "Come on Sammy-o," he took another gulp. "What's eating you?"
"Nothing Dean," Sam smiled. "I'm fine."
"Well, in that case, if you won't tell me," he placed his can on the table and looked his brother straight in the eye. "And if you keep being glum, I'm just gonna have to cut your hair again…"
Sam laughed gently, and fixed his eyes on his sibling.
"Bring it."
End.