Dean is nine and Sam is five. John hasn't been home in about a week and a half. Of course by "home," I mean the motel the Winchesters were currently inhabiting. Dean's been sitting on the stiff bed for about five hours straight reading an old comic book he's read about fifteen times already, with his shot gun by his side, ready to shoot if necessary. Sam's been moping around the small suite for the same amount of time; complaining, mostly.
"I'm bored!" Sam whines.
"Shut up!" Dean snaps, glancing at little Sammy from over the top of the book before continuing the epic journey of the comic he's experiencing again. He always wishes that the outcome would be different by the time he got to the end of it than the last time, but it was always the same: the superhero saved the day and kissed the curvy heroine. Dean always flips past that page, disgusted. Superheroes shouldn't kiss girls. That's gross.
"I'm hungry!" Sam moans, using all of his effort to climb on to Dean's bed and get on top of the annoyed nine-year-old. Maybe if he got in Dean's face, he would notice that Sam was upset.
But Dean slaps him away, and snaps "Sammy, leave me alone! I've got work to do!"-if you could call reading a comic 'work'-"Go watch T.V. or something!" Sam pouts angrily and stamps away. Dean looks up from his comic, again, and looks at Sam, again, but this time lingering. Sam's big, green eyes were welling with tears, and, though, he looked very angry, Dean could see that he was just sad. All Sammy wanted was attention from his big brother.
Dean grunted angrily, aggressively slapping the comic closed and throwing it on the bed.
"What'll it be Sammy?" he cooed, forcing a grin on his face as he headed for the miniscule kitchen, Sam trotting behind him "Mac and cheese or cereal?"
With the happiest, biggest smile on his face, displaying ever little tooth in his premature mouth, Sam wraps his stubby arms around Dean waist and squeals, "Cereal!"