It was a Sunday. Golden rays of the sun filtered through the curtains of the little rented apartment that the Winchesters were calling their home. Dean woke up with a smile on his face. It was one of those rare days. Dad was home. Sammy wasn't sick. The fridge was stocked ….and the TV was running all his favorite channels. It was supposed to be an awesome Sunday.

He let out a huge yawn and looked beside him. Sammy was in deep sleep. His little face was buried into the pillow. The wild unruly mop of brown hair made it difficult for Dean to see his face. He smiled fondly and tucked the blanket around his little brother. It was time to get up.

On his way to the bathroom he peeked inside dad's room to find him snoring softly. An old book with black leather binding was lying opened beside him. Dean had seen him underlining it last night and he knew better than to disturb his tired dad.

He crept inside the toilet noiselessly. Standing on tiptoes, he looked into the mirror above the wash basin out of sheer habit.

"Samuel Winchester! You are dead meat!" screamed a voice from inside the toilet and John was shaken from his peaceful slumber. He ran towards the bathroom but stopped in his tracks when he found Dean standing at the door. John had never seen his eldest so mad before. The cause of his anger was clear. There on Dean's face, a moustache has been drawn painstakingly. As painstakingly as chubby little toddler hands with a giant marker could manage.

He thanked his years of practice that prevented him from breaking into a smile. Dean had gone to sleep as a perfect little boy and woke up with a big moustache under his nose.

Dean's face was red and John realized that it was his presence that was preventing a complete outburst.

"Dad….Sammy…." he started but stopped abruptly. Without further glancing at his father, he began marching towards the bedroom where the little culprit was snoring blissfully. Sammy would get his due..he thought.

He was stopped by a hand on his shoulders. Dean looked up to find his dad smiling softly at him.

What happened next was surprising. In a complete un-John like move, he picked up his eldest and shushed him. He hated coddling his sons. But even then everyone needed to be picked up once in a while. This was too big an issue to act otherwise.

The fatherly move broke the barrier in the little boy. He started crying for real. "Everyone is gonna laugh at me dad!" he hiccupped into his father's neck.

"Don't worry Deano! We'll remove it." he murmured encouragingly knowing fully well that black marker inks were impossible to remove….more so from human skin.

The next half an hour was a hectic one. Dean sat on the edge of the tub and John kneeled before him, trying to scrub the moustache away. When they emerged from the toilet, the moustache was some what smudged but still very much visible. The skin below Dean's nose was scrubbed raw.

"I'm never gonna talk to him!" declared Dean with his hands folded to his chest. Sammy had managed to ruin his Sunday morning.

John sighed. Thanks to his youngest he would have grey hairs before his time. He was just thankful that Sammy hadn't drawn on his face. Bobby and Jim would have laughed their heads off.

A little later, Dean began watching TV. But all he could think of was revenge. He was gonna take his revenge on that little monkey. He sat their thinking all sorts of ways in which he could do it. Chewing gum in Sammy's hair….salt in his milk…spiders….

Suddenly something happened. Two little soft hands closed his eyes from behind. "Guess who Deanie?" the tiny voice asked close to his ear.

Dean stilled himself. The moment of his revenge had arrived. He opened his eyes and sternly looked back to find a face full of mischief he knew so well. But something else caught his eye.

Sammy had a moustache too. And crisscross marks all over his baby face. Dean broke out into a laughter.

"Oh my God Sammy!" he asked, "What have you done to your face?"

Instead of getting angry the little boy smiled proudly. "We look like daddy Deanie! We have face hair!" he declared. Without waiting for Dean's answer he ran to his father in the kitchen .

John's eyes widened when it fell on his youngest. Then he started laughing as well.

Within one night both his sons had moustaches of their own. One even had a beard to match. And he had no one to blame but himself. He should have kept the marker beyond the reach of little hands. He picked up his little one and sighed, "What am I gonna do with you?".

Sammy cupped his dad's cheeks with his chubby hands and nodded sagely.

"Don't worry daddy!" he said, "Sammy and Deanie are big boys now."

Standing at the doorways Dean sighed. He had no idea what to do with Sammy's face. He was sure his dad hadn't either, judging by the bewildered he was sporting.

He still wanted revenge . But that would've to wait until Sammy grew up. Right then, the little munchkin was too happy and he didn't want to ruin that.

He would save it for later.