"I do NOT need a babysitter."
Lisa kept her face blank, trying not to show that that had to be the scratchiest, highest pitched, most petulant voice she'd ever heard. Next to her, Sam was having a little harder time hiding his smile.
"Sam's not here to babysit, Sweetie. He's just going to be here in case you need anything."
"Not gonna need anything."
"We might be gone all day." Years of motherhood had given Lisa a practiced edge of persuasive cajoling. "You need to take your medicine on time. And what if you need more orange juice or ginger ale? You don't want to have to go to the kitchen to get them yourself, do you?"
"…no…" The reluctant admittance was pouted out.
"And Sam came here, on his day off, just to spend time with you. You'd like to spend time with Sam, wouldn't you?'
"…yeah…"
"Okay. So you stay bundled up on the couch and watch TV, and let Sam take care of you. All right? Watch some movies together. Or if you feel better, you two can play Xbox. And we'll be back as soon as we can."
She leaned down to plant a kiss on the feverish cheek, patted Sam's arm in gratitude, and picked up her purse.
"Ben? C'mon, I'm ready to go. Aunt Anne is going to be waiting for us."
And on the couch, with a severe summer cold and a badly wrenched ankle, bundled under two blankets and a heating pad, Dean glowered up at his smug little brother.
"Don't need a babysitter." he repeated.
The End.
