"Balls!" shouted Bobby into the phone. "So you aren't even on a witch hunt?"
"No, we finished up a salt and burn last night and we were supposed to head your way this morning," Sam said running fingers through his floppy hair as he paced nervously between the two beds. Dean was sitting on the edge of one, beer in hand, feet dangling. The black t-shirt he wore hung past his knees and the sleeves fluttered at his wrists. The large bed just exaggerated his small frame as he sat there quietly, legs kicking, gulping down his drink.
"Alright…okay….sure thing," Sam replied nodding his head. "Thanks Bobby." He put the phone down on the nightstand and turned to face his brother. Dean threw his head back to look up at Sam, doe eyes full of question.
"Can you sit down? I'm about to break my neck here Sasquatch," Dean complained. Sam took a seat on the opposite bed, hands resting on his thighs.
"Bobby wants us to look for hex bags or anything else out of the ordinary in our room and the Impala. He's on his way here now," Sam said, rubbing his hands over his thighs. "You start tearing the room apart…I'm running out to get you something to wear…I'll search the car." Dean chugged the last of his beer and gave Sam a nod. He hopped to his feet as Sam walked out, keys in hand.
About an hour had passed when Sam returned to the room. Drawers were pulled out, clothes had been skewed across beds, books and papers littered the floor.
"I need you to help me move the furniture," Dean said, crawling out from under a bed. "Did you find anything in the Impala?" he asked while brushing himself off.
"Nothing," sighed Sam. "I looked everywhere…even checked underneath." He tossed a shopping bag to Dean. "Get dressed. I'll finish up in here and we'll go get some food." Dean made his way to the bathroom, struggling to step over the piles of clutter blocking his path. "I fucking hate this," he thought after tripping over one of Sam's giant shoes.
Dean returned from the bathroom fully dressed. His sneakers looked a little too big and fastened with velcro instead of laces, his jeans had elastic in the waist and the t-shirt he sported had a picture of Batman across the front.
"Batman?" Dean questioned, eyebrow cocked and freckled nose scrunched up. Sam couldn't help but laugh at the sight before him, between the clothes and that expression.
"You know," Sam chuckled, "…if I didn't know you were you then that might just be the cutest thing I've ever seen." Dean pouted again.
"Let's just go eat," he sighed. "I'm starving."
They walked to a diner just up the street, Dean taking three steps for every one of Sam's. He climbed up in a booth, sitting on his knees for added height. While they both scanned the menu a waitress came for their order. She was a leggy young thing with long auburn curls that bounced when she walked. Dean's eyes lit up when he saw her and he threw her what he thought to be his cocky smile, having forgotten his predicament completely.
"Hey there sweetheart," he said with a wink.
"Aw…that's too cute," she cried, turning to Sam. "Did he learn that from his Dad?" Sam tensed and his brows furrowed as he searched for the right response. He relaxed and forced a smile.
"Guilty," he grinned. "That's my boy," he said, ruffling Dean's hair. Dean smacked his hand away, glaring at him from across the table.
"So, what can I get you boys today?" she asked, still amused.
"Black coffee and your breakfast sampler with a side of sausage," chimed Dean.
"My, doesn't he think he's big-stuff?" she giggled. "And for you?"
"Coffee and a short stack, thanks." She scribbled the order and trotted off returning moments later with their coffee. Dean took one sip and about spit it out, his mouth twisting up in disgust. The waitress bent down to face him, her shirt opening slightly and exposing her breasts.
"Would you like some cream and sugar cutie-pie?" she questioned, pinching his chubby cheek. He gave her a nod, eyes fixated on her chest. Maybe being a kid for a while wouldn't be completely horrible. He still seemed to have quite an effect on women. Sam kicked him from under the table when she walked off.
"Stop it!" he whispered harshly. "That's about ten kinds of wrong." Dean winced and rubbed at the sore spot.
"That hurts a lot more now you know," he sulked. "I'm less than half your size bitch."
"Jerk," Sam sputtered.
After Dean finished mixing about ten packets of sugar into his coffee the waitress was back. She handed them their food and ruffled Dean's hair.
"When you're done I'll bring you a slice of pie, on the house," she said sweetly, "if it's alright with your Daddy." Sam gave her a nod and thanked her. Dean just smiled up at her, his eyes like shimmering emeralds. When she left, he turned his gaze to Sam.
"What?" Sam mumbled, mouth full of food.
"I'm what…four maybe?" Dean questioned. "And I can still get more women than you," he giggled.