9 - Candyman
Sam stared at himself in Bobby's bathroom mirror and sighed heavily. Well, it could've been worse. Had Dean been fully at his correct mental and/or physical age, then the beard, mustache, and thick eyebrows he'd drawn onto Sam's face while Sam was sleeping could have been far more... lewd.
Still, Sam wasn't exactly thrilled and wanted the facial graffiti off as quickly as possible. No way was he walking around for any longer than he already had, which had been all morning.
He had almost convinced himself that he was just being paranoid, that Bobby and Dean and, hell, even Gus weren't actually laughing at him whenever his back was turned.
"Jerks," Sam mumbled, reaching for the soap.
xxXxx
"And then the older, far handsomer brother thrashed the Big Bad Wolf's stupid furry butt and put three silver rounds in his heart and rescued the twelve hot princesses and his dweeby baby brother and rode off in his bitchin' black Impala and they all lived happily ever after."
Bobby smiled down at Dean and the pudgy baby curled on the boy's skinny chest. It had been a long time since Bobby had heard Dean telling stories, even longer since those stories routinely ended with happily-ever-afters. The man knew that John Winchester had done what he thought was best in raising his sons, but Bobby still wondered sometimes if the lifestyle had done more harm than good.
"Dean," the old hunter called, heart nearly melting when the boy looked up at him with a bright, sunny smile, "I'm gonna drive to the hospital and see if my friend in the pharmacy can spare some more painkillers for your brother. Anything you want while I'm out?"
Smile stretching wider, Dean chirped, "Ice cream!" After a brief moment he politely added, "Please, sir."
Kid was all sweetness and charm when he wanted something.
Chuckling, Bobby jammed his ball cap further onto his head and grabbed his wallet and keys off the shelf by the door and stated, "Alright, I'll see what I can do. Look in on Sam in about ten minutes or so. Make sure he hasn't passed out in the can."
"Ok," Dean replied. After a beat, the boy beamed, "Chocolate. Don't forget!"
"Ya, ya," Bobby laughed, "I got your darn ice cream."
xxXxx
"Sammy!"
As soon as he abandoned his efforts to scrub his face and finally exited the bathroom, Sam found himself confronted with a very excited, very small Dean. Despite being sore, despite being mad at Dean about the facial graffiti, Sam couldn't help smiling at his brother. It had been a long time since he'd seen Dean so genuinely happy, so open.
"I'm bored," Dean chirped, practically jogging to keep up with Sam's strides as he meandered towards the living room, "And Gus is sleeping. You wanna play a game with me?"
"Um, sure," Sam answered, carefully lowering himself into the sofa. He spied Gus snoozing sweetly on a thick quilt spread out in front of the television and lowered his voice, "I think Bobby's still got our old Candyland set, if you can reach the shelf in the closet."
Dean pulled a completely insulted bitch-face, which looked alternately disturbing and adorable. "As if, dude," the boy complained, plopping himself down on the other side of the coffee table and producing a worn deck of cards from the hip pocket of his achingly cute little cargo shorts, "Your choices exist only in the poker variety." He produced a large bag of peanut M&Ms from the another pocket--one nearer to his knobby knee--and plopped it down between them. Gauntlet thrown.
Chuckling weakly, Sam countered, "Sorry, man. I figured you were in little kid mode."
Still frowning in utter contempt, Dean answered, "Even as a little kid, I never liked Candyland. I only played 'cuz you did. You had a monster crush on Queen Frostine."
"I did not!" Sam squeaked, feeling his face flush despite the assertion... she was pretty, ok?
The boy was having fun now, shuffling the cards as he laughed, "You sure as hell did. Never wanted to finish the rest of the game once you got into her neck of the woods. You'd start, like, fantasizing or something weird, getting all dewey-eyed and lost in your own head. It was sad, really. And kinda disturbing. I always had to make sure to give you a bit of alone time afterwards, if you know what I mean."
Sam turned even redder, complaining, "Just shut up and deal, jerk."
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So, first day of classes. Boo. Reviews will probably make me less depressed... :)
