AN: Just a cute little idea that popped into my head. Short and not emotionally meaningful, but darn fun.

Sam made notes for his history class as he sat at the tiny table in the dimly lit kitchen. Behind him, his older brother was humming Eye of the Tiger and doing what Sam could only assume he thought was some sort of dance as he stirred a pot on the stove.

Sam shook his head, going back to his paper.

"Mac a'la Dean." Dean pronounced proudly as he put a plate of Mac n' Cheese in front of his brother. It was orange, instead of yellow, due to the obscene amount of cayenne pepper his brother had put in it, with funyons crushed on top.

Sam looked at the plate for a minute before glancing up at Dean.

"Oh!" Dean turned around, opening the oven. He grabbed a hot dog. "Ow!" He tried to drop it on Sam's plate before it burned a hole through his finger. Sam had to practically fall out of his chair to catch it.

With a flourish, Dean turned off the oven and smiled. "Well?"

Sam chuckled. "As much as I appreciate the effort, Dean, this isn't what I meant when I said I wanted a home cooked meal for dinner."

"What do you mean?" Dean frowned, bringing his own plate to the table. "This is my staple!"

"I don't know, chicken or steak... maybe a vegetable?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You can pay for a steak if you want." He shoveled some of the food in his mouth and Sam watched the realization on his face as it dawned on him what he had done.

Dean ran to the fridge and downed a whole beer, before cracking open another one.

"You need to drink milk." Sam reminded him.

"We don't have milk!" Dean retorted between gulps.

Sam chuckled. "We could just order in."

Dean gave his brother a deeply offended look. "I would rather pour this dinner down my throat and not drink a damn thing for a week before I let my hard labor go to waste." He pushed Sammy's plate closer to his computer. "And baby brother, if I'm going down, I'm taking you with me."

"What like some kind of contest?"

Dean's eyes twinkled mischievously.

"That's real mature."

Dean scooped up almost more than his fork could hold and held it in front of his mouth, mockingly.

Sam picked up his own fork, knowing his brother wasn't going to back down. "First one to puke is the loser."

"I am going to own you." Dean cackled.

Sam scooted his computer out of the way. "Ready?"

"Ready."

"Go!"

•••

John came home to find a regretful Dean draped across the toilet and Sam downing a cup of water. He glanced from his oldest to his youngest for some sort of explanation but Sam waved it off before holding out a plate. "Dinner?"

John took the plate. "Dean's?" He took a smell, his head recoiling back. "How's your stomach lining?" he hollered into the bathroom.

"It's betrayed me." Was all Dean would say. He started heaving again.

John shook his head, putting his plate on the table. "I'll have a hot dog."