Hunter's Little Helper
AN: Well, I really wanted to do Whumptober this year, but life had other plans. So for now here's sort of the opposite – a fluffy, silly, non-whumpy one-shot. The boys really deserve some more smiles and laughter. Set vaguely in the earlier seasons, but really, this could be anywhere in the series.
Supernatural isn't mine.
Enjoy!
It was hilarious the first time, and it would probably be hilarious the millionth time. But that first one would always hold a special place in Dean's heart.
"Dude," Dean blurted out unnecessarily loudly, shooting up from a rickety kitchenette chair. He quirked an eyebrow in disbelief at his brother, who had just returned to their motel of the week from his morning run.
"Uh, hey." Sam entered the room. He didn't seem to notice Dean's obvious scrutinizing. After closing the door, he crossed the short distance to the table where a water bottle was awaiting him. Sam was dressed in casual sportswear (and when the hell had he picked up sweatpants again?), earbuds hanging loosely from his sweaty neck. He looked fit and healthy about which Dean was pleased – even though he himself preferred enjoying the magic fingers in their current quarters over physical exercise.
There was one more detail in Sam's look that made it impossible for Dean to unglue his eyes from his little brother. How he had missed it earlier when Sam left their motel room was a mystery to him. In his defense, Dean had been half-asleep at the ungodly hour of his freakish little brother's departure, you know, like any normal person would be at frigging six am. Now, though, he was wide awake and staring hard at Sam.
"Dude! Dude!" Dean repeated, wide-eyed, and pointed at Sam's head in a dramatic gesture.
"What?" Sam took a long swig from the bottle, shooting his brother an annoyed glance, then exhaled slowly. "Did I grow a third eye I don't know of? What's wrong with you?"
"Duuuude!" Dean practically yelled again, a smug smile creeping on his face that earned him an irritated scoff. "Sam, is that…" he stammered, enjoying his brother's puzzled look to the fullest. Honestly, Dean was getting way more excited than the situation warranted, but he was in a good mood, sue him. "Is that what I think it is?!"
Sam set the water bottle down, putting his hands on his hips as he faced Dean. "Dude, be more specific."
"Sammy, I—I can't even—"
"What, man?"
To Dean's delight, Sam was getting frustrated. Dean finally closed the distance between them, then – without permission, of course – reached out to touch the top of Sam's sweat-damp hair, a move his little brother didn't manage to dodge in time.
"What the hell, Dean?!"
Dean was barely able to contain the laughter that threatened to bubble out of him any second. This was so good. This was premium blackmail material for the next ten years, at the minimum. It was stupid, and he knew he was being a kid about this, but when exactly had Dean ever had the chance to be a stupid little brat? Exactly. With the sense of humor of an eight-year-old, he grinned at Sam, feeling a levity in his chest that had been missing for a long while. He couldn't hold it in any longer, and a high-pitched snickering sound burst out of him.
And that was the moment realization dawned for Sam, and his face instantly flushed.
"Oh," Sam sighed and swatted Dean's hand away. "That."
"That!" Dean's grin grew wider.
"You weren't supposed to—hey, stop that! Dean, come on!" Sam tried to squirm away and flee across the room, unsuccessfully ducking Dean's grip to his arm. Nuh-uh, Sam wasn't going anywhere. His giant kid brother was strong, but Dean had sparred with him all his life. He knew all of Sam's moves. After a struggle of three seconds, Dean triumphantly held him in place, and Sam surrendered like a good little brother.
"Too late." Dean shot Sam a shit-eating grin, and Sam looked so-not-amused.
"You're never gonna let this go, are you?"
"Nope!" Dean popped the p, then roared with laughter.
"Deeeean!" It was an honest-to-goodness whine. Sam's expression was priceless, a perfect mix of embarrassed and offended.
That helpless, awkward look only made Dean double up with laughter, feeling genuine, unhindered glee well up in his chest. He laughed so hard his eyes watered, and he had to let go of Sam's arm to wipe at his face. He could barely hear Sam's constant complaining and groaning above his own guffaws. His laughter soon bordered on hysterical. The whole thing was just too funny, well, at least it was in his head.
"Sammy," Dean gasped, finally calling his little brother on a – in his view – weird fashion choice, "Why the hell… are there… friggin' BOBBY PINS in your hair?!" His vision was still blurry with tears, and his stomach hurt from laughing, but it was worth it.
Bobby pins.
And he thought he'd seen it all.
Apparently not. Yep, the ridiculous detail Dean had noticed about his little brother today was a pair of crossed, metallic, bronze-colored bobby pins perfectly matching Sam's auburn hair. They were neatly tucked around a stubborn strand in the front that Sam had carefully – wait for it – twisted and then fixed to the side of his head. From the looks of it, the little clips had been put there deliberately, with much care and focus.
Dean had teased his brother a lot about his mop, practically his entire life, but he'd never seen anything like that in Sam's hair. It was clear though that this was not the first time Sam was wearing bobby pins. The little shit must have hidden them well in the past, and today was his first slip-up ever. Dean had to admit to himself that the bobby pins were nicely keeping Sam's glorious mane in check – there were no sweaty stragglers plastered to his forehead, no stringy flicks hanging over his eyes. Totally unobstructed view. So, yes, the bobby pins were probably practical, but…
They made Sam kind of look like an overgrown elf, which made Dean laugh out loud again.
"Deee-ean," Sam moaned, folding his arms across his chest. "Stop it!"
The older brother just didn't get a hold of himself. "I c—can't!"
The laughing fit continued.
And in between bouts of hyena-like cackling, Dean wondered. He'd lived side by side with this dude for decades, and he'd seen him chop off monsters' heads, dig up graves, and shoot the hell out of evil creatures. Sam was a damn fine hunter. And yet, simultaneously, Dean had always known that Sam was a bit of a hipster kid at heart. But this? It was a hoot. The fact that the shiny pieces in Sam's hair had their gruff surrogate father and kickass hunter's name in them didn't make them any more badass. Hunters were fierce, dauntless, gruff personas with an armor of steel. They usually came equipped with combat boots and an arsenal of weapons hidden under layers of flannel saturated with blood, sweat, and grime.
Hunters were warriors. Bobby pins didn't exactly fit in with that image.
"Don't be such an ass, they're functional!" Sam complained. He groused some more, but the slightest twitch of his lips betrayed him.
"And pretty!" Dean cackled.
Now it was all over for Sam – he couldn't stop himself from chuckling, which was enough to set off an avalanche. He finally chimed in with his brother. Sam laughed too, very loudly so, and heartily. He laughed and doubled up and snickered – and wasn't that just the best sound Dean had heard in a long time?
"What's next, a man bun?" Dean asked in between bursts of laughter.
Sam inhaled a huge breath, then got himself in control just enough to shoot back, "Nah, a braid."
And just like that, Dean cracked up again. He pressed both hands to his stomach, feeling dizzy, and hot – sensations he knew all too well – and something else he felt way too rarely, which was… happy.
The whole thing wasn't that funny, to be honest. Outsiders would probably roll their eyes at the brothers behaving like kids. Still, laughing about something so silly and insignificant was fun. Sam and Dean rarely ever had lighthearted moments like these. Prank wars aside, Dean couldn't even remember when they had laughed together like this the last time. Probably before… Dad, maybe even before Stanford. Before a lot of crap.
Any excuse to crank up the mood was welcome. So, this? This was amazing.
The brothers kept laughing for a few more minutes before either of them calmed down again. Breathless and red as a beet, Sam wiped at his eyes, then gave his brother a bright smile. He shook his head as if he couldn't believe they had just laughed themselves to tears about a few bobby pins, of all things. Then, finally under control, he turned to head for the bathroom, apparently intent on removing the decorative clips from his hair.
"Hey," Dean said breathlessly. Still grinning but not laughing like a maniac anymore, he put a hand on Sam's shoulder, which stopped the younger brother in his tracks, just like their hunter training had taught them. "Seriously, Sam, I know you weren't planning on winning a beauty contest today, so what's up with the bridal hairdo?"
Sam looked over his shoulder, still smiling, and once again blushing. "Well… uh, my hair sometimes gets in the way on my runs. With these, um—" he pointed at the clips, "it's easier to handle."
Dean raised his eyebrows, still grinning but a hint of challenge gleaming in his eyes. He'd threatened Sam with clippers before, but now that his little brother had confirmed that his stupidly long hair actually bothered him when running – which, oh, also happened to be an essential part of their job as hunters – Dean just had to bring it up. "Then cut it off."
"No!" Sam immediately called out.
Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Seriously?"
"Yeah, no, it's not a problem on hunts, I swear," Sam said quickly, apparently reading his brother's mind.
"Uh-huh." Dean knew that he wasn't entirely wrong. Sam's hair definitely had the potential to become a problem on hunts. So far, nothing life-threatening had happened, well nothing caused by the girly mop, anyway – otherwise, Dean wouldn't be so calm about this.
Before Dean could say anything else, Sam ducked his head, running a hand through his strands, then sheepishly smiled at Dean. It was the sort of smile that made ice blocks thaw, damned puppy dog eyes on full display. "…and I like it."
Damn.
If that simple statement didn't brighten Dean's features once again. In an instant, all his arguments against his brother's long mop evaporated, and he let out a small huff.
Sam always pretended to be totally indifferent to his looks and that he didn't care about such superficialities at all. Of course, Dean saw right through his little brother. Sam didn't go running for nothing. He did so to stay in shape, and the health nut he was, he even preferred salad over burgers, (which Dean would never understand). He did care about the way he looked. And even if Dean never missed a chance to tease him, he wasn't blind: maybe as much as Dean himself, Sam was blessed with the good looks of a Winchester – without really noticing it, which apparently made him irresistible to girls who dug the puppy-hipster-college-boy-look. But Dean noticed, of course he did. Sam stole more hearts than he would ever consciously realize.
And his stupid, shaggy, long hair? Sam didn't just like it. He loved it.
Too many important life decisions had been taken from him, from both brothers, by pure evil, destiny or whatever. This overgrown, well-groomed mop that wouldn't quite fit in with the gruff hunter image? For once, this was Sam's choice. And his only. It was a part of him. It was rebellion on a small scale – flipping fate the bird, so to say. As much as he teased him, Dean would never take that from his little brother. If brooding emo Sam, who was so hard on himself most of the time (where had he learned that again?), had found a part of himself he truly loved, and that gave him self-confidence, Dean was more than okay with it. And yeah, he'd even give Sam a pass on those ridiculous bobby pins just to see the kid happy.
Naturally, Dean would never admit to this in so many words. They weren't going to have a heart-to-heart about Sam's stupid hair. Ever. Instead, Dean smiled. And yeah, maybe it was one of those rare, genuine smiles that made his eyes twinkle, reserved solely for his little brother.
"Alright, Galadriel, it's your call," he said, lightly smacking Sam's shoulder.
Dean gave himself a pat on the back for his witty comment, smirking at Sam. He could have easily said Legolas instead but decided to go with the female elf just to tickle a signature eye-roll out of Sam. Just as expected, Sam delivered, which made Dean snicker. Of course, Sam would appreciate the reference, even if he was once again the victim of Dean's never-ending jesting. It was just their way of communication. Sam understood just fine what Dean was trying to say, something along the lines of I've got your back, always.
After a heartbeat of feigning annoyance, Sam smiled back. "Damn straight it is, Gimli." I know you do, always.
Before Dean could come up with a snarky remark, the bathroom door was finally shut in his face, Sam disappearing behind it. Dean huffed belatedly – come on, he was only short compared to his abnormally gigantic brother! – but he didn't retort, and instead found himself enjoying the lighthearted banter. He kept his eyes on the closed bathroom door another moment before turning away.
Even left by himself in their motel room, Dean couldn't stop smiling.
The rest of the evening was spent with a rerun of Shaun of the Dead, not-so-healthy pizza, and a six-pack of beer – or three. Sam, freshly out of the shower, and his damp hair loose and shaggy as usual, didn't make an effort to grouse at Dean for his drinking and instead joined in. At some point, Dean declared the movie to be a drinking game. The rules were simple: you had to drink whenever the pub with the fabulous name of Winchester was mentioned or shown, so… naturally, both Sam and Dean were wasted by the end. They ate, drank, and commented on the movie and how the characters had no clue about how to kill zombies, laughing together as if all was right with the world. For once, it was.
Tonight may have been the first time Sam's bobby pins gave the boys a good laugh, but it definitely wouldn't be the last.
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The second time Dean caught Sam with neatly crossed bobby pins in his hair was when the latter was washing goo off his face after a particularly icky hunt. Sam looked almost like a goblin with all that green slime decorating his skin, and the bobby pins completed the fairytale-esque picture. Dean hadn't prepared for the ridiculous sight – and he spilled his beer all over himself from laughing so hard.
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The third time Sam proudly presented his bobby pins was on a hunt in an allegedly haunted gym. Sam, in full athletic attire matching those stupid accessories that kept his fabulous hair out of his face, smiled at Dean with so much confidence in his eyes that Dean consequently tripped over a barbell and faceplanted on the floor.
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The fourth time Dean saw his brother with shiny clips tucked into his hair – haphazardly, for once – was when Sam caught a nasty stomach bug that made him hug the toilet about twenty times in a single day. Naturally, Dean worried a great deal and almost smothered Sam with all his brotherly care. Sure, the clips came in handy in preventing his poor little brother from getting puke into his overly long hair. But even now, Dean couldn't stop himself from grinning at the sight of those stupid bobby pins.
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The fifth time Dean got a peek at the bobby pins was the first time he didn't laugh.
It was also the first time he didn't see them tucked into Sam's hair but held in his hands – the hands that were currently cuffed to a thick pipe behind his back. Dean was situated similarly only a few feet away, squirming uselessly against his restraints while his ass got numb from sitting around on cold concrete. They were being held captive by a clawed SOB that hadn't taken kindly to being hunted down. If they didn't get out of here soon, they would end up as the creature's dessert. For now, though, it was still busy with its first course and had left the brothers to themselves in a ratty basement, confident that there was no way for them to escape after they had been relieved of their weapons.
However, the monster had overlooked something tiny and inconspicuous in Sam's pockets. And that would be its fatal mistake.
Within thirty seconds of blindly fumbling with one of his copper-colored bobby pins, Sam expertly unlocked his own cuffs. Jaw dropped wide open, Dean watched Sam quickly check his chafed wrists and then scramble to his feet. He strolled over to where Dean himself was sitting on the floor, still tied up and waiting to be rescued like a damsel in distress.
"Dude, hurry up!"
Dean got an epic bitch face in response.
His gaze falling to the bobby pin in Sam's hand again, Dean murmured, "Figure this isn't exactly random. You're always carrying them, aren't you?" Maybe there was a hint of impatience in his voice. He'd been frigging cuffed by Leatherface, and Sam was taking his sweet time to free him.
"Yep," was Sam's simple answer as he finally crouched down to help Dean.
Sam didn't currently wear any bobby pins in his hair. He actually almost never did, and okay, that was probably because Dean would never let him hear the end of it. But why Dean had never noticed Sam was carrying those girly clips on their hunts eluded him. He didn't get much time to wonder though. After another few seconds of Sam efficiently working on the cuffs, Dean's hands were free as well.
"About time, Rapunzel," he muttered.
Dammit, those hairpins really did have a purpose other than being pretty, Dean quietly admitted to himself as he massaged his abused wrists. Many ridiculous things had gotten them out of messy hunts and impossible situations before. Paper clips, nails, or even simple cutlery, sure – but hair accessories? Alright, Dean himself had lifted a girl's hair clip once or twice to escape certain death. But he'd never actually brought his own. It only now occurred on him that maybe he should have. And maybe he shouldn't have mocked his brother so much. Under the thick layer of abashment he tried hard not to let show, he felt relief and gratitude wash over him, beyond thankful that Sam was such a geeky kid.
Dean finally got to his feet and dusted off his pants. Then he looked up at his big little brother, who still held the magic bobby pin between his fingers. "Uh," he mumbled, "So… I guess they're good as lock picks, huh?"
"Told you they're functional."
"Smartass."
Dean grumbled some more, but internally, he knew Sam was right. Getting cuffed wasn't exactly rare in their line of work. Getting frisked for weapons or actual lock picks wasn't either. But a tiny bobby pin really was easy to hide, as Sam had just demonstrated. Obviously, they could be kind of useful after all, he had to give his brother that.
Dean pondered his thoughts for another second and finally decided, what the hell, he'd bite the bullet if that's what it took to get out of cuffs faster (because, honestly, that happened way more often to them than he was comfortable with). "Um, you got any more of these?"
Sam huffed and darted at Dean what must have been the most gloating expression the older brother had ever seen. "Sure, Deanna."
This time, Dean took the mocking in stride. The brothers shared a mischievous smile and a quick pat to the shoulder, their silent equivalent of thanks for saving my ass – you're welcome. Sam handed Dean the bobby pin. "Keep it." Dean chuckled, not even hesitating when he pocketed the girly makeshift lock pick. It was an olive branch to end their hair-accessory-induced bickering, one that Dean gladly accepted.
They nodded at each other in perfect sync, switching back to hunter mode within a heartbeat. That's why they were here after all. Just one look of unspoken communication was enough, and they silently made their way up to the monster's lair where they finally ganked the beast and saved the girl within not even five minutes – in true Winchester fashion. With another victorious hunt under their belts, Sam and Dean headed back to their motel.
Later that night, when Dean emerged from the bathroom after a long shower, Sam was sprawled out on his bed, nursing a beer. When Dean looked at his own bed, he found a tiny plastic bag sitting on his pillow.
Dean's eyes widened.
Had Sam really…?
Yep, that's exactly what Sam had done.
Dean stared at the small bag full of shiny, black bobby pins – perfectly matching the Impala's impeccable paint job, Dean absently thought with a smirk but would never ever say aloud, obviously. Of course, Sam would have an ample supply of these nifty little things in all kinds of colors and shapes. And naturally, he'd give Dean the ones that were the least ridiculous.
Speaking of… Sam was still acting the innocent, pretending not to watch Dean's reaction. The brothers only quickly grinned at each other without wasting any words on the gesture, although in secret, Sam giving the bobby pins to Dean nudged something deep inside the older brother's heart. Obviously, Dean couldn't actually use bobby pins in his short hair. And hey, he wasn't a girl like his brother. But aside from their practical application as hunter's little helpers, the clips were meant to be more symbolic anyway – as a peace offering, an act of friendship, or brotherhood. Whatever.
Dean tried to hide his sappy smile and ignored the warm feeling in his chest. He helped himself to a beer and flopped onto his bed for another zombie movie marathon, stealing glances at his little brother every now and then. Sam was such a geek. But he was Dean's geek, and even when it felt the world was crashing down all around them in their never-ending fight against evil, as long as Sam was with him, Dean always had a reason to smile.
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Years later, Dean would still laugh about his brother's hair accessories every single time he'd stumble upon one of the tiny metallic clips, even though Sam made sure not to use them when it wasn't absolutely necessary. The brothers would still bicker about who wore them better – Sam, that hipster barista at the fancy café, or a random woman they'd see in a movie. They would still enjoy a rare, lighthearted moment full of laughter whenever Sam accidentally spilled all his zillion shiny hairpins all over the bathroom floor of yet another no-tell motel.
But unspoken and yet transparent as water, even Dean would soon come to think of them as a teensy tiny bit cool (but mostly not totally useless, of course).
So, from then on, both Sam and Dean always carried bobby pins in their hunting gear. They didn't talk about that. Never. But even if Dean would never care to admit it out loud, over the years, the silly clips would save their hides many times.
The end.
AN: Thank you for reading! So, were the bobby pins a surprise? ;) Personally, I use them all the time and would totally recommend them to anyone with longer hair. I just thought it's such a Dean thing to make fun of Sam and his hair. I wanted this to be canon-compliant, so I didn't make Sam use hair clips on hunts – but seriously, that would make sense, wouldn't it? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this :)