Disclaimer: Supernatural does not belong to me. If it did, there'd be alot more shirtless scenes : )
"Dean, you're snoring!"
Dean scrunched his eyes up, trying to grab hold of the last wisps of sleepiness that were still in his reach.
Five more minutes, please Sammy, just five...more...min-
"Argh!" Dean sat up, clapping his hands to his eye. "What the hell, Sammy?! Why'd you poke me in the eye?!"
Sam leapt back, his face apologetic.
"Dean I'm sorry but you wouldn't shut up! Look, I brought coffee!"
Dean brightened at the thought, but his mood quickly darkened as he caught sight of the time on his mobile.
"Sammy, do you know what time it is?" he growled slowly. Usually Sam would've recognised this as Dean's 'don't-mess-with-me-I-haven't-had-my-coffee' voice, but he was too busy tidying the room up.
"Yeah, it's 7:30. Why?"
"7:30," Dean said, each syllable accompanied by a twitch of his non-sore eye, "In my book, is still night time. Which means sleeping, and snoring, and dreams. Not...pokes in the eye!" Dean fell back with a groan as Sam pulled the string to the blinds, which shot open with a loud 'whirring' noise.
"But Dean, we have to get moving!" Sam insisted, holding Dean's eyes open with his fingers. Dean tried to blink as his eyes started watering painfully.
"Oh, fine!" he yelled, sitting up. Sam sat back with a grin, hands folded behind his back.
"You said you had coffee?"
Sam immediately brightened. He had woken up half an hour ago, craving the holy nectar that determined how the rest of his day would be. CoffeeHappy, perky Sammy. No coffeemood swings and sulky Sammy. So it was in the best interests of everyone that Sam got his daily caffeine intake!
This particular morning had been a little troublesome, Sam had to admit. He'd realised from experience that most people, namely Dean, were still dead to the world at that time. So instead of disturbing Ellen, Sam had slipped (literally...he'd lost the belt) into a pair of the ridiculous clothes Dean had found, grabbed some cash, and was out the door before you could say 'coffee-addict'. There had only been one place that sold the drink within walking distance, and they'd been a little reluctant to sell it to an unsupervised kid. But Sam had given them that smile, you know, the one that's irresistible, and he was soon padding down the street, grinning, two cups of coffee richer.
Sam fetched the now warm, rather than 'I-fink-ah-burnt-ma-tongff hot', and passed it to Dean, who downed it in one gulp. Dean shook his head roughly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
"Ah, that's better. Now, what's the rush, Sammy?"
Sam opened his mouth, then paused, looking slightly confused.
"There...is a reason why you woke me up, isn't there?" Dean asked slowly. Sam blushed and coughed loudly.
"Um...no, not really. But I thought, you know, 'cause we're up and all, we should go for a walk! Or something..."
Dean fought down the urge to throttle his younger brother, and managed to restrain himself. Just.
"Okay, Sammy, here's the deal. You find something to do for an hour. Colour in, play with dolls, pick your nose, whatever. But when that times up, you come and get me and we'll see what we can find out about this fairy problem we have. Meanwhile, I'm gonna try and get what little shut-eye I can."
With that Dean crossed his arms and leant back, eyes closed. Sam studied his brother for a moment, checking to see if he was serious, then left the room, muttering.
"That's so gross. Did you really pick your nose when you were my age? Sick, Dean, more than I needed to know..."
---
"Nothing."
"What?"
"There's nothing, nada, diddly-squat, zero, zip, take your pick. Whatever you wanna call it, Dean, there is nothing even remotely useful in any of the books we've looked at. Face it, we're screwed."
Sam sat back with a defeated sigh, throwing his latest book down on the table. Dean glanced at his serious face and smirked.
"I can't believe you said the word 'diddly'!" he sniggered. Sam rolled his eyes, smiling apologetically at the annoyed people who looked to see what the commotion was. They turned away, a little unnerved by the kid who acted and spoke like an adult.
"Could you try to be serious for a minute here Dean? If we don't find a cure, I might be stuck like this. Forever." Sam pulled despondently at his shirt, which was at least three sizes too big.
Dean tapped his chin thoughtfully, looking around the musty library. Sammy was looking pale and tired; they'd been in here for two hours already, looking non-stop through whatever mythological book they could find for anything in reference to the rogue fairy.
"I have an idea," Dean suddenly said slowly. Sam looked at him, biting back a sarcastic response, and giving in when Dean kept quiet.
"Oh, really? Care to share it with the class?" Sam asked sardonically.
"You gonna give me a detention if I don't?" Dean laughed at his joke, the stopped when he saw Sammy's unsmiling face. "Well, I figured we've been working long enough. Why not take a break?"
"That's your big idea?" Sam asked disbelievingly, but Dean noticed his brother had sat up a little straighter.
Maybe the kid's not such a nerd after all...
"Yeah," Dean grinned encouragingly. "Why not? It'll give our minds a break, we can come back refreshed, more alert."
Sam still looked uncertain, but he hopped down from his chair nonetheless.
"I guess we could take a little break."
---
"Dean, Dean check this out, look at me!"
Sam waved at his big brother impatiently, his calls for attention getting louder as Dean failed to respond. Frowning, Sam climbed down the park's ladder and ran over to his brother, puffing from the exertion.
"Why weren't you looking, Dean?" he asked curiously.
Dean, who had been staring at a couple young single mums, turned to look down into the confused face of his younger brother. Sam had hit another of those mood swings, running around with way too much energy.
"Oh, I was Sammy, I really was," Dean lied sweetly. He gave Sam a little push back in the direction of the playground. "You go show me again anyway. Promise I won't take my eyes off you."
Sam grinned, then took off at a run towards the slide.
Dean watched him go, laughing as his little brother tripped and stumbled with all the grace of a newborn foal. Grown up Sammy isn't much better! I guess some things, like stealth, just come naturally to some, while to others they...well, don't.
"You're good with him. Is he your son?"
Dean turned to look at the young woman who had crept up behind him, unnoticed in the bustle of the playground. She was holding the hand of a small girl, whose face was set in a seemingly permanent frown.
"Oh, no, he's my younger brother," Dean said smoothly. "But, you know, he's such a great kid, I love hanging out with him! I'd want a son like him some day."
Meanwhile, back by the slide, Sam had reached the top of the slide once more, only to realise Dean wasn't watching. Sam frowned as he watched Dean shamelessly flirt with the single mum.
Doesn't he realise how hard this is for me in this body? Well, I'll teach him.
Sam carefully slipped over to the slide's edge, trying to go down as slowly as possible. Suddenly he fell, sliding down the slippery silver surface on his stomach. Squealing, he reached the bottom, checking his body expertly for injuries. Once he'd determined he was all in one piece, Sam ran towards Dean, throwing his arms around the older man's waist.
"Dean, I told you to watch and you didn't, and then I hurt myself!" he wailed, the fake tears seeping out of his scrunched up eyes.
Dean looked down in alarm, feeling the back of his neck go red with embarrassment as the mum looked on in amusement.
"Hang on a sec, I'll fix this and be back with you in a sec," Dean hastily reassured her, before pulling Sam aside.
"Okay, Sammy, where does it hurt?" he asked anxiously.
Sam glared at him, his bunched up fists on his hips, a picture of indignation.
"Nothing, Dean. Do you seriously think I'd hurt myself falling down a slide? Oh, wait, you wouldn't know that's what happened, 'cause you weren't looking!" Sam accused.
Dean was about to apologise, when he fully took in what Sam said.
"Wait, you fell down a slide?" Dean scoffed.
Sam flushed furiously, looking down at his scuffed trainers.
"Whatever, Dean, that's not important. But I'm not gonna stand by and watch you set yourself up for another one night stand if you're not gonna watch me do one measly little thing!" Sam yelled dramatically, punctuating his speech with several arm flourishes.
Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair thoughtfully.
"Okay Sammy, here's the thing. You help me with this, then I'll do whatever you want. We can play on the playground, eat dirt, whatever you say. Deal?"
Sam measured Dean up, then nodded. Dean spat onto his hand and stuck it out, grinning. Sam grimaced, backing away so fast he almost tripped.
"Dean, that's disgusting, get it away from me!"
Dean laughed loudly, wiping his hand on his jeans.
"I guess some things never change. C'mon."
They walked back to the mother and her girl, Sam with a childish grin on his face.
"Hi, my name's Sam, what's yours?" he said as soon as they got within hearing distance of the pair. The mother bent down, one hand stretched out.
"I'm Monica. Nice to meet you, Sam!"
They shook hands, and Dean couldn't help but smile at the way Sam had the lady eating out of his tiny hands.
"This is Dean, my big brother. He's my bestest friend in the whole world, he plays toy cars and monsters with me whenever I want!" Sam said earnestly. Monica laughed, grinning at Dean, who shrugged modestly, as if to say 'what can I say, the kid's adorable!'.
"Well, this is my daughter, Lisa. Lisa, say hello!"
Lisa stared sullenly at Dean, but a small smile appeared on her face as she saw Sam. Sam grinned back, his instinctive good nature kicking in, but something about that smile made him feel uneasy. The feeling increased as Dean pushed him forward gently.
"I have an idea! Sam, why don't you play a game with Lisa on the playground?" Dean suggested jovially.
Sam looked up at Dean, the unbridled terror on his face unseen by Lisa and Monica.
"Sure, but can I have a hug before I go?" Sam asked through gritted teeth, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. Monica let a little coo of adoration as Sam threw his arms around Dean's neck. Dean gave her a thumbs-up sign, trying not to let on that Sam was choking him.
"You owe me so much more than an ice-cream now, Dean!" Sam hissed. Then Lisa was pulling his arm, crying out joyfully.
"C'mon, Sam, let's go play Mums and Dads!"
Dean stood next to Monica, rubbing his neck distractedly. The two watched their respective child, united in a feeling of fellowship that came with the responsibility of childcare.
"Wow, kids these days. Always in such a hurry to grow up."
Monica laughed, then glanced flirtatiously at Dean.
"Here, let me give you my number. We should meet up sometime..."
---
"Ha ha ha ha ha ha!"
"Shuddup, Sammy!" Dean growled, staring fixatedly out the window, so Sam couldn't see the humiliated expression on his face.
"Aw, c'mon Dean, you gotta admit it's pretty funny! I mean, you thought she was flirting with you, and she was really looking for a babysitter!" Sam cracked up laughing, so hard he choked on his ice cream.
Dean glared at him.
Aim for his weakness, Dean...
"You be quiet or I'll take away your dessert," he warned, and Sam immediately fell quiet, pulling the promised bowl of chocolate ice cream (with sprinkles) protectively closer to him.
"Besides, I'd have thought you'd be a much better babysitter, considering how well the two of you got along today!Little Lisa seemed to have a thing for you."
Sam grimaced, licking his spoon and getting a spot of ice cream of his nose. He waved the spoon around self-importantly, and Dean fought the urge to wipe the spot off.
"Don't remind me Dean! That girl has issues," Sam shuddered.
Suddenly a waitress came over, beaming at them. Dean automatically leaned forward, searching her with his eyes. She was extraordinarily pretty, not in a slather-on-the-makeup kind of way; more natural. She was also younger, around Sammy's age...well, the Old Sammy.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dean was interested to see Sammy's eyes widen.
"Uh, no we're fine here," Dean said pleasantly, still watching Sammy, who gulped, eyes fixed on his bowl. The waitress turned to Sam, brightening at the endearing little customer.
"And can I get anything for you?" she cooed, crouching down to Sam's head height. He glanced at her, then Dean, who smiled encouragingly.
"Uh, hi, I'm Sam." He stuck a hand out, then realised it was all sticky, and blushed. She took it anyway, unable to hide her mirth.
"What a gentleman, Sam! There aren't many guys like you left in the world, I must say! I'm Sally."
Sam coughed embarrassedly, running a hand through his hair, then smiled nervously.
"So, Sally, I was wondering, I mean I know we just met, but I was thinking, if you weren't doing anything this weekend...?"
Sam trailed off as Sally laughed, clasping a hand to her chest as her body shook.
"Oh," she cried as she wiped away a tear. "Sir, this boy is absolutely precious! I don't know what you're feeding him, but it's working!" With one last laugh she walked away. Dean glanced over at Sammy, who was sitting there, frozen. Suddenly the younger boy slumped over in his seat, hiding his face in his hands.
"What happened Dean? Why'd she...laugh like that? I mean, you gave me the nod, didn't you? The 'she's interested, go ahead' nod!" Sam peered at his older brother through his fingers. Dean got up and walked around to Sammy's chair, patting the boy on the back.
"Sammy," he said consolingly, "That was a 'yeah, I know she's hot' nod. We really need to work on our sign language! I would never have moved if I thought you would try something like that!" Dean shook his head regretfully, flinching as he replayed the moment over in his head. "But seriously, she's about twenty-two. You're seven. That's illegal in most countries!"
Sam hopped down from his chair, leaving the rest of his ice cream unfinished, to melt despondently in its bowl. Dean followed him, running to catch up.
"I guess it just wasn't our day, huh?" he sighed, pulling Sammy out of the way of an oncoming car. Sam shook himself, brushing his clothes off.
"I guess it wasn't."
---
Sam pulled Dean into the shop. Dean dug his heels into the ground, clawed at the door frame, anything to stop from entering. But Sam had a purpose, and wouldn't give up until he had his way.
"Dean, you have to come! You have the money, and you can help me...with stuff," Sam finished lamely, hoping to appeal to his older brother's better nature.
"Sammy, I don't shop for clothes. Ever." Dean said firmly, shuddering as he peered around the shop's front. Racks and racks of shirts, pants and jumpers lined the walls and floor. It was sickening.
"Aw, c'mon Dean, do you have any idea how uncomfortable these are?" Sam whinged, pulling at his loose top and pants. Dean stared at him, then sighed.
"Fine, Sammy, but you've only got half an hour. Tops."
"Exactly!" Sam cried, running into the store. Dean followed with a groan.
I think I like Big Sammy better. He would never have made me do this.
"We need tops, and pants and shorts and shirts!" Sam cried, waddling around the racks. Dean shifted uncomfortably in his threadbare shoes, old jacket and stained shirt. Things had been so busy lately he hadn't had time to do the washing, and he was regretting it now.
"I think these are your size," he gabbled, grabbing a few tops and shorts and throwing them in his little brother's direction. Sam snatched them up and headed for the change rooms. Dean followed, darting awkward glances around the almost empty store.
"You right in there?" he called after a few minutes of thumps and yelps from Sam's stall.
"Uh, Dean? I think you better come in here," Sam said finally. Dean rolled his eyes, then pushed the unlocked door open.
"What Sammy-" Dean stopped as he took in the mess. Sam's shorts and top were lying discarded on the ground. He had a pair of new shorts on, which Dean noticed fit him quite well, if a little on the large side. The problem was higher; Sam had his arms twisted above his head, the shirt half-on, half-off him.
"What's the problem Sammy?"
Sam turned towards the voice, walking into a wall by accident.
"What do you think, Dean?" he asked sarcastically. "There's a button caught in my hair!"
Dean sniggered as he moved forward to help, eyes screwed up in concentration as he surveyed the damage. Finding the source of the problem, he twisted the strand of brown hair, ignoring Sammy's squeals, until the top came loose, pulling it over Sam's head.
"Well, at least it fits okay. You know, I at least thought I'd be able to trust you to change yourself," Dean added as a last minute jab. Sam glared at him, then grinned.
"Yeah, well, lucky I have you around, isn't it Mum?" he teased. Dean laughed, but he felt a hollow sensation in the pit of his stomach.
Sam watched as his brother left, promising to stay right outside if he was needed. Sam changed into the next top, relieved to see it was button-less, mulling over what had just happened. He had seen Dean's face when he mentioned the 'M' word, upset to see his brother so distressed. He'd have to find a way to cheer Dean up, Sam decided. With that mission in mind, he changed into his normal clothes, and left to purchase something that actually fit him.
AN: Okay, end of chapter four...wow, this is really dragging on, isn't it? This chapter wasn't as good as some of the others, but please don't give up on me, I'm working on the next part! Don't you just want a mini-Sammy? Aw...anyway, thanks to the reviewers, nice to know you like it! Sorry if this one was a bit random...