Disclaimer: What? They are mine. Well, if you considered loving them as equal to owning them. HA!
Beta: bia1007 (my super wonder sidekick who never know giving up)
Chapter 7
"I'm fine Dean."
"Are you sure?"
Dean could almost hear Sam's eyes roll on the other end of the line.
"Yes Dean! I'm sure, why don't you ask yourself?" Sam asked mockingly. "He's sitting here on my bed…not letting his eyes off me."
Smiling proudly, Dean knew Sam's all right. 'Way to go…me!'
"Okay then…I'm just going to fill out some forms…promise I'll be back for breakfast." Dean looked at his watch, 20 minutes to 9.30h. Perfect timing!
"I'm not five Dean." Again, Sam was rolling his eyes.
"Well, of course you're not…you're three."
"Jerk!"
"Sit tight bitch…don't even move a muscle until we come back."
……………………
"Yeah, yeah!" Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. Despite the mild headache he was having at the moment, he was really feeling a lot better. He looked at the little Dean, who was lying on his tummy across the bed at Sam's feet – drawing with such fervor and humming to himself, looking as carefree as he could ever be - and smiled. That kid had been such a great nurse, taking care of him the whole night. He deserved a reward.
"What do you want for breakfast?" Sam asked, pulling the cell away and turning his eyes in little Dean's direction. He'd been strong enough to lean against the headboard which felt better than lying down on his back – he'd been doing that since the last 24 hours and he felt achy all over.
Dean looked up, thought for a moment and shook his head. "Nah! I'm good!" and as if on cue, his stomach grumbled out loud, making him blush.
Sam chuckled with amusement. Talking on the phone again, he said "Dean, scratch the donuts, bring home pizzas and pies instead."
At the mentioning of the word pie, Dean beamed up – grinning from ear to ear. "Can I have blueberry?"
Sam didn't need to be told, Dean – the bigger Dean - had already made his decision.
"Yes Dean! Blueberry would be just fine." Sam smiled and flipped off the cell. It seemed like some things never changed. He scooted over on the bed, stretching his neck to peek at Dean's drawing. "What's that?" Sam's brows creased as he studied the drawing – nothing but a black box with four circles beneath it.
Neither he nor Dean was a good artist. They both sucked at drawing.
"The Impala." The seven-year-old replied without looking up to Sam. The little guy got so carried away with his task, his tongue was sticking out. Sam chuckled with amusement, seeing how obsessed Dean was with cars though he was only seven.
"It looks like the real one." Sam complimented.
Suddenly Dean looked up – round emerald eyes scrutinizing Sam's face scornfully, almost disbelievingly. Then he snorted "I'm not four ya' know...we both know that's not true," and continued drawing with zeal.
"Wiseass!" Sam huffed, shaking his head. 'Way to go Sam! So much for trying to be Mr. Nice Guy.'
Dean had been drawing since morning – when Sam woke up from his fevered slumber – and stopped only to get Sam a glass of water, or to fluff Sam's pillow when Sam complained of a stiff neck, to give Sam his meds and to tuck the edges of Sam's blanket so no warmth would escape. "You see…I'm fine now, maybe you should get some sleep."
"I'm cool." Dean crumpled his drawing and started on a new one.
"Dean…you're seven and you haven't slept a bit over the last 24 hours." Sam tried reasoning. Dean after all was still a kid, maybe he could sweet talk him into taking a rest. "You might get sick."
The boy shot Sam an accusing glare. "Dude! The last time you got chicken pox I was on sleep strike for a straight 48 hours...this is nothing, not even a record breaker." Dean rolled his eyes and mumbled "Little brothers," before he started scribbling again.
"And dad let you?" Sam almost regretted asking that because he knew he was not going to like the answer. "I should have known…that man, he…"
"Dad freaked out…not much of a help." Dean explained nonchalantly.
"He was such a…" Sam stopped, realizing it wasn't the answer he'd been expecting. "He what?!" His jaw dropped.
"He freaked out, didn't know what to do," Dean rolled onto his back, leaving the half-done drawing to stare at his crayon stained hands. "I mean you were crying and screaming…almost choking, dad just went crazy."
"He did?" Sam sensed something inside him stir. "And you didn't go crazy too?"
"Nah…I'm well trained." Dean rolled back on his tummy and started a war game with his crayons. "You having chicken pox were not as frightening as you having fever seizures."
Sam's brows crooked awkwardly. "I had that too? What was I? Sick prone or something?"
Dean shrugged. "Was?" He snorted and said "Dude! You still are."
"Jerk!"
"Grumpy!"
Dean's response had Sam speechless. He wondered "Weren't you supposed to call me…" but then decided it was best not to mention it. His big brother was still seven after all. And he doubted dad would let Dean say the magic word in the presence of three year old Sammy. Come to think of it, Sam didn't really remember when the jerk-bitch banter started. It just sort of happened.
Looking at Dean, who was now arranging the crayons into piles, Sam realized the kid was getting fuzzier and sluggish. The drawing and the games with the crayons were just a distraction – to keep him from falling asleep. "Hey! Are you sleepy?"
"Why did you think I am? I'm not sleepy," and his yawn betrayed him.
"And I'm Batman." Sam smirked. "You ARE sleepy cranky boy."
"Am not…" Dean yawned again, what he first intended as a glare turned to be droopy eyes looking at Sam in tired gaze.
"Go to sleep Dean," Sam crossed his arms, his voice showing authority. "Don't give me that crap I'm-not-sleepy-I'm-good young man because I'm so not going to buy it."
"You're not dad…you can't tell me what to do." Dean mumbled as he rubbed his eyes groggily.
Sam flung the cover aside, slouched over to Dean and scooped the little guy into his arms. The kid didn't even flinch - a sign Dean was really sleepy despite the denials. "Yes…I'm not and that's why I'm not going to tell you what to do, I'm going to make you do it."
As soon as Sam settled Dean next to him, the young boy immediately snuggled in closer to his thigh and clutched at his shirt – more of making sure that Sam was within reach so he could protect him than to look for protection. Dean was already asleep when he was picked up and by the time he hit the pillow, he began snoring softly as Sam watched – smiling contentedly.
Big or small, Dean was always the protective big brother - a very strong big brother who didn't know how to give up. To think of what happened last night sent shudders down Sam's spine. Dean was more composed and relaxed throughout the ordeal than Sam could ever be and he was only seven.
"You rest now…this time I've gotcha." Sam ran his fingers through Dean's hair and smiled when the little guy moved his head slightly, leaning into his touch.
………………………
Dean shoved his cell phone into his jeans' pocket and turned around to find Sammy twisting and turning a paper plane in the air while his lips trembled in fervent effort to mimic the sound of the motor rumble.
It was such a relief to wake up this morning finding the baby all energetic and so full of life despite the last distressing 24 hours he'd been down with the sickness. Although there was a nagging feeling in his stomach about how rapidly Sammy had recovered, Dean couldn't help but be grateful the kid was all right. In fact Sammy was way too healthy now. An hour ago the boy had had Dean left breathless by chasing after him around the room just because the little kid found it fun to play tag with a grownup.
"Why can't you like cars instead Sammy?" Dean sighed tiredly.
"Cars don't fly." Sammy mumbled, uninterested and uninterrupted.
Dean huffed with disbelief. "You know…I always wondered what was it with you and flying?" Remembering the last time he had been on a flight made him sick. "I seriously believe men were made to walk…not to fly."
"Superman flies."
"I have two things to tell you kiddo," Dean flicked two fingers before Sammy. "One, Superman's not a man, he's a geek…two, he sucks and Batman rules."
Sammy quirked up one brow sarcastically and snorted before he continued flying his paper plane.
"Don't give me that look…we both know Batman's awesome and his Bat Mobil rocks!"
The toddler responded by sticking his tongue out in Dean's direction.
"Aww God! You're such a baby Sammy!" Dean raised his arms and shook his head. Little brothers, they were always a pain-in-the-ass. "Guess I should go fill out the forms…then we could head to the diner, buy some pies and pizzas." He roused from Sammy's bedside and put on his leather jacket.
Suddenly Sammy reached out and grappled Dean's jacket, tugging it hard. "Daddy's…"
"Wait Sammy…I'm not…" Something stirred inside Dean, clenching his stomach into a tight scrunch.
"Same like daddy." Sammy rubbed the leather with his thumb, almost lovingly. Then he wrapped himself with Dean's jacket, indulging in its warmth. "You smell like daddy."
The little boy's gesture caused Dean's eyes to start burning with unshed tears. He didn't know what to do and he was at a loss for words. For Sammy dad was very much alive. How could he explain that dad was not there anymore?
"You miss daddy huh kiddo?" Dean hugged his baby brother, carding his fingers through the shaggy brown hair. The little boy nodded eagerly. Dean pulled Sammy away from him and studied the baby's face "Tell ya a secret…I miss him too."
Realizing he couldn't look the kid in the eyes without shedding a tear, Dean turned away and said "I think I better go fix the papers now...bet our other versions are starving at the motel." He walked to the door, tossed little Sammy a pitiful glance over his shoulder before saying "I'll be back soon," and left the room.
Sammy watched Dean leave with confusion. But his confusion didn't last for long when he found a new way to make his cereal bowl from his breakfast – which Dean had spooned into his mouth and made him eat by mimicking the choo choo sound of a train - useful.
The three-year-old was so engrossed in his made up world, Sammy didn't see it when the door cracked open and a dark shadow lurked into his room, making its way towards his bed – throwing its two dimensional figures from wall to wall where the light touched. When it finally reached the baby's cot, the shadow materialized into a man, Dean. "Hey there Sammy."
Sammy looked up and grinned. "We can go?"
"No…not yet, have one more thing to do." Dean's duplicate smiled grimly. He brushed Sammy's bangs off his forehead and slightly squeezed the little boy's neck. The baby yawned, eyes becoming heavy and droopy all out of the blue. Then the Dean pressed Sammy's chest with his palm, feeling for the heartbeat.
"Kid, you have one strong heart there." Dean smiled grimly.
"Deannie sayed there's horsie in der…" Sammy giggled. "It runned and runned…never stop," the little boys was happy to share the story Dean had told him each time he tucked him to bed every night.
"Horsie? Mind if I take a look at it?" as the fake Dean spoke, his hand on Sammy's chest dematerialized into dark shadow again. The shadow that now looked like tree branches penetrated into Sammy's chest causing the little one to start choking and to cough violently.
The little one's breath hitched and his body trembled with such vigor he shook the whole cot with him. Tears streamed down his cheek as he choked and coughed. The cereal bowl he was holding fell onto the bed as his hands went limp, dangling at his sides.
After the Dean's shadowy limbs had made its way into Sammy's body, it materialized into a solid hand again. The transformation caused the three-year-old to start screaming – the pain was excruciating – but Dean used his other hand to smother the kid's mouth and made a shushing sound. "Now…now, we don't want to get your daddy running for you now do we?"
With a hand clasped over his mouth, Sammy's scream came out as muffled sobs. His big brown eyes widened in horror – and in pain – as he looked at the man, pleading for mercy.
"Now, where's the horsie…" Dean sneered as he watched Sammy's face change color - his skin a milky white and his lips a deadly dull shade of blue. The kid's gasps for air didn't stop him from digging in Sammy's chest instead he gripped at the baby's thumping heart and snickered "Ah! Here it is…wow! That's one good horsie little one."
While digging around in Sammy's chest, a faint white gleam shined from the tot's inside and flowed through Dean's intruding hand, going straight into his body, making him glow as well. While the gleam in the baby started to fade, he started to beam brightly.
"Ahhh…that was really one satisfying horsie…" the hand transformed into a shadow again and was pulled out from Sammy's chest. The kid stopped choking and coughing in an instant. Color returned to his face and lips and his breath evened out.
"Thanks kid…you fed me well." Dean licked his fingers greedily, eating away the remaining delicacies – food for the soul– that he had harnessed from Sammy's heart. "Now…" he put his other hand on Sammy's head and told him "Go to sleep and you'll forget this ever happened."
As if he was casted with a spell, Sammy's eyes dropped and he fell limply to the bed. Soft snores accompanied the little one's tiny puff of breath as he started his way down to dreamland.
The evil Dean cackled cruelly and patted Sammy's head before he dematerialized into a shadow again. "I'll come again boy…your horsie tasted real good I'll come back for more," it whispered before sneaking away the same way he had came into the room.
"Deannie…" Sammy mumbled in his sleep as a lone tear was shed. His dream had just manifested itself into a horrifying nightmare.
…………………………………
Sam flipped through the channels and cringed with disgust at the soap dramas on TV. A motel with no cable TV, great! He tossed the remote and swung his legs off the bed, intending to get a drink from the fridge. He hissed an irritated "damn…" as he practically had to drag himself out of bed. His limbs felt awfully heavy, like they refused to cooperate with his mind.
Tossing a glance over his shoulder – at his big brother, little Dean, sleeping right next to him – Sam contemplated on waking him because he was feeling like crap but decided to let Dean sleep. The boy had been through a rough night looking out for him, Sam just didn't have the heart to disturb his sleep.
He got up only to wobble on his feet and feel his knees buckling under him. His heart started pounding so frantically and he had to catch his breath when he felt his lung was deprived of oxygen. "Son of a…" Sam groaned, clutching at his chest. It was tight and cramped, as if somebody was holding his heart in a tight grip, almost deadly.
Sam wheezed, trying to get air into his oppressed lungs. Whatever was happening to him, it was sucking the life out of him. He thought he was dying. Just as his vision started to black out, the pressure in his chest faded away, the pounding stopped and his breathing returned to normal.
Sam looked around, half expecting to see a life-force sucking monster somewhere in the room or at least something that might have caused allergies and triggered anaphylactic reactions in him. But so far that he remembered, he had no allergies to anything, except to Dean's unwashed socks, well maybe his too – those never caused him to hyperventilate though.
"Sammy?"
Sam looked up to little Dean – who was rubbing his eyes, tired from sleep – and shook his head. "Go back to sleep Dean…it's just a nightmare."
"You're too old for nightmare aren't you?" Dean huffed and went back to sleep, leaving Sam utterly speechless and baffled over what had just happened to him.
"What the hell?"
……………………………
Dean was strolling down the aisle – heading towards Sammy's room – when he felt something swoosh right next to him, like some kind of hot air or something. But he paid no attention to it, thinking it was just all in his head. He was exhausted from the sleep deprivation after all. He finished the last of his coffee from his cup and tossed it into the bin.
"Hey Dean!" Dean turned around and smiled seeing Steve coming towards him in a surgery scrub.
"Hey! What's up?" Dean asked, a little curious seeing how Steve was annoyed with the unseen stains on his hand – he was rubbing at them with such vigor Dean thought Steve's going to peel off his skin. From the look of it, the young doc might have just finished a surgery. "Stubborn stain?"
"Nah…just opened a kid's chest for a heart disease…not a fun thing to do."
Dean cringed at how normal Steve made it sound. "It still gets to you huh?"
"Yeah! Will always …" Steve shrugged and dumped the washcloth into the bin. He turned to Dean and flashed him a bright smile. "So, you're heading off huh?"
"Yeah, couldn't wait to get out," Dean raised his brows, exaggerating his excitement. "You think Sammy's going to be all right?" He wanted confirmation.
Steve nodded with assurance. "So far the kids who had recovered from the sickness were never brought back for further treatment and there were no complaints from the parents, so I guess he's all right." He smiled. It was always hard to deal with worried parents, but dealing with Dean was quite easy, at least for him. He just found out that an orderly had sworn never again to get into the same room with Dean.
"But if anything ever turns up…you have my number, just look me up and I'll be glad to help." Steve knew how a parent would feel. He was a dad too.
"Okay…I'll make sure to do that." Dean's lips curled.
"Hey! I don't see your eldest anywhere…or your brother Sam," Steve looked around. He might not have the time to hang around in the ward so much, but a guy like Sam wouldn't be hard to notice, especially when there were young female interns on duty. They would have their eyes glued on Sam – like they were doing right now as they walked past Dean - if he was here. The words about handsome hunk scouring the ward looking after cute sick boys would spread around and Steve would know. 'Crap! He might have spent too much time around with the moms'.
"Oh…they're at the motel, my other son…he has a very low immune," Dean was quick with the reasons. "Gets sick often…place like this could trigger pneumonia, Sam's looking after him."
"Motel?" Steve was quicker. Guess he was so used to gossiping trivial matters got through to him like a light through glass.
Dean bit his lower lip, cussing for his slip of tongue. "We're on our way to my parents' house…you know, a stupid family gathering families always have once in a year and it's compulsory for all to attend?" He hoped Steve would buy his story.
"Ahah!" Steve smiled sympathetically. "Had one myself last month…don't think I'll ever go again next year!"
Dean snorted. He never got along really well with social gathering either. "Hey, thanks for everything dude…I owe you."
Steve shook his head. "A life could never be owed man…it's a gift from God."
"A true believer I see."
"Why so serious?" Steve laughed. "Your son saved my son from a bully and I helped treat his little brother's sickness…we're even now, I think."
"Thanks." Dean pushed Sammy's door and stepped inside. The rush of cold stiffed air to his face made him shiver. Something in the room didn't feel right and it caused Dean's heart to skip a beat. His hunter's hunch told him something or someone had been in the room while he was gone. Dean's concern caused Steve to knit his brows.
"What's wrong?" he asked, baffled at how Dean was looking around frantically for something.
Dean dropped his guard and grinned nervously. "Nothing...sometimes hospitals gave me the creeps."
"You're telling me…I've been working here for years, still can't get over the feeling that something's watching me." Steve shuddered involuntarily, making Dean look at him with puzzlement. 'A doctor who is scared to be in a hospital? That's awkward!'
"Great haunting spot huh?"
"Tell me about it." Steve walked towards Sammy's bed and checked the boy's last report. Everything was fine. The kid was all ready to be discharged. Spotting the Superman's bag on the bed, Steve chuckled "Always ready for the go huh?"
"Yeah…" Dean walked over to his little brother – who was now snoring softly in the cot, lost to the world. He scooped Sammy into his arms, careful not to wake him up. The kid must have been tired from the sickness. The baby squirmed in his cradle and nestled himself comfortably in Dean's protective embrace. "I guess this is goodbye?" Dean looked at Steve.
"Hey! As long as you're still in town…we might bump into each other again, so don't say goodbye." Steve shrugged nonchalantly. "After all you should take it easy with the travelling since you have a kid who had just recovered from a terrible flu," he jutted his chin towards little Sammy.
Dean nodded his 'yeah! You're right.'
"So…we'll meet again then," he smiled gratefully. It felt so good to make friends with the locals sometimes instead of asking them around in phony FBI interrogations or splashing them with holy water for safety precautions. Dean reached out a hand towards Steve and was accepted with a firm shake. "Thanks Steve."
"That goes right back at ya." Steve winked.
Dean picked up Sammy's bag and headed for the door. He flashed Steve another thankful smile and left.
Steve remained there – long after Dean and Sammy left - smiled and said "See ya around Dean."
……………………………
"So it was just an ordinary flu huh?" Sam sat on the bed, drying his hair after a long satisfying shower – the first one after a day of practically bathing himself in fevered sweat. He glanced over to the other bed and smiled seeing his little self rolling happily with his big brother watching over him like a hawk.
Dean and Sammy came back earlier in the morning, bringing with them pizzas and pies which young Dean had gladly indulged himself with – the adult Dean had to practically hand wrestle him over the last piece of pie after he'd finished almost all without sharing.
"Yeah...weird though." Dean looked up from the table he was cleaning. He ran assessing eyes over Sam's features. Sam looked as healthy as a horse. No sign that ever had been sick before. "You sure you're feeling okay?"
Sam walked over to the table and sat down across Dean. He assured "I'm okay Dean…never been better," though he was feeling pretty weird himself. Sam was so damn sure he was sick like hell yesterday, almost thought of going to the hospital. "You sure the flu is totally cured?" he asked back.
Tossing a glance over at Sammy, Dean nodded. "The doc said so…even the tests came out positive." He picked up the plates and glasses and brought them to the sink then came back again to wipe the table with a washcloth. "Hey kiddo! Would you mind doing the dishes?" he called over to the seven-year-old.
"It's okay Dean…I'll do the dishes." Sam waved the young boy off and watched him retreat to the bed, joining Sammy in a war game – this time with real toy soldiers Dean had bought for them. Sam couldn't remember playing with real toys throughout their childhood. Every toy he had, Dean had made out of used cereal boxes, newspapers and other recycled materials.
Taking in the bemused look his big brother was holding firm on him, Sam chided "What?"
"You're being nice, that's once in a blue moon…especially with him," Dean tilted his head towards his mini self's direction. Since he'd left Sam in little Dean's protection, he realized Sam's being soft and gentle towards the young boy. Their breakfast had been pretty, no bickering and no pointing at each other's faces saying 'It's his fault!' every time Dean ordered them to behave.
Rolling his eyes, Sam huffed "He needs a break Dean."
Dean smiled seeing the blush on Sam's face. "Are you my brother?"
Grunting irately, Sam went to the sink and started washing the dishes – once in a while sneaking a glance at Dean who was storing the leftovers into the fridge.
"You know what Dean…I never see you this homely since you reached puberty." Sam grinned. It humored him to see Dean doing all the chores – preparing the breakfast table and cleaning it once they finished eating.
"What do you mean?" Dean shot his brother a warning glare, ready to strike if Sam was going to attack.
"No…it's just that it's been long since I last saw you this organized…preparing the breakfast table and all," Sam shook his head with amusement.
"I'm always this organized!"
"Yeah right…who are you? What have you done to my brother?" Sam shot Dean a sarcastic look that was returned with a murderous glare. He dodged just in time before the wet cloth could hit him flat in the face.
Dean tossed the pizza box into the trash and leaned against the sink cabinet – standing side to side with Sam. "Still Sam…something's bothering me," was said in serious tone, putting Sam on attentive mode. No more playing around. Dean's seriousness meant business.
"What?"
"It's too easy…I mean, last night Sammy…you were burning up," thinking of last night made Dean's stomach churn. He could still feel Sammy's scorching skin burning through his palms and the shrilling sound of Sammy's scream still rang in his ears. "His temperature read 104 and almost reaching the point where brain damage could happen."
Sam didn't say a word. He didn't need to be told because he felt the pain. Last night's pain was so excruciating he felt like ripping his skin off. Even young Dean's gentle manhandling caused him terrible agony.
"But the fever dropped so fast…and by morning, he was running all around like he'd never been sick." The statement was punctuated with stress. "I mean, how was that possible?"
"Beat me…I was feeling like hell last night," Sam finally found the will to speak. "I felt like knocking myself out for good so the pain would go away…but it hurt even when I was sleeping," Sam opened up, forgetting the Winchester's motto of sucking up all the pain and never let the other know.
Dean turned to Sam, examining his brother under scrutinizing eyes. It was either Sam so engrossed with his task at hand or he didn't want to escalate things that he seemed to be ignoring Dean's scrutiny.
"You think we should look into it?"
"Sure Dean…but for now, let's just lay low for a while," and Sam waited for Dean to rebuke.
Surprisingly, Dean replied his yes – he sounded so sincere Sam was considering of splashing him with holy water - by saying "Yeah, the kids need a break." 'Sam needs a break.' Looking at the young boys playing on the bed, Dean whispered "Hey Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry…"
"For what?" Sam turned off the tap and looked at Dean.
"For leaving you last night."
"Dean?" Sam put a hand on Dean's forehead – feeling for fever that might caused delirium - only to have it batted away. "What's wrong with you?…you were here the whole night." How could he have been alone? The young Dean was mother-henning him – not leaving his side – all night.
"Was it the same?" Dean asked as he looked up to Sam. Emerald eyes scanned Sam's face, asking for confirmation.
Swallowing dryly, Sam avoided answering the question by asking Dean "It's not like you left on purpose right?" as his heart screamed for him to say 'No Dean, it's not the same.' "You have to."
Dean sighed "Yeah, I had to." It came out barely as a whisper. But both brothers heard it loud and clear. "So Sasquatch," the truce didn't last too long - the gentle big brother now was a fraction of Sam's memory – as Dean turned on his witty mode again.
"Care for a movie?" Dean walked over to get his duffel, rummaged through the content and held up a stack of rented DVDs.
Sam left the kitchenette and joined Dean as his big brother scattered the DVD boxes on the coffee table. "What do you have?" by the time he settled himself on the couch, the little Dean and Sammy had already swarmed around Dean, picking the movie they wanted to watch.
"Holy crap!! Godzilla versus Mothra!!!" young Dean squealed with delight as he snatched one of the DVDs and studied it excitedly. He looked at Sam and his older self with the big round green eyes gleaming with hope.
"I have no objection." Dean held up his hands and made a gesture at Sam.
"Whatever!" Sam held no grudge against Godzilla but he'd been forced to watch it hundreds of times before, he'd grown tired of it. Then again, one more time wouldn't hurt. As Dean put the DVD into the recorder, Sam leaned back and closed his eyes. A sudden crease on the cushion next to him caused him to jump slightly. His eyes opened to find little Sammy creeping onto the couch, nestling himself onto Sam's lap. When the three-year-old looked up to him and grinned, Sam grinned back just the same carefree way.
When Dean hit the 'play' button, Godzilla appeared on the laptop screen and roared - so did Sammy. "Kojira!!" Sammy snarled and made a clawing gesture at his Dean.
"Nuh-uh! You be Mothra Sammy…I'll be Godzilla because I'm the big brother," the seven-year-old snorted and sagged in his pillow that he stacked up against Sam's legs, taking the first row's seat. He swatted big Dean's hand – that tried to mess with his hair – away as he walked past him to sit on the couch next to Sam.
Sam leaned over to Dean and whispered "You're bossy Dean…that thing never changed."
"Shuddup Sammy!" Dean hissed a little too loud.
Little Sammy put a hand on Dean's mouth as he put a finger on his own and blew "Shhh!!" through his puckered lips.
"And you said I'm bossy." Dean grinned at Sam.
"Jerk!"
"Bi…" Dean stopped halfway when Sam wiggled his finger and pointed at the toddler on his lap. "Biscuit!" it was too late to stop anyway.
Sam laughed out loud. It was just his day.
His day didn't last long though. A synchronized "SHHH!" was thrown his way by both little brothers. Sam was stupefied, his face reddened and it was Dean's turn to savor the day.
Dean took a swig at his beer and chuckled "Gosh! I'm so loving this…"
TBC
a/n: Sorry for the late update. My life is being cruel to me, but that's where the fun is right ? :)) Okay now, if you think the chapter's doing its job, tell me or I'll think it was lame. I kid! :D Thanks for the amazing feedbacks on the last chapters, the reviews and the adding to fav and alert lists. Everything was just awesome! I really couldn't thank you enough! Hugs you all!! Hope you like this one.