A Moment with My Brother

I'm just saying it's weird, that's all...

"I'm just saying it's weird, that's all..."

There's like a nano-second...no, no make that a femto-second lag and then Dean and I snort in alluring, totally non-geeky, sibling unison at Sam who's sitting across the table from us looking adorably offended at our shared hysteria at his sage observation.

"What's so funny?"

He sulks, his earnest face drawing full-on guffaws from the pair of us.

"You are!"

Dean giggles and high fives me as Sam slams his fork down next to his half finished dinner.

"It is weird..."

He spits petulantly and folds his impossibly long arms across his chest as he glowers at first Dean before turning to me. The elder Winchester grins his guaranteed '1000 mega-watt of irritation' grin at his baby brother and I only just manage to get my feet out of the way as Sam's giraffe-long leg kicks crunchily against Dean's too-tardy shin.

"Owhhh!"

He's had worse and we all know that but he's totally in the zone so Dean goes for absolute diva, scoots back his chair and pulls his leg up to rub dramatically at his bruised skin.

"No need to get violent, Samantha!"

He spits back and I see immediately where Sam gets his Oscar-nominated sulkiness from. This hunter could out-cry Halle Berry and would look nearly as pretty in the frock.

Dean's face is a study in offended, petulant annoyance and I say a secret prayer that my new-found and much loved sibling bond with them will not, by association, actually corrupt my pristine deoxyribonucleic acid double helix with their clearly dodgy genes.

"See..."

Sam points his finger accusingly across the expanse of the Bunker's big library table as Dean rolls up the leg of his jeans.

"You're only acting up cause you're mad at me cause you know I'm right...you know you're eating habits are weird...along with most of the rest of your habits."

Sam declares authoritatively but Dean blanks him...level two, maybe three, of his annoyance strategy coming into play...and looks to me. He's looking to recruit me as his noble sidekick in the 'annoy-the-lanky-one' war. Me, Kimosabe!

"Do you think my tibia is fractured, Charlie? I think gigantor busted my leg."

He waggles the offended limb toward me pathetically and I play along cause really...it's just too much fun not to play 'Rile the Winchester' at every opportunity I get.

"Well...it's a bit bowed."

Sam snorts derisively now and rocks back on his chair in that way rangy men do.

"It was always bowed, Shorty. If your legs were straight you'd be 7ft tall."

Dean glares at him and, sensing an advantage, Sam presses on.

"And it is weird to eat all your vegetables, one sort at a time, before you even take a bite of your steak."

"Oh is it now, Samantha..."

Dean's dropped his foot back down now and he's leaning across the table, glowering balefully at his smirking brother and I wanna laugh so hard that I think I might just pee my pants cause they are both so unconsciously alike and so similarly freaking adorable.

"Well, for your information, Professor Pavlov, I'm just saving the best bit till last, that's all. Nothing weird in that."

Dean thumps the table for emphasis and his fork clatters noisily against his plate - the plate from which he ate first every bite of his baked potato, before every green bean, before cutting a single bite of his juicy, best-till-last steak and yeah...now I think about it that is kinda weird.

"And anyhow, Mr Weirdy McWeirdington, at least I don't have a break down if I can't find a pair of socks that match."

Dean grins evilly and Sam pouts dramatically.

"I knew it...Dean, you are a total bitch. You do that on purpose don't ya? Deliberately mess 'em up after I've paired them?"

"Now, now, boys..."

I intervene and to my surprise they both quieten and look expectantly at me. Wow! I am the ringmaster...mistress...to their prancing performing ponies.

And for all this is great fun, I can sense the crack building to the point where violence may ensue and there are way too many weapons in the bunker to trust my wonderfully stupid, testosterone-fueled brothers to not hurt themselves.

"I have pie and ice cream for dessert but neither of you will get any unless you play nice."

I say it in my 'hair-in-a-bun, spectacles-on-the-end-of-my-nose' school-ma'am voice and they both play along, nodding in a pretend shame-faced sorta way as I heft the pie from the end of the table.

"So Sam..."

Reverent hazel eyes look to my soft brown.

"You stop poking fun at you brother's table manners."

Sam nods, biting his lip as he struggles not to laugh as I place his pie before him.

"And you, Dean..."

Huge green eyes, happy with the simple pleasure of kitchen table banter, hold, enfold and embrace mine.

"Don't mess with Sam's laundry. Okay?"

"Yeah, Sis."

Dean smiles as he takes his extra large plate of pie.

And a contented silence, bar from the harmonious sounds of chewing, fills the Bunker.

The Bunker.

My new home that I am coming to love very, very seriously.

Ends