Disclaimer: There will come a point where my 'no' will stop being funny… that point was like 100 stories ago…
A/N: Yo! Yeah, I dunno, I was trying to find something other than starting with the word 'hey'. I got another one shot for you! Friday's seem to be a good writing day for me because I get through a stressful week of classes, and then before a stressful weekend of studying I like try and relax, and thus… I write. Just as an added note to my few reviewers—you guys DO matter to me! I thank you for your reviews, and as proof I did change up my last story thanks to the amazing Pandora Jazz (who for some ridiculous reason has stuck by me since the beginning!). So I do read what y'all say, and I do take it all into account. So keep the reviews coming, and pass this story onto your friends! Anyways—read on folks!
Title: Switched
Genre: Finally once again got to dabble in some of my awful humor!
Summary: Kind of a what-if story… what would happen if Sam was the older brother, and Dean was the younger? A look back into their childhood and what things may have been like.
Switched
"Dean don't," Sam sighed.
Dean grinned.
"Dean don't."
The smile got bigger.
"Fine, go for it."
Dean leaped as far as his legs could push from the staircase and, predictably, he landed with a solid crash half against the floor and bookcase. For a moment Dean paused, then looked over at Sam who was looking bemused from his position on the couch. Once sure his brother was watching Dean burst into tears.
Sam sighed again and got up exasperated, "This is why I told you not to."
There were some things that Sam knew would come with being the older brother; babysitting, helping pour juice into cups, tying up shoelaces. But Sam had hoped at some point making sure Dean didn't constantly chose the stupid choice in life was something he wouldn't be in charge of. Six years old, apparently, was not Dean's age of realization and the ten-year-old bent down next to him.
"Dean, show me where it hurts," Sam tried to calmly assess any injuries.
"No!" Dean barked turned his tear-stained face away as he gripped his knee, "Go away Sam!"
"Dean, I can't help if you won't tell me," Sam placed a hand on Dean's shoulder.
"I don't need your help," Dean got to his feet at this, and aggressively wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt, "I'm fine."
Sam rolled his eyes but watched critically as Dean walked to the small kitchen area of the house they were in. With only a slight limp to be seen, the older brother figured it wasn't worth it to press the issue; if Dean was seriously hurt, he'd tell him. The incident didn't bode well for the rest of the weekend though, as John had told Sam that he'd been gone for the weekend and though Sam had watched Dean on many occasions before he'd never had to for overnight.
"Listen to your brother Dean," John had given the stern warning before leaving earlier in the morning, "And if I find out you misbehaved you will be finding yourself in your room with a red backside when I get home."
"Okay Dad!" Dean's impish smile had immediately softened the eldest hunter's face and with a hug to his children he was gone.
"What's for dinner Sammy?"Dean questioned from atop the counter.
"Nothing if you don't get off there," Sam frowned.
Dean jumped down onto the nearby chair, sticking his tongue out to his brother as he did so. Sam smiled, pretending he didn't see this as he opened up the cupboard and looked inside.
"Alright Dean, what'll it be? Tuna, spaghetti-o's, macaroni and cheese or cereal?" Sam read from the contents.
"Uhhh," Dean crinkled his forehead before declaring with boisterous enthusiasm, "Cereal!"
Sam laughed, "Okay. What kind?"
Dean's eyes sparkled, "Sugar."
"Dude, the last thing you need is sugar."
Immediate anger flashed in Dean's eyes as he folder his arms across his chest, "You said I could choose!"
"Fine, I'm not arguing with you," Sam pulled out a box of Captain Crunch and poured some into a bowl.
"I can get the milk!" Dean declared grabbing the bowl and jumping down from the chair.
Sam reached for the tin of tuna for himself, realizing that Dean would probably want cereal again for breakfast and there wouldn't be enough if he had a bowl for dinner as well. He had just taken out the can opener when there was a loud clang followed by a splash.
"Ooops."
Turning around Sam saw Dean quickly attempting to hide his overflowing bowl of Captain Crunch; a mixture of milk and small yellow pieces of cereal working their way onto the floor where his spoon currently sat.
"Dean…"Sam struggled to keep a straight face.
"Captain overboard," Dean whispered.
Sam did laugh at this as he threw a nearby cloth at his brother, "Clean it up goofball."
By the time Sam had finished making his food, Dean had haphazardly cleaned up his mess, leaving a sticky spot on both the table and floor that Sam made a mental note to wipe up properly later. Together the Winchester brothers ate their food and Sam listened with feigned interest as Dean spoke with enthusiasm about the latest episode of Superman.
0o0o0
"Dean!"Sam banged loudly on the door of the room he and Dean shared, "Hey buddy, time to wake up!"
It was just past ten-thirty in the morning, and to any outsider it would seem like Dean had been the laziest six-year-old in the USA. On the contrary, Dean had done what John had been cursing since the boy was three years old; he would get up at five-thirty in the morning, wake up the closest adult (or unfortunately in Sam's case, closest thereof), declare it was time for breakfast, and once fed would go back to bed to sleep for as long as possible.
"Mphh,"Dean pulled his blanket up over his head, revealing his bare toes.
"Dude, you're getting way too old to be doing this," Sam sighed, "One day you're going to have a real job and have get up early for it and stay up."
"Go 'way Sam!"
"Dean we have to clean up before Dad gets home,"Sam threw a nearby stuffy directly at Dean's backside, "You promised you'd help last night when I let you have extra ice cream, remember?"
"…no."
"Dean!"Another stuffy.
Angry, Dean flung the covers off, and shot a glare at his brother. Triumphantly, Sam smiled and told Dean to meet him in the living room in five minutes with the threat of a cold water face wash if he went back to sleep. Thankfully it never came to that, as only a few minutes later a still grumpy looking Dean trudged into the living room and flopped down onto the worn couch.
"Alright Dean,"Sam held a piece of paper in his hand, "Dad should be home in only a few hours and I have a list of things that need to get done before he does."
"So?" Dean muttered.
"So, you are going to do your part," Sam looked at the paper, "Now you can choose; you can collect all the dirty laundry and bring it to the laundry room—"
"—I don't want to touch your dirty underwear!" Dean immediately cried out.
"Or," Sam continued, "You can collect all the dirty dishes and put them in the sink and then wipe down the table and counter."
Dean huffed with his arms folded in front of his chest.
"Well?" Sam raised his eyebrows in expectation.
"Can I just stay out of the way?" Dean asked hopefully, "That's what Dad always tell me to do."
"No Dean,"Sam was getting frustrated, "You have to help. Now c'mon. You can collect the dishes and wipe down the table and counter."
"Fiiiiine,"Dean got up and made a point of loudly shuffling his feet towards the kitchen as Sam made his way down the hall to work on the rest of his list.
"And when I say wipe down the counter, I mean with water Dean!" Sam called out.
Dean mocked his brother as he grabbed some plates from the table and slowly brought them to the sink. Sam, meanwhile made quick work of doing the small jobs he knew that his Dad didn't like having to do after a hunt. He hated it when John would leave; always scared that one day he wouldn't come back at all even when it was for a few hours. And so Sam would make sure to try and do something to make it a little bit easier around home for him. Even it was just doing a load of laundry, or making sure the kitchen was tidy or the floor was swept.
"Okay Sammy, I'm done!" the call came just as Sam finished collecting all the dirty clothing from the two bedrooms and the bathroom.
"How are you done already?" Sam carried the laundry basket into the main living area.
Dean stood proudly by the kitchen, "See!"
"Dean…"Sam looked around, "Why is there a plate on the chair?"
"Umm…"
Sam sighed, "And a cup behind the toaster? Dean, you were supposed to put the dishes in the sink!"
"But the sink had the yucky cereal milk in," Dean rationalized.
"Then you clean it out!" Sam grabbed the plate from the chair, "You don't just hide the dishes."
"Well you weren't supposed to look on the chair or behind the toaster or in the microwave!"
Sam paused and glared at Dean as he walked over to the microwave and opened it to reveal two more plates and a bowl. Dean's face turned slightly pink though he refused to break his angry eye contact.
"Did you at least wipe down the counter and table?" Sam finally asked.
"Sorta?"Dean hesitantly answered.
"Dean, how do you sort of wipe it down?"Sam genuinely questioned.
Dean scratched his noise and mumbled nearly inaudibly, "I couldn't find the cloth."
"So you didn't wipe it down?" Sam asked aggravated.
"I did!"
"How?"Sam half laughed, "You just said you couldn't find a cloth."
Dean grinned and held up something that was black and clearly wet, "My sock!"
0o0o0
Sam's head shot up.
He looked around in a dazed stupor and realized quickly he had fallen asleep while researching at the table in the bunker. He'd had the strangest dream… Dean had been the younger brother and he'd been the older one. Shaking his head Sam smiled; thankfully that never happened—the hunter didn't know if he'd be able to handle growing up having to deal with looking out for Dean.
The table was littered with papers, beer bottles half drank and an old pizza box with a quarter of a pizza in it. Sam was just about to go figure out where his big brother was when he heard his name called from the stairway to his right.
"Sam!" Dean's eyes were wide and mischievous as he stood several steps from the bottom on the stairway.
"Dean don't,"Sam sighed.
Dean grinned.
The End.