One Day When I'm Big

[nightspear]

Title: One Day When I’m Big

Rating: PG

Disclaimer:  Nothing you recognize is mine.  I gain nothing of materialistic value from this.

Pairings: Gen

Summary:  "No, screw that.  We settle this the old-fashioned way."  Light-hearted Wee!chester one-shot inspired by “Heart.”

 

XXXXXXXXXX

 

“Why do you always get to sit in the front?” Sam complained as he climbed into the back seat.

 

“Because I’m not a little bitch,” Dean told him casually.

 

“Dean!” their dad rebuked from the driver’s seat.  “Watch your language.”

 

“Sorry.”  Sam knew he wasn’t, though, because Dean smirked at him in the rearview mirror.  Sam stuck out his tongue in response.  “Because I’m not little,” Dean amended.

 

“Boys...” Dad warned tiredly.

 

Sam stewed silently during the ten-minute drive to the motel, biding his time.  When the car stopped, he ran out ahead of both his brother and father.  “I call first shower!” he shouted as he reached the door.

 

His plan was debunked when he realized he didn’t have the key anyway, and Dean was bigger, so he managed to squeeze in the door first when their dad opened it.  “First man in gets the bathroom first!” he called, shooting a smug smile back at Sam as he did.

 

Later that night, Dean hogged all the covers, and it was cold.  Since Sam was smaller, it was hard to yank them away.  He grimaced and thought it should really be easier than that to pull something away from a person who was sleeping and not even awake or trying to hold on.  And then he realized Dean actually was awake and trying to hold on.  And grinning at him in the dark.

 

“You’re such a jerk,” Sam whispered with a shiver, kicking hard.  He hit his brother somewhere that felt like a shin.

 

“Ow, Sammy!” Dean yelped, and their dad shifted in his sleep.  Both of them froze at the same time, and when no other sounds came from the other bed, Dean kicked him back.  He bit back his own yelp, because whatever Dean said, he wasn’t a little bitch.

 

“I hate you,” he whispered, scowling.

 

“That’s harsh,” Dean replied quietly, sounding amused, which just made Sam scowl harder.  “You been saving that one for a long time?”

 

“Shut up.”  Dean giggled this time.  “Dude, you’re giggling,” Sam said.

 

“Am not,” Dean denied, highly affronted.  “That wasn’t a giggle.”

 

“Oh yeah?  Then what was it?”

 

“It was a manly expression of—”

 

He was interrupted by, “Can’t you boys be quiet for five minutes?”

 

“Sorry, Dad,” they chorused, and they shut up.

 

Sam felt guilty for waking Dad up and had counted to four minutes and twenty-seven seconds when Dean poked him in the ribs and said, “You pissed him off.”

 

Forgetting to be quiet, he poked Dean back and said, “Nuh uh, you did!”

 

Which made their dad mutter something like “God help me.”  Sam caught Dean’s eye, and they both giggled this time, until Dean dumped all the blankets on Sam’s head, making him squeak in protest.

 

“Don’t want you getting cold,” Dean whispered, though his serious face wasn’t fooling Sam any.  “You’re too little to freeze.”  And Sam couldn’t think of anything to say to that that wouldn’t make him sound like a baby, so he huffed and straightened the blankets, rolling over so he was facing away from his brother.

 

The next morning, their dad went out early to do research, but before he left, he warned, “I want you two to behave, you hear me?  Sam, listen to your brother.  Dean, no teasing your brother just because you’re bigger.”

 

“Yes, sir,” they said.

 

Dean smirked as soon as the door closed behind him.

 

“Shut up,” Sam said.

 

“I didn’t say anything.”

 

“You were thinking it.”

 

“Right, you’re a mind reader.”

 

“Well, I can tell what you’re thinking.”

 

Dean told him, “It’s okay that you’re the littlest one here, Sammy.  Me and Dad’ll still keep you, even if you are a runt.”

 

“You’re not that much bigger,” Sam snapped, more self-conscious than normal because even Dad had said it.  It just made Dean’s grin grow wider.

 

“You tell yourself that, Sammy.”

 

They’d settled in front of the TV by mid-morning.  Sam said, “I don’t want to watch Godzilla again.”

 

“I don’t know why you don’t like it,” Dean protested.  “This one’s the best one!”

 

“We’ve already watched it, like, a million times.  I’m sick of it.”

 

“Well, I’ve got the remote, so I guess we’re watching it again.  Unless you wanna try and take it from me?”  Dean waggled his eyebrows.

 

Sam frowned.  They both knew he’d never beat Dean at wrestling.  “Dad said not to boss me around just ‘cause you’re bigger.”

 

“Dad’s not here,” Dean pointed out.

 

“I’ll tell.”

 

“You’re gonna squeal on me?”  But Dean considered and said, “Fine.  Tell you what.  Rock-paper-scissors.  Winner gets the remote for the whole rest of the week.”

 

“Okay,” Sam agreed, satisfied, sliding off his perch on the armchair to stand in front of where Dean was sitting. 

 

Dean chuckled, teasing, “Hey, look at that, we’re the same height now.”

 

Sam punched Dean’s arm and insisted, “Come on, let’s go.”

 

“And you say I’m bossy.”

 

“Deeean...”

 

“All right, all right.”

 

One, two, three...

 

“Scissors beats paper,” Dean said with a triumphant grin.  “I win, Sammy.”

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam said, resetting his fist on top of his palm.  “Best out of three.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes but readied himself, too. 

 

One, two, three...

 

“Ah, Sammy.”  Dean heaved a fake sigh.  “Never learn, do you?  Trust me: always start with scissors.  And if you use the same thing twice, I’ll just beat you the same way twice.”

 

“You used scissors twice,” Sam muttered obstinately, but conceded and flopped back to the floor at his brother’s feet to watch Godzilla vs. Mothra (again).  “One day, I’m gonna be bigger than you.  And I’ll beat you at rock-paper-scissors,” he warned.

 

Dean ruffled his hair until he pulled away in annoyance.  “Yeah, right, not in a million years,” he boasted.  “You’d have to be psychic to beat me at this game.  And, dude?  You’re never gonna be bigger than me.  I’m the oldest.  It’s in the handbook.”

 

Sam sighed and leaned back against Dean’s legs.  “Whatever,” he said, trying to sound intimidating, though he suspected it wasn’t working from the way Dean snorted.  “You just wait and see.”

 

Dean laughed and ruffled his hair again.  “Dream on, little brother.”