How Old Are You Two?
By ChastitySwayy
http://www.geocities.com/chastityswayy/
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything; they belong to Warner Bros. Television Production Inc., Wonderland Sound and Vision, Eric Kripke and Robert Singer. I’m just borrowing them to play with for a couple hours. I promise I’ll give them back in mostly the same condition.
Spoilers for Dead Man’s Blood.
“Here you go Francis.” Dean said, seating himself at the table and pushing a coffee cup towards Sam.
“Shut up Dean.” Sam responded, without even looking up.
“Shut up Dean.” He mimicked. “Is that the best you can come up with?”
Sam snapped his book shut, turning to look at his brother. “Maybe next time I should put the superglue on the mouth of the beer bottle, and glue your stupid mouth shut instead.”
John lowered his paper slightly, peering over the top of it at his sons, an amused smile tugging at his lips.
“Don’t even joke about that. That wasn’t funny dude.”
Sam grinned, realizing he now had the upper hand. “That depends on your point of view.” He pitched his voice higher “Dude, I barely have any skin left on my palm. Whatever will I do? How can I spank the monkey six…”
“You are such a little bitch Sammy.” Dean hissed, poking him in the ribs and cutting him off.
Sam twitched away. “Hey, don’t do that.” Dean’s eyes lit up as he realized that Sam was still ticklish. How had that escaped his notice for the last year? He poked Sam in the ribs again.
John put one hand flat on the table to balance it for what he knew was coming next.
Dean’s hand went towards Sam’s ribs again, and Sam smacked him away, punching him in the arm. “Knock it off Dean!”
Dean got around Sam’s long arms, poking him in the ribs again, snickering. “What’s wrong Sammy? Ticklish?” Dean had the upper hand again.
“Stop calling me Sammy.” Sam swung at Dean’s head with an open palm, smacking him across the side of the head.
“Ok, that’s it.” The table rocked under John’s steadying hand as Dean launched himself at his brother. The two hit the floor cursing and swinging at each other. John set his paper down with a sigh and looked at them. Dean had Sam in a headlock, a strategy he’d perfected when they were teenagers. What he’d forgotten was that his little brother was several inches taller than him now, so he was taken by surprise when Sam wrapped one long arm around him and sucker punched him in the ribs. He let go with a yelp, and Sam grabbed him by the collar, ready to toss him, when John decided it was time to intervene.
“Boys!” He barked. They stopped struggling with each other and looked up at him, wide eyed. “Remind me again, how old are you two?”
They both scrambled to their feet stuttering an apology “Sorry sir.”
John picked his paper back up as they picked up their chairs and sat back down at the table.
“He started it.” Sam muttered.
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
The paper came down so John could look at them again. They stopped, hurriedly picking up book and paper to pretend they weren’t still bickering.
There was silence for awhile before John’s curiosity got the better of him. He set the paper down and looked at them again. “Super glue?” He asked.
“Sam super glued my hand to a beer bottle.” Dean blurted.
“Dean put itching powder in my boxers.”
“Well he changed the station and turned up the radio.”
“He stuck a spoon in my mouth while I was sleeping.”
They started poking at each other again. John cleared his throat, and they stopped and stared at him.
“When we finally find this damn demon, I’m not going to kill him. I’m going to lock him in a room with you two for 24 hours. After that, he’ll kill himself.” John picked the paper back up so they wouldn’t see him smiling. He could hear them whispering back and forth at each other, punctuated by the occasional smack.
It was good to have his boys back.