Dean vs Cookie Monster 1/1
Title: Dean vs Cookie Monster
Character: wee!Sam, wee!Dean
Genre: pure and blissful fluff because I promised not to do Deathfic anymore anytime soon :-)
Wordcount: ~1200
A/N: Again blueeyedliz did a wonderful beta. Remaining mistakes are still mine, though. The story is written for the Gen Battle. The prompt was "Sam, Dean and the Cookie Monster". Oh, and Feedback would be nice, if you must know.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. If they were I'd feed them ice cream and Oreos all day. I'd make a miserable mother.
“Dean!” The high pitched voice of his little brother rang loudly in his ears and all he wanted to do was make him shut up. He had some serious thinking to do. And serious thinking was a pretty arduous business if you were an eight year old boy, whose father had just confessed that the monsters in the closet were real. And one of them had killed his Mommy.
Daddy had told him. And now he had gone out to hunt them down, like he was a superhero hidden behind a daddy mask.
Dean liked the idea of his father being a superhero. He had always thought his father was special. Although, right now he didn't want his father to be special. He just wanted him here.
“Wanna play with me?“
The curly head of his little brother was bobbing up and down behind the top of the kitchen counter. Seconds later, big brown eyes peered over the rim of the worn and scratched material of the wooden surface. Bright, curious orbs blinked once, twice, and then the little boy grabbed for the brink and heaved himself up on his toes to get a better look at his big brother, pressing his nose flat against the edge.
“You mopey?” Little Sammy wanted to know, squinting his eyes in a manner that reminded Dean of his father. Scary.
“Do you understand what I'm saying, son?” His father had asked, his eyes merely slits in a pinched and weary face. And Dean had nodded, biting his tongue painfully because he wanted to keep all the questions inside his mouth. He knew, they'd be answered one day but in that moment his father had only put his huge hand on Dean's shoulder and had squeezed. It had hurt, but it had helped, too. Just like biting his tongue had helped not to ask the very first question on his mind: “Why? Why Mom?”
Even though Dean was only eight years old he had the distinct impression, that his father did not have the answers to everything.
“'m not mopey,” Dean stated and avoided looking at Sammy.
“Wanna play with me then?” Sammy asked again and a blue, furry head rose next to his brothers head. “You can be the cookie monster!”
Dean sat up straighter, glaring venomous daggers at the filthy toy that had been his little brother’s constant companion for years now. It had already been torn and old when he had gotten it as a birthday present two years ago. But now it looked like it would fall apart if someone even so much as breathed on it.
Little hands pushed the soft, lifeless limbs closer to Dean's position and as if it was dangerous, Dean jerked away from it, seeing only monster, monster, monster.
One of the things that his dad was hunting and one of the things that had killed his Mom.
“Get this thing off me!” He bellowed sharply.
It was the shock of seeing fear in his little brother's eyes, fear of him, that made Dean whimper.
Frozen on the spot, he eyed the blue monster, its formerly white, googly eyes now rotten grey, the fabric partly ripped and filaments sticking out like worms stretching out of squashy eye sockets.
He could hear heavy breathing and it wasn't his own.
“Sammy?” The little boy’s snotty nose was still hanging over the counter and his eyes were rapidly filling with tears. “Sammy, I'm ...”
But his brother had already turned and was running, little feet trampling and nose sniffing. The stupid monster draggled behind with those freakish large eyes aimed accusingly at Dean who couldn't have felt worse if he had kicked his little brother’s bottom.
Seconds later a door slammed shut and Dean cringed, knowing how much trouble Sammy would have been in if his father had heard. But since his father wasn't home, he had one less thing to worry about. Carefully sliding off the high stool he made his way to the room he shared with Sammy and knocked tentatively against the thin door after standing in front of it for minutes.
“Sammy?” He asked through the closed door. “Can I come in?”
“No!” came the quick retort.
“It's my room, too, you know?”
“I don' care!” Sammy whined and Dean could hear him snuffle. “Go away!”
“Stop snuffling. It'll make your eyes pop out of your head.”
Silence. Sammy was probably busy keeping his eyes shut to keep them from falling out of said head. The image made Dean giggle. He just knew his little brother all too well.
“No, it won't,” Sammy finally said sounding a little bit doubtful and Dean slowly opened the door.
The little boy sat on the bed, Dean's bed, actually, holding his cookie monster close to his chest and eyeing his big brother suspiciously over the ugly thing’s fuzzy head.
“You're mean,” Sammy finally stated matter of factly and his arms were crushing the monster even more.
“I,” Dean begun. “I don't like monsters, that's all.”
This answer didn't seem to lessen Sammy's suspicions and he asked: “Why?”
“They're... monstrous.”
“No shit!” Sammy replied enthusiastically and this earned him an incredulous look from Dean.
“No shit?” He snorted. “Who taught you to swear?”
Sammy grinned. “You! You said it yesterday. I heard.” His lips widened into a huge grin and he looked proud, as if he expected to get praised.
“Dad is so going to kill me,” Dean mumbled and rolled his eyes, while Sammy's face fell faster than a peanut butter sandwich from a breakfast plate. “Don' wanna get you in trouble, really,” He said hastily. “'M Sorry.”
“It's okay, kiddo.” Dean replied, sighing yet strangely honoured. “We can play, now. But I don't wanna be a monster. We could... play something else.”
First, Sammy looked like he wanted to protest but then his curiosity got the better of him. “What?”
“Hm,” Dean pondered. “We could play Superhero?”
“Really?” Sammy's eyes had lit up at the mention of the word Superhero. “Like Scooby Doo?”
“Sure. I save you from the cookie monster,” Dean decided and Sammy looked awed and swiftly put the cookie monster down, like he was already afraid of being attacked by the stuffed animal.
“You can do that?”
“Of course,” Dean nodded firmly and finally sat down next to his little brother, pushing the blue monster aside. “I can protect you from anything, I promise.” His thoughts wandered for just a second, wondering what his father was doing (killing) right at this moment and he felt a surge of protectiveness.
Sammy thought for a long second, then nodded. His bangs were bouncing up and down in sync with the movement and were hiding his eyes where teary residues were still forming little puddles. “Okay,” He finally snuffled and wiped away at his eyes, still sounding a little bit sulky.
But Dean could live with a sulky brother. As long as he could keep his promise, he could live with it.
Character: wee!Sam, wee!Dean
Genre: pure and blissful fluff because I promised not to do Deathfic anymore anytime soon :-)
Wordcount: ~1200
A/N: Again blueeyedliz did a wonderful beta. Remaining mistakes are still mine, though. The story is written for the Gen Battle. The prompt was "Sam, Dean and the Cookie Monster". Oh, and Feedback would be nice, if you must know.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. If they were I'd feed them ice cream and Oreos all day. I'd make a miserable mother.
“Dean!” The high pitched voice of his little brother rang loudly in his ears and all he wanted to do was make him shut up. He had some serious thinking to do. And serious thinking was a pretty arduous business if you were an eight year old boy, whose father had just confessed that the monsters in the closet were real. And one of them had killed his Mommy.
Daddy had told him. And now he had gone out to hunt them down, like he was a superhero hidden behind a daddy mask.
Dean liked the idea of his father being a superhero. He had always thought his father was special. Although, right now he didn't want his father to be special. He just wanted him here.
“Wanna play with me?“
The curly head of his little brother was bobbing up and down behind the top of the kitchen counter. Seconds later, big brown eyes peered over the rim of the worn and scratched material of the wooden surface. Bright, curious orbs blinked once, twice, and then the little boy grabbed for the brink and heaved himself up on his toes to get a better look at his big brother, pressing his nose flat against the edge.
“You mopey?” Little Sammy wanted to know, squinting his eyes in a manner that reminded Dean of his father. Scary.
“Do you understand what I'm saying, son?” His father had asked, his eyes merely slits in a pinched and weary face. And Dean had nodded, biting his tongue painfully because he wanted to keep all the questions inside his mouth. He knew, they'd be answered one day but in that moment his father had only put his huge hand on Dean's shoulder and had squeezed. It had hurt, but it had helped, too. Just like biting his tongue had helped not to ask the very first question on his mind: “Why? Why Mom?”
Even though Dean was only eight years old he had the distinct impression, that his father did not have the answers to everything.
“'m not mopey,” Dean stated and avoided looking at Sammy.
“Wanna play with me then?” Sammy asked again and a blue, furry head rose next to his brothers head. “You can be the cookie monster!”
Dean sat up straighter, glaring venomous daggers at the filthy toy that had been his little brother’s constant companion for years now. It had already been torn and old when he had gotten it as a birthday present two years ago. But now it looked like it would fall apart if someone even so much as breathed on it.
Little hands pushed the soft, lifeless limbs closer to Dean's position and as if it was dangerous, Dean jerked away from it, seeing only monster, monster, monster.
One of the things that his dad was hunting and one of the things that had killed his Mom.
“Get this thing off me!” He bellowed sharply.
It was the shock of seeing fear in his little brother's eyes, fear of him, that made Dean whimper.
Frozen on the spot, he eyed the blue monster, its formerly white, googly eyes now rotten grey, the fabric partly ripped and filaments sticking out like worms stretching out of squashy eye sockets.
He could hear heavy breathing and it wasn't his own.
“Sammy?” The little boy’s snotty nose was still hanging over the counter and his eyes were rapidly filling with tears. “Sammy, I'm ...”
But his brother had already turned and was running, little feet trampling and nose sniffing. The stupid monster draggled behind with those freakish large eyes aimed accusingly at Dean who couldn't have felt worse if he had kicked his little brother’s bottom.
Seconds later a door slammed shut and Dean cringed, knowing how much trouble Sammy would have been in if his father had heard. But since his father wasn't home, he had one less thing to worry about. Carefully sliding off the high stool he made his way to the room he shared with Sammy and knocked tentatively against the thin door after standing in front of it for minutes.
“Sammy?” He asked through the closed door. “Can I come in?”
“No!” came the quick retort.
“It's my room, too, you know?”
“I don' care!” Sammy whined and Dean could hear him snuffle. “Go away!”
“Stop snuffling. It'll make your eyes pop out of your head.”
Silence. Sammy was probably busy keeping his eyes shut to keep them from falling out of said head. The image made Dean giggle. He just knew his little brother all too well.
“No, it won't,” Sammy finally said sounding a little bit doubtful and Dean slowly opened the door.
The little boy sat on the bed, Dean's bed, actually, holding his cookie monster close to his chest and eyeing his big brother suspiciously over the ugly thing’s fuzzy head.
“You're mean,” Sammy finally stated matter of factly and his arms were crushing the monster even more.
“I,” Dean begun. “I don't like monsters, that's all.”
This answer didn't seem to lessen Sammy's suspicions and he asked: “Why?”
“They're... monstrous.”
“No shit!” Sammy replied enthusiastically and this earned him an incredulous look from Dean.
“No shit?” He snorted. “Who taught you to swear?”
Sammy grinned. “You! You said it yesterday. I heard.” His lips widened into a huge grin and he looked proud, as if he expected to get praised.
“Dad is so going to kill me,” Dean mumbled and rolled his eyes, while Sammy's face fell faster than a peanut butter sandwich from a breakfast plate. “Don' wanna get you in trouble, really,” He said hastily. “'M Sorry.”
“It's okay, kiddo.” Dean replied, sighing yet strangely honoured. “We can play, now. But I don't wanna be a monster. We could... play something else.”
First, Sammy looked like he wanted to protest but then his curiosity got the better of him. “What?”
“Hm,” Dean pondered. “We could play Superhero?”
“Really?” Sammy's eyes had lit up at the mention of the word Superhero. “Like Scooby Doo?”
“Sure. I save you from the cookie monster,” Dean decided and Sammy looked awed and swiftly put the cookie monster down, like he was already afraid of being attacked by the stuffed animal.
“You can do that?”
“Of course,” Dean nodded firmly and finally sat down next to his little brother, pushing the blue monster aside. “I can protect you from anything, I promise.” His thoughts wandered for just a second, wondering what his father was doing (killing) right at this moment and he felt a surge of protectiveness.
Sammy thought for a long second, then nodded. His bangs were bouncing up and down in sync with the movement and were hiding his eyes where teary residues were still forming little puddles. “Okay,” He finally snuffled and wiped away at his eyes, still sounding a little bit sulky.
But Dean could live with a sulky brother. As long as he could keep his promise, he could live with it.