Fic - Small Packages
Sep. 18th, 2010 09:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zoemathemataTitle: Small Packages
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5100ish - it was the little fic that just wouldn't end!
Summary: written for my![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hc_bingo card for the deaged(mental) square.
A/N: Sequel to Eat Me, Drink Me, where Dean is deaged due to [insert plot contrivance here]. I must confess, this turned into a story more about Sam than Dean and I really didn't see it coming. It kind of got away from me and I'm just happy I finished it.
Sam feels a feather light touch on his shoulder. He doesn’t open his eyes as he swats vaguely at it before going still again. If he doesn’t move, maybe Dean will think he’s still asleep.
He next feels a slightly bolder touch. Maybe a finger? Pressed into his bicep.
“Dean, cut it out,” he grouses. “Sleeping here. And it’s your fucking turn to get breakfast.”
The finger press turns into two hesitant taps.
“No,” grumbles Sam. “I got donuts and coffee yesterday. Your fucking turn,” he repeats.
Silence. Then a quiet rustle and he feels the bed dip slightly.
He cracks an eye and bolts upright at what he sees.
Four year old Dean blinks up at him with wide green eyes.
“Oh. It’s you again,” manages Sam.
Dean smiles and launches himself at Sam, hugging wildly with his short arms.
***
“Whaddya mean ‘relapse?’” barks Bobby.
Sam winces at the volume and pulls the phone away from his ear. “I mean he’s tiny. Again. Tiny sweatpants, tiny socks, tiny tee-shirt.”
The tiny Dean of which he speaks is sitting silently in the rickety chair of the motel room, socked feet sticking out at straight angles, staring at Sam.
“You sure it’s the same thing as before?”
“How many de-aging spells do you know of?” Sam asks. “Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know. Look, I’m pretty sure it’s the same. The clothes shrunk again, and he’s about the same age and still, no talking.”
Dean shimmies off of the chair and then climbs up on the bed next to Sam. Sam smiles and Dean grins back.
“Thought he spoke last time, right before he changed back,” Bobby says.
“He said, ‘kay.’ One syllable does not talking make.”
He hears Bobby sigh, long and drawn out. “I’ll send you the recipe for the drink to change him back.”
“Oh, yeah. Okay, good.”
“You’re gonna change him back right?” questions Bobby at Sam’s tone. “Right?”
“No, yeah. Definitely. It’s just…”
“What?”
“We’re in California,” Sam blurts.
“So?”
“So, I kind of… I need… We’re gonna make a stop first.”
“Sam…”
“Just send me the recipe. I swear I’ll turn him back. Just… give me… I just need three days!” He hangs up before Bobby can say anything else.
He sets the phone down on the nightstand and turns to Dean who is staring solemnly up at him. Large jade eyes, blonde hair sticking up at strange and impossible angles. Unlike before, he seems to remember Sam this time and isn’t afraid.
It was stupid and sentimental but Sam kept some of tiny Dean’s clothes. He digs them out of corner of the Impala’s trunk and brings them in.
“Look, I still have your stuff,” he says conversationally. He doesn’t know how to explain it really, but since Dean is small and doesn’t talk, he feels a strange need to keep up some kind of expositional monologue. Cataloguing his movements and his actions.
If Dean, er, that is big Dean ever found out that he kept a pair of small sneakers, jeans, tee-shirt and jacket, he would kick Sam’s ass.
Little Dean takes the bag, roots through it, and tries desperately to hide the disappointment on his four year old face.
“What?” Sam asks.
Dean shrugs, his shoulder going up and down.
“I have the movies too, they’re on my computer.”
Dean’s whole face lights up when he smiles.
He ripped Monster’s Inc and Finding Nemo onto his laptop and though he pretends it’s because it reminds him fondly of teeny Dean, it’s actually because he likes them. They are strangely soothing and amusing at the same time.
Dean would definitely kick his ass for that.
“I figure we can watch one tonight, yeah?”
Dean nods.
“So let’s pack up, and then we can hit the road.” He hunkers down so he’s eye to eye with Dean. “Do you know what Disneyland is?”
***
Dean’s too little to ride up front so Sam secures him a booster seat the back of the Impala. As he drives, it’s hard not to let his eyes wander to the rearview mirror so he can stare at Dean.
They made a stop at Wal-mart where Sam had a shopping breakthrough, like the last time Dean was small, this time picking up copies of Cars and Toy Story for Dean.
Of course it’s for Dean.
At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself.
He also picked up some coloring books and a stuffed cat that he saw Dean eyeing in the toy section. It’s absurdly fluffy with a pink nose and long, wiry whiskers and Dean’s been clutching it to his chest and petting it absently ever since Sam nodded and said he could get it.
Sadly, since it’s summer, footy pajamas are out of season, but he did manage to pick up a set of pjs done up like a batman outfit. It’s so fucking cute he can’t stand it.
Dean’s going to kill him when he turns back.
It will totally be worth it because the pjs come with a bat utility belt.
Back in the car, with his coloring books on his lap and cat securely tucked beside him, Dean stops doodling every once in a while to stare out the window. His feet kicking aimlessly, banging off the booster seat with irregular thumps. Sam figures if he were a normal parent, the sound would drive him crazy in about ten seconds flat. As it is, he doesn’t say anything.
Unlike other Winchester drives, Sam stops after an hour and a half for Dean to have a bathroom and snack break. Dean catches his hand as they walk across the parking lot into the McDonald’s, fitting his sweaty palm in Sam’s, and Sam doesn’t even mind that he has to stoop a bit for Dean to keep a hold of it.
The young girl at the till looks up at Sam expectantly as he orders his meal and then her gaze turns to Dean.
“What about you, big guy?” she says with a grin. Dean blinks up at her solemnly, stepping back from the counter slightly.
“He’s a little shy,” says Sam as he hunkers down next to Dean.
“You want some nuggets and fries? Maybe a juice?”
Dean seems to ponder this for a moment and then nods. They usually eat their meals in the car, so it’s weird for Sam to have to find a place to sit. Dean’s eyes light up as he sees a section of the restaurant that slightly resembles a boat and he looks up at Sam hopefully.
“Okay, go pick a seat,” Sam says, tipping his head forward and then huffs in laughter as Dean scampers up the set of small stairs that lead onto the ‘boat.’
Dean picks a two-person booth that’s next to a faux aquarium. He presses his sweaty palms and nose flat against the glass as he peers in, eyballing bright, shiny objects. Sam sets out Dean’s nuggets and fries and breaks the lid off the juice and tries not to laugh when Dean tucks in with gusto. It’s so like his big self, and so unlike the last time he was, well, shrunk. Dean doesn’t seem to be shy of Sam at all this time, and is perfectly happy to eat what Sam puts in front of him, go where Sam points and do what Sam says.
It fills Sam with a strange kind of pride but also at times a crippling fear. He’s completely in charge. And they are out in the world. Last time, they were safely ensconced at Bobby’s place, their one little pocket in the world. But now… It’s not the kind of responsibility that Sam’s ever had before. He’s always had Dean to look to. No matter what he did, Dean did it first. Walking, talking, running, jumping, driving, hunting… he’s always had an example before him that he could study and then copy.
He just never realized how much he relied on it. He feels suddenly churlish and embarrassed by his behavior toward Dean at times, wondering if Dean sometimes feels this unsure and is just simply used to covering it up and faking it.
Dean’s little foot kicks him lightly in the kneecap and Sam shakes himself out of his reverie and finds Dean staring at him, fry halfway toward mouth, eyes quizzical.
“Sorry, Dean-o. Spaced out for a bit. Almost done?”
Dean eyes him warily, like he knows Sam is lying but eventually nods and finishes up his fries and juice.
“All right. Let’s go.”
***
Sam has to park what feels like miles away from the front gates of Disneyland. The park opens at eight and Dean seems to do better with early mornings (as Sam learned the hard way after a temper tantrum when he left dinner till seven the night before) and they’re there just as the gate opens.
Dean’s eyes are wide and shiny as he takes in Main Street USA with its shops and bakeries. Fresh pastries are just coming out of the ovens and Sam’s glad he already made sure Dean had a breakfast of an egg on toast and doesn’t feel the need to ply him with sugar and yeast. Dean is perfectly happy to follow as Sam leads him, his tiny hand tucked into Sam’s.
Sam grabs a map on his way in and lets go of Dean’s hand for a moment to unfold it and figure out where they should go first. He figures they have a couple hours until Dean will need a snack break, then maybe a couple more hours till a lunch break. He contemplates going back to the hotel for a nap so they can enjoy the nighttime parade. He just doesn’t think tiny Dean can handle a day that doesn’t end till ten at night without a nap. There’s a Mickey Mouse pyrotechnic show at nine and Sam thinks it will be pretty cool and Dean will love it. If he doesn’t have a melt down from exhaustion by then.
Well, he figures he can play it by ear and see how it goes. If Dean needs a nap they can always crash in the Impala, or go back to the hotel. It might be even better to split the day up and spend the day today, leaving the nighttime attractions until tomorrow.
It’s hard being in charge.
He folds the map up, satisfied that he can get them to Buzz Lightyear’s Adventure, and turns to grab Dean’s hand.
Dean’s gone.
For a heart stopping moment, all he can do is stare at the empty space where Dean’s blonde head was a moment ago. His heart thuds in his chest and he feels sick. Jesus, he could have been snatched and he wouldn’t make a sound. He doesn’t fucking talk. Or what if demons found out about him being miniature and decided this was their chance to get their hands on him? And Sam was just standing there like a fucking idiot trying to figure out the insanely cartooned Disneyland map? Christ almighty, it might not even be demons it could be humans. Pedophiles probably stalk the park just waiting for the chance for some parent to be distracted and then snatch their kid. Sam’s heard horror stories of kids that were missing five minutes and were found already with their clothes changed and hair dyed so that they wouldn’t match the missing description. Even worse are the kids that are never found. Sam’s finding it hard to breathe. Dean can’t take care of himself, he’s so small and he doesn’t know anything about protecting himself. Sam has to help him put his shoes on because he doesn’t even have enough force to push his foot into the heel.
And then he sees Dean.
He’s standing in front of the Carnation Cafe, staring at pictures of Mickey Mouse waffles. He turns around, sees Sam staring at him and smiles, waving his hand floppily.
Sam stalks over, grabs Dean’s shoulder and hunkers down. Dean’s smile immediately disappears and his eyes go wide, lips flat as Sam starts shouting at him.
“You cannot run off like that, do you hear me? You don’t go anywhere without me going with you and you stay close. Do you know what could have happened to you? Do you?” Sam gives Dean’s shoulders a little shake and tears start welling up in Dean’s eyes. “Anything could happen to you. You could get hurt, you could get snatched, you could get killed.”
Fat tears are rolling down Dean’s cheeks but he’s not making a sound. He just stares at Sam wordlessly crying, shaking a little.
“Oh, I… Oh fuck,” Sam breathes, realizing what he must sound like, what he must look like, giant paws gripping Dean’s small shoulder. He takes a couple of deep breaths and forcing his voice to go quieter. “I didn’t mean to yell at you, okay buddy?” He pats Dean ineffectually on the shoulder and Dean continues to cry. “You just… you can’t run off like that, okay? You have to stay close to me so I know where you are.”
Dean’s eyes are screaming an apology at Sam as Dean nods solemnly.
Fucking fantastic. Sam’s ruined Disneyland. Jesus, he’s an idiot. He completely panicked and let his emotions get the better of him. Dean always made taking care of Sam look so easy.
“It’s okay,” Sam soothes, rubbing Dean’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I yelled. I’m not mad.”
Dean eyes him suspiciously.
“I’m not, I swear. I was just really worried about you, but you’re okay and I’m okay and we’ve got a big day ahead of us, okay?”
Dean nods, sniffing up a huge loogey of snot as he does and Sam realizes he doesn’t have any tissue. Sam spots a gift shop and makes a beeline for it.
Which is how Dean ends up in a child harness five minutes later with Sam’s hand firmly around the lead. It always seemed ludicrous to him when he saw kids on leashes before, but now with the secure knowledge that Dean is safely at the end of the rope, Sam feels calm and happy.
Dean doesn’t seem to care at all and in fact thinks it’s great fun to run to the end of the lead and wait for Sam to give it a sharp tug and come racing back to Sam’s side.
Sam’s not sure who having more fun at Disneyland, him or Dean. Dean’s too small for a lot of the more rambunctious rides, and he’s somewhat hesitant at times, preferring to hang back and get a good view of something before going toward it, even with Sam in charge. On an impulse Sam buys them both mouse ear hats, and feels unapologetically happy every time he catches sight of their shadows; his long, lanky one and Dean’s tiny, fragile one, both topped with Mickey ears.
The sun is relentless and after lunch, Dean starts to lag. Sam recognizes all the signs of a tired Dean that haven’t changed with his age regression; clomping steps when he walks, grimly determined eyebrows, churlish lip curl, chin jutting out. Sam makes a unilateral decision that it’s time for a nap back at the hotel and they can come back when it’s cooler and Dean’s had a chance to rest.
In some ways, it’s nice to be in charge of all the decisions. Sam decides Dean needs a rest and so they head back to the hotel. Dean doesn’t argue when Sam says they’re taking a break and will come back later. Dean doesn’t protest that he’s not tired and Sam doesn’t have to stand there and wonder if it’s going to take five minutes of shouting to get Dean to slow down and stop. Instead, Dean nods sleepily and lets Sam carry him out of the park, getting stamped on the hand so they can return. Dean falls asleep in the back of the Impala and only wakes up long enough when they get to the hotel to root around and find his stuffed cat jammed under his pillow before falling into a sweaty toddler sleep.
On the other hand, making all the decisions is lonely, Sam finds. While tiny Dean seems to be relatively compliant, Sam misses the banter, the back and forth, the swapping of lunch and dinner duties. Even picking a hotel was done without their usual, ‘Here?’, ‘Yeah, here looks good’ exchange. The last time Dean got little, Bobby had been around and Sam hadn’t realized how much having another adult around had helped. He feels a sudden pang for his dad, and wonders what it was like for him with two small boys, making all the decisions, being in charge of everything. He feels a twinge for Dean too, who always seems so confident in his decisions, and still, after all this time, feels the need to protect Sam. He wonders if Dean always and only sees him as his little brother. If Dean always looks at Sam and sees a mop-haired six year old trailing behind him desperately with short legs.
It suddenly makes a lot of Dean’s actions toward Sam make a hell of a lot more sense. In his head, he always knew why Dean was protective of him, but staring at Dean’s small chest rising softly with each breath, seeing his hair stick up in sweaty spikes, and watching Dean clutch the stuffed cat close, he suddenly gets it in a way that just wasn’t tangible before.
Sam eventually dozes and he’s not sure for how long. He wakes up to the quiet scribbling of Dean coloring at the small table. As Sam stretches, Dean looks over and smiles. Dean grabs a piece of paper and comes barreling onto the bed, crunching the paper as he climbs up. He presents it to Sam with a flourish.
“For me?” Sam asks and Dean nods enthusiastically.
He looks at the paper and is much better at discerning this picture than he was the last one Dean drew for him. It’s two stickish figures, one short, one tall, both with big, black ears standing under the sun. There’s a big ‘D’ in the corner for his name and a backward ‘S’ at the top. It makes him sad and happy at the same time and for a moment, Sam thinks he might be tearing up. Dean leans into his space, putting his little face right in front of Sam’s eyes, and all Sam can see is wide, worried green looking up at him.
“Thanks, Dean-o, it’s great. I love it.”
Dean seems to relax and melts into Sam, giving him a slightly damp, sweaty hug. Sam hugs him back and has to remind himself to be careful. He can’t bear hug Dean now like he can when he’s big. Not that he gets many chances.
Dean squirms away, wiggling out of Sam’s arms and making his way to the door. Sam frowns until he sees Dean pick up Sam’s gigantic shoes and bring them over to the bed.
“Time to get going, huh?” Sam says, eyebrows raised and Dean bobs his head furiously. “All right. I figure we can head back to the park, grab something to eat, see a few more things and then wait for the fireworks.”
Disneyland is just as busy in the early evening as it was when they left, only now there are far more angry and tired toddlers. Although it ate up a chunk of their day, Sam’s glad he took Dean back to the hotel for a nap. Dean’s in good spirits next to his peers, happy to wander around and ride some of the smaller rides, while other kids are about ready to commit bloody murder.
Sam feels a tug on the leash (which Dean was ridiculously compliant about wearing and seriously, if he could get big Dean on bored with this thing, it would save so many trips to the hospital when they hunt) and stops to see what’s caught Dean’s attention.
Sam should have figured.
Cinderella.
Dean is transfixed by her in her puffy blue dress, white gloves and…
Oh, blonde hair.
From a distance, she does kind of look like Mary. Beautiful, blonde, smiling. And Dean is right at the age where he would still remember her. Cinderella is waving and posing for pictures, never losing the serene princess smile on her face.
Sam hunkers down next to Dean who is toeing his shoes into the ground.
“Do you want to go over and say hello to Cinderella?”
Dean shrugs and doesn’t look up, as though he doesn’t care either way, but then his eyes slip over to Cinderella again. Sam takes that as close to a yes as he’ll get from Dean right now.
“Okay, buddy, let’s go.”
Dean reaches up and slides his hand into Sam’s as Sam leads them over to where the princess is surrounded by a gaggle of awestruck little girls. They wait patiently, Cinderella taking her time to smile and get her photo taken with each girl. Finally, she makes her way through the excited throng and gets to Dean and Sam. She smiles at Dean and he ducks behind Sam’s legs.
“He’s a little shy,” says Sam with a smile and Cinderella crouches down to get on eye level with Dean.
“Hi, what’s your name?”
Dean presses his face into Sam’s jeans and then peeks up through his eyelashes at Cinderella. Sam can’t help but laugh, it’s damn close to the same flirtatious look he uses as a grown-up.
“His name is Dean. He doesn’t talk much.”
Cinderella nods knowingly. She’s probably dealt with her share of recalcitrant children, and god bless her, she only smiles and lowers her voice.
“Are you having fun, Dean?”
Dean creeps out a couple of inches and nods.
“Have you seen my castle yet? It’s a wonderful castle, the most beautiful in the world. I’m very lucky to live there.”
Dean lunges forward suddenly and hugs her, small arms going around her neck. A surprised ‘oh’ escapes her but she hugs him, patting him on the back.
“What a lovely hug, thank you, Dean,” she says quietly and Sam could kiss her for it. Dean pulls away just as quickly, retreating back behind Sam’s legs and Cinderella straightens.
“I’m sure you have, uh, princess stuff to do,” Sam says lamely. “Thank you.”
Cinderella smiles and reaches out one gloved hand to ruffle Dean’s hair, and Sam’s surprised when Dean doesn’t pull away, but only smiles up at her. She moves on to the next children surrounding her and Dean gives no indication of wanting to move, content to watch her work her way through the crowds until he can’t see her anymore.
***
The fireworks are worth the wait.
Impressive, loud, bright and colorful and Dean loves them. Sam’s holding Dean up, resting him on his hip. Dean’s arms are around Sam’s neck and Sam can tell from each soft tug of surprise and the tiny gasp of breath when the fireworks go off that Dean’s delighted.
It’s not a word he ever thought about using to describe Dean before.
Sam pauses after the latest big bang of light and smoke and takes a moment to look a Dean’s face. Highlighted in pink and yellow, Dean’s baby fine skin is porcelain smooth. It seems impossible that he will ever grow up and need to shave, or clench his jaw in pain or frustration.
But he has already grown up.
Sam’s heart clenches. He thought about it. About never turning Dean back. He isn’t sure what would happen if Dean stayed little. He’d have to give up hunting, have to settle down. Dean would have to go to school. And Sam… he’d lose a brother and gain a sort of son he supposes. And while he’s relatively sure he could keep Dean warm, safe and happy, he’d never again have the security of knowing that Dean had his back. He’d never be able to share disgusting jokes or play gross practical pranks. He wouldn’t have Dean to rely on. He wouldn’t hear the obnoxious snoring coming from the next bed and feel a strange kind of comfort in the familiarity and dependability of the sound, even as it drives him up the wall. No more complaining about the loud music and making a bitchface when he’s told to shut his cake hole. No more bumping shoulders and sharing a grin after a successful hunt.
He misses Dean.
The fireworks end and they make their way out of the park with the rest of the tourists. It’s a cacophony of excited giggles and chatter except for the Winchester boys, who are silent. He puts Dean to bed back at the hotel after ensuring he brushed his teeth and washed his face. While Dean snoozes quietly, Sam prepares the elixir that should turn him back, carefully combining the ingredients that Bobby laid out and letting it simmer on the small kitchenette stove.
He doesn’t sleep for a long time that night.
Sam declares the next day pajama day and Dean’s face lights up at the idea. Sam lets Dean wear his batman pjs and they go out for waffles piled high with whipped cream and berries. Back at the hotel, Dean eagerly climbs onto the bed next to Sam and settles down to watch Cars and Toy Story.
Dean’s just as happy at lunch to wear his batman outfit to the supermarket where Sam picks up the fixing for grilled cheese sandwiches and soup. After lunch, it’s off to a park that Sam spotted and Dean is endlessly entertained going up and down the slide. There are other kids about and they either don’t notice or don’t care that Dean doesn’t talk, content to share the slide with him. Dean shows no indication of being bothered either, but Sam feels his heart clench up every time another child toddles over to Dean and says something, only to watch Dean mime his answer back, or simply stand there silent.
Dean stops at the top of the slide each go round and checks to see if Sam is watching. He waits until Sam gives him a ‘go ahead’ nod before slipping down the plastic surface with a smile on his face.
It’s sunny and clear out and Sam sees several parents slathering their kids up with sunscreen or slapping on hats, doling out juice boxes and granola bars and he again realizes how ill-prepared he is to be a parent. He remembers Dean walking him to classes, Dean checking to make sure he still had both his mittens, Dean lacing up boots when Sam’s fingers were too cold to do it. How could he have not noticed, not realized no one was doing those things for Dean?
He calls Bobby while Dean is down for a late afternoon nap.
“Sam,” Bobby drawls. “Your brother still a midget?”
“I’ve got the remedy all mixed up, it’s just sitting for a little while longer and… I’ll be giving it to him tonight.”
He swears he can literally hear Bobby relax over the phone. “What’ve you boys been up to?”
“Uh, I took Dean to Disneyland,” Sam hedges.
Bobby’s laugh is surprising and warm in his ear. “And how’d the rug rat take to that?”
Sam huffs back in amusement. “It was pretty good. He really liked it I think. I don’t… you know we never got a chance to do a lot of those things before.”
Bobby sighs kind of sad and regretful. “Don’t I know it. You have a good time?”
“Uh, yeah. I did. I put one of those kid leashes on him and we should really think about making a large sized one. ”
“Boy, if you could get him to wear it, I’d make it myself. Your brother ain’t got the self preservation sense god gave a horse.”
“Yeah,” Sam murmurs. “I know.” He takes a deep breath. “I just wanted to call and let you know that he’s okay. That we’re okay and … I mean I did think about keeping him little, but I… I just… he’s so small.”
“And you miss him,” Bobby replies, hitting the nail on the head.
“Yeah.”
“I know you’re not exactly in the neighborhood, but when you boys get a chance, you come by for a visit.”
Sam loves the way Bobby doesn’t make it a question or a suggestion. Just a flat out statement.
“Will do.”
“All right. You take care, son.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Bobby.”
He hears a grunt of acknowledgement before the line goes silent.
***
Watching Dean for the actual time when he changes is like being a kid and waiting for Santa. He’s sitting upright, intent on staying awake, wanting to see it happen, curious as hell.
And then the next thing he knows, he’s waking up, rolling over and seeing a man-sized Dean sleeping.
In batman pajamas.
Sam’s stomach feels all mixed up. Happy, sad, relieved all jumbled together in a mashed up mess.
Dean lets out a huge snort-snore, smacks his lips and flops over onto his stomach and Sam laughs. Sam slides out of bed and reaches over, poking Dean on the shoulder.
“Dean. Dean. Dean!”
“What?”
“It’s your turn to get breakfast, jerk.”
“Bitch,” comes the reply mumbled into the pillow, but Sam hears Dean grudgingly sigh and he starts to sit up. Dean frowns as he looks downward and catches sight of his batman pjs.
“Aw, hell no.”
Sam grins like an idiot.
“Again?” Dean questions.
Sam nods, still smiling.
“I bet you just love it too,” Dean grouses as he slips out of bed and Sam can’t help the bark of laughter at seeing full-sized Dean in the batman shorts. “Dressing me up like you’re playing dolls, or something.” Dean starts rooting around for clothes and curses.
“What is THIS?” He’s holding the child harness and shaking it in front of Sam’s face.
Sam’s laughing so hard at the look of outrage on Dean’s face he can only clutch his stomach and gasp for air. Dean throws it down to the floor.
“Un-fucking-believable. Leash me like a dog. Where’s my bag? Oh, here. Are these mouse ears? What the fuck happens around here?”
“Dean?”
“What?” Dean shoots back.
“It’s good to have you back.”
Dean rolls his eyes. “You are such an emo princess.”
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5100ish - it was the little fic that just wouldn't end!
Summary: written for my
hc_bingo card for the deaged(mental) square.A/N: Sequel to Eat Me, Drink Me, where Dean is deaged due to [insert plot contrivance here]. I must confess, this turned into a story more about Sam than Dean and I really didn't see it coming. It kind of got away from me and I'm just happy I finished it.
Sam feels a feather light touch on his shoulder. He doesn’t open his eyes as he swats vaguely at it before going still again. If he doesn’t move, maybe Dean will think he’s still asleep.
He next feels a slightly bolder touch. Maybe a finger? Pressed into his bicep.
“Dean, cut it out,” he grouses. “Sleeping here. And it’s your fucking turn to get breakfast.”
The finger press turns into two hesitant taps.
“No,” grumbles Sam. “I got donuts and coffee yesterday. Your fucking turn,” he repeats.
Silence. Then a quiet rustle and he feels the bed dip slightly.
He cracks an eye and bolts upright at what he sees.
Four year old Dean blinks up at him with wide green eyes.
“Oh. It’s you again,” manages Sam.
Dean smiles and launches himself at Sam, hugging wildly with his short arms.
***
“Whaddya mean ‘relapse?’” barks Bobby.
Sam winces at the volume and pulls the phone away from his ear. “I mean he’s tiny. Again. Tiny sweatpants, tiny socks, tiny tee-shirt.”
The tiny Dean of which he speaks is sitting silently in the rickety chair of the motel room, socked feet sticking out at straight angles, staring at Sam.
“You sure it’s the same thing as before?”
“How many de-aging spells do you know of?” Sam asks. “Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know. Look, I’m pretty sure it’s the same. The clothes shrunk again, and he’s about the same age and still, no talking.”
Dean shimmies off of the chair and then climbs up on the bed next to Sam. Sam smiles and Dean grins back.
“Thought he spoke last time, right before he changed back,” Bobby says.
“He said, ‘kay.’ One syllable does not talking make.”
He hears Bobby sigh, long and drawn out. “I’ll send you the recipe for the drink to change him back.”
“Oh, yeah. Okay, good.”
“You’re gonna change him back right?” questions Bobby at Sam’s tone. “Right?”
“No, yeah. Definitely. It’s just…”
“What?”
“We’re in California,” Sam blurts.
“So?”
“So, I kind of… I need… We’re gonna make a stop first.”
“Sam…”
“Just send me the recipe. I swear I’ll turn him back. Just… give me… I just need three days!” He hangs up before Bobby can say anything else.
He sets the phone down on the nightstand and turns to Dean who is staring solemnly up at him. Large jade eyes, blonde hair sticking up at strange and impossible angles. Unlike before, he seems to remember Sam this time and isn’t afraid.
It was stupid and sentimental but Sam kept some of tiny Dean’s clothes. He digs them out of corner of the Impala’s trunk and brings them in.
“Look, I still have your stuff,” he says conversationally. He doesn’t know how to explain it really, but since Dean is small and doesn’t talk, he feels a strange need to keep up some kind of expositional monologue. Cataloguing his movements and his actions.
If Dean, er, that is big Dean ever found out that he kept a pair of small sneakers, jeans, tee-shirt and jacket, he would kick Sam’s ass.
Little Dean takes the bag, roots through it, and tries desperately to hide the disappointment on his four year old face.
“What?” Sam asks.
Dean shrugs, his shoulder going up and down.
“I have the movies too, they’re on my computer.”
Dean’s whole face lights up when he smiles.
He ripped Monster’s Inc and Finding Nemo onto his laptop and though he pretends it’s because it reminds him fondly of teeny Dean, it’s actually because he likes them. They are strangely soothing and amusing at the same time.
Dean would definitely kick his ass for that.
“I figure we can watch one tonight, yeah?”
Dean nods.
“So let’s pack up, and then we can hit the road.” He hunkers down so he’s eye to eye with Dean. “Do you know what Disneyland is?”
***
Dean’s too little to ride up front so Sam secures him a booster seat the back of the Impala. As he drives, it’s hard not to let his eyes wander to the rearview mirror so he can stare at Dean.
They made a stop at Wal-mart where Sam had a shopping breakthrough, like the last time Dean was small, this time picking up copies of Cars and Toy Story for Dean.
Of course it’s for Dean.
At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself.
He also picked up some coloring books and a stuffed cat that he saw Dean eyeing in the toy section. It’s absurdly fluffy with a pink nose and long, wiry whiskers and Dean’s been clutching it to his chest and petting it absently ever since Sam nodded and said he could get it.
Sadly, since it’s summer, footy pajamas are out of season, but he did manage to pick up a set of pjs done up like a batman outfit. It’s so fucking cute he can’t stand it.
Dean’s going to kill him when he turns back.
It will totally be worth it because the pjs come with a bat utility belt.
Back in the car, with his coloring books on his lap and cat securely tucked beside him, Dean stops doodling every once in a while to stare out the window. His feet kicking aimlessly, banging off the booster seat with irregular thumps. Sam figures if he were a normal parent, the sound would drive him crazy in about ten seconds flat. As it is, he doesn’t say anything.
Unlike other Winchester drives, Sam stops after an hour and a half for Dean to have a bathroom and snack break. Dean catches his hand as they walk across the parking lot into the McDonald’s, fitting his sweaty palm in Sam’s, and Sam doesn’t even mind that he has to stoop a bit for Dean to keep a hold of it.
The young girl at the till looks up at Sam expectantly as he orders his meal and then her gaze turns to Dean.
“What about you, big guy?” she says with a grin. Dean blinks up at her solemnly, stepping back from the counter slightly.
“He’s a little shy,” says Sam as he hunkers down next to Dean.
“You want some nuggets and fries? Maybe a juice?”
Dean seems to ponder this for a moment and then nods. They usually eat their meals in the car, so it’s weird for Sam to have to find a place to sit. Dean’s eyes light up as he sees a section of the restaurant that slightly resembles a boat and he looks up at Sam hopefully.
“Okay, go pick a seat,” Sam says, tipping his head forward and then huffs in laughter as Dean scampers up the set of small stairs that lead onto the ‘boat.’
Dean picks a two-person booth that’s next to a faux aquarium. He presses his sweaty palms and nose flat against the glass as he peers in, eyballing bright, shiny objects. Sam sets out Dean’s nuggets and fries and breaks the lid off the juice and tries not to laugh when Dean tucks in with gusto. It’s so like his big self, and so unlike the last time he was, well, shrunk. Dean doesn’t seem to be shy of Sam at all this time, and is perfectly happy to eat what Sam puts in front of him, go where Sam points and do what Sam says.
It fills Sam with a strange kind of pride but also at times a crippling fear. He’s completely in charge. And they are out in the world. Last time, they were safely ensconced at Bobby’s place, their one little pocket in the world. But now… It’s not the kind of responsibility that Sam’s ever had before. He’s always had Dean to look to. No matter what he did, Dean did it first. Walking, talking, running, jumping, driving, hunting… he’s always had an example before him that he could study and then copy.
He just never realized how much he relied on it. He feels suddenly churlish and embarrassed by his behavior toward Dean at times, wondering if Dean sometimes feels this unsure and is just simply used to covering it up and faking it.
Dean’s little foot kicks him lightly in the kneecap and Sam shakes himself out of his reverie and finds Dean staring at him, fry halfway toward mouth, eyes quizzical.
“Sorry, Dean-o. Spaced out for a bit. Almost done?”
Dean eyes him warily, like he knows Sam is lying but eventually nods and finishes up his fries and juice.
“All right. Let’s go.”
***
Sam has to park what feels like miles away from the front gates of Disneyland. The park opens at eight and Dean seems to do better with early mornings (as Sam learned the hard way after a temper tantrum when he left dinner till seven the night before) and they’re there just as the gate opens.
Dean’s eyes are wide and shiny as he takes in Main Street USA with its shops and bakeries. Fresh pastries are just coming out of the ovens and Sam’s glad he already made sure Dean had a breakfast of an egg on toast and doesn’t feel the need to ply him with sugar and yeast. Dean is perfectly happy to follow as Sam leads him, his tiny hand tucked into Sam’s.
Sam grabs a map on his way in and lets go of Dean’s hand for a moment to unfold it and figure out where they should go first. He figures they have a couple hours until Dean will need a snack break, then maybe a couple more hours till a lunch break. He contemplates going back to the hotel for a nap so they can enjoy the nighttime parade. He just doesn’t think tiny Dean can handle a day that doesn’t end till ten at night without a nap. There’s a Mickey Mouse pyrotechnic show at nine and Sam thinks it will be pretty cool and Dean will love it. If he doesn’t have a melt down from exhaustion by then.
Well, he figures he can play it by ear and see how it goes. If Dean needs a nap they can always crash in the Impala, or go back to the hotel. It might be even better to split the day up and spend the day today, leaving the nighttime attractions until tomorrow.
It’s hard being in charge.
He folds the map up, satisfied that he can get them to Buzz Lightyear’s Adventure, and turns to grab Dean’s hand.
Dean’s gone.
For a heart stopping moment, all he can do is stare at the empty space where Dean’s blonde head was a moment ago. His heart thuds in his chest and he feels sick. Jesus, he could have been snatched and he wouldn’t make a sound. He doesn’t fucking talk. Or what if demons found out about him being miniature and decided this was their chance to get their hands on him? And Sam was just standing there like a fucking idiot trying to figure out the insanely cartooned Disneyland map? Christ almighty, it might not even be demons it could be humans. Pedophiles probably stalk the park just waiting for the chance for some parent to be distracted and then snatch their kid. Sam’s heard horror stories of kids that were missing five minutes and were found already with their clothes changed and hair dyed so that they wouldn’t match the missing description. Even worse are the kids that are never found. Sam’s finding it hard to breathe. Dean can’t take care of himself, he’s so small and he doesn’t know anything about protecting himself. Sam has to help him put his shoes on because he doesn’t even have enough force to push his foot into the heel.
And then he sees Dean.
He’s standing in front of the Carnation Cafe, staring at pictures of Mickey Mouse waffles. He turns around, sees Sam staring at him and smiles, waving his hand floppily.
Sam stalks over, grabs Dean’s shoulder and hunkers down. Dean’s smile immediately disappears and his eyes go wide, lips flat as Sam starts shouting at him.
“You cannot run off like that, do you hear me? You don’t go anywhere without me going with you and you stay close. Do you know what could have happened to you? Do you?” Sam gives Dean’s shoulders a little shake and tears start welling up in Dean’s eyes. “Anything could happen to you. You could get hurt, you could get snatched, you could get killed.”
Fat tears are rolling down Dean’s cheeks but he’s not making a sound. He just stares at Sam wordlessly crying, shaking a little.
“Oh, I… Oh fuck,” Sam breathes, realizing what he must sound like, what he must look like, giant paws gripping Dean’s small shoulder. He takes a couple of deep breaths and forcing his voice to go quieter. “I didn’t mean to yell at you, okay buddy?” He pats Dean ineffectually on the shoulder and Dean continues to cry. “You just… you can’t run off like that, okay? You have to stay close to me so I know where you are.”
Dean’s eyes are screaming an apology at Sam as Dean nods solemnly.
Fucking fantastic. Sam’s ruined Disneyland. Jesus, he’s an idiot. He completely panicked and let his emotions get the better of him. Dean always made taking care of Sam look so easy.
“It’s okay,” Sam soothes, rubbing Dean’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I yelled. I’m not mad.”
Dean eyes him suspiciously.
“I’m not, I swear. I was just really worried about you, but you’re okay and I’m okay and we’ve got a big day ahead of us, okay?”
Dean nods, sniffing up a huge loogey of snot as he does and Sam realizes he doesn’t have any tissue. Sam spots a gift shop and makes a beeline for it.
Which is how Dean ends up in a child harness five minutes later with Sam’s hand firmly around the lead. It always seemed ludicrous to him when he saw kids on leashes before, but now with the secure knowledge that Dean is safely at the end of the rope, Sam feels calm and happy.
Dean doesn’t seem to care at all and in fact thinks it’s great fun to run to the end of the lead and wait for Sam to give it a sharp tug and come racing back to Sam’s side.
Sam’s not sure who having more fun at Disneyland, him or Dean. Dean’s too small for a lot of the more rambunctious rides, and he’s somewhat hesitant at times, preferring to hang back and get a good view of something before going toward it, even with Sam in charge. On an impulse Sam buys them both mouse ear hats, and feels unapologetically happy every time he catches sight of their shadows; his long, lanky one and Dean’s tiny, fragile one, both topped with Mickey ears.
The sun is relentless and after lunch, Dean starts to lag. Sam recognizes all the signs of a tired Dean that haven’t changed with his age regression; clomping steps when he walks, grimly determined eyebrows, churlish lip curl, chin jutting out. Sam makes a unilateral decision that it’s time for a nap back at the hotel and they can come back when it’s cooler and Dean’s had a chance to rest.
In some ways, it’s nice to be in charge of all the decisions. Sam decides Dean needs a rest and so they head back to the hotel. Dean doesn’t argue when Sam says they’re taking a break and will come back later. Dean doesn’t protest that he’s not tired and Sam doesn’t have to stand there and wonder if it’s going to take five minutes of shouting to get Dean to slow down and stop. Instead, Dean nods sleepily and lets Sam carry him out of the park, getting stamped on the hand so they can return. Dean falls asleep in the back of the Impala and only wakes up long enough when they get to the hotel to root around and find his stuffed cat jammed under his pillow before falling into a sweaty toddler sleep.
On the other hand, making all the decisions is lonely, Sam finds. While tiny Dean seems to be relatively compliant, Sam misses the banter, the back and forth, the swapping of lunch and dinner duties. Even picking a hotel was done without their usual, ‘Here?’, ‘Yeah, here looks good’ exchange. The last time Dean got little, Bobby had been around and Sam hadn’t realized how much having another adult around had helped. He feels a sudden pang for his dad, and wonders what it was like for him with two small boys, making all the decisions, being in charge of everything. He feels a twinge for Dean too, who always seems so confident in his decisions, and still, after all this time, feels the need to protect Sam. He wonders if Dean always and only sees him as his little brother. If Dean always looks at Sam and sees a mop-haired six year old trailing behind him desperately with short legs.
It suddenly makes a lot of Dean’s actions toward Sam make a hell of a lot more sense. In his head, he always knew why Dean was protective of him, but staring at Dean’s small chest rising softly with each breath, seeing his hair stick up in sweaty spikes, and watching Dean clutch the stuffed cat close, he suddenly gets it in a way that just wasn’t tangible before.
Sam eventually dozes and he’s not sure for how long. He wakes up to the quiet scribbling of Dean coloring at the small table. As Sam stretches, Dean looks over and smiles. Dean grabs a piece of paper and comes barreling onto the bed, crunching the paper as he climbs up. He presents it to Sam with a flourish.
“For me?” Sam asks and Dean nods enthusiastically.
He looks at the paper and is much better at discerning this picture than he was the last one Dean drew for him. It’s two stickish figures, one short, one tall, both with big, black ears standing under the sun. There’s a big ‘D’ in the corner for his name and a backward ‘S’ at the top. It makes him sad and happy at the same time and for a moment, Sam thinks he might be tearing up. Dean leans into his space, putting his little face right in front of Sam’s eyes, and all Sam can see is wide, worried green looking up at him.
“Thanks, Dean-o, it’s great. I love it.”
Dean seems to relax and melts into Sam, giving him a slightly damp, sweaty hug. Sam hugs him back and has to remind himself to be careful. He can’t bear hug Dean now like he can when he’s big. Not that he gets many chances.
Dean squirms away, wiggling out of Sam’s arms and making his way to the door. Sam frowns until he sees Dean pick up Sam’s gigantic shoes and bring them over to the bed.
“Time to get going, huh?” Sam says, eyebrows raised and Dean bobs his head furiously. “All right. I figure we can head back to the park, grab something to eat, see a few more things and then wait for the fireworks.”
Disneyland is just as busy in the early evening as it was when they left, only now there are far more angry and tired toddlers. Although it ate up a chunk of their day, Sam’s glad he took Dean back to the hotel for a nap. Dean’s in good spirits next to his peers, happy to wander around and ride some of the smaller rides, while other kids are about ready to commit bloody murder.
Sam feels a tug on the leash (which Dean was ridiculously compliant about wearing and seriously, if he could get big Dean on bored with this thing, it would save so many trips to the hospital when they hunt) and stops to see what’s caught Dean’s attention.
Sam should have figured.
Cinderella.
Dean is transfixed by her in her puffy blue dress, white gloves and…
Oh, blonde hair.
From a distance, she does kind of look like Mary. Beautiful, blonde, smiling. And Dean is right at the age where he would still remember her. Cinderella is waving and posing for pictures, never losing the serene princess smile on her face.
Sam hunkers down next to Dean who is toeing his shoes into the ground.
“Do you want to go over and say hello to Cinderella?”
Dean shrugs and doesn’t look up, as though he doesn’t care either way, but then his eyes slip over to Cinderella again. Sam takes that as close to a yes as he’ll get from Dean right now.
“Okay, buddy, let’s go.”
Dean reaches up and slides his hand into Sam’s as Sam leads them over to where the princess is surrounded by a gaggle of awestruck little girls. They wait patiently, Cinderella taking her time to smile and get her photo taken with each girl. Finally, she makes her way through the excited throng and gets to Dean and Sam. She smiles at Dean and he ducks behind Sam’s legs.
“He’s a little shy,” says Sam with a smile and Cinderella crouches down to get on eye level with Dean.
“Hi, what’s your name?”
Dean presses his face into Sam’s jeans and then peeks up through his eyelashes at Cinderella. Sam can’t help but laugh, it’s damn close to the same flirtatious look he uses as a grown-up.
“His name is Dean. He doesn’t talk much.”
Cinderella nods knowingly. She’s probably dealt with her share of recalcitrant children, and god bless her, she only smiles and lowers her voice.
“Are you having fun, Dean?”
Dean creeps out a couple of inches and nods.
“Have you seen my castle yet? It’s a wonderful castle, the most beautiful in the world. I’m very lucky to live there.”
Dean lunges forward suddenly and hugs her, small arms going around her neck. A surprised ‘oh’ escapes her but she hugs him, patting him on the back.
“What a lovely hug, thank you, Dean,” she says quietly and Sam could kiss her for it. Dean pulls away just as quickly, retreating back behind Sam’s legs and Cinderella straightens.
“I’m sure you have, uh, princess stuff to do,” Sam says lamely. “Thank you.”
Cinderella smiles and reaches out one gloved hand to ruffle Dean’s hair, and Sam’s surprised when Dean doesn’t pull away, but only smiles up at her. She moves on to the next children surrounding her and Dean gives no indication of wanting to move, content to watch her work her way through the crowds until he can’t see her anymore.
***
The fireworks are worth the wait.
Impressive, loud, bright and colorful and Dean loves them. Sam’s holding Dean up, resting him on his hip. Dean’s arms are around Sam’s neck and Sam can tell from each soft tug of surprise and the tiny gasp of breath when the fireworks go off that Dean’s delighted.
It’s not a word he ever thought about using to describe Dean before.
Sam pauses after the latest big bang of light and smoke and takes a moment to look a Dean’s face. Highlighted in pink and yellow, Dean’s baby fine skin is porcelain smooth. It seems impossible that he will ever grow up and need to shave, or clench his jaw in pain or frustration.
But he has already grown up.
Sam’s heart clenches. He thought about it. About never turning Dean back. He isn’t sure what would happen if Dean stayed little. He’d have to give up hunting, have to settle down. Dean would have to go to school. And Sam… he’d lose a brother and gain a sort of son he supposes. And while he’s relatively sure he could keep Dean warm, safe and happy, he’d never again have the security of knowing that Dean had his back. He’d never be able to share disgusting jokes or play gross practical pranks. He wouldn’t have Dean to rely on. He wouldn’t hear the obnoxious snoring coming from the next bed and feel a strange kind of comfort in the familiarity and dependability of the sound, even as it drives him up the wall. No more complaining about the loud music and making a bitchface when he’s told to shut his cake hole. No more bumping shoulders and sharing a grin after a successful hunt.
He misses Dean.
The fireworks end and they make their way out of the park with the rest of the tourists. It’s a cacophony of excited giggles and chatter except for the Winchester boys, who are silent. He puts Dean to bed back at the hotel after ensuring he brushed his teeth and washed his face. While Dean snoozes quietly, Sam prepares the elixir that should turn him back, carefully combining the ingredients that Bobby laid out and letting it simmer on the small kitchenette stove.
He doesn’t sleep for a long time that night.
Sam declares the next day pajama day and Dean’s face lights up at the idea. Sam lets Dean wear his batman pjs and they go out for waffles piled high with whipped cream and berries. Back at the hotel, Dean eagerly climbs onto the bed next to Sam and settles down to watch Cars and Toy Story.
Dean’s just as happy at lunch to wear his batman outfit to the supermarket where Sam picks up the fixing for grilled cheese sandwiches and soup. After lunch, it’s off to a park that Sam spotted and Dean is endlessly entertained going up and down the slide. There are other kids about and they either don’t notice or don’t care that Dean doesn’t talk, content to share the slide with him. Dean shows no indication of being bothered either, but Sam feels his heart clench up every time another child toddles over to Dean and says something, only to watch Dean mime his answer back, or simply stand there silent.
Dean stops at the top of the slide each go round and checks to see if Sam is watching. He waits until Sam gives him a ‘go ahead’ nod before slipping down the plastic surface with a smile on his face.
It’s sunny and clear out and Sam sees several parents slathering their kids up with sunscreen or slapping on hats, doling out juice boxes and granola bars and he again realizes how ill-prepared he is to be a parent. He remembers Dean walking him to classes, Dean checking to make sure he still had both his mittens, Dean lacing up boots when Sam’s fingers were too cold to do it. How could he have not noticed, not realized no one was doing those things for Dean?
He calls Bobby while Dean is down for a late afternoon nap.
“Sam,” Bobby drawls. “Your brother still a midget?”
“I’ve got the remedy all mixed up, it’s just sitting for a little while longer and… I’ll be giving it to him tonight.”
He swears he can literally hear Bobby relax over the phone. “What’ve you boys been up to?”
“Uh, I took Dean to Disneyland,” Sam hedges.
Bobby’s laugh is surprising and warm in his ear. “And how’d the rug rat take to that?”
Sam huffs back in amusement. “It was pretty good. He really liked it I think. I don’t… you know we never got a chance to do a lot of those things before.”
Bobby sighs kind of sad and regretful. “Don’t I know it. You have a good time?”
“Uh, yeah. I did. I put one of those kid leashes on him and we should really think about making a large sized one. ”
“Boy, if you could get him to wear it, I’d make it myself. Your brother ain’t got the self preservation sense god gave a horse.”
“Yeah,” Sam murmurs. “I know.” He takes a deep breath. “I just wanted to call and let you know that he’s okay. That we’re okay and … I mean I did think about keeping him little, but I… I just… he’s so small.”
“And you miss him,” Bobby replies, hitting the nail on the head.
“Yeah.”
“I know you’re not exactly in the neighborhood, but when you boys get a chance, you come by for a visit.”
Sam loves the way Bobby doesn’t make it a question or a suggestion. Just a flat out statement.
“Will do.”
“All right. You take care, son.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Bobby.”
He hears a grunt of acknowledgement before the line goes silent.
***
Watching Dean for the actual time when he changes is like being a kid and waiting for Santa. He’s sitting upright, intent on staying awake, wanting to see it happen, curious as hell.
And then the next thing he knows, he’s waking up, rolling over and seeing a man-sized Dean sleeping.
In batman pajamas.
Sam’s stomach feels all mixed up. Happy, sad, relieved all jumbled together in a mashed up mess.
Dean lets out a huge snort-snore, smacks his lips and flops over onto his stomach and Sam laughs. Sam slides out of bed and reaches over, poking Dean on the shoulder.
“Dean. Dean. Dean!”
“What?”
“It’s your turn to get breakfast, jerk.”
“Bitch,” comes the reply mumbled into the pillow, but Sam hears Dean grudgingly sigh and he starts to sit up. Dean frowns as he looks downward and catches sight of his batman pjs.
“Aw, hell no.”
Sam grins like an idiot.
“Again?” Dean questions.
Sam nods, still smiling.
“I bet you just love it too,” Dean grouses as he slips out of bed and Sam can’t help the bark of laughter at seeing full-sized Dean in the batman shorts. “Dressing me up like you’re playing dolls, or something.” Dean starts rooting around for clothes and curses.
“What is THIS?” He’s holding the child harness and shaking it in front of Sam’s face.
Sam’s laughing so hard at the look of outrage on Dean’s face he can only clutch his stomach and gasp for air. Dean throws it down to the floor.
“Un-fucking-believable. Leash me like a dog. Where’s my bag? Oh, here. Are these mouse ears? What the fuck happens around here?”
“Dean?”
“What?” Dean shoots back.
“It’s good to have you back.”
Dean rolls his eyes. “You are such an emo princess.”
