Author: kaly
Category: Gen; pre-series (Sam 2, Dean 6)
Characters: Dean, Sam, John
Word Count: 1400
Rating: K
Spoilers: none
Summary: One afternoon, Dean teaches Sam a game their mom once taught him.
Note the first: Part of my fanfic23 table for snflashback - bracket 2/6.
Note the second: Thanks so much, once again, to geminigrl11 for the beta!
Disclaimer: Not mine. The pretty, snarky, angsty brothers belong to Kripke & the CW.
Lazy Days
Dean liked afternoons like this. He was home from school, Sammy was home from the sitter he went to sometimes, and their dad was nearby, sitting on the porch. Dean liked it best when they were all together. His dad said going to school meant he was a big boy now, but it meant going way. He just wished Sammy was big enough to go to school, too.
It wasn't quite perfect, though. He could hear their dad grumbling under his breath, could hear the scrape of pen on paper. Dean had asked a couple of times what he was doing but had been told to play with Sammy, that their dad had grown-up work to do.
Dean wanted to be big - grown-up - so he could help their dad. Maybe he wouldn't always be so busy then. Then they could play more like before.
Looking at Sammy, who was curled up napping on the blanket they'd laid on the yard, Dean couldn't help but worry that being grown-up was a very long ways away. Maybe even too long. Looking back at their dad, who still looked grumpy, Dean sighed and flopped onto the blanket beside Sam.
"You okay out there, kiddo?" his dad asked suddenly, surprising Dean.
He nodded, but didn't say anything, knowing that his dad had "very important work to do." Dean knew what that meant - it meant he was going to be busy and grumpy and sad. Too busy to play with him and Sammy. Dad was always saying that - "very important work to do" - before he'd start reading or writing and talking to himself.
"Dean?" he asked again. Dean figured he must not have seen him nod. Stuff like that happened, too, when something was "important."
"We're okay," Dean said and cringed when Sammy started moving, his little arms stretching over his head. He'd hoped his little brother might nap longer; that way he wouldn't get cranky later.
"De'?" Sam asked, using the nickname that Dean both loved and hated at the same time. It made him sound like a baby even though he was in school now - not a baby. But only Sammy used it, not even their dad, so maybe that made it okay.
"Ssh," Dean said, sitting up and ruffling Sam's hair. "It's still naptime."
Scrunching up his face, Sam rubbed his knuckles over his eyes and shook his head. "Not tir'd." Dean grinned when the words were followed by a yawn.
Dean lay back down, barely blinking before Sam's face hovering above him was all he could see. "De? Play now?"
Glancing at their dad, who hadn't looked up yet but still might if they got too loud, Dean smiled. Looking after Sammy was his job. He wondered if maybe this was important like his dad's work. Maybe he was even helping too, like Dad wanted. So he just had to keep Sam occupied, so their dad didn't have to.
"I know a game we can play," Dean said, tugging on Sam's arm until the smaller boy was snuggled up beside him. He pointed to a large, fluffy cloud. "Look, there's a tree. Does it look like a tree, Sammy?"
Dean remembered playing this game before, remembered going outside with his mommy before Sammy was born and her pointing at clouds and calling them silly things. He would laugh and laugh and she would laugh and it had been warm and happy and perfect.
But since before - he always called it "before" - he'd never played the game with Sam and she'd never gotten to. Thinking about it made Dean sad. Their mom should be the one pointing out shapes, making up silly stories, for them; not him. She was really good at it.
He blinked really hard, staring at the sky - big boys didn't cry. Even when they were thinking about before.
He felt Sam turn to look at him. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see Sam frowning. "De'?" he asked, barely a whisper. "You sad?"
Sniffling, but not crying, Dean squeezed Sam's shoulders with one arm and pointed at another cloud with the other. "That one looks like a puppy," he said, hoping to distract Sam.
He knew he'd said the right thing when Sam smiled and bounced next to him. "Puppy!" Sam cried, clapping his hands. "Keep it?" he asked, making Dean laugh.
"No, it's just a cloud, silly. See?" He waited until Sam was looking at the sky again. "Now it looks like a dragon."
Sam started giggling and suddenly Dean didn't feel so sad, he felt warm like he had before. He liked being able to make Sammy laugh. "Not a dragon?" he asked, pretend serious, not even sure Sam would know what a dragon was, outside a bedtime book.
Grinning, Dean started tickling Sam. "Nooo," Sam cried, laughing more as Dean continued. "Not a drag'n!"
"What then?" Dean asked, laughing at Sam trying to get away, but not really trying very hard.
"Puppy!" Sam exclaimed, climbing on top of Dean, clumsily tickling his brother back. "It's a puppy!" His brother was smiling so big Dean thought his face might crack.
Suddenly, a shadow fell across them and Dean heard their dad ask, "Boys?"
"Yes, sir?" Dean asked, squinting up at their dad, sitting up quickly and no longer laughing. Even Sam fell quiet, having stopped trying to tickle and climb his brother.
When their dad kneeled down beside them, Dean was surprised to see him grinning. "Of course it's not a dragon."
Sam squirmed around in Dean's lap, elbow digging into Dean's stomach. Grabbing Dean's hand, Sam shook his arm. "See, De'? Puppy!"
Dean smiled at Sam before staring at their dad, not quite believing he'd stopped working. He had "important work" to do, after all. Playing cloud games wasn't "important".
Dean couldn't help staring, confused. "Daddy?" He was even more confused when their dad sat down beside them on the blanket and winked at him, smiling. "Don't you have to work?" Dean asked in a small voice.
When their dad stopped smiling, Dean bit his lip, worried he'd said something wrong. He couldn't figure out why their dad looked sad, was about to ask when his dad ruffled his hair. "No, kiddo. I think I need to be right here."
Dean smiled hesitantly. "Really? And play? Like..." He stopped, his smile fading, before he mentioned his mom. Dad didn't like it when Dean mentioned his mom. But his dad must have realized because he smiled sadly and nodded.
"You remember this game, Dean?"
Nodding, Dean said, "I was teaching Sammy. Like I learned, before." Always "before", never "with Mom".
He didn't quite understand why their dad's eyes were shiny and his voice sounded funny when he said, "That's good, buddy. That's good."
They were silent for a long moment, Dean staring at his dad while Sam threaded his fingers in Dean's, content. Eventually Sam broke the spell, asking quietly, "Puppy, daddy?"
Their dad cleared his throat before saying, "Sorry, boys. But I think that one looks like a turtle. But that one over there?" He leaned over beside them, stretching out his arm to point at a long, skinny cloud. "That one is definitely a dragon, and see that little one behind it?"
He pointed to a round cloud to the right of the first and leaned closer, as if to tell them a secret and whispered, "That's a puppy chasing the dragon."
Sam started laughing, mad giggles that caused Dean to laugh, too. "Silly daddy," Sam said, leaning against Dean with his head tucked under Dean's chin. Wrapping his arms around his little brother, Dean thought his chest felt funny, all full and hot. Then Sam added, "Drag'ns don' like puppies."
Their dad looked back and forth between them, grinning as he shook his head. "Nah, I think they do. Dragons love playing with puppies, teaching them games." He winked at Dean, who couldn't help smiling at this strange, playful dad. "And they watch out for their puppies, keep them safe."
Sam looked up at him then, before twisting around to look at Dean. He was quiet for a moment, forehead scrunched up in thought before asking, "Like De'?"
Their dad nodded, his smile bigger. Dean decided he liked seeing him smile like that, like he used to - before. "Yeah, buddy. Just like you and Dean."
fin