Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters - these were created by Eric Kripke - I'm just borrowing them. I'm not making any commercial gain. No harm or infringement intended.

E/O Challenge: a number. 3 x 100 & 1 x 200 word drabbles. #1: Dean's gesture of celebration doesn't end as intended. #2: Sam's determined to get his brother out for a run. #3: The run doesn't go as expected. Or maybe it does? #4: Dean has his own solution for Sam's homework woes.

Happy New Year!

~#~

Numbers Up

~#~

A/N:Dean's gesture of celebration doesn't end as intended.100 words.

Down Low, Too Slow

"Nice going, Cas," grinned Dean, as he surveyed bodies of their vanquished foes. He held up a hand towards the angel in triumph. "Lay one on me."

Castiel frowned; the vernacular was unusual, but so much of what Dean said to him was often obscure to the point of inscrutability. However, the soldier in him was used to obeying without question. So he shrugged and punched Dean on the chin.

"What the Hell, Cas?" cried Dean, cradling his face. "I meant give me five, not a bunch of fives."

"I'm confused. How many times should I strike you?" sighed Castiel.

~#~

A/N:Sam's determined to get his brother out for a run. 100 words.

Run the Numbers #1

"Come on, Dean. You promised," called Sam, as he stretched by the door.

"I was drunk, it doesn't count," Dean complained. "Besides, who has time to exercise?"

"What, can't find time in your busy schedule?" said Sam, with a pointed look at the six pack of beer and the pile of quarters beside the bed's Magic Fingers.

"It's... stress relieving," protested Dean, his cheeks coloring.

"So's a run... and dude, you are getting on a bit," chuckled Sam, managing to get a poke in at Dean's stomach.

"Right, that's it."

Sam grinned in triumph as his brother chased after him.

~#~

A/N:The run doesn't go as expected. Or maybe it does? 200 words.

Run the Numbers #2

"Sammy, I've got a stitch," Dean puffed, slowing and holding onto his side.

"Just run through it," Sam said with a superior smirk.

"Sorry, I really gotta stop," said Dean, leaning forward and gripping his knees for support.

"That's what you get for wearing biker boots instead of running shoes..."

"Whatever," gasped Dean, "You go on, I'll catch you up."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "I'll meet you back at the room," he added as he set off again.

Dean watched him disappear in the distance. He stood upright, sniffing suspiciously at a sudden scent in the air.

#

"Where the Hell have you been?" cried Sam, stopping mid-pace as his soot-covered brother let himself into the room.

Dean flicked on the room's ancient TV to the local news and the report of the families rescued from an apartment building fire by a mysterious stranger.

"A stich in time saves nine," Dean croaked with a crinkled-eyed grin as his collapsed back on his bed.

"Nice work, dude. I thought I smelled smoke," said Sam, cracking open a beer and passing it to his brother.

"Thanks."

"No problem. We can go out again tomorrow."

Dean let his head fall back on his pillow.

~#~

A/N:Dean has his own solution for Sam's homework woes. Set pre-series. 100 words.

March 14

Sam sighed heavily from the back seat of the Impala.

"You okay, Sammy?" called Dean, keeping one eye out for their father.

"I guess," murmured Sam, avoiding his brother's gaze and turning instead to look out of the window.

Dean snorted. "Come on, give it up."

"I've got a math assignment for tomorrow and..." he paused, biting his bottom lip.

"I know what'll help," said Dean, writing a note and leaving it on the dash.

"You know trig?"

"Nah, but if there's one thing that I'm really good at, it's pi," smirked Dean, pointing to a nearby diner. "Let's go."

(;,;)