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Title: Say Uncle
Author: clarkoholic
Characters: Dean, Sam
Rating: PG13 (I guess) for mild language
Category: Gen
Word Count: 814
Spoilers: None
Notes/Warnings: This is just silliness.
Feedback: Is welcomed and appreciated!
Summary: “And if you ever break my nose again, I’ll kick your ass!”
Enjoy!
--
Saturday mornings in the Winchester household consisted of sleeping in, overstuffed bowls of cereal, cartoons, and sparing matches that usually turned into plain old wrestling. It had become a ritual of sorts, a tradition between the brothers that had long since died. So when Sam slammed his shoulder into Dean’s gut, in a very football player way, Dean was caught completely off guard.
He flew back onto the hotel bed, that he suddenly wished wasn’t so hard, and gasped as the wind was knocked from him, while Sam stood up and had the nerve to laugh.
“Dude!?” Dean said, catching his breath. “What the hell?”
“Sorry,” apologizing through giggles was very unconvincing. “I don’t know what came over me. It’s Saturday. I’m bored.”
“Well when Wednesday comes around I might get bored and just kick your ass.”
“Oh quit whining, it’s just a little fun. I didn’t realize you were too old to handle some sparing.”
“I’m not too old!” Dean scoffed. How dare his little brother accuse him of wussery? “I could take you down right now.”
Sam barked a laugh and challenged, “I like to see-” but was cut sharply off by Dean tackling him to the ground.
They fell hard and before Sam could gain his bearings again, Dean had him pulled up in a headlock with his arms held behind his head.
“Say uncle,” Dean said, laughing in sweet victory.
Instead of struggling to free his arms, Sam grabbed hold of Dean’s shirt and pulled him down and flipped him over. They wrestled clumsily across the floor, slamming into the dresser, causing it to rock so much that had the television not been bolted down, it may have fallen on them.
The ‘match’ went on for several minutes until Sam’s palm accidentally collided with Dean’s nose, jamming it up. “Ughh,” he groaned loudly, covering his nose protectively in his hands.
Sam scrambled back but then leaned in, worried, “Oh my God, Dean. Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He put his hand on Dean’s shoulder and bent down to get a better look, but Dean shrugged him off and sat up, his eyes glossy with pain and anger. He pulled his hand back to reveal a busted, bleeding, red mess and groaned again at the sharp pains shooting up his skull.
Sam went quickly to the bathroom and came back with a wet towel, “Here, put your head back,” he instructed and Dean scooted to lean against the bed.
The towel made contact and he hissed, “Ah, damn it Sammy! Give me the damn towel and get away from me!” He snatched it from Sam’s hands and gently dabbed his face while mumbling what could only be profanity.
Sam sat back and tried to suppress a smile. Sure, he felt bad for probably breaking his brother’s nose but he couldn’t help but feel a little triumphant. His adrenaline was still up and well… if you wanted to get technical, he won.
--
Two days and one emergency room visit later, they were back on the road headed for their next job. Dean was more pissed that he had to wear a big, bright white bandage over his nose than the fact that it was broken at all. A swollen, bruised face he could deal with, girls dug stuff like that, but having to wear a stupid itchy band-aid, well that just sucked in Dean’s book.
And Sam didn’t help the situation. Of course, he apologized profusely and tried not to bug Dean for a whole day but occasionally a comment like ‘I won you know’ or ‘kicked your ass’ would slip out and Dean would try very hard to not break his nose right back.
“Oh sorry, are you okay?” Sam asked when Dean winced after he notsoaccidentally ran over a large pothole.
“Just shut up and drive,” he spat out, lightly touching his nose.
“Are you sure you don’t want to lie down in the back? I promise to avoid as many potholes as possible.”
Dean knew the ‘concerned’ look on Sammy’s face was fake and that his little brother was oh so pleased with himself. “You better avoid the potholes ‘cause there’ll be hell to pay if you hurt my car.”
Sam opened his mouth to say what could only be ‘uh, remember who kicked who’s ass’ but Dean interrupted him, “Shut up. You didn’t do anything. Your fat hand got in the way of my face, that’s all! So quit acting like you’re so tough.”
Sam shut up, his smirk gone and kept his gaze on the road. Then suddenly, Dean smacked him hard, upside the head, “And if you ever break my nose again, I’ll kick your ass!”
Rubbing his head with a painful look on his face, Sam said, “Ow, amn… I bic my ongue.”
Dean let out a robust laugh, “Good.”
The End.
Author: clarkoholic
Characters: Dean, Sam
Rating: PG13 (I guess) for mild language
Category: Gen
Word Count: 814
Spoilers: None
Notes/Warnings: This is just silliness.
Feedback: Is welcomed and appreciated!
Summary: “And if you ever break my nose again, I’ll kick your ass!”
Enjoy!
--
Saturday mornings in the Winchester household consisted of sleeping in, overstuffed bowls of cereal, cartoons, and sparing matches that usually turned into plain old wrestling. It had become a ritual of sorts, a tradition between the brothers that had long since died. So when Sam slammed his shoulder into Dean’s gut, in a very football player way, Dean was caught completely off guard.
He flew back onto the hotel bed, that he suddenly wished wasn’t so hard, and gasped as the wind was knocked from him, while Sam stood up and had the nerve to laugh.
“Dude!?” Dean said, catching his breath. “What the hell?”
“Sorry,” apologizing through giggles was very unconvincing. “I don’t know what came over me. It’s Saturday. I’m bored.”
“Well when Wednesday comes around I might get bored and just kick your ass.”
“Oh quit whining, it’s just a little fun. I didn’t realize you were too old to handle some sparing.”
“I’m not too old!” Dean scoffed. How dare his little brother accuse him of wussery? “I could take you down right now.”
Sam barked a laugh and challenged, “I like to see-” but was cut sharply off by Dean tackling him to the ground.
They fell hard and before Sam could gain his bearings again, Dean had him pulled up in a headlock with his arms held behind his head.
“Say uncle,” Dean said, laughing in sweet victory.
Instead of struggling to free his arms, Sam grabbed hold of Dean’s shirt and pulled him down and flipped him over. They wrestled clumsily across the floor, slamming into the dresser, causing it to rock so much that had the television not been bolted down, it may have fallen on them.
The ‘match’ went on for several minutes until Sam’s palm accidentally collided with Dean’s nose, jamming it up. “Ughh,” he groaned loudly, covering his nose protectively in his hands.
Sam scrambled back but then leaned in, worried, “Oh my God, Dean. Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He put his hand on Dean’s shoulder and bent down to get a better look, but Dean shrugged him off and sat up, his eyes glossy with pain and anger. He pulled his hand back to reveal a busted, bleeding, red mess and groaned again at the sharp pains shooting up his skull.
Sam went quickly to the bathroom and came back with a wet towel, “Here, put your head back,” he instructed and Dean scooted to lean against the bed.
The towel made contact and he hissed, “Ah, damn it Sammy! Give me the damn towel and get away from me!” He snatched it from Sam’s hands and gently dabbed his face while mumbling what could only be profanity.
Sam sat back and tried to suppress a smile. Sure, he felt bad for probably breaking his brother’s nose but he couldn’t help but feel a little triumphant. His adrenaline was still up and well… if you wanted to get technical, he won.
--
Two days and one emergency room visit later, they were back on the road headed for their next job. Dean was more pissed that he had to wear a big, bright white bandage over his nose than the fact that it was broken at all. A swollen, bruised face he could deal with, girls dug stuff like that, but having to wear a stupid itchy band-aid, well that just sucked in Dean’s book.
And Sam didn’t help the situation. Of course, he apologized profusely and tried not to bug Dean for a whole day but occasionally a comment like ‘I won you know’ or ‘kicked your ass’ would slip out and Dean would try very hard to not break his nose right back.
“Oh sorry, are you okay?” Sam asked when Dean winced after he notsoaccidentally ran over a large pothole.
“Just shut up and drive,” he spat out, lightly touching his nose.
“Are you sure you don’t want to lie down in the back? I promise to avoid as many potholes as possible.”
Dean knew the ‘concerned’ look on Sammy’s face was fake and that his little brother was oh so pleased with himself. “You better avoid the potholes ‘cause there’ll be hell to pay if you hurt my car.”
Sam opened his mouth to say what could only be ‘uh, remember who kicked who’s ass’ but Dean interrupted him, “Shut up. You didn’t do anything. Your fat hand got in the way of my face, that’s all! So quit acting like you’re so tough.”
Sam shut up, his smirk gone and kept his gaze on the road. Then suddenly, Dean smacked him hard, upside the head, “And if you ever break my nose again, I’ll kick your ass!”
Rubbing his head with a painful look on his face, Sam said, “Ow, amn… I bic my ongue.”
Dean let out a robust laugh, “Good.”
The End.
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