Fic:Dean's Birthday
Title: Dean's Birthday
Author: liveinadream87
Rating: PG. G even.
Word count: 388
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, they are solely the property of Eric Kripke and all those other dudes. I am not making any money off of this. I wish they were mine though, cuz *drool*
Summary: Wee!chesters. Dean's thirteenth birthday. Drabble!
Author's notes: Written super quickly, not paragraphed or beta read, but hopefully you don't hate it too much. :-)
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Sammy remembers Dean’s 13th birthday. The week before, Dad had heard about a violent poltergeist over in California, and left Dean and Sam with Pastor Jim so he could go ‘sort it out’. He finally got back the morning of Dean’s birthday, and Sam remembers Dean’s hopeful, expectant look, remembers how he scans Dad up and down for something he might be concealing, a present, but all Dad is concealing is cuts and bruises. Sammy remembers that whole day, Dean keeps glancing over at Dad, that hopeful look never quite distinguished. After all, 13 is a big number. It symbolises the transition from child to teenager, and everyone knows that teenagers are almost adults. At least that was what Dean had been saying for a month now to anyone who would listen, much to the amusement of Dad. And now the big day has arrived, and Dad is showing every sign of not having even remembered. Finally that night, Dean mutters that he’s going to bed and slouches off, disappointment showing in every heavy footfall. Sam looks up from the book he’s reading (since it’s not even his bedtime yet) and watches him go, then suddenly an idea pops into his head, and he throws the book down to run to his room. He searches under his mattress for a minute, finds what he is looking for and runs to Dean’s room. Slows down outside and knocks on Dean’s door. There’s a minute or two of waiting, and Sam’s shifting on his feet excitedly by the time Dean finally opens the door, eyes suspiciously tinged red. “What?” Dean asks gruffly, and Sam bites his lip, because he hadn’t rehearsed this part, and what if Dean hated it? Finally, he holds out his hand, looking at the floor, and lets Dean take it. “It’s… I got it from a market one time… apparently it’s a good luck charm, and I figured… well, it’s not too girly or anything, and with what we do… I mean, I thought you might… I…” Dean interrupts, still staring at the silver charm hanging from a black cord, “Thanks, Sammy.” He slips it on over his head and stares down at it. “I’ll never take it off.” Sam smiles up at his brother, hugs him lightly and whispers “Happy birthday,” before scampering off again.
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