Oh To Be Old(er) Again [1/1]
Title: Oh To Be Old(er) Again [1/1]
Genre: Gen,
Rating: PG
Characters: Sam, Dean
Word Count: 1595
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I can lay no claims to the sexy boys. Just having fun with them.
Authors Note: Written for anonymous prompt 124
Summary: Dean gets cursed to de-age physically and Sam is frantically trying to find a cure.
~*~*~
The Impala was going the fastest she ever had, just a black streak on the highway, practically on the verge of breaking the sound barrier.
Sam probably wouldn’t even have noticed if she did. He had bigger, more pressing matters on his mind.
“We’re almost to Bobby’s,” Sam chanted. “It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”
The lump in the backseat kicked at the back of Sam’s seat. “Not dyin’, moron,” it said.
“How the hell can you be so calm right now? You’re five freaking years old, Dean!”
Dean chose that moment to clamber into the front seat. “Chill out, Sam,” he said. “It’s temporary, right? So, why not take advantage of it? Look at this face, man. Everyone'll love me. Waitresses’ll give me free stuff for sure. It’ll be awesome.”
“No, it won’t,” Sam said, shaking his head. “It won’t be awesome.”
“Sammyyyy,” Dean said.
Sam looked over at him, at his freckled face and the way his hair was sticking up all over the place so that he looked like a baby hedgehog or something else disgustingly adorable. But even worse than that, he was so small, so terrifyingly, stupidly little.
“Would you put your goddamn seatbelt on?” Sam snapped. 159
The death-glare from his very small brother would have amused him, except he was too freaked out and rattled to focus on anything except driving. And he wasn’t doing that very well either.
“Stay in your damn lane, Sam,” Dean shouted squeakily as the Impala wavered into the other lane, coming dangerously close to a passing Jeep and Sam let out a frustrated growl.
“Would you just buckle up Dean?” he pleaded. “You could get killed.”
“Yeah, the way you’re driving,” Dean muttered, chubby face settling into a pout, his shrill little-boy voice upset. “If the Impala ends up with even one scratch, I’m gonna kick your ass.”
This time Sam couldn’t help his amused snort. “You’re three and a half feet tall Dean,” he pointed out. Dean grabbed a map from the glove box, rolled it up and walloped Sam in the head.
“When I’m big again, I’ll kick your ass,” he corrected himself, pulling his innocent looking face into a fearsome scowl and Sam groaned.
“This is not good, this is so not good, this is really really bad,” he moaned. “Dean, we don’t even know where to start to age you back.”
Dean thumped his head against the back of the seat and closed his eyes. “You got bitchier,” he announced cheerfully and Sam stared at him, swerved to correct his drifting and stared again.
“What?”
“You got bitchier. And I got younger.” Dean smirked and Sam looked indignant.
“Did not,” he argued,
“Did too.” Dean retorted, grinning devilishly.
“Did not!”
“Maybe you de-aged internally then. Psychologically.”
“What!”
“Hey, you started it: the did-not-did-too. I’m supposed to act like this. I’m five. You’re twenty-five.”
Dean was enjoying this way too much for a sane person. Sam groaned and resisted the urge to face-plant in the steering wheel.
“Dean, would you do me a favor? Just sit still and be quiet until we get to Bobby’s?”
“Whatever.” He slouched down in the seat then straightened slowly, furtively trying to see over the dashboard. He wasn’t quite tall enough and slumped back with a grumble.
Ten minutes later, Sam heaved a sigh of relief as they pulled into Bobby’s driveway.
“Please let Bobby be home,” he muttered under his breath and Dean shook his head, unbuckled himself and wrestled the door open, hopping to the ground.
“Come on,” he ordered, trotting toward the house as fast as his short legs could carry him. Sam strode after him.
The screen door banged and Sam looked up to see Bobby standing on the porch, looking curiously at the two of them.
“Bobby, thank God you’re home,” Sam gasped as they mounted the steps.
“Hey Bobby,” Dean grunted, pushing past him and letting himself into the house.
Bobby stared at the screen door as it closed behind the kid and then turned to Sam.
“Who’s the kid? And where’s Dean?”
“Bobby, that is Dean,” Sam said despairingly. “We were poking around, investigating a coven, and these witches de-aged him. He’s five years old!”
Bobby’s eyes narrowed. “Sam, if this is some kind of joke-“
“It’s not!” Sam cut in. “Bobby, you gotta help me age him back.”
Bobby still looked skeptical, but a shrill voice from the kitchen convinced him.
“Sam, get in here. I can’t reach the beer. It’s on the top shelf. Come and help me.”
Sam groaned and raced into the kitchen, grabbing Dean just as he managed to get his grubby little fingers on a beer bottle.
“No nononono Dean, you can’t have beer. You’re five.” He wrestled the slippery bottle from Dean’s hands and slid it back into the fridge.
“I am not! I just look five,” Dean argued unconvincingly, and tried his best to deepen his voice authoritatively. “Sammy, give me the beer.”
Sam glanced helplessly at Bobby who was staring in disbelief from the doorway.
“Dean?” he said finally, incredulously, and Dean winked charmingly.
“I know, I know, I’ve always said I was adorable.” He grinned, and then sighed when Bobby’s expression didn’t change.
“Jeeze you two, lighten up,” he urged. “It’s not all that bad.”
“Yes, it is.” Both men contradicted in unison and Dean threw his skinny little arms into the air in exhasperation.
“No sense of humor at all.”
Bobby glanced at Sam and grinned slightly. “Kinda cute though aint he?” he chuckled. “Maybe we should leave him like this. I never got to see him this size. Didn’t even recognize him.”
Dean jerked his head up and glared, marching over to kick Bobby in the leg. “I may be small but I ain’t cute. Not to you,” he growled adorably. “I changed my mind. Age me back!”
Bobby glanced up at Sam. “When did this happen?” he wondered, and Dean marched away to pull himself up onto a chair and climb onto the table.
“Two days ago,” Sam informed him, moving to stop Dean, but Dean punched him in the face with all the force he could muster. It wasn’t much.
“Leave me alone. It feels weird being so much shorter than you. I’m standing on the table,” he ordered his brother, and Sam’s face unwillingly cracked a smile.
“Okay big bro, whatever you say.” He stepped back out of reach of Dean’s tiny fists, and continued. “Thing is Bobby, he’s been getting progressively smaller. This is how he was when he woke up this morning. Yesterday morning he was 15 or so. It was creepy.”
Dean snorted. “You’re telling me,” he said shrilly. “Do you have any idea how awful it is to wake up to your voice cracking all over again? And I haven’t shaved in days!”
Bobby’s eyebrows went up as he eyed the invisible peach fuzz on Dean’s baby-face.
“Yeah kid, you don’t need to.”
“I know that,” Dean muttered, scowling. “I’m just saying.” He launched himself at Sam, who barely reacted in time to catch his brother.
“Put me down, Sam,” Dean said patiently and Bobby choked on a laugh at the helpless look on Sam’s face.
“Bobby would you tell Samantha here that everything’s gonna be fine?” Dean requested. “He’s stressing me out.” The solemn shake of his head that accompanied the request was too much for Bobby.
When he’d stopped chuckling he turned to Sam. “Dean’s right Sam,” he pointed out. “No use stressing about it. We either find a way to turn him back or he wakes up a baby tomorrow morning.”
“That’s my point exactly!” Sam shouted. “I do not want a baby Dean on my hands. A five year old is bad enough! At least he can talk. What would I do with a baby?” His voice peaked at an octave it hadn’t reached in years and Dean giggled.
Giggled.
Sam groaned. “Bobby age him back or I’ll kill myself.”
Bobby lowered his eyebrows at Sam. “Just relax kid. We’ll figure something out.” He motioned to Dean.
“Dean, stop tormenting your brother and come with me. Sam, you go get some rest and Dean and I will try and figure something out.”
Sam looked unspeakably relieved and hurried out of the kitchen after a warning to Dean to behave.
Dean was starting to get pissed now. Sam was treating him as if he really was a 5 year old. Not a twenty-nine year old man stuck in a five year old’s body.
He shrugged. Oh well. Let Sam get his panties in a twist. Dean was going to enjoy this as long as it lasted.
Of course, secretly, deep down inside, he was terrified. Absolutely friggin’ terrified. What if Bobby and Sam couldn’t age him back? He’d have to grow up all over again!
He broke into a run, his little legs trying to keep up with Bobby’s stride, which seemed impossibly long. This was a b--
He ran into the back of Bobby’s legs and the impact knocked him back on his rear. Giving his spinning head a shake, he looked up to see Bobby chuckling down at him.
“Watch where you’re going little idjit,” Bobby advised and Dean rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Now it was just getting annoying.
“Cut the ‘small talk’ please Bobby,” Dean begged, pulling himself into the enormous chair at Bobby’s desk. He eyed the books scattered across it and then the towering bookshelf and sighed, his eyes narrowing determinedly. “We’ve got work to do.”
Genre: Gen,
Rating: PG
Characters: Sam, Dean
Word Count: 1595
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I can lay no claims to the sexy boys. Just having fun with them.
Authors Note: Written for anonymous prompt 124
Summary: Dean gets cursed to de-age physically and Sam is frantically trying to find a cure.
~*~*~
The Impala was going the fastest she ever had, just a black streak on the highway, practically on the verge of breaking the sound barrier.
Sam probably wouldn’t even have noticed if she did. He had bigger, more pressing matters on his mind.
“We’re almost to Bobby’s,” Sam chanted. “It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”
The lump in the backseat kicked at the back of Sam’s seat. “Not dyin’, moron,” it said.
“How the hell can you be so calm right now? You’re five freaking years old, Dean!”
Dean chose that moment to clamber into the front seat. “Chill out, Sam,” he said. “It’s temporary, right? So, why not take advantage of it? Look at this face, man. Everyone'll love me. Waitresses’ll give me free stuff for sure. It’ll be awesome.”
“No, it won’t,” Sam said, shaking his head. “It won’t be awesome.”
“Sammyyyy,” Dean said.
Sam looked over at him, at his freckled face and the way his hair was sticking up all over the place so that he looked like a baby hedgehog or something else disgustingly adorable. But even worse than that, he was so small, so terrifyingly, stupidly little.
“Would you put your goddamn seatbelt on?” Sam snapped. 159
The death-glare from his very small brother would have amused him, except he was too freaked out and rattled to focus on anything except driving. And he wasn’t doing that very well either.
“Stay in your damn lane, Sam,” Dean shouted squeakily as the Impala wavered into the other lane, coming dangerously close to a passing Jeep and Sam let out a frustrated growl.
“Would you just buckle up Dean?” he pleaded. “You could get killed.”
“Yeah, the way you’re driving,” Dean muttered, chubby face settling into a pout, his shrill little-boy voice upset. “If the Impala ends up with even one scratch, I’m gonna kick your ass.”
This time Sam couldn’t help his amused snort. “You’re three and a half feet tall Dean,” he pointed out. Dean grabbed a map from the glove box, rolled it up and walloped Sam in the head.
“When I’m big again, I’ll kick your ass,” he corrected himself, pulling his innocent looking face into a fearsome scowl and Sam groaned.
“This is not good, this is so not good, this is really really bad,” he moaned. “Dean, we don’t even know where to start to age you back.”
Dean thumped his head against the back of the seat and closed his eyes. “You got bitchier,” he announced cheerfully and Sam stared at him, swerved to correct his drifting and stared again.
“What?”
“You got bitchier. And I got younger.” Dean smirked and Sam looked indignant.
“Did not,” he argued,
“Did too.” Dean retorted, grinning devilishly.
“Did not!”
“Maybe you de-aged internally then. Psychologically.”
“What!”
“Hey, you started it: the did-not-did-too. I’m supposed to act like this. I’m five. You’re twenty-five.”
Dean was enjoying this way too much for a sane person. Sam groaned and resisted the urge to face-plant in the steering wheel.
“Dean, would you do me a favor? Just sit still and be quiet until we get to Bobby’s?”
“Whatever.” He slouched down in the seat then straightened slowly, furtively trying to see over the dashboard. He wasn’t quite tall enough and slumped back with a grumble.
Ten minutes later, Sam heaved a sigh of relief as they pulled into Bobby’s driveway.
“Please let Bobby be home,” he muttered under his breath and Dean shook his head, unbuckled himself and wrestled the door open, hopping to the ground.
“Come on,” he ordered, trotting toward the house as fast as his short legs could carry him. Sam strode after him.
The screen door banged and Sam looked up to see Bobby standing on the porch, looking curiously at the two of them.
“Bobby, thank God you’re home,” Sam gasped as they mounted the steps.
“Hey Bobby,” Dean grunted, pushing past him and letting himself into the house.
Bobby stared at the screen door as it closed behind the kid and then turned to Sam.
“Who’s the kid? And where’s Dean?”
“Bobby, that is Dean,” Sam said despairingly. “We were poking around, investigating a coven, and these witches de-aged him. He’s five years old!”
Bobby’s eyes narrowed. “Sam, if this is some kind of joke-“
“It’s not!” Sam cut in. “Bobby, you gotta help me age him back.”
Bobby still looked skeptical, but a shrill voice from the kitchen convinced him.
“Sam, get in here. I can’t reach the beer. It’s on the top shelf. Come and help me.”
Sam groaned and raced into the kitchen, grabbing Dean just as he managed to get his grubby little fingers on a beer bottle.
“No nononono Dean, you can’t have beer. You’re five.” He wrestled the slippery bottle from Dean’s hands and slid it back into the fridge.
“I am not! I just look five,” Dean argued unconvincingly, and tried his best to deepen his voice authoritatively. “Sammy, give me the beer.”
Sam glanced helplessly at Bobby who was staring in disbelief from the doorway.
“Dean?” he said finally, incredulously, and Dean winked charmingly.
“I know, I know, I’ve always said I was adorable.” He grinned, and then sighed when Bobby’s expression didn’t change.
“Jeeze you two, lighten up,” he urged. “It’s not all that bad.”
“Yes, it is.” Both men contradicted in unison and Dean threw his skinny little arms into the air in exhasperation.
“No sense of humor at all.”
Bobby glanced at Sam and grinned slightly. “Kinda cute though aint he?” he chuckled. “Maybe we should leave him like this. I never got to see him this size. Didn’t even recognize him.”
Dean jerked his head up and glared, marching over to kick Bobby in the leg. “I may be small but I ain’t cute. Not to you,” he growled adorably. “I changed my mind. Age me back!”
Bobby glanced up at Sam. “When did this happen?” he wondered, and Dean marched away to pull himself up onto a chair and climb onto the table.
“Two days ago,” Sam informed him, moving to stop Dean, but Dean punched him in the face with all the force he could muster. It wasn’t much.
“Leave me alone. It feels weird being so much shorter than you. I’m standing on the table,” he ordered his brother, and Sam’s face unwillingly cracked a smile.
“Okay big bro, whatever you say.” He stepped back out of reach of Dean’s tiny fists, and continued. “Thing is Bobby, he’s been getting progressively smaller. This is how he was when he woke up this morning. Yesterday morning he was 15 or so. It was creepy.”
Dean snorted. “You’re telling me,” he said shrilly. “Do you have any idea how awful it is to wake up to your voice cracking all over again? And I haven’t shaved in days!”
Bobby’s eyebrows went up as he eyed the invisible peach fuzz on Dean’s baby-face.
“Yeah kid, you don’t need to.”
“I know that,” Dean muttered, scowling. “I’m just saying.” He launched himself at Sam, who barely reacted in time to catch his brother.
“Put me down, Sam,” Dean said patiently and Bobby choked on a laugh at the helpless look on Sam’s face.
“Bobby would you tell Samantha here that everything’s gonna be fine?” Dean requested. “He’s stressing me out.” The solemn shake of his head that accompanied the request was too much for Bobby.
When he’d stopped chuckling he turned to Sam. “Dean’s right Sam,” he pointed out. “No use stressing about it. We either find a way to turn him back or he wakes up a baby tomorrow morning.”
“That’s my point exactly!” Sam shouted. “I do not want a baby Dean on my hands. A five year old is bad enough! At least he can talk. What would I do with a baby?” His voice peaked at an octave it hadn’t reached in years and Dean giggled.
Giggled.
Sam groaned. “Bobby age him back or I’ll kill myself.”
Bobby lowered his eyebrows at Sam. “Just relax kid. We’ll figure something out.” He motioned to Dean.
“Dean, stop tormenting your brother and come with me. Sam, you go get some rest and Dean and I will try and figure something out.”
Sam looked unspeakably relieved and hurried out of the kitchen after a warning to Dean to behave.
Dean was starting to get pissed now. Sam was treating him as if he really was a 5 year old. Not a twenty-nine year old man stuck in a five year old’s body.
He shrugged. Oh well. Let Sam get his panties in a twist. Dean was going to enjoy this as long as it lasted.
Of course, secretly, deep down inside, he was terrified. Absolutely friggin’ terrified. What if Bobby and Sam couldn’t age him back? He’d have to grow up all over again!
He broke into a run, his little legs trying to keep up with Bobby’s stride, which seemed impossibly long. This was a b--
He ran into the back of Bobby’s legs and the impact knocked him back on his rear. Giving his spinning head a shake, he looked up to see Bobby chuckling down at him.
“Watch where you’re going little idjit,” Bobby advised and Dean rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Now it was just getting annoying.
“Cut the ‘small talk’ please Bobby,” Dean begged, pulling himself into the enormous chair at Bobby’s desk. He eyed the books scattered across it and then the towering bookshelf and sighed, his eyes narrowing determinedly. “We’ve got work to do.”