Big Boy Now
Title: Big boy now
Author: missyjack
Characters: Dean and the family
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Gen, angsty wee!Dean fic
Word Count: 523
Summary: Having a little brother isn’t always wonderful
Notes: While I highly rating stick figures drawings (and if you haven’t discovered the brilliance that is
moonythestrals don’t waste time here, go and read her Why Supernatural is Super Awesome series), I figure the stunted artistic ability Dean showed in Dead in the Water, and a few other things, may be explained by this story.
Dean leant over his little brother’s cot. Sammy was making that weird gurgling sound that Mommy and Daddy thought was cute. Dean thought it was gross, like the little bubbles of green snot in Sammy’s nose holes.
Dean thought most things about Sammy were gross - he smelled of baby crap, and he cried when Dean was trying to watch TV, and he had green snot and once he spewed all over Dean’s shirt.
Worst of all was that Mommy and Daddy thought everything about the baby was wonderful - the other night Sammy had out these really loud burps, and Mom and Dad spent hours telling him how special he was. Dean could burp seven times in a row, but the last time he did that Daddy told him to “mind his manners”, and Mommy hadn’t even noticed because she was trying to get the baby to drink.
Sometimes after Mommy had fed and changed the baby Dean would ask to hold him. And he’d hold Sammy close and smell that warm talc and milk smell on him, and it made him feel bad because he wished he was still a baby so Mommy would hold him, and feed him.
But he wasn’t a baby any more. Dean had fallen of the back porch last week and got cuts and bits of stone stuck in his knee and he ran into Mommy crying. And she patted his hair and said “Shh, Dean, don’t cry - you’re a big boy now”. Everyone kept telling him that.
It wasn’t that he was any older - he hadn’t had a birthday for ages. Last time he had a birthday he had cake and got a really cool Monster Truck and everyone sang the birthday song for him. And he’d drawn a picture with everyone in it and the Monster Truck and mommy and Daddy said he was the best drawer in all of Lawrence and maybe all of Kansas and hugged him and put the picture on the fridge.
Today Dean had drawn a picture that had taken for ever and used up nearly all his crayons. It was of the house and Mommy and Daddy and Dean and Sammy (although he drew the baby very little and wrapped up so you couldn’t really see him) and it had trees and his bike and birds and the sky. And Mommy and Daddy said it was nice and put it on the table and went back to talking about whether Sammy had said a word, or just burped again.
After dinner he found the drawing all folded up with the newspapers. This made Dean want to cry and to break something and to shout really loud. He hated Mommy and Daddy and Sammy. He hated that he wasn’t the baby. He just wanted them to be a family like before. He wanted to be special. Not just Sammy’s brother. He wished something would make them all hurt like he did. But no-one had noticed his pouting lip or that he’d hardly said a word for an hour.
“Go kiss you little brother before bed”, Mommy had said. Dean leant over his little brothers cot.
“Goodnight Monekysnothead”, Dean whispered. And after Dad tucked him in, Dean fell asleep hoping that the next day everything would be different.
And it was.