Sammy was up to something. It wasn't anything obvious--Sammy could be sneaky when he wanted to--but Dean knew it all the same. The too-innocent face, the obliging way he agreed to play outside, the hand in the pocket...he was hiding something.
And that just wasn't okay.
Sammy was on the far side of the yard, half turned away from Dean. Dean knew when he'd been spotted by the flurry of action.
Dean flopped down and reached out. "Let's not even play this game," he said.
Sammy frowned. "I don't wanna."
Dean just raised an eyebrow.
Sam huffed. "Oh, all right." He pulled out a small package from under his shirt and shoved it at Dean. "Here," he said, and deliberately turned away from Dean.
Dean stared. "What is this? You...built a car?"
"It's a Pinewood Derby car," Sam mumbled, still not looking at him.
Dean frowned. "Isn't this a Boy Scout thing?"
Sam turned a little. "All the boys in class are in Scouts. So the teacher made an assignment out of it. Even the girls made 'em."
"Yeah? Huh." Dean handed him the box back. "So, let's see it."
Sam shook his head. "No."
"Oh, come on, Sammy. What, your car is ugly or something?"
Sam went bright red.
Oops. "Well, it can't be that bad."
Sam gave him a pained look.
"We both know I'm going to get my way," Dean pointed out.
Sam sighed and handed the box back to Dean. "Get it out yourself." He had his back to Dean again.
Dean shrugged. Sammy was such a drama queen. He opened it and pulled out the...
Block of wood?
"We're s'posed to do with our parents," Sammy muttered. "And I can't do it by myself, I don't know how to work a saw."
The kid had a point. Dean could probably hack something to death with a saw, but shape a car out of a block of pine?
"Did you even ask Dad?"
Sam shot him a dirty look. "I tried. I said I needed help with something but he got that call about the poltergeist and said you'd probably be able to help with my homework."
Dean glanced through the directions. It wouldn't be simple, but they could do it. "Then I guess I better help, huh?"
Sam's head jerked up at that. "It doesn't matter. We won't be here for the race," he said, sullen.
Dean shrugged. "Great. Even better. We'll just make it for ourselves then. A little Impala that we can keep around when Dad's gone."
"Next time we see Bobby, we can ask him for some real paint, make it look awesome."
Sam studied him. "You really want to help me with this?"
"Don't get mushy on me, man," Dean warned.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Okay, let's do it."
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