Title: The Best Cure Money Can't Buy
Disclaimer: Kripke's characters, don't own anyone, and I'm going off to sulk about it, so there!
Drabble Challenge Word: "Splinter"
Word Count: 590 And I'm over. Again. What can I say? I'm a rebel.
Players: Go to Enkidu07's page, and you'll find all the usual suspects. Resistance is futile – you will be drabbleized.
Spoilers: None Weechester fic – Dean is seven, Sam is three
Dean sat on the rickety kitchen chair, tried to swallow his pain. He glared murderously at the kitchen drawer that had launched a vicious, unprovoked attack. He'd been reaching in to get some spoons, when a sharp piece of wood had jammed itself deep into his index finger.
"Okay, son, let's take a look at the damage."
Dean held his right hand out, and a strong weathered one gently grasped it. John took a deep breath, slowly worked the splinter out. Dean shut his eyes tightly, but two trickles of water slowly crept down his cheeks. "Ow' he whimpered softly, trying so hard to be brave in front of his father.
"It's alright, Dean, it's all over." John gently wiped away his son's tears, ruffled his short blonde hair. "You did just fine, kiddo. Now let's get you patched up." He gave Dean a wink, was rewarded with a wan smile. John was about to put a bandage the injured digit, when a tiny voice rang out:
John turned, regarded his youngest with a slightly raised eyebrow. After hearing Dean's sharp cry of pain, John had charged into the kitchen, Sam trailing uncertainly behind. He'd watched John minister to his big brother from the doorway, not budging an inch. Now he'd barreled across the linoleum, tiny bare feet making slapping noise. He skidded to a stop, his little hand placed on John's wrist.
"Sammy, Dean needs me to put a band-aid on his finger. Don't you want him to feel better?"
"Not yet, Daddy. I help, too." Sam looked at his sibling who was regarding him with just as much of a confused expression as his father. "De, gimme you finger."
"Sammy, what you want to –" Dean started to question.
"De, please! I help, too! Like you do." Sammy's precocious, dewy eyes had gone into full Puppy Mode, and even though he was still in pain, right then Dean would have ripped the moon from the sky if it made Sam happy.
Dean looked over at his father, shrugged, held out his hand.
Sammy leaned forward and placed the gentlest of kisses on his brother's finger. He beamed an adorable smile at Dean, then turned to John. "See, Daddy? De always kisses my owies, and that makes 'em all better. So I wanna make Dean all better 'for you puts the band-aid on. You do feel all better now, huh, De?"
Dean grinned and with his uninjured hand drew his little brother in close. "Yeah, Sammy, I do" he whispered into Sam's soft hair. "I really do."
"Good. Daddy, you can puts the band-aid on now" Sam pronounced with such finality it took everything John had not to break out laughing.
"Yes, sir" he responded with a mock salute, and quickly wrapped the band-aid around Dean's finger. "There we go, all fixed up." John reached out and held his eldest son close, while his youngest scurried up into his lap. "You two really do know what makes each other feel better, huh?"
"Yeah" Dean replied, relishing the nearness, the sense of unity being with his dad and Sammy always gave him.
"Uh-huh!" Sammy brightly agreed. "I makes De better, and De makes me better!"
"Promise your old man one thing?" John said, looking at his sons, his most precious boys, the two beings that kept him sane. Two pairs of eyes one pair green as newly cut grass, the other pair sparkling hazel, regarded him seriously. "Promise me that'll never change."
"I promise, Dad."
"Me too, Daddy."